A MOST AGREEABLE PASTIME

Video Games, Victorian Style

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The first game that Lewis ever played was “Horace Goes Skiing” on the ZX Spectrum. Yes, he’s that old.

  • Assassination Has Never Been So Much Fun

    Assassin’s Creed II has the honour of being the first game to be knocked off The Mantelpiece and into the velvet-lined, taffeter-embroidered bin labelled ‘Games That I’ve Completed This Year’. A rather nasty head cold earlier this month meant I was rendered incapacitated and unable to work for two days, but these rather phlegmy days and nights also gave me the chance to finish a couple of the excellent games that have been gathering dust on The Mantelpiece for far too long. (Enslaved was the other, rather brilliant game I had a chance to play, but more on that another time.)

    As an impetuous youth I was lucky enough to undertake a Grand Tour of Europe by train, and Northern Italy was easily the high point of my trip, so I was delighted to discover the astounding level of detail with which Florence and Venice have been recreated in Assassin’s Creed II. Playing the game, and in particular clambering up and down the beautiful Santa Maria del Fiore cathedral in Florence, brought back some very happy memories of my travels (not that I did much climbing on buildings when I was there, I tended to mostly appreciate them from ground level). As such, my enjoyment of the game was undoubtedly heightened by a sense of familiarity – that moment when you suddenly realise “Ah! I’ve been there!”. In a way it’s a bit like watching a movie that’s been filmed in your home town – your enjoyment of it is intrinsically linked to and heightened by the sense of familiarity and recgonition.

    Gameplay wise, ACII is a big improvement on the original, and almost all of the annoying bits of the first game have either been expunged or tweaked. For instance, it’s now possible to fast travel between cities, and the extreme repetitiveness of the missions in the first game has been dealt with to some extent. I was a little bit disappointed with the optional assassination missions though – I was enjoying playing through the game so much, I decided to complete every optional mission in addition to those available through the main quest, but what did I receive for my troubles? Nothing. Zip. Nada. Not even an Achievement or an unlockable costume. Admittedly, I did quite enjoy playing through the various missions, but it seems a bit lazy on the developers’ part not to include at least some reward for trawling through every mission on offer.

    One thing I was particularly grateful for was the disappearance of the much maligned flags from the previous game (see this article for my thoughts on such pointless collectibles), but sadly they’ve been replaced by some equally pointless feathers (although at least these are fewer in number). Speaking of pointless collectibles, I initially thought the inclusion of hidden treasure was neat touch, as it provided a collectible you could actually use to buy stuff with. However, I quickly realised that the income you received from upgrading your villa completely dwarfed the tiny amounts of cash you got from finding treasure, so looking for these collectibles also became rather pointless.

    Another thing that continues to irritate me about the game (and its prequel) is the utterly ludicrous plot. If you’re unaware of the set-up, the idea is that a shadowy corporation have created a machine called the Animus that can unlock the ‘genetic memories’ of users and allow them to relive the lives of their ancestors. You play as Desmond Miles, whose rather murderous ancestors include the gleefully genocidal Altair (who you play in the first game) and the swarthy emo killer Ezio (who you play in this game and its sequel). From the get-go the plot dives into mystical mumbo-jumbo about the Knights Templar and powerful ancient artefacts that could destroy the world, and the second game happily turns the cliché-o-meter up to 11. Suddenly, Henry Ford, Hitler, Nikola Tesla and Adam and Eve are dragged kicking and screaming to the nonsensical unfoldings, until the game feels like a particularly poor episode of The X Files. Admittedly, the ending does provide a surprisingly effective moment when one of the characters breaks the fourth wall, but generally the ridiculous plot is an unwelcome addition to an otherwise excellent game about running around historical cities and murdering people in various inventive ways. Seriously, if they just chucked out all of the rubbish about ‘genetic memories’ and global conspiracies and just made a game where you played a historical assassin, the gameplay would not suffer in the slightest, and expunging the rather weak sections set in the modern day would actually improve matters.

    Having said all that, I should emphasise at this point that despite my moaning, I really did enjoy the game enormously, and I’d highly recommend it. I even learned a bit about Rennaissance Italy, and surely there aren’t many games that you can say that about.

    [As dictated by Lucius P. Merriweather]

  • Welcome To The Manor

    “In Which The Concept Of The Manor Is Explained and we indulge our creativity.  Just go with it”

    As you approach the imposing red brick facade of The Manor, the front door glides effortlessly open to reveal the gaunt, hunched figure of Snodgrass the Self-Reflexive Butler. He peers at you myopically over his enormous beak of a nose until he manages to place your features and, with a sudden flash of recognition in his tiny black eyes, his quizzical, downturned mouth transforms into a sideways smile (that could perhaps be more correctly described as a leer).

    “Ah, there you are! We’ve been waiting for you! Welcome to The Manor – do come in.”

    With trepidation, you step over the threshold into the gloom of the entrance hall. You dimly perceive the shape of an umbrella stand made out of an elephant’s foot, and halfway down the hall there appears to be an enormous Ming vase stuffed with peacock feathers. As your eyes adjust to the gloom, which is punctuated by a single, sputtering gas lamp somewhere off to your right, you realise you are standing near the foot of an enormous, finely carved stairway, decorated with various African flora and fauna. There are many, many doors leading from the hallway in front of you and the landing above…

    “As you’ve no doubt realised by now, you’ve walked into an elaborate metaphor”, says Snodgrass as he fixes you with his beady eyes, “Don’t worry, we know it’s a bit much to take in at first, but just go with it – trust us.”

    Snodgrass lights the triple candelabra on the side table next to him, then picks it up and sweeps it in a big arc across the hallway, revealing the many doors radiating away into the blackness. He turns to address you.

    “You’ve stumbled into The Manor of Lucius P. Merriweather and Sir Gaulian – two Victorian gentlemen who are rather partial to the delights of video gaming.” He sneers the words ‘video gaming’ as if he were describing the contents of the water closet. With a barely perceivable shake of the head to clear his thoughts, he continues: “The many rooms leading from this humble hallway each represent a different topic related to video games. For example, in The Library you can find all sorts of pretent… stimulating discussion about the nature of gaming, whereas in The Cellar you’ll find a treasure trove of long-lost gaming delights. Then there’s The Mantelpiece, on which you can find the embarrassingly large pile of video games that Messrs. Merriweather and Gaulian have hoarded but haven’t quite got round to playing yet. By the way, we know The Mantelpiece isn’t a room, but just go with it OK? It’s hard enough to keep this metaphor sustained without you picking holes in it all the time…”

    Snodgrass suddenly looks a bit sheepish and his gaze drops to the floor, before he adds in a muted voice: “Oh, and speaking of exploding metaphors, you might notice that Mr Merriweather and Sir Gaulian don’t always write their posts in the same elaborate, faux Victorian dialogue they describe the rooms in… But give them a break all right, it’s hard enough to keep this metaphor propped up as it is!”

    The curious butler clears his throat with an officious ‘ahem’, gathers himself up to his full height (although with his hunch he barely reaches to your chin) and continues: “If you’re curious to meet the gentlemen owners of The Manor, hasten forthwith to The Drawing Room, where you’ll find them engaged in deep conversation, as per usual. Finally, I believe Mr. Bradbrook, our resident artist, can be found painting in The Gallery. Oh, and we’ll probably add more rooms as we think of more things to write about – that’s the beauty of an entirely metaphorical manor you see, it can be as big as you want it to be and we don’t have to seek planning permission if we want to extend.”

    Snodgrass pauses and looks at you expectantly. Suitably bewildered, you look around at the many doors, baffled as to which one to try first.

    “Well, I’ll leave you to get on with exploring then… Enjoy!”

    The sinister butler withdraws down a side corridor, then half turns and whispers menancingly: “Stay a while… STAY FOREVER!!!”

    You stare at him in a mixture of shock and incomprehension.

    “Ah. Sorry… I’m not sure why I said that,” he admits sheepishly, before shuffling out of sight.