Game of the Year
Game of the Year columns are always difficult to write because the criteria are so nebulous. This year, I decided that the only games included on my "list" would be the games that I couldn't get out of my mind--I played them every moment I could, and when I wasn't playing them, I was thinking about them. When I looked back on what I played in the last twelve months, only four games made the cut. Three of them I've already written about at length: Half-Life 2, ESPN NFL2K5 (Xbox), and City of Heroes, and I won't be repeating my thoughts about them now. The fourth--Fatal Frame II: Crimson Butterlyfly (Director's Cut) (Xbox)--is one of the finest games I've ever played, and I will discuss it here for the first time.To begin with, here is the order for those four games:
1. Half-Life 2
2. Fatal Frame II: Crimson Butterfly (Director's Cut) (Xbox)
3. ESPN NFL2K5 (Xbox)
4. City of Heroes
World of Warcraft might well have replaced City of Heroes, but I haven't played it.
I will say this straight out: Fatal Frame II: Crimson Butterfly (Director's Cut) is one of the best games I've ever played. I very nearly put it above Half-Life 2 as Game of the Year. In many ways, it's superior. It is deeply terrifying and deeply personal, and the deft balance of fear and intimacy is just one of many reasons that it is a masterpiece. This is not terror of the monster closet, Doom 3 variety--it is a deep, grinding kind of dread. Mixed with that persistent dread are moments that are so singularly brilliant, so stunning and shocking in their presentation, that I was overwhelmed to the point of being numb. I did not think that was possible in a game, and I was wrong.
This is the game's premise, and it seems quite simple. Twin sisters have returned to their childhood home to visit a nearby forest where they enjoyed playing as children. This place will soon be lost, for it will become a lake after the construction of a nearby dam. As they walk along the forest path, one sister sees a crimson butterfly fluttering in front of her and gives chase. The butterfly leads her and her sister deeper into the forest, until suddenly they see a row of lights through the trees. They have discovered the hidden village, lost (as the legend goes) many years ago on the eve of a festival. The twins enter the lost village, there to unravel the mystery.
Superb writing and production values are the hallmark of this game. The story is revealed in fragments, and the fragments themselves are presented in multiple ways: journal entries, photographs, film, aurally. It is a collage with many, many pieces, and the different presentations create different senses of unease, from the stunning film footage to the deeply haunting voices. The color palette is also seminal to the brilliance of this game. While it is usually muted, almost monochromatic, the use of vivid color at times to heighten meaning is an ingenious touch. It is also visually arresting, as is the entire game, as sophisticated and well-directed as a top film.
Another unique aspect of this game is that the gameplay mechanics heighten the tension. There is no conventional weapon to defeat the ghosts--no conventional weapon would harm them. Rather, a "spirit camera" is used to take photographs to capture their unique essence, and this is a remarkable mechanic. Engaging the camera limits one's view, which in this gameworld is deeply unsettling, and the camera is most effective when the subject is closest, explicitly linking power to vulnerability. Not all spirits are aggressive--another involving and engaging part of the game is taking photographs of ghosts who are simply lost souls, and with their photograph another small piece of the story is revealed.
Most first-person shooters primarily serve to pump up the player's adrenaline and confidence, to make us all feel like bad asses. Forget that. This isn't junior high. This is a game with a frail heroine, not some steroid-swilling ex-Marine. This is not a world with a seemingly random collection of endless enemies that must be destroyed--it is beautifully and carefully constructed, and it is a wonder to be experienced, not controlled. You will not feel like a bad ass when you finish this game--you will be shaken to the core.
I have wondered why this game isn't getting more attention, and I believe it's because it must be experienced on its own terms. The third-person perspective makes for a different and far less compelling experience--and the first-person perspective is only available on the Xbox version. The first-person view makes the game far more personal, and it is that personal nature that helps make the game so deeply disturbing. Headphones also dramatically change the intensity of the experience. This is a relatively quiet game, so every sound is significant, and headphones allow you to hear everything. There is madness inside the village, and with headphones on, that madness feels like its coming from inside you instead of around you. It's chilling, and I shuddered more times than I can remember. I also think that playing on a decently sized (37" and larger) HD set makes a significant difference, because it allows the cinematic nature of the presentation to be more fully felt. And finally, it goes without saying that this game needs to be experienced in a dark, quiet environment to fully appreciate its beautiful and frightening environment.
I'd never heard of designer Keisuke Kikuchi before I'd played this game, but I cannot imagine a finer design than this one. What a moving and beautiful achievement.
<< Home