“A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step.”

- Confuscius

Free will. Choice. The if-else statements that control the program flow that is the human existence — a program that ultimately ends with “return 0;” — a return to naught. To distill the sayings of a character in Hideo Kojima’s Metal Gear Solid 4 — to boil it and extract the pure meaning of the dangerous poison of the Kojima Frog — one can become ten. Ten can become one hundred. But zero? A zero cannot become a one.

Bernie’s Treasure Hunter Man is a wonderful gamepiece in the Octacamo-ian guise of a petty game about treasure hunter. The main character, Marvin, or shall I say, MArviN (Note the capitalized letters for they reveal my gambit), must embark on a journey of a thousand miles — or at least, a couple thousand kilobytes — a journey full of peril, adventure, and above all, treasures. The role of treasure in this game plays the same role as it does in Passage (an oft cited game in academic gamepiece circles) — mere distractions from our inevitable returning of 0.

Treasure Hunter Man starts with the birth of MArviN — his descent from the heavens and crash landing on an alien world — Port Kruz. Here he is given a binary choice, two roads diverging in a yellow wood; the leftward path — a path off a cliff; and a rightward path; the path of progress.

I’ll not beat around the bush; I am a thinker; an iconoclast; I oppose the flow of the mainstream and choose to swim upriver to its source — the origin of meaning — the spring of the free thought. As such, I made a choice that reflected my attitudes — a destructive choice, to be sure — one that lead me off the ledge of reason and into the chasm of the unknown.

I went left.

The screen did not scroll — there was no hidden room at the foot of that pit, just the absense of level data — NULL, personified.

But the Game was not Over.

I continued to fall. Surely such an obvious folly could not have simply been an oversight on Bernie’s part. No. This was purposeful. There was intent behind this action. I sat in wait, staring at the screen, for a minute, then for ten minutes (I did not have the patience, nor stamina, to wait 100 minutes, sadly), waiting for a glint of change, but there was none. Two roads diverged in the a yellow wood (the wood flooring of the first level, is in fact, brown) — and I chose the one less travelled. And contrary to Frost’s depiction of this scenario, it did not make a difference in the world — the world continued — unchanged — unmoved. It did not even bat its metaphorical eye.

Now you are probably clamoring “How dare you write dismiss an entire game on behalf of a single bug?”

Bug? There are no “Bugs”, in life. The “Bugs” that inhabit your garden, for example, are not some oversight by our Holy Programmer — they are intentional and integral to the program of Life (not to be mistaken with the famous Game of Life, which is a shoddy portrayal at best). This gamepiece is a statement on choice, the permanence of human folly. There is no Game Over; no Continue. You cannot Save nor Load. The journey of life starts with a single step, but know this — the wrong first step will cut your journey quite short indeed!

Treasure Hunter Man (Direct Link) by Bernie, 4 MB

Hatman is, put simply, a great game. Unlike other titles, riding an endless wave of nostalgia fuelled by idiotic man children with no desire to grow up, Hatman feels like your first love, but it doesn’t make you feel awkward because it’s not 13 years old. Though clearly inspired by several other games, Hatman’s secret recipe has just enough proprietary noxious chemicals to differentiate it from the stampeding herd of NES games made in the Space Year 200X.

Using the ever popular Z and X keys, you guide Hatman through – as of now – 3 levels, each culminating in a boss fight. This is of course standard fare, and barely worth writing about. Hatman’s meat and potatoes comes from its central play mechanic, you attack enemies (crudely drawn, though they be) by throwing your hat at them, which you can control mid-flight. Hatman is, without question, no triumph of art. However, it is engineered with a calculated efficiency, a core beauty that is solely the result of programming.

You’ll not be moved to tears by its message, you’ll not be awed by its visage, and you’ll certainly not lose yourself in its rich sound. You will, however, be impressed by “it”. Its inner workings on display, a wondrous mechanical feat amongst the art on display in Indie Gaming’s Great Hall, clashing with its surroundings, mayhaps even ruining the aesthetic. Yet still deserving of its pedestal.

There’s no grand scheme in sight, not the slightest ethereal whiff of meaning, nor microscopic clue of message. Hatman stands bare in front of all who witness it, intellectually barren, yet intriguing and respectable on another level. Hatman attempts only to be engaging, fun, and solidly built, forsaking all other tenets of great culture, and yet, is that not a bold artistic statement in and of itself?

Hatman is a study in contradictions. The noble savage. The great intellectual slaving away at menial tasks, sweat pouring profusely from his forehead, tremendous effort exerted, not in the name of something he loves, but for the sake of remembering that feeling. What it is to be human.

Hatman (Direct Link) by Bibin, 2.66 MB
(Be sure to install the font that’s included in the zip!)

Ah yes — finally! A game whose play mechanics revolve around time. Time, that which heals all wounds, yet corrodes the cardboard of the brightly colored rectangular coffins that line up the Best Buy aisles — turning them into dust. Sony, Microsoft take note: Indie games aren’t sold in “boxes.” You cannot corrode an idea.

Hempuli‘s Timerocketxby stars a character armed with a bazooka who must reach the goal in each level while avoiding contact with various men in suits. To do this, you must manipulate time, shoot rockets, and kill the men in suits. Now without imbuing my own meaning into the game, here’s a decoder ring by which to untangle the ideological knots that are presented in the game:

Men in Suits: Commercialization/Globalization/Microsoft
Protagonist: You (As in the royal “You”, as in all of you)
Bazooka: Game Maker 7.0 Pro.

You might say this game feels a bit like the indie game “Braid,” to which I might begin to retort but then simply stop, only to ask “Indie?”, pointing you towards Braid’s $180,000 budget, and then towards a small door. A green “Exit” sign overhead — flickering on and off – beckoning you to enter. You open the door and step through. You are greeted by Mario and Sonic on the other side.

Yes, whereas Braid presented time as a means to solve all problems, Timerocketxby presents a starkly non-apologetic view of time manipulation:

“Wouldn’t it be great?” says the old man, “If I could turn back time and feel young again?”
“Wouldn’t it be great?” says the newlywed, “If I could stay in this moment forever?”
“Wouldn’t it be great?” says the criminal, “If I could forgo my prison sentence?”

“No”, says Hempuli, “Time is useful for one thing, and for one thing only — to make platforms of us all.”

You see, time manipulation in Timerocketxby has one purpose — to turn everything in the game world into something upon which you can stand. Society was built on the shoulders of others — what if it had been built on the shoulders of other things like bullets, rain, and explosions? There would be no such thing as slavery. What a beautiful world that would be.

Timerocketxby (Direct Link) by Hempuli, 1.28 MB

I’d like to preface this post with a rather poignant quote. Not preface the entire post though, because I feel it cheapens my genius if I don’t place several layers of abstraction between myself and other writers.

You enjoy all the killing, that’s why!

- Liquid Snake, from the little known video game “Metal Gear Solid”, of the Playstation era (truly the cave paintings of our medium)

Despite the rabid squawking of the “mainstream press”, and I’ve put that in quotes as you’re reading a blog and so you were probably born in 1997 and have never even seen a newspaper, violence has long been the premiere method of exploring morality in art. This is more than simply due to the effect that being edgy and offensive has on the unwashed masses, but because mindless (and on occasion most rare, mindful) slaughter, simulated though it may be, allows us to tear down the barriers erected by our corrupt society and confront the innermost tennets of our being: right and wrong.

Pro Killer Man is more than a Hitman parody, it is a stark indictment of human behaviour and the seedy underbelly of our world that we refuse to acknowledge.

“I need you to kill people.”

“Ok.”

There are people, people like you or I (ok maybe just plebes and ruffians like you, I am a man of refined taste and unparalleled culture) for whom this is not a satirical statement. People kill for money, for a variety of reasons, and much like video game developers, some are professional (me) and some are amateurs (Phil Fish, I very much doubt he has killed a person at all). Loud bumper stickers instruct us to praise and glorify the most prolific killers of our time, indeed, theirs is seen as a glorious task. What of the contract killer? Here we find a great silence.

In Pro Killer Man, you find yourself as a stylised member of the faceless masses, with orders to kill other human beings, for reasons unbeknownst to you. It’s not your job to care, as the vastness and depth of human emotion you will confront in the act of taking a life is enough to wrestle with. It’s a simple keyboard and mouse setup, which I decided to unsimplify, by using a laptop trackpad as a constant reminder that snuffing out the great spark of consciousness in a sentient being is no easy task. The eternal soul, at once so resilient, and yet so fragile, dissipates to another plane upon contact with a bullet. The choice you face is simple, them or you.

There are consequences for killing. There are laws. There is a balance to be maintained, though it is not so steadfast that a resilient man cannot upset it, that he cannot take so many lives and his own remain intact. But what kind of hollow life is this?

The hollow life of the Pro Killer Man, riding into the horizon with his bountiful wealth, and his abyssal soul.

Pro Killer Man (Direct Link) by JW, 2.85 MB

(Note: This review was written for the first demo of the game. All the links in the post have been updated to a more recent version)

Ninjas. The last refuge of the truly untalented, the jazz music of video games. Did you ever wonder why Arnold Schwarzenegger was always wildly firing guns, and not delivering complex soliloquies? Consequently, his talents never led him to the ultimate prize. No, not a big shiny statue, but anonymous people on the Internet lauding his artistic merit.

Such is the fate of the ninja game.

To be sure, there is not the faintest whisper of an artistic message, nor the dullest glint of an inner, obfuscated yet exquisite beauty to be found in JW‘s Super Ninja Hunter, and it has fallen into the filthy pit that commercial games writhe in until they embrace death.

Using your, it pains me to say, grappling hook (sigh, let me bust out my accented e) you maneuver the game’s protagonist about the levels, shooting your enemies – I’ll not stoop to typing the n-word again in this article – until they are dead, and you can progress to the next level, culminating in a boss battle. I just checked my shelves, and rest assured, the molds are still there and intact.

Sure, there’s a visceral thrill, fun, if you will, about the mechanics of it all, but this is the year 2008, is this really what we are playing games for? We may be lagging on the technology for flying cars, and monogrammed silver jumpsuits, but I would have hoped for a level of intellectual development amongst the game-consuming public.

If you’re an uncultured savage, by all means, download this game, I’m sure you’ll have a “blast”. However, if you’ve ever spoken a word of Nihongo, ever thematically analysed a French silent film, cried at an art game, or picketed a Gamestop, halt thy clicking finger, lest thy eyes roll so hard they eject from their very sockets. This isn’t buried treasure, it’s a shiny penny atop the sands, lying in wait until it is spirited away by a pea-brained magpie.

Super Ninja Hunter Ancient Civ Edition by JW, 1.82 MB

(Click the ”Download Now” button under “Play Offline” on bottom right.)

World Drawn By Me: Legend of Two Heroes is a controversial new platformer from the aptly named Hell Room. The story is told through a series of comic strips and tells the story of two brothers whose world becomes invaded by forces of darkness. The two brothers are part of a people called “Bigeyes” who are the “keepers of colours.” They have to escape to the “Black Citadel” in order to regain peace in their world. Ahem. Forces of “darkness?” ”Keepers of colours?” “Black Citadel?” Yeah. He went there.

The gameplay consists of getting the “two heroes” (Who are white. Surprised? Hardly.) to the exit. To do this, the two must work together. The older brother is faster (as is made apparent in the second level), and has the ability to push blocks, and throw (yes, THROW) his younger brother. If you want to (and the game tempts you in unspeakable ways), you can even throw the younger brother into a pit. Now, I’m all for video games as an interactive narrative form, but where do we draw the line between narrative and indoctrination? Is this game simply a means of telling a story, or is it training us to throw our siblings into deadly pits? You decide. But know that the answer is the “yes, a thousand times, yes“.

The music, while very well composed, is highly reminiscent of 日本一ソフトウェア‘s 魔界戦記 ディスガイア (Nippon Ichi’s Disgaea for you plebians), a game that unsurprisingly, makes light of satanic behavior. Hell Room (Note the name), you have a lot of explaining to do.

World Drawn By Me (Direct Link) by Hell Room, 14 MB

БдsicдllЧ, Чou reдd post, Чou click liИk.

Little Girl in Underland (Direct Link) by The Ivy, 10 MB.

Making games about being isolated (Knytt Stories, Untitled Story, hrmm, and OTHER kinds of stories) has become a bit of an indie games staple. But while these games ultimately boil down to platforming in really big, empty worlds with ambient music that fades between levels, JaJ’s Abandoned deftly avoids such comparison by removing any semblance of platforming from the genre. Hence, JaJ manages to create an altogether new genre — the “Mazexploratoidvania” genre.

Now granted these kinds of games have been done before — though Studio Pixel’s Ikachan (one of his last surviving indie works) only fails to meet this criteria due to its implementation of gravity of some sort (a rather clichéd game mechanic by now, to be sure) — but never has a game made me feel so isolated. Consider the fact that I spend most of my days alone in my room, listening to Ratatat and musing on the indie gaming community. Trust me, I know isolation.

Like conventional Metroidvanias, the game’s flow is ultimately determined by exploration — getting new items gives you the ability to explore new areas, and then you use the items you find there to explore even newer areas, and basically you’ll descend into the treacherous vicious circle of finding and exploring addiction, which is a lot like how I’ve constantly got to find a new fetish to arouse me in any way, which becomes normalized and thus the baseline to which I must find a new fetish — try to compare this to the games world and you’ll be pleasantly surprised, methinks.

The game starts off a bit slow, but give it bit of time and patience (just as you would the next “big” indie music album [oh the ironies of such a statement...]), and maybe you’ll find something you like. And even if you don’t like it, it’s still good to at least play it so you can pretend to like it.

Abandoned (Hi Quality Version Direct Link) (Low Quality Version Direct Link) by JaJ, 13MB and 6MB respectively

LINE1. See that big red column in the screenshot? A capital I. For Indie.

Let’s go…

Nothing lends art a false sense of credibility like black and white, and Zoglu Production’s Scrolling Survivor is without doubt indie gaming’s very own student photograph run through a filter in a cracked copy of photoshop. And to supplant the opening artistic salvo with some beefy ordinance, it’s French. Many games of our current period feature scrolling, it’s a rather passé technology, however few feature surviving, none quite so prominently as Scrolling Survivor.

Depending upon how European you are you may or may not remember the auto-scrolling stages of the little-known underground Japanese piece Sonic the Hedgehog for the Master System (though it takes aesthetic elements from the Mario series, a great irony), the main difference, and the overt basis of the game, is that the borders of the screen are permeable, and should you find yourself out of their confines for more than a few mere moments, your crudely drawn potato man meets an untimely end.

Reflecting a current hot-button political conern, the environment is your enemy — and its inhabitants, cannons, other bipedal beings, et. al, can do little but merely bump you off the screen. You are quite literally impervious to all other attack, with only your mobility and wits to triumph over the trials and tribulations you will encounter.

Now, given that your enemies can not hurt you directly, and that the environment is your only enemy, and that completing the levels more quickly and efficiently will grant you distinctions in the form of “ranks,” it is not hard to see a connection between “surviving the scrolling” and “advancing up the socio-economic ladder.”

Thusly, the future direction of our society ultimately rests in your hands, specifically your fingers that rest on the arrow keys and control, the worst key. Take control, assume social responsibility, defy the odds, survive, scroll, and Vote Republican.

Thanks…

Scrolling Survivor Demo (Direct Link) by Zoglu Productions, 1.4 MB