Author: aaron-r-conklin

game

Former UVA standout Ryan Zimmerman once had to do it. So did Jonathan Papelbom, Grady Sizemore and Joe Mauer.  In fact, most of today’s big league stars once had to scratch and claw their way through a rookie Grapefruit League season, trying to prove their worth to a major league roster and avoid the ignominy of a trip to the minors…or a trip to nowhere.

Traditionally, baseball videogames have avoided trying to capture this aspect of baseball the way National League pitchers avoid Barry Bonds. MLB 07: The Show puts it in the leadoff slot. Given Sony’s reputation as the Tampa Bay Devil Rays of first-party baseball game development, this is enough to give even Nationals fans a sense of hope and optimism.

Enjoy America’s pastime from the air-conditioned comfort of your room with MLB 07: The Show.

It all goes down in the game’s new “Road to the Show” mode. You create a player, pick a position and then, in a radical departure that takes some serious getting used to, you only play the parts of the game in which you’re directly involved, fast-forwarding through everything else. If you’re a pitcher, that means three-four innings of just hurling; if you’re a fielder, you’ll only take your hacks and field the balls that are hit your way.

During each game, the game gives you specific goals you need to meet. Succeed, and you’ll get points to improve your stats—and your chance of being offered a contract.   

Sometimes, the goals the game assigns don’t necessarily feel realistic or fair—it’s tough to think you’ve “failed” in striking out Albert Pujols instead of inducing the ground ball the computer requested. Worrying about what your manager and teammates are thinking gives the game a tension that‘s missing in the franchise or single-game modes. And, since all you can control is your own performance, you begin to understand why Roger Clemens grew to hate the lack of run support from his Astro teammates last year.   

Elsewhere, the deep franchise mode and intuitive batting interface you knew and loved in MLB 06 made the roster (“Home Run Derby,” lamentably, is gone). The overall look of MLB 07 is worse than Tony LaRussa on a bad-hair day.  The player movements are smooth and realistic, including some nice cut scenes with batters hurling helmets in the dugout and arguing with umps,  but the players themselves look waxy, their eyes blank and mindless.

Maybe we should call this MLB 07: The Robot Show.

game

After three mega-successful Spider-films, it’s safe to say that even non-comics-geeks grasp the whole “with-great-power-comes-great-responsibility” thing. It appears, however, that Treyarch, the team responsible for creating the Spider-Man 3 videogame and its predecessors, missed the follow-up memo about great power and great expectations. Instead of giving us a spectacular next-gen web-slinging adventure, they’ve given us something that feels an awful lot like the one we had in Spider-Man 2—and that’s a great disappointment.

The biggest thrills here still come from swinging on a web high above a huge, free-form New York City that looks and feels genuinely real (even if you can’t really interact with any of the citizens). Few games have captured the exhilarating feel of their environment quite like the Spidey games. The whole black suit thing is also a blast: a Spidey on steroids lark that feels almost as rage-a-riffic as a romp with God of War 2’s  Kratos.

Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man returns in the third installment of the popular videogame.

But if you’re looking to relive the movie, you’ll have to settle for the plot highlights, interspersed through a varied and sundry set of storyline missions that have Spidey doing everything from racing through the streets to fighting random crime and stopping supervillains from the movie (Sandman, New Goblin) and the comic books (Scorpion, Kraven, Lizard).

With so many options, you’re never at a loss for things to do. You’re also never fully engaged in any of the stories the game juggles like so many spider-balls, and any sense of superhero grandeur falls flatter than Mary Jane’s singing career.

Apologies to Sandman and Venom, but the combat camera is the real villain here, especially during the multienemy melees (and since three different story missions call for Spidey to stop gangs, there are several of them). It’s all but impossible to see where you are in relation to your opponents as you jump, punch and spin around the set pieces. Isolating enemies and using Spidey’s special spider-reflexes can help turn the tide, but given that Treyarch has now swung around this block three times, it’s kinda inexcusable to see major issues like this—not to mention the sometimes stuttery graphics and clipping issues—hampering the proceedings.

game

Nobody can say that photographer didn’t have it coming to him.

Seriously. Harrassing my man Ludacris, all up in his grill and trying to get a picture. I had no choice but to bust that stalkerazzi.You know, gotta keep it real and all that.

Ahem.

Excuse me while I stuff my white-boy street schtick back into the closet where it most definitely belongs. But hey, sometimes you have to resort to extreme measures when you’re trying to keep the likes of Ghostface Killah and Method Man happy—and signed to your label.

Pick your rapper of choice to brawl with 50 Cent in Def Jam: Icon. For the record, Wu Tang Clan ain’t nothin’ to—er—"eff" with.

And this is the violent vibe of EA’s Def Jam: Icon, a mash-up of street stereotypes that happens to be wearing a silk business-sim sportcoat. In what has to be some kind of schizoid cosmic anomaly, it’s the first fighting game in which the story mode is significantly more compelling than the fisticuffs.

The game’s backdrop is the recording industry, one of the two professional arenas the media holds up as a fast-track to fame and fortune for today’s African-American youth (athletics being the other). In the game’s “build a label” mode, you’re a bar-brawler taken under the wing of Carver, the don of this particular wing of the recording universe.

Before long, your character’s doing all the things a budding hip-hop recording exec might actually do—signing actual Def Jam artists like Mike Jones and Young Jeezy (and paying the bills when they behave badly), making tough decisions about how much cash to allocate for marketing and distribution on their latest singles and dealing with corrupt law enforcement officials.

As the plot winds and the number of artists in your stable expands, you begin to realize Def Jam: Icon is almost more street-cred business sim than button-mashing fighting game, meaning that you can argue—with a straight face, even—that it’s at least as valuable a educational tool as any of the 1,000-plus tycoon games we’ve endured over the last five years. (In the case of dreck like Mall of America Tycoon and Lemonade Stand Tycoon, it’s probably more valuable.)

The wild and hysterical plot twists make for fascinating stuff, even if the whole affair is steeped in every racial and hip-hop stereotype known to man. And it might even have made for a great game, if not for the fact that being a rising recording exec also apparently means smashing the face of every bastard that gets in your way. Even the addition of environmental hazards that trigger when you spin the analog sticks like a DJ spins a turntable—gas pumps exploding into fiery destruction, sonic waves from banks of club speakers, strip-club pole dancers delivering vicious kicks—can’t raise the thrill factor above mediocre.

For better and, unfortunately, for worse, Def Jam: Icon also serves up all the dark aspects of hip-hop culture that tend to make headlines, both on the front page of the Post-Courier and “Entertainment Tonight” —the rampant thuggery, the conspicuous consumption, the drive-by shootings, the bald misogyny (early on, Carver warns against letting the advances of the sort of women to whom the Rutgers basketball team was so unfairly compared get in the way of bizness). Then there’s the ultra-authentic soundtrack, packed with unfiltered rap lyrics (E-40 and Nas, anyone?) that inadvertently add yet another level of credence to Jason Whitlock’s arguments about where the rage over Don “I-Man” Imus’ bone-stupid comments is more appropriately placed.

As a fighting game, Def Jam: Icon’s a disappointment. As a reflection of the best and worst aspects of the hip-hop culture in which it’s so deeply steeped, it’s a punch right in the gut of gamers—and American culture.

game

After years of sandbox-play dominance and a gazillion expansion packs, we know EA’s colossal Sims franchise for what it is: one of the most seminal games ever created and the game most singularly capable of bringing your computer processor to its knees.

Nobody ever disputes the fun of caring for (or, if you’re warped, torturing) your l’il digital avatars, but the Sims 2’s notoriety as a class-A resource hog has always represented a serious barrier to the laptop-toting members of Casual Gaming America. Enter Sims: Life Stories, a laptop-optimized version that packs in some—but not all—of the gameplay joy of Sims 2. 

Want to live like common people? Try your hand at the latest false reality in the Sims dynasty.

In a first-ever for the series, a story mode serves up a pair of his-and-hers options that double as game tutorials: You can choose to pilot Riley, a down-on-her luck bachelorette looking for Mr. Right in all the wrong places, or Vince, a tech god who could use the love of a good Sim woman.  Both stories are cleverly told, entertaining and humorous, in a “Desperate Hosuewives”/“Friends” kind of way; still, it’s odd to see the Sims signature sandbox style hemmed in, even a little, by the demands of plot.    

Luckily, there’s also a freeform play mode, even if it amounts to the gaming equivalent of a clichéd can of Miller Lite—that is to say, it looks and plays as great as the full-sized Sims 2, but there’s a lot less filler to play around with.  From the number of the available neighborhoods (a paltry four) to the number of styles items and feature sets, it’s clear that laptop optimization comes with a price tag attached.

While there will be other stand-alone entries in the Sims: Stories series—pet- and castaway-based games are reportedly on the way—there won’t be expansions. For Sims newbies, Life Stories’ clear target audience, this isn’t a deal-breaker; if you’re the sort of Sims 2 vet who find yourself speaking Simlish to your loved ones, it may be one more reason to pass.

game

The Lion Lady and the Juggling Guy have absolutely nothing on me.

Y’see, I don’t have to resort to vocal trickery and subrate talent-show gimmicks to impress the judges on “American Idol.” I can just belt out a pitch-perfect, growl-worthy version of “Hungry Like the Wolf” from my couch. 

Karaoke Revolution presents: American Idol: All the fun of karaoke without having to leave the sofa (Paula Abdul not included; maybe the rhythm finally got her?).

And now, so can the rest of Charlottesville, provided they can get their hands on the “Idol” version of Konami’s Karaoke Revolution that comes with a USB mic. KR has been fueling embarrassment-soaked singing sessions for what seems like forever, but it’s only now, years after “American Idol” became essential water cooler fodder, that the series has gotten around to incorporating the most obvious marketing tie-in in modern history. The marriage mostly works, thanks to some spot-on-recreations of the sets, stages and trappings and some familiar songs and video clips.

Otherwise, this is the same old (but good) song. Nailing timing and pitch on covers of tunes like Fall Out Boy’s “Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down” boosts your score and your audience meter, sends the crowd into ecstasy and maybe, just maybe, results in a judge’s comment that actually matches the quality of your performance.

While Simon Cowell and Randy Jackson stand in comically imperious judgment over the proceedings, the medication-fueled slurrings of “Idol” sycophant Paula Abdul are, oddly, missing in action. Instead, she’s replaced by some anonymous bozo named Laura—not exactly a deal-breaker, but weird nevertheless.

Bummer that this couldn’t have been a PS3 title—or, barring that, at least have incorporated some sort of online competition that doesn’t involve clips on YouTube. As entertaining as it often is, the more appropriately titled concept of “Living Room Idol” just doesn’t carry the same sort of cachet with the pop culture gods, the ladies or the recording industry.

game

Consoles, like newspaper reporters and offensive lineman, tend to merit lousy send-offs as their careers hit twilight: Nintendo gave Gamecubers a watered-down version of Wii A-lister Zelda: Legend of Twilight Princess, while the words “quality software” disappeared from the Xbox lexicon a good six months before its death rattle ceased. 

The PlayStation 2, however, gets the best—and bloodiest—farewell party ever, in the form of a ghost-skinned, flame-tattooed mass of anger and unbridled aggression: Kratos, the unforgettable star of 2005’s God of War and, now, its ass-kicking sequel. Stick a blade in any thoughts of a mythical sophomore slump: God of War II is a masterful balance of storytelling and ignite-the-screen action.

Bloody, brilliant: God of War II combines baffling puzzles and heroic myth with a bit of the ol’ horror show.

Apparently, ol’ baldy was brooding during the World Lit class where they covered the whole “the gods giveth and the gods taketh away” thing: Kratos’ deific status as Ares’ assassin lasts five of the game’s first minutes. Betrayed by Athena, he is killed, resurrected and given a chance to alter his fate by Gaia…but only if he can survive another romp through some of the most exciting spins on Greek mythology gaming has ever seen.

Boss battles, so rare in the original, are now legion: a mano-a-mano throwdown with Perseus (voiced by Harry Hamlin, in a kitschy nod to that ’80s cheesefest, Clash of the Titans);  an in-the-air tug of wings with Icarus; and an unforgettable opener with the Colossus of Rhodes that requires multiple encounters to finally vanquish. Epic? We got your epic right here, baby.

The visceral joy of whipping those flaming dual blades around like a dervish of death never gets old (although it does trump most of the game’s specialized weapons). Frankly, I didn’t think it was possible to up the violence quotient of the original game—but it’s gone beyond even 300 territory. Whether you’re shredding chimerae while soaring on a pegasus or obliterating soldiers with 100-hit combo kills, the carnage flows more freely than cheap beer at Miller’s. And that’s a good, good thing.

games
As anyone who regularly saunters into the JPJ on a Saturday in March knows, college hoops is all about the atmosphere—the crowd, the mascots, the madness.

And, unfortunately, Dick Vitale.

If Electronic Arts’ first next-gen version of its NCAA March Madness series was only about bottling the supercharged experience of a home game against the Tar Heels, I’d be slotting an automatic berth in the Sweet Sixteen. Unfortunately, it’s also supposed to be about, you know, actual basketball. In this respect, NCAA 07 March Madness’ bubble bursts far too quickly.

Live out your postseason hopes and dreams in the latest installment of NCAA March Madness. (And, if you don’t like a call, use that reset button.)

The final Xbox version of March Madness was best known for its crowd-intensity function—when the Cavs were losing on the road, the controller would vibrate hard enough to alter your heart rate. For the 360 version, the intensity has been shifted to the players, each of whom has his very own confidence meter. Bust enough sweet plays to max your team’s intensity meter and you can click buttons to stop the action and rile the crowd, or have a near smack-off with Duke’s annoying Blue Devil. Good times.

It’s a blast to knock the Georgia Tech center’s confidence down to the point where he’s making silly push fouls in the lane, further juicing your team’s intensity and padding the blowout you’re probably creating. (Sometimes, your players get too excited; in many cases, the forward who just scored the monster dunk will be too busy thumping his chest to notice that the opposition’s guard has already blown past midcourt.) The lack of reliable defense and rebounding, by contrast, make the Madness feel more like frustrating insanity

Gotta say that the dearth of game modes here is a Kevin Durant-sized flagrant foul —where the hell’s the basic single-season mode? If you’re not willing to commit to the minutiae of the über-deep dynasty mode (and unless your name is Dave Leitao, you may not be), your only options are single-game and tournament modes. That’s not just weak, that’s Wake Forest-level weak.