There’s something incredibly infectious and wholly refreshing about Platinum Games’ approach to video game design. The Japanese studio has become renowned and rightly celebrated for producing high-quality, action-packed titles brimming with eccentric creativity, topped off with an unabashed disregard for the safe and traditional gameplay conventions which so many video games rely on. Simply put, Platinum Games are not afraid to take risks – the bigger, the better, in fact.
It seems that no matter how many genetic mutations and disfigured freaks of humanity gamers dispose of, our appetite for apocalyptic action is apparently, insatiable.
For developers, it’s become the new go-to fictitious scenario, only surpassed by the military shooter for the award of ‘most oversaturated subject matter of this generation’.
It’s easy to kick someone when they’re down. It’s even easier to lay the boot into the forlorn figure of Nintendo. Just look at them, lying there like such fools…
The Xbox One is coming. It’s big, boxy and proudly touted as an ‘all in one entertainment’ device. You can control it with your voice, hands, genitalia…
Throughout its five-year lifecycle, the Nintendo Wii was rightly chastised by some sectors of the gaming community for pandering to one sole demographic: the now infamous ‘casual gamer’.
Party-centric mini-game compilations and waggle infested, lacklustre third-party produce littered the library of Nintendo’s lucrative console, leaving those who desperately sought genuine, quality titles an unbearable swamp of shovelware to wade through.
Nintendo can often neglect their many endearing mascots. One minute they’re the centre of the company’s attention, spoilt with unprecedented devotion and a renewed sense of enthusiasm; the next, they’re thrown into a golden, impenetrable vault, guarded by Twinbellows, sealed shut until the stars and planets align in a particular way that pleases the master of mascot creation himself, Shigeru Miyamoto.
It’s difficult to pinpoint the exact moment when the above combination of Katakana characters changed from altogether meaningless, to a genuine point of interest in my life. Perhaps it was after I’d slain my first Grand Jaggi in the sandy plains, battling the shrieking wyvern with dogged persistence until it succumbed to the force of my blade.