Word.
Like, a few of 'em.
That's all I've got for you today. The heatwave, short as it was, finally broke and those of us in the Middle West are coasting nicely back into comfortable temps where death is not a constant threat. It no longer fees like the fires of Hell blowing against your face when you step outside. Yesterday I wrote a bit about Portishead and how the heat reminded me of listening to them last summer. I got to thinking about what else had that kind of thing going for it, that same recollection and similar feel, and it hit me.
Last summer when my better half was out of town on a business trip I spent my nights working through an unusual video game doing so because I was afforded some uninterrupted time on the widescreen TV. That game? A re-imagining of the original Silent Hill for the Wii, subtitled Shattered Memories. The game is a slightly tweaked and twisted take on the original experience, with some novel concepts. Among some of these changes were setting the otherworldly parts in a frozen, icy landscape and removing all of the combat from the game, which had really been ancillary in past versions anyway. Most intriguing was the idea that the game would be psychologically profiling you as you played it, altering the game-play to respond to what it interpreted from your choices and behavior. It was an interesting experience, one that was quite unlike any other game I'd played before. I was torn on removing the combat - the game became more of a post-modern adventure but lost some of the danger, which I'm sure was the opposite of the intentions of the creative team. As always, what really hooked me was the sound.
There's a moment in the game in which the protagonist's car plunges off of a bridge into the partially frozen river below. Yes, you of course make it out at that point in the game, seeing that you're only halfway through. It was a tense moment, regardless. I fumbled around with the Wii's mediocre motion controls, frantically hitting the door locks and windows, trying to remind myself its only a game, when I accidentally hit the radio. In a beautiful moment of scoring, the radio starting blaring Akira Yamaoka's version of the Country Western standard 'You Were Always On My Mind', complete with amazingly haunting vocals by series mainstay Mary Elizabeth McGlynn. It was right at the chorus, the moment when this version is bubbling through some churning synthesizers as Mcglynn moans the title.
The effect was serene and haunting, the best moment of the game for me.
I absolutely adore this version of the song. To be honest, the C&W versions are not my thing. This take on the standard, though - wow. McGlynn's gorgeous, breathy voice has been an integral part of the soundtracks to the games thus far. To be honest I'm a little ashamed I went this long without acknowledging her contributions, as some of the best tracks are due to her involvement. Check out the song and try to see what I experienced - it's dark and I've had some wine. I'm completely wrapped up in this psychological game, headphones on in front of a massive TV. An hour into the session, the car crashes and I'm fumbling in the dark, trying to hit the locks. Then, out of nowhere, but in a very real, believable moment, I hear this.
It's something that will stick with me for a long time, something I'd cite for the long-contested "Can games be considered art?" debate that rages today.
Like, a few of 'em.
That's all I've got for you today. The heatwave, short as it was, finally broke and those of us in the Middle West are coasting nicely back into comfortable temps where death is not a constant threat. It no longer fees like the fires of Hell blowing against your face when you step outside. Yesterday I wrote a bit about Portishead and how the heat reminded me of listening to them last summer. I got to thinking about what else had that kind of thing going for it, that same recollection and similar feel, and it hit me.
Last summer when my better half was out of town on a business trip I spent my nights working through an unusual video game doing so because I was afforded some uninterrupted time on the widescreen TV. That game? A re-imagining of the original Silent Hill for the Wii, subtitled Shattered Memories. The game is a slightly tweaked and twisted take on the original experience, with some novel concepts. Among some of these changes were setting the otherworldly parts in a frozen, icy landscape and removing all of the combat from the game, which had really been ancillary in past versions anyway. Most intriguing was the idea that the game would be psychologically profiling you as you played it, altering the game-play to respond to what it interpreted from your choices and behavior. It was an interesting experience, one that was quite unlike any other game I'd played before. I was torn on removing the combat - the game became more of a post-modern adventure but lost some of the danger, which I'm sure was the opposite of the intentions of the creative team. As always, what really hooked me was the sound.
The effect was serene and haunting, the best moment of the game for me.
