The folks over at the Experimental Gameplay Project just recently announced their theme for September: the never-ending game. I was intrigued.

Given all the hubbub and ballyhoo on the Internets and Twitters and Fax Machines regarding “games as art,” I decided to throw together something entirely stupid—as per my constitutional rights—and the result is a real gem of a mess.

Behold! ArtLovr, a game thrown together over a handful of hours and a fistful of beers, with a little bit of HTML5 duct tape and Akihabara wizardry to suit the punters.

Yes, it’s Pong. Yes, there’s a finite score.

Or is there?

Well, yes.

But in real terms? Well, the way the game plays, the PONGBALL5000 takes a certain amount of time to cross the screen, and assuming it scores immediately, there is still a pause to display a message on-screen before the next PONGBALL3000 is released.

Now, for the sake of argument, let’s instead pretend that the PONGBALL is moving at the incredible speed of 320pixels per millisecond (the millisecond being the favorite time unit of game programmers and anaerobic bacteria), and that a point is scored every millisecond (we also assume no interim messages). A given player’s score is composed of 27 digits:
000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000
all the way to
999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999

Therefore, at the rate of 1 point per millisecond (in an increasingly lopsided game), how long until we hit 1×10²⁷ and overflow one of the players’ scores?

31.7 quadrillion years.

Or, in units more familiar to you and me, 2.3 million times the age of the known universe. So, frankly, for our purposes, I like to think of ArtLovr as pretty much a never-ending game.

And there’s my take on games-as-art. Entirely fascinating from a technical standpoint I’m sure, but varying from tediously infantile at times to pretentiously lofty at others.

And my opinion is final and the best, QED.

I just finished playing through a game that I think is really neat, but you may not have heard of. It’s called Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare 2, and it’s about ice climbing.

I was actually being facetious! Ha! Odds are in fact favourable that you have heard of CoD4MW2 (look, the game’s bloody acronym is CoD4MW2 and I refuse to abbreviate it and will instead write CoD4MW2 in full, every time). CoD4MW2, as you may know, expands on traditional ice climbing gameplay, adding first-person shooter elements and a mature storyline reflecting teamwork, submarines, and the ennui of the modern airport terminal.

The big hullabaloo about CoD4MW2 (aside from its being a record-breaker) was the “No Russian” mission, in which you, a CIA agent that has infiltrated into a terrorist’s inner circle, join the latter in gunning down civilians in a busy Russian airport (the preceding was a spoiler).

A number of people seem to have Very Important Opinions about the level, holding it up as final, incontrovertible proof that videogames have reached the imbecilic, blood-thirsty lows of maenadic carnage¹; or instead that they have reached the ultimate peak of cultural sophistication, being this medium’s Moby-Dick and Gilgamesh and Star Wars, all rolled into one very long tube. I myself probably have opinions as well, though I tend to find the current discussion horribly melodramatic and prepossessed of an overabundance of verbiage (“Slowly, so slowly, I turned to see the pained visage of my fellow Russian airport resident—a face strained with horror reflective of my own—as I explored the game’s mechanic of not letting me run (No Rushin’, indeed), and knew that the peak of interactivity had come as I woefully, so woefully pulled the trigger.”)

So, moving along, I think much of the fuss over the level is somewhat silly (though imagine the furor if they’d included a Hot Coffee mod—outrageous!), and as I am something of a positivist, let me instead just comment on the level’s effect. In a word which has never before been used in the “No Russian” discussion, it is disturbing. But then, it was meant to be. Everything is designed to draw a very visceral reaction from the player: actors were mo-capped crawling away on their hands and knees, and are rendered trailing blood; the music (which I loved) is minimal and unsettling; the pace is deadly and deliberate. The words “designed” and “deliberate” both start with the letter D, and the duo describe why I don’t deem “No Russian” to be the most disturbing level of the game. The intent of the developers is clear: this terrorist guy is a Bad Dude, and he does Bad Things That Shock You. Hey, it works. The level is memorable. Makarov is no good. Point taken.

For me, however—because I’m interesting like that—”No Russian” isn’t the most affecting level of CoD4MW2. That honour goes to “Wolverines!”, two missions after “No Russian.” In “Wolverines!”, Russian forces retaliate for the previous terrorist attack, and begin an invasion on the United States’ eastern seaboard (that’s another spoiler). The level begins in the midst of a full-blown Russian attack in typical American suburbia. And therein lies the fun. I believe I once heard Stephen Spielberg describe the best settings for horror as being set amongst the familiar, and that was the first thing to come to mind while playing this mission. Fighting off waves of invaders against a backdrop of smoke, fire, and anti-aircraft guns can feel claustrophobic all on its own, but it’s all the more terrifying when it’s in “our” backyard; when you’re running past the family patio or someone’s barbecue. “Wolverines!” is one of the great examples of “Situation Normal All F***ed Up,” and it works because it takes all the subtle cues of “home” and “safety,” and then shoots them right to hell.

While volunteering at MIGS ‘09, I attended a talk by Randy Smith about making games that aren’t necessarily “light-hearted” or “fun” to play. At one point, he paraphrased a movie critic² who claimed that writers using a character’s death to provoke a reaction were betraying the audience’s trust—that it was “too easy” to do so, given that audiences are guaranteed to take death emotionally. I feel rather the same way about “No Russian”—it was designed from start to finish to make the player uncomfortable, and is therefore entirely lacking in subtlety (though I admit subtlety may not have been exactly what they were going for). On the other hand, “Wolverines!” goes the opposite direction, taking the standard adrenaline-pumping shooter formula and giving it a deeply insidious turn by setting it in our backyards. “No Russian” will stand as the memorable mission from CoD4MW2, but to my mind, “Wolverines!” takes a much less overt approach (perhaps even subconscious), and the terror induced is therefore many times greater.

Hm? Oh, right. CoD4MW2 is an excellent game in single-player, full of exciting set-pieces, novel gameplay, and impressive polish. Now to find some time to play through the multiplayer, which has apparently done a few things right. Luckily, I’m already a frakking marksman online.

I recently purchased A Vampyre Story.

It was not because of any great need to play the game—though of course, given that it was developed entirely by former Lucasarts employees, a good fraction of Internet Weirdos were frothing at the mouth to have it. No, I bought it a) because it was on sale for cheap, and b) because I felt I should get back in the adventure game mindset in time for Jane Jensen’s upcoming Gray Matter. For those not in the know, Jane is the creative force behind the Gabriel Knight series of games, and is probably the greatest single videogame authoress since Pliny the Younger.

“A Vampyre Story” is decent. It has plenty of flaws, but hey, it makes an attempt to re-introduce old-school adventures into a mainstream that has all but dropped them by the wayside. I was looking forward to playing through the game as a whole, and then bothering you all with my own inflated opinions on the matter.

But goodness gracious me, wouldn’t you know that I’m a filthy software pirate?

Well, that is, apparently I am so. Because no sooner had I started up the game (after having played through a few hours without problem) than was I accosted by the following silliness:

Jeepers, that’s funny. Because I distinctly remembered not having ever in history made a backup of this DVD-ROM. In fact, I’m pretty sure I bear a remarkable resemblance to this handsome chappy:

…who, as you can see, is remarkably handsome. And who also, the more cunning among you may have noticed, owns a piece of software that was legally bought and paid for. But hey, who am I to argue with technology? Obviously the latter picture is a forgery (you can tell from the pixels and from the sheer impossibility of that rugged, chiseled jawline), and I am no better than a Somalian pirate.

Faugh!

Balderdash!

So, scrap my potential review of the game; and, in honour of Kenneth Pompadour, I must say that this particular product, and SecuROM to boot, is fit…for the pit.

Before all the GDC nonsense of the past weeks, I posted an open letter that I’d written to several Liberal MPs regarding our current Minister of State for Science and Technology, Dr. Gary Goodyear, and his proto-Creationist murmurings. Earlier this morning, I got a response from Marlene Jennings, my local MP, which I’ll transcribe here for completeness’ sake:

I acknowledge receipt and thank you for your e-mail dated March 18, 2009, in which you express your views and concerns regarding comments made by Mr. Gary Goodyear.

I have duly taken note of your correspondence and please be assured that your views and comments have been carefully considered.

Like or not, for some people the issue of evolution versus creationism does have a religious dimension. It is not simply a scientific issue.

And while I agree that there is a personal credibility issue at play, whether the Science minister believes in evolution or not is immaterial providing it is not affecting public science policy.

There is no proof that public science policy by the current government is presently being affected by the personal beliefs of the current Minister. Rest assured had there been any clear indication to the contrary, I would have criticized the government on that point.

There is a great deal to criticize in the conservative government’s science policy but the personal beliefs of the Minister of State, no matter what they may be, are not an issue at this time.

Once again, I thank you for having shared your views and comments on this matter.

Sincerely,
The Hon. Marlene Jennings, P.C., M.P.

Not the thundering victory for reason I may have hoped for, but certainly very typically Canadian, and good enough for me. It’s good to hear Ms. Jennings at least acknowledge a potential impact on public policy; here’s hoping she and others in both the government and in the general populace remain vigilant on the issue.

And of course a good deal of thanks to Ms. Jennings for reading the letter and responding in the first place. Pardon me while I shed a single tear and go hug a tin of maple syrup.

I recently became aware, through The Bad Astronomer, of a rather puzzling predicament: Dr. Gary Goodyear (MP – Cambridge), our federal Minister of State for Science and Technology, refused to describe his stance on Evolution, for “religious reasons.” So, given that I have work I’d rather not be doing, I wrote up a little response of my own and sent it out to Michael Ignatieff, Marc Garneau, and Marlene Jennings, because I’m convinced their helper monkeys want to hear me get all scientifically outraged. Feel free to do the same, if you should so choose.

***

Honourable Members of Parliament,

I write to you in your capacities as, respectively: Leader of the Official Opposition; Liberal Critic for Industry, Science and Technology; and MP for my own riding, Notre-Dame-de-Grâce–Lachine.

It was with dismay and disbelief that I read a recent article in the Globe & Mail, “Science minister won’t confirm belief in evolution” (March 17, 2009). In it, Dr. Gary Goodyear (MP – Cambridge), asked by a reporter to comment on the Theory of Evolution, replied: “I don’t think anybody asking a question about my religion is appropriate.” While I fully agree that religious preference should have no bearing on a person’s ability to hold office, Dr. Goodyear misses the point completely. The Theory of Evolution has withstood academic assault and investigation for well over one hundred years. It has informed research into the evolution of drug-resistant diseases; it has helped us chart our own lineage as a species, as well as the whole line of life on Earth. It is a tool for understanding, a tool that has the full backing of scientific consensus. It is accepted scientific fact, and is no more a religious issue than is the value of pi or the Theory of Gravity.

I am, I believe, understandably shocked therefore that the Theory of Evolution should still be erroneously considered a matter of religious preference. Compounding the issue is the fact that Dr. Goodyear, who evidently espouses this contrary view, is our current federal Minister of State for Science and Technology—the irony is palpable. That Dr. Goodyear does not seem to exhibit the most basic grasp of the scientific process and of academic consensus not only throws into question his competence for the posting, but also completely undermines the faith (no pun intended) of the Canadian people in the government that made the appointment. The quote listed above was part of an interview concerning the Conservative government’s recent decimation of scientific funding across the country; the mentality behind these cuts suddenly becomes much clearer when those governing our national research budget invalidate their own authority in the matter.

In a perfect world, a federal Minister of State for Science and Technology, when asked about their stance on Evolution, would dismiss the question as trivially evident, and return to their job: encouraging and enabling the research and innovation that is a necessity in stimulating any economy. Again in a perfect world, a Minister such as Dr. Goodyear, who both tore at the bedrock of a nation’s competitiveness and demonstrated a very serious lack of competence for their posting, would find their position in peril. I am, however, aware that the world is imperfect, and politics doubly so. I therefore simply ask, as a concerned citizen, that you press the issue with the current minority government, and obtain an answer from Dr. Goodyear: does he, or does he not, acknowledge the Theory of Evolution as accepted scientific fact? He is more than welcome to debate the concept—debate being, of course, absolutely fundamental to science as a whole. However, hiding behind the shield of religious belief is entirely disingenuous, and only exacerbates the problem. Good government serves the people, and the Canadian people deserve to know if their government and the individuals within it are fit to lead. The Canadian people deserve an answer from Dr. Goodyear, and I, respectfully, demand it.