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by Nick Dinicola

12 Jun 2009

Silent Hill: Homecoming was largely seen as a departure from the survival-horror genre when it was released last October. However, this entry in the long running series remained true to its genre roots in many ways. Guns were sparse and ammo even more so, there were plenty of puzzles and dark environments, and while the new combat system bothered many long-time fans because it didn’t actively discourage fighting, since it emphasized dodging over attacking, players still felt weak and disadvantaged in each confrontation. But Silent Hill: Homecoming was a departure from form. It took more inspiration from the Silent Hill movie than from the previous games and ended up with many of the same flaws. It had all the elements of a psychological survival-horror game, but didn’t know how to use them properly, and as a result, it felt like more of a departure than it actually was.

One of the staples of the Silent Hill series is the different forms that the town takes on. There’s the Fog World, in which a thick fog covers everything, and there’s the Dark World, a mechanical, metallic hell any fan of the series knows too well.

In previous Silent Hill games, the world changed after players had almost fully explored a particular area. The map for each location would be covered with pen marks indicating which doors were open and which were stuck and where the dead ends and the secret passages were. With a single glance, players could be comforted by this knowledge. They knew where they were, and they knew the fastest path from one room to another. What was once scary was now familiar, but then the world changed. Players were transported to the Dark World and all the previous exploration was made worthless. The map was reset so that not only were players now stuck in a far more frightening environment, they were lost in it.

In Silent Hill: Homecoming the Dark World does not have the same emotional impact. When the world changes, players are still transported to a fearful looking mechanical, metallic hell, but the layout of the environment has also changed. Players are forced down a linear path, so the fear of having to explore this twisted landscape is gone. In one such sequence, players descend into a pit through a series of catwalks. Occasionally the path splits in two, but if a player chooses the wrong path, they’ll reach a dead end within seconds and finding the way back is easy. There’s never a fear of getting lost. In the one instance when players are forced to explore the Dark World, the area is very small. It’s just a singe house with two floors, a basement, and an attic. Once any room is deemed safe, that haven is never vary far away, so the fear of exploration is always tempered by the knowledge that safety is nearby.

Silent Hill: Homecoming is about Alex Shepherd, a war veteran who has returned home to Shepherd’s Glen only to find his town in chaos. Fog covers everything, people have been disappearing, and monsters roam the streets. When Alex learns that his little brother is missing, he decides to find him and get out of town.

The story unfolds as more of a mystery and less of a psychological horror story. Much of the plot focuses on answering the question, “What is happening in Shepard’s Glen and why?” With each new clue, Alex pieces together the history of his town, the secrets of its religious cult, and its inevitable relation to Silent Hill, but during this journey, there is very little self-reflection on his part.

Traditionally, the Dark World and its monsters were used as reflections of the protagonist’s own fears and desires, but not so in Silent Hill: Homecoming. Every time Alex is transported to the Dark World he usually talks with one of the founders of the town, and through their monologues, players come to understand that this hell that they have been brought to and these monsters that they fight are reflections of the founders’ dark pasts. In one scene, one of the founders constantly compares his late daughter to a doll, so it’s no surprise that the boss that Alex fights soon after is a twisted vision of a porcelain doll. This is a creative way of developing the antagonists, but it’s done at the expense of developing the protagonist.  As a result, the story loses that personal intimacy that the series is known for. While Alex does face some personal issues throughout the game (the history of his strained relationship with his parents emerges in certain scenes), this is treated as a subplot within the larger mystery.

It’s a shame Alex’s own psychological problems are not fully explored because he has a wealth of them. We learn late in the game that Alex was directly responsible for the accidental death of his brother. We learn that he’s not actually a war veteran. He was out of town because he was in a mental institution, insane with guilt about the death. But the game doesn’t take any time at all to explore his reaction to such a horrible revelation. After learning this, Alex quickly finds an elevator and rides it into the headquarters of the town’s cult. The fact that he killed his little brother has no emotional impact on him, and it seems the only point for the big plot twist was to shock the player.

Silent Hill: Homecoming doesn’t depict The Order, as the cult is called, as a collection of religious zealots but rather as a collection of psychopaths. The distinction may seem subtle, but the differences become blatant in the final area of the game, the Order’s headquarters. There all of the built-up mystery devolves into a wannabe Hostel game. Whatever psychological horror the game was going for is lost when characters begin to get tortured for no apparent reason. For a series known for its disturbing stories, unsettling atmosphere, and focus on the psychosomatic effects of fear, such unabashed gore is a major step back. Not only does this attempt at shock dilute the more subtle elements of horror in the game, but it gives a human face to our enemies. They are people, and people can be killed. There is nothing supernatural about the Order members, and compared to what players face throughout the rest of the game, a human opponent is preferable.

Both in its level and creature designs, the game perfectly captures the nightmarish visuals the series is known for, but it doesn’t have the frightening story to backup those visuals. With its updated graphics, it looks scarier than any other game in the series, but there’s nothing beneath that guise. It’s all just for show.

by G. Christopher Williams

10 Jun 2009

In James Joyce’s Portrait of the Artist As a Young Man, the titular young artist, Stephen Daedalus, lectures his friend Lynch at length about the nature of the beautiful in art. He argues that when art is apprehended properly that its audience is arrested by a static emotion. By contrast, he refers to “kinetic emotions”, which he deems to be emotions that excite in their viewers desire or loathing. He claims that art that generates such visceral responses are either “pornographical or didactic” in nature.

by L.B. Jeffries

9 Jun 2009



The release and poor sales of SEGA’s Madworld is just another notch in what is becoming a very real gap between the different groups of people who play video games. Often blamed directly on Nintendo’s Wii, the poor sales of a highly rated game by mainstream gaming websites is just another indication that the people buying Wii Fit are not going to be following up that purchase with Call of Duty 5. Even articles making the claim that video games are responsible for torture, violence, the housing bust, traffic, bad breath, etc. are now qualifying their criticisms with statements like, “While I happen to enjoy the ‘G’ rated Wii…” Despite the fact that there are games for stalking and murdering people on the Wii, it is consistently seen as something safe for children or as something okay for the everyday person to claim they enjoy but not for that “other” stuff. The question is…what does that make all of these hardcore gamers?



Part of the problem with the hardcore gamer is that the meaning of “hardcore” is such a nebulous concept to begin with. You can’t exactly claim that it revolves around playing games excessively because people regardless of gender or social background do this. The person who plays Bejeweled 2 for hours is, despite the fact that they’re both playing video games, not considered the same animal as someone who plays Halo 3 for hours. The definition doesn’t exactly revolve around violence or subject matter either because the hardcore demographic will readily enjoy The Sims or Super Mario Brothers despite the cute graphics and low amounts of violence. It doesn’t revolve around game design depth or quality because there are numerous challenging games with complex systems labeled as casual. At the core of either group is that same problem with people thinking the Wii only has casual games on it: perception. The company creating the game has to start marketing it towards one group or the other from the very beginning. Tom Endo over at The Escapist wrote that the division is so intense that games that appeal to either groups are no longer possible, “The business models and the audiences for the two gaming segments are so fundamentally different that attempting to force the two under one roof just doesn’t make sense. While it’s already started, the bifurcation in the largest publishers between business units devoted solely to core and casual game interests will only grow more distinct in the future.” In this way, the division of the hardcore gamer from the casual player mostly becomes an exercise in what they are not: they are not whatever casual gamers are.



The practice of being counter-culture, to actively define yourself by what you are not, is only fairly new to video games. Absent a political agenda or purpose like other counter-culture movements, there is a comparison to the division that exists between casual gamers and hardcore gamers that seems a bit more apt. They are the cultural equivalent of hipsters.



Like the hardcore gamer, the hipster is a nebulous concept to define. These are the people wearing random thriftstore shirts, engaging with the latest indie band, or perhaps just carrying with them a pervasive sense of the ironic. One of the strongest articles on the subject is by Adbusters, which defines hipsters as indicative of the death of culture. The article opines, “Less a subculture, the hipster is a consumer group—using their capital to purchase empty authenticity and rebellion. But the moment a trend, band, sound, style or feeling gains too much exposure, it is suddenly looked upon with disdain. Hipsters cannot afford to maintain any cultural loyalties or affiliations for fear they will lose relevance.” The article goes on to explain that they are a mirror of the shallowness of mainstream society, a failed youth movement that doesn’t even challenge the decadence of their elders. Instead, the hipster is just a counter-point to Gen-X, an identity based on meaninglessness instead of brand names. Rob Horning here at the Popmatters blog Marginal Utility has done excellent coverage of the topic drawing in a wide variety of opinions. In one piece he provides an excellent quote from Dara Lind who wonders why a generation of typically privileged people with opportunity are ending up in such a cultural state of zombification. In the post “The Death of the Hipster”, he points out, “The problem with hipsters seems to me the way in which they reduce the particularity of anything you might be curious about or invested in into the same dreary common denominator of how “cool” it is perceived to be. Everything becomes just another signifier of personal identity.”



On the surface, these two groups could not be more alien. A post by PixelVixen707 discussing the comparison points out many of the flaws in the analogy. She writes, “Gamers accumulate knowledge; hipsters move through it, consuming and relinquishing it daily. Gamers accumulate years’ worth of garbage and trivia, and never let it go. They are still making Portal jokes. A hipster is judged by what’s now; gamers, by what they were playing in 1993.” Easily the most popular critics of video games is Penny Arcade, and as she points out, they accomplish this through a sense of inclusiveness. But past these social difference, they are technically performing the same cultural activity. Both identities are self-created and enforced by the community’s own tastes.

Consider how a game becomes “high art” in gamer culture. The means by which we judge which ten year old game is significant is mostly artificial. Critics just choose games that they will then discuss in a more complex fashion. Using Shadow of the Colossus as an example, a blogger named Vanderblade explains how gaming websites elevated the game’s status. He comments, “Whether or not a videogame is highbrow depends largely on if the gaming community positions it and defines it as such. In the case of Shadow of the Colossus, the discourse surrounding the game clearly identifies it as culturally superior to most other games.” Although that specific example deals with the vagaries of highbrow video games, it also explores the same mechanism by which gamers select whether something is casual or hardcore. We just make it up.



Video games have very recently attained their moment in the mainstream spotlight and the reaction is just starting to turn hostile. An example of a typical hardcore rant against casual games at Good Gear Guide places the blame squarely on Nintendo and the Wii for the downfall of video games. The author rants, “Call it a fad or a gimmick if you will, but this is exactly what the masses want — and they’re gatecrashing the party in their millions. Nintendo’s “come one, come all” approach to gaming has revolutionized our once-insular industry, with grannies, girlfriends and non-gamers all getting in on the action.” The hipster tone begins to set in once the article defines anything as hardcore that is not a “casual/party” game or put more colloquially, whatever is not mainstream. The symptoms of this do not just relate to Nintendo games either. The Halo 3 backlash is taking on somewhat mythic proportions as posters and message boards continue to complain that the game is not worthy of its popularity. Whatever your opinion on the game, a title doesn’t host over one billion multiplayer matches because it’s doing something wrong. Ultimately, the hardcore gamer will probably fall into the same cultural cycle as the hipster as it repudiates what is mainstream for the sake of remaining against such a culture. As Horning at PopMatters dryly jokes, “One can’t be against hipsters. Hipsterism consists of its own repudiation. Recognizing the existence of hipsters to a certain degree makes one a hipster.” One could easily say the same about hardcore gamers.

by Mike Schiller

8 Jun 2009

As anyone reading this blog probably knows, E3 has been going on all week in L.A. (which seems even farther away from Buffalo than usual these last few days), and as such, a barrage of game announcements and trailers for new product have been finding their way to the internets mere minutes after they are revealed to the Expo’s attendants.  Of those trailers, there is one that I simply can’t shake after having seen it, and it’s this one:

by Nick Dinicola

5 Jun 2009

Having recently finished Far Cry 2 I found myself wondering what I should play next. I had embraced the holiday rush last year, so I had plenty of games to choose from, and I browsed through my collection looking for one that sparked my interest. Since this happened to coincide with E3, I bombarded myself with press conferences, videos, write-ups, and hands-on previews, all hyping the big games to be released in the coming year, and suddenly my collection didn’t seem as interesting as it did last week. I found myself getting more excited for those upcoming games than for the games I already own.

So much of the gaming culture revolves around upcoming games. Previews make up a major part of any news coverage, especially during the build up to E3. Gamers’ desire for the “next big game” is so strong that a ten second trailer for Modern Warfare 2 is cause for a surprising amount of fanfare, and companies make announcements of announcements in order to start the hype as soon as possible. Many people sell older games in order to afford newer games, and Gamestop’s record profits are a testament to how common the practice is. It makes sense then that E3 is the biggest event of the gaming industry. Whereas movies and music have the Oscars and Grammys, award shows that focus on what has come out in the past year, gaming’s major show is a preview event that looks ahead at what’s coming out in the next year.

This kind of attitude is necessary for an industry that relies so heavily on technology. New tech is always being introduced to the gaming world, so developers must always be looking ahead and thinking of new ways to incorporate that tech into their games. Just this week, Microsoft, Sony, and Nintendo all showed off new forms of motion control, so now it falls to developers to figure out how to integrate that new kind of control into games. The future of gaming is always changing, so it’s understandable that the industry would focus more on its future than its past.

A problem arises when consumers adopt this point of view, and become more concerned with what lies in the future rather then the present. I remember times as a teenager when I would be playing a game and all I could think about was what I wanted to play next. I’d continue playing the first game just to beat it, feeling an odd obligation to finish it before moving on, but the moment I was done with it I would never think of it again. Even if I loved a game, once I beat it I no longer cared about it. Such an attitude is not only a disservice to the game and its creators but to me as a gamer. Instead of savoring my time with those games, I’d rush though them so I could stay up-to-date with each new release: Games were a disposable media to be used once and then forgotten.

I enjoy E3. I enjoy the press conferences, videos, write-ups, and hands-on previews, all hyping the big games to be released in the coming year, but I think it’s important not to get too caught up in the hype. I was giddy with every mention of Assassin’s Creed 2, Uncharted 2, and (to my pleasant surprise) Scribblenauts, but I’ve also recently become enthralled with the voice recognition of EndWar and the wonderful absurdity of No More Heroes. In the wake of E3, I’d encourage every gamer to play a game from last year or even from last console generation just to put things in perspective: older games are still worth your time.

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