Flawed Genius

Some months back I saw the film Across the Universe with my best friend Anthony, and I abhorred it, much to Anthony’s shock, since he loved the spectacle of it all, relishing in its excesses while I gawked at its cheap awkwardness. It’s one of the few things on which we disagree, and that difference in opinion still crops up in daily conversation. He accuses me of comparing it too closely to my beloved Moulin Rouge and not recognizing its ambitious vision; I accuse him of buying into a high school textbook version of the 60s and ignoring the film’s insulting, campy use of Beatles classics and the emotionally empty romance at its core.

Take a peek at rottentomatoes. It’s a divisive film amongst the critics too. Yet Stephen Holden’s review at the New York Times makes an observation so true and so incisive that it gave me pause. I quote:

“Across the Universe captured my heart, and I realized that falling in love with a movie is like falling in love with another person. Imperfections, however glaring, become endearing quirks once you’ve tumbled.”

In two sentences, Holden has captured the essence of how I feel about some of my favorite games in the last year. During the recent employee exodus at GameSpot, I seriously worried that I could become one of the jaded journalists I see at events, sipping at their vodka while spreading general negativity to anyone within earshot. They would have us believe that there’s nothing really special anymore, even in the face of proof to the contrary. And yet, I have been so lucky in the last year to play games that made me fall in love with them, almost unnaturally so. It’s been years since so many games tugged at my heart in such a short time, and like Holden, when I fell, I fell hard.

One of those games led to one of the most controversial reviews I’ve written: Assassin’s Creed. In November, when I first played the console versions, I was convinced I had experienced something so special and so unique that it could be one of the greats. It was a game with flaws, to be sure, but as a world, as an experience, as a piece of entertainment that was so wonderfully…”meta,” I felt it was transcendent. I have played it three more times since my initial playthrough, and it never stops giving me chills. Like Holden, I’d tumbled.

The critical reaction surprised me. It was only the second “9″ I had ever given, and one that I never questioned, not once. To give context, the first was for Command & Conquer 3: Tiberium Wars, and I worried for days that it was the right choice (the great Matt Rorie, well-known in the office for being an insanely tough critic, completely backed me up, which made it easier to rest at night). With Assassin’s Creed, I felt we had been graced with something extraordinary.

As a critic, it’s easy for me to dismiss drubbings for a game so deeply wonderful to me with the suggestion that it’s simply “misunderstood. I don’t really believe that, not really. I do believe, however, that this is a case of expectation vs. delivery, and perhaps this is what contributed to my adoration. I had seen bits and pieces of AC in action, but I’d payed little attention to it, as I do for most upcoming games. It’s tough enough to exist in the now without getting caught up in the future, though I’d be lying if I said there aren’t things I get excited to play when I hear about them. Assassin’s Creed just wasn’t one of them.

I am still shocked when the game’s most vocal critics accuse it of being repetitive. I think it’s joyous, beautiful, and there are moments where I still get breathless–even during scenes, such as assassination monologues, that others mark off in the “con” column. I don’t see countryside travel on horseback as fluff and filler, as some do, but rather, as necessary to establishing pace and encouraging exploration. Exploitable AI? Sure; one of my own criticisms is Assassin’s Creed’s clockwork artificial intelligence and mission design, which you can almost hear ticking underneath the game engine. I think some folks see that “gamey-ness” more than others, because on the surface, the game is so alive with activity. AC’s stealth AI doesn’t strike me as any less contrived as what you would see in Manhhunt 2 or Hitman. But I do think in a world so impressively alive, that its a mechanic that feels… mechanical.

But it’s a small criticism, and like with most games, Assassin’s Creed’s entertainment value is irreparably tied to how willing you are to suspend frustration. It never occurred to me that some players, insistent on plowing through the softer side of the game to get to the good bits, were missing the extraordinary moments at its core. I don’t think I would enjoy it much either if I hurried to finish it, but as the weird ending proves, getting to the finish line isn’t really the point.

That said, I recognize that not everyone is on the bandwagon, and aspects of the game I see as transcendent are frustrating to others. Nor could I ever suggest that it’s a perfect game. In fact, the more I play, the more I wish I could provide a list of suggestions to Ubisoft for the next installment, though by imagining such a thing, I immediately overvalue my own opinion. In a future post, expect to see such lists, though I don’t expect anyone to take them seriously, or want anyone to take it as a sign that I think my opinion matters any more than someone else’s. I’m graced to be in a position where people read my work, for better or for worse, but it’s still something that amazes me–that my love of games and of the written word could lead me to such a place.

Since that review, I’ve worried I might get a reputation of overscoring, but after thinking on it long and hard (and, secretly, thinking WWGKW–that is, What Would Greg Kasavin Write?), I stand by everything. If I like a game, that doesn’t make it a 9, after all; but it’s scary to think that I’ve given out three 9s this year. And who knows–they may be the only ones. But all three of them (No More Heroes, Okami, and Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core) are titles that made me fall in love all over again, and considering one of them already did that for me a year and a half ago, that’s mighty impressive. After such an outstanding year, 2008 has tossed a lot of special games our way, as if to announce that it has no intention of falling under 2007’s shadow. It isn’t that I am handing out high scores like candy (and I’ve given plenty of low ones and middling ones as well–many more of those, actually) as much as that I am so privileged to play amazing games sometimes.

It’s when games fail to give me chills that I need to worry. If you see me at a hotel bar at E3 some night, swilling martinis and bitching about David Jaffe’s attitude or Peter Molyneux’s accent, splash the martini in my face and remind me that if games stop being special, I need a new job.

~ by fiddlecub on April 21, 2008.