Simply put, The Bridge is a king hell bastard puzzle game that will, in any single puzzle, require your brain to not only comprehend but also maneuver up to three different layers of gravity and two ‘black & white worlds’ of reflection, both of which, in any given puzzle, may be occupied by Indiana Jones-like stone spheres, vortexes, and black and/or white keys and their corresponding locks. Everything affects everything else; changing one thing changes everything. The Bridge’s aesthetics is a bedeviling coverup to the fact that the game is pure spatial lunacy. And my brain cannot do this kind of processing. It.just.can’t. I am not wired to be able to patiently envision and enact the solution to these puzzles. My right parietal lobe must be swollen like a raisin or something. The only axons that must be active there are the ones that are still connected to my prefrontal cortex because, like a fat kid with moobs trying to play basketball with the rest of the gym class, whenever the solution to a puzzle exceeds what the axons are capable of they fire currents all the way to the other side of my brain which triggers the impulse to punch my monitor. Dark Souls didn’t even make me rage quit this much.

And, to an effect, co-opping with my brother in Portal 2 has also revealed just how deficient – how squishy – my spatial constructing abilities are. My brother, a bicycle mechanic, and who, upon purchasing a dissembled piece of furniture, can take a single glance at the instructions and piece that sucker together in the same amount of time it would take me, if charged with the same task, to play with my poo-poo. In Portal I’d stand there at the entrance to a new puzzle and would be pondering the mysteries of the universe while sucking my thumb and he would be running around, scoping the place out, and devising our escape. I’m lots of fun to play with.

So, The Bridge isn’t the enemy. Portal 2 isn’t the enemy. AntiChamber isn’t the enemy (Don’t EVEN get me started with Antichamber.) And my brother certainly isn’t the enemy. The enemy here is my flacid right parietal lobe.

There is no saying how much wit, how much depth of thought, how much fancy, presence of mind, courage, and fixed resolution there may have gone into the placing of a single stone of it. This is what we have to admire, – this grand power and heart of man in the thing.

John Ruskin, The Stones of Venice

Valve has a vision.

And it is not some kind of short-sighted crash and cash deal; It will involve more than innovative hardware. This vision looks to the future of PC gaming, one that will be successful only if everybody participates. Yes. The task of building a gaming infrastructure of this type from the ground up will require the efforts of developers and gamers alike. Valve’s vision will blur the line between creator and player even more, thus creating a kind of synergy that will be beautiful and true. This will not happen overnight. Technical hurdles will abound. Forum naysayers will try to impede, to claw down the progress, to sow seeds of doubt. And while the heavy-hitters of the industry stroke themselves over their own regurgitated next-gen consoles, trying to stand tall in their artificial edifices, Valve’s vision will be that wide unnerving rumble they feel beneath their crumbling foundations. In time, these giants will topple and flail about, the naysayers will scurry off, and PC gaming will see a new and triumphant dawn – An enlightening era where the power to create, share, distribute, collaborate, modify and hack is open to all who wish to put forth the effort, and it will proceed with fervor.

It is a beautiful vision, though its implementation is still in the embryonic stages. In three separate announcements during the week of 23 September 2013 Valve revealed the tools for making their vision a reality: SteamOS, Steam Machines, the Steam Controller. The hook at this point is to use these products to get gaming into the living room, onto HDTVs, in front of players who prefer the couch, having never considered – for whatever reason(s) – the advantages of PC gaming.

The finer details about the Steam Machine and Controller are still fuzzy. The Steam Machine is being hyped as a hybrid between console and PC. Valve is presently shipping out prototypes that are stuffed with ‘off-the-shelf’ PC parts to 300 eager beta testers. The approximate dimensions are 12 x 12 x 2.9 inches. Other specs are available via a quick Google search, though let us recognize that the Steam Machines will run SteamOS. The Steam Controller is meant to enable playing of all genres including – that’s right – real-time strategies. Instead of dual analog sticks, it has two pads employing a ‘haptic feedback’ system. You can read about initial user experiences of the beta pad over at Gamasutra, but suffice it to say that the pads are indented to recreate the responsiveness and assignability of traditional keyboard + mouse approach.

If these two components sound an awful lot like just another console – you’re right. How then is this not folly? With the next-gen consoles set to unload during this holiday season, what the devil chance does Valve have to stand against these? Valve even assumes that a large percentage of their customer base already own high-powered rigs and are in no hurry to trip over themselves to acquire a Steam Machine. Many digital journalists and forum participants are already pooh-poohing these devices, citing that, for example, the Steam Box won’t solve any problems it sets out to correct, it will not achieve it’s glorified PC revolution with this hardware – the vision has faded before it has even begun to make itself clear. And were these the only two components, innovative and attractive as they may be, I would agree.

The linchpin holding this grand vision in place is SteamOS, which will run on Linux. The idea is to combat the closed ecosystems of consoles with the power and flavors of running an operating system that is open source. Myopic naysayers are already bellyaching about the immediate compatibility problems with their existing game libraries. And what’s more, mountains of more gritty technical issues also stand in the way (This isn’t meant to be an overhaul of Microsoft… yet). But herein is the glory of the vision. Herein is the power to overcome obstacles with open paths and collective efforts – To fight the good fight, and to do it together.

Valve’s vision has the potential to get more people coding. One of the approaches to get gaming into the living room is to reach a new source of untapped minds. This move is not about creating a friendly co-existence between the disparities and biases of console and PC users. Valve is out to convert. The first phase of their vision will jar loose and attract the attention of those select individuals who may otherwise be ignorant to their own creative and technical potential. Concerning the realization of creative and critical powers Ruskin asserts, “… and from that moment he will find himself a power of judgment which can neither be escaped nor deceived, and discover subjects of interest where everything before had appeared barren.” Living room gamers will no longer have to be passive consumers.

Valve and Linux are the appropriate flagships for this endeavor. When you account Valve’s business approach their success comes as no surprise. The ongoing mentality there has always been one of community and shared contribution. And now that digital distribution is so widely utilized by thousands upon thousands of users – a trend that Valve has perpetuated through their Steam platform – why not continue this mode to attract and support new coders. Each small developer, each contribution, will be a node in a growing infrastructure. Perhaps Valve could come up with special incentives to encourage active participation in some capacity or other. More than anything, it would behoove this entire effort to have a vision statement for everyone to march under – to have a mark of the legion. And let us not forget Linux, the workhorse of this vision. Recent years have witnessed widespread adoption of the Linux kernel, and not just by some weird influx of basement neckbeards and butthurts. We’re talking Google. We’re talking Android…

And now we’re talking SteamOS: a trimmed-down new operating system that is bound attract fresh minds that tore through the walled gardens of gaming consoles (a wild success in itself), fresh perspectives as a result of collaboration, and empowering leading ideas for games, media utilities, source code, pedagogy – all distributed with ease through the digital aether, built from the ground up. Power in the dedication and will of the users. Ruskin seconds these virtues, citing that the success of a construction is found in “pure, precious, majestic massy intellect”. This is the vision. It is glorious. It is right. May we keep it in perspective.

(TL;DR? Better just stick to playing on consoles.)

Lucas Pope wrote and coded Papers, Please. In this position of supremacy he calls his creation a Dystopian Document Thriller. In the game, the player assumes the role of immigration inspector in the soviet-like postwar state of Arstotzka. Under the direction (and watchful eye) of the Ministry of Admissions the player determines which individuals from neighboring states can and cannot enter. This assessment is accomplished by cross-referencing the information on passports with those of work permits, diplomatic seals, identification cards, entry permits, admission tickets, or any other documentation that the MOA demands, often changing the requirements on a daily basis. Do well, and you are paid well. Do poorly, and you may soon find yourself on the other side of that counter… or worse.

Intrinsically, I should hate Papers, Please. Every fiber of my body should convulse against a game whose mechanics operate solely on examining and shuffling papers in a cramped booth. Paperwork is the bane of my existence (along with parking garages and stepping in dog shit). Any paperwork pushed in my direction is completed (maybe) with a snarl on my face. But, I don’t hate Papers, Please. The game is a bittersweet table-turner for anyone who has ever been jerked around at the BMV or, heaven for bid, a border station. Armed with a green APPROVED stamp and a red DENIED stamp, you are a decider of fates. I may or may not derive tremendous satisfaction when I deny a hopeful entrant and see him sulk away into the shadows and walk out of my booth through the same door in which he entered.

I stamp wherever I want, son!

But, this is only the surface appeal; the game would otherwise flounder and perish. Papers, Please moves on deep currents of political intrigue. In the storymode, your stamps create narrative ripples (be sure to read the headlines!). During the course of the 30-day storyline, you can experience as many as twenty different endings. Your existence is layered. You may become entangled and associated with a group of radicals without even knowing it – but when you discover this it’s too late to back out. So you must manage your own lucrative intrigue under the nose of MOA, who may very well be involved in its own shady deals, in which you, as worker, are a pawn. As the days press on, other government agencies start stepping on your toes, thereby increasing the difficulty of your juggling act. The Ministry of Information is always sniffing around, rooting out bribe-takers; the Ministry of Justice posts their international ‘Most Wanted’ list on a daily basis, expecting you to cross-check mugshots; higher level MOA directors are monitoring your citation count; the checkpoint guards are getting on your case about the lack of detainees you send their way; political extremists are plopping bombs on your counter instead of paper work. And on top of all of this: you’ve still got crotchety old women trying to muzzle their through with expired passports.

In order to progress you need to develop a methodology and adapt it to the ever-changing daily rigors of working in an Arstotzkian immigration checkpoint. With all of the narrative entanglements, you need to walk a razors edge if you want to keep ahead. And this is all done under a constant time crunch; that clock in the lower left is always ticking. The more individuals that approach your bench, the more you get paid – and, by golly, money is tight enough as it is. Oh, and you’ve got a family to feed, keep warm and healthy.

Bomb disarmed. Jolted immigration inspector is jolted. Uncaring security officer does not care.

Papers, Please itself successfully walks its own razors edge. It creates a claustrophobic, time-crunched workspace but doesn’t recreate your mundane cubicle. The antiquated graphics are stylish yet functional (you try discerning the intricacies of 8-bit fingerprints with 10 seconds left of the work day). The game doesn’t take itself too seriously but isn’t gimmicky. It is tremendously challenging but fair. Indeed. Time is short – Act fast. Glory to Arstotzka!

Paradox Interactive is well-known for their grand historical strategy games. Their flagship franchise just released its fourth title this past Tuesday: Europa Universalis 4. So far the game is being warmly accepted by gamers, both Paradox veterans and the legions of new players that the developer’s other recent game, Crusader Kings 2, attracted into the fold. As a self-proclaimed Paradox fanboy I am neither a veteran or newcomer. My timely history with Paradox began perhaps five years ago. And the only reason I was able to soundly navigate my way through the EU 4 demo is because of the hours and hours and hours and hours and hours I spent playing its predecessor Europa Universalis 3. Considering this, it is easy to let out a chuckle of mirth as I remember the very first time I sat down with EU3:

My time with EU3 concluded a multi-year gap in gaming – a gap not of my own choice, mind you. I did not have the hardware until our new family was graciously gifted an HP Inspirion laptop. And even then, grateful that I was/am to have it, the computer was limited in its capacity to play games. I saw the EU3 for $5 at Half-Priced Books. The game is not heavy on the graphics, though there is much going on ‘under the hood’. Therefore, the laptop satisfied the minimum system requirements. Yes. I was aching to play something/anything. And I enjoy history. So I jumped in.

The packaging included a 148-page player’s manual. Not a strategy guide; a manual. 148 pages. For a manual. Of Mice and Men is 112 pages. Benjamin Franklin’s autobiography is 136 pages. And here is this company with the gall to create a game so detailed, so complex, that it needs a one-hundred-frikking-forty-eight-page manual. And you know what – I read that sucker cover to cover. I embraced the infamous Paradox Interactive learning curve. It was a challenge that perhaps I would not have undertaken if I hadn’t played a video game in soooooo long!

Fantastic bathroom reading, right here.

Now that I think of it, EU3 was my first exposure to meta gaming. This was the first time I involved myself with gaming message boards. I freakishly lurked the Paradox forums, reading about player strategies and furthering my understanding of the mechanics. And then Paradox started releasing expansions, one after another after another (The vanilla was terrible, but I didn’t know any better). The forums kept the gameplay fresh and fun.

All elements combined – the monster manual (though incredibly outdated by the third expansion), message boards, new releases – made for a wildly complex and all together satisfactory experience. I had memorable campaigns as: a market-driven Norway, though I didn’t quite get to creating Scandinavia; the Eastern European Muscowy, struggling to keep up with its western neighbors while, on the opposing borders, fighting back the advancing Golden Horde (this was a good one!); and Liguria, a Northwestern Italian province that I expanded to command the Mediterranean. The objective needn’t always be global domination – a characteristic that will always gives Paradox an advantage over the Total War games. Paradox gives the power to pervert history in so many delicious ways.

Indeed, altering history on such an immense scale so soon after my bleak period of non-gaming had really made an impression. Europa Universalis 3′s modest system requirements and detailed gameplay brought me out of the dark ages and into a place of power. The couch was my throne; The laptop my government. My ambition endless as the cycle of time itself. Hail the king, baby.

ButtonMashers, let us reflect on those games, be they recent or from the glory days, that perhaps defined our gaming personalities and tastes or otherwise standout in our memories as just a romping good time. List all the games in one post or dedicate a post per game per week. Whatevs. Give us some context. What merits does this game have to be your list? Let’s get personal ‘n stuff. Dig deep or just give a synopsis. I shall go first.

Myst (1993)

My Dad and I played Myst on a Macintosh Quadra 950. In my 12 y/o eyes, this was the kind of computer that NASA uses to align the telemetry of satellites and design robots to perform open-heart surgeries or something… and we had one in the basement – and that’s really cool! I came to associate the windpipe note on bootup with the rustic, mystical aesthetics of Myst. Overtime, the computer and the game coalesced into one entity.

I had only gotten a brief experience with Myst before I had to ship off to 6^th grade camp for a week. But that small dabble was enough to instill a longing all throughout camp; All I wanted to do was get through the week, get through all the lame-o kitsch craft projects and bonfire sing-a-longs so I could go home and click through Myst – a place that truly held my interest.

I was compelled that the game gives you nothing at the onset but a quick, cryptic movie. Then I was invited to touch a TV screen in a book and was transported through a swirling aviary cut scene and plopped down on a seaside dock. You learn from your surroundings. I remember comparing notes with my Dad. I remember getting so frustrated in the rocketship, and how pumped I got when I figured out how to get the small gear-bridge to rise out of the water so I can access the switch on the other side – what this switch does… ‘ellifiknow – But there are others like it, so it must be important.

I remember enjoying the game so much that I wanted to share it with my friend T.J. Methodically, I sat him down in front of the computer, loaded a new game, adjusted the volume, dimmed the lights, and then slowly, eagerly backed away, positive that he’d have as profound of an experience that I did. Five minutes later T.J. reappeared in my room, baffled and bored: “ I don’t know what it wants me to do.” I instructed that he has to click around, figure it out, take it all in. The concept went over his head. Why couldn’t other children think like me?

Myst helped me to appreciate environment and mood. I credit this game to the tendency I have to explore every nook and cranny of other games. I do so not with hopes of finding a hidden bonus but just to soak in the surroundings, to appreciate fictional spaces – Which is why it takes me for-freaking-ever to make any progress in so many games. I dawdle. And in Myst, there’s no rush.

http://buttonmashing.com/2013/06/27/9856/

At the risk of chasing you, dear reader, away at the onset, I dare begin this post by baring a part of feelings to you (let us now hold hands): My life these past few weeks has felt kinda of… wonky. Our family has fallen out of routine a bit. I’m a bit on-edge about the future. I’m fatter now. I get weird pains in my legs. (2% complete) The weather is getting uncomfortably warm for my liking. And my kids are screaming too damn much.

And, in coming closer to the topic of the post, my gaming life has felt a bit complacent. My two main games for the past months have been Crusader Kings 2 and EVE:Online. Both wonderful games; I’m a Paradox Interactive fanboy and EVE has utterly consumed my mind to where I lay in bed staring at the ceiling and mentally tinkering with the fit of my Imperial Navy Slicer frigate. The science and tactics of ship fitting clusters my thoughts, more for ill than good. Analaysis Paralysis is the name of the game at this juncture. It’s gotten to the point to where when I log in I find myself doing nothing more than the following (4% complete):

The situation isn’t any better for Crusader Kings 2. The RTS is engaging and fun! Plotting to assassinate 5 year-old heirs to the throne never – NEVER – gets old! Its infinite replayabilty has become more a distraction than an appeal at this point. I am unable to focus on the strategy of a current campaign because I’m off thinking about how the game’s new DLCs play. And so, recently, I log in and in the main menu screen I end up doing nothing more than this mouse-click melody (fun as it is!):

Simply put, I came to the conclusion that I’m thinking too much. I’m worn out from real life and, when game time comes, I’m too worn out to think constructively (8% complete). I need to get back in touch with my instincts, with my gut! I need a place where thinking won’t get you very far, but sprinting sure as shineola will. Because of this, the download for Call of Juarez: Gunslinger is currently 10% complete.

YES, friends! I need a good ‘ol fashioned arcade FPS in my life, to get my left hand back on AWSD and my right on the mouse. I chose Gunslinger for several reasons, but mostly I’m going with my gut. It was a decision against some of my personal gaming ethics, but, again, screw that for now – I’m acting on instinct. It may not be on sale but at $15 and 5GB, why not? Likewise, this decision is even more significant considering that Steam is offering all Paradox Interactive games 50% off this weekend. Picking up the Hearts of Iron III bundle (for the same price as Gunslinger) seems appealing. But Nay! I must honor my instinct (13% complete) for the wild west calls to me. I played the demo and read the reviews. The Gunslinger gameplay promises to be no frills, no gimmicks. I appreciate the historical application and look forward to romping around in its environs. I look forward to dueling with the great historical persons. The soundtrack is slammin and the gushing blood sound effects are endearing. The dialog and voice acting is authentic. Plus, I’m a sucker for westerns. All things considered to pass up Gunslinger would be illogical. Crap, there I go again – thinking… Here’s to the hope that Gunslinger will jar me loose of gaming complacency (18% complete).

Now four months in, I find myself at a compelling point in my experience with EVE online. I am above complete ignorance but also still enough of a whelp that I must remember my place – my rank- in this indifferent universe bristling with pilots of mixed motivations and alignments. Nonetheless, I am finding myself a little more situated within New Eden, making my way around with a little more grace, and am beginning to perceive the workings within and without, though my untrained eyes may still misunderstand or overlook things.

When pondering the immensity in which I now find myself, I feel like someone listening in to Marlow, the primary yarn-spinner of ‘Heart of Darkness’, whom at the onset it is said: …and to him the meaning of an episode was not inside like a kernel but outside, enveloping the tale which brought it out only as a glow brings out a haze. The linguistic design of Joseph Conrad and the programing design of EVE Online developer CCP Games share a likeness in that both created a place that is somewhat enigmatic but still definite – we may not immediately understand the essentials of this place, nor the higher workings, but so long as we are here let us do with it what we can and increase herein.

To an extent this is how my rookie mind perceives the fundamental mechanics of EVE online. To label the game as endless is a bit of a misnomer; it would carry the context of something that has a solid beginning and a centralized, climactic ending that is forever out of reach. Let us then label the universe of EVE – if label we must – as a singular levitating entity that could care less if you’re in it or not. The purpose – the meaning – therefore exists in all those glowing nebulous hazes dotted with planets and streaked with asteroid belts, and other celestial bodies rich in resources. Yes. EVE is a naturalistic experience. Indeed, as Marlow begins his descent into the African jungle he muses: I wondered whether the stillness on the face of the immensity looking at us two were meant as an appeal or as a menace. The affairs of an EVE pilot are self-made, even when they unfold under the self-made affairs of tens-of-thousands of other pilots; the universe does nothing more than provide the space, time and resources. No favors.

Increased knowledge and ability is the motivating – nay, the compulsory – force that prompts me to log in daily. New tactics to apply, new keyboard shortcuts use, a new attempt to work around a particular problem or a new fitting to balance a ship’s weakness. There is a reoccurring realization that something can be accomplished, but done so without the need to grind or level up. Indeed, the universe is abundant enough. If you find yourself grinding I posit that 1) You’re moving too fast, 2) you’re not being creative enough, and 3) you need to practice six sigma – EVE Online is just as much game as it is MetaGame.

CCP Games just reported a record-breaking 500,000 Eve subscribers. When I log in, the game has reported anywhere between 22,000 to 62,000 players currently online at that time. These are the people who fulfill my buy orders for Upgraded 1mn MicroWarp Drives. These are the people who undersell my batch of Combat Scanner Probes. These are players who fight with other players for wormhole space, stage sieges, gank, coordinate fleet attacks, reprocess, refine, buy, sell, and operate in corporate hierarchies far beyond my meddling rookie mind. Marlow confesses: Nowhere did we stop long enough to get a particularized impression, but the general sense of vague and oppressive wonder grew upon me. I am just one pilot in a universe of 500,000. I am my own. I am responsible. So, grow a pair, make a plan, and get out there.

After months of researching and planning for my new computer build, and after the excitement of beginning the building process and software setup last month, and, just today, having finally acquired a sleek new Dell monitor and Gigabyte graphics card I’m ready to game like a baus. Therefore, it only makes sense to turn my back to the computer and reach for my PS3 controller to satisfy an itch I’ve had to begin a new Deus Ex: Human Revolution game. And this time there shall be no distance kills – no firearms at all – for I shall eliminate every immediate threat with a brutal Adam Jensen takedown. I think this mechanic is way awesome and never became boring or repetitive. Each cut scene is a brutal exhibition of nondiscrimination; Adam Jensen is no respecter of persons.  My decision may or may not have been influenced by the following video.

The shoulder tap approach is my favorite…