I have been a gamer since I was 7 years old. I recall, fondly, playing a game title Ally Cat, which involved jumping a cat, ingeniously constructed from about four pixels, onto a series of dustbins, which then allowed him to leap into a set of open windows. Each window held a mini-game, and each mini-game was so ridiculously difficult I didn’t finish any one more then a handful of times in two years.
Soon after Alley Cat I was introduced to Space Quest, then King’s Quest III, and eventually Police Quest. These games were ridiculously difficult for a whole new reason; being that early adventure game logic is notoriously obscure. But I played each one until my eyes curled up in their sockets and turned to raisins, from the sheer bombardment of early computer monitor radiation. I never finished any of them.
Then, soon after, my life would be changed forever. My eyes and ears beheld the utter brain exploding glory that was Mean Streets. 256 colours, digitised voices, and, be still my heart, something that resembled live action video. It was a turning point in my life. Yes, by modern standards 256 colours looks like someone attempted to paint a masterpiece with a half a colour palette and one arm tied behind their back, but I understood the true potential of computer games, and never again would I go back to a paltry 16 colours. If I had paid any attention as a young eye-candy loving teenager, it might also have occurred to me that I didn’t enjoy the game, had no idea how to play it, and basically did nothing but use the video phone in an attempt to get the lady to say something new.
The rest of gaming history we all know. Doom arrived, followed by Quake, and then the world drowned under a flood of generic first person shooters. My interest in gaming all but dried up around the time Modern Warfare 3 assaulted me with more explosions then I could possibly comprehend. I stopped paying much attention, and only occasionally took a moment to be impressed by new physics technology or Batman kicking ass in an amazing new fighting system. A part of me gave up hope and went to sleep; the part that longed to make a game of my own since Alley Cat.
But then, flash forward a few years. My hair is thinner, stomach softer, and I’m playing a game titled UNDERTALE. Something incredible happens; I’m faced with graphics from 1995, but an unidentifiable sensation is tugging at the corners of my mouth. At first I can’t grasp what it could possibly be, and am just about to grab my phone and call in the medics for what must be a stroke, and it hits me; I’m smiling.
UNDERTALE, using no more then a handful of colours, text, and a combat system that went out of style decades ago, is the best game I’ve played since I was 20. Sure, at first I was a bit sceptical; who wouldn’t be after suckling on a diet of more polygons then hairs on my head for so many years. But it is utterly astonishing how quickly graphics stop mattering, and how a pair of skeleton brothers can make me smile and laugh like haven’t done since Psychonauts.
But let’s not get carried away. Yes, The Walking Dead games made me have an emotional reaction, and yes, so did Last of Us. But those games did so with budgets of millions, professional voice actors, and with the benefit of the Game of Thrones style shock-value and “guess who is going to get shagged, stabbed, or humiliated next” formula. UNDERTALE managed the same emotions with good old fashioned written words, charm and heart. Not a drop of blood is seen, not a cuss word flung, and not a single person is purposefully murdered in a terrible way, or a bloody wound stitched shut before your eyes, to jump-start your emotions into ticking.
Putting it short, ladies and gentleman, UNDERTALE just owned the modern game industry. Full stop.
I give full credit to the game makers; they clearly have an amazing grasp of tone and skill in abundance where quirk is concerned. I certainly don’t expect the game to outsell Call of Duty Part Seven; So Many Explosions Your Eyes May Just Combust, but I was thrilled to see it is getting recognition, and deeply hope this marks a new wave of similar games.
It was as I finished UNDERTALE that the old part of my brain woke up. I realised graphics were no longer an essential a part of a game as they once were, at least not for a certain part of the modern audience, and a good story could once again win and be recognised. So, after a bit of research, I started to make a game of my own. A teenage dream came true. It’s going pretty well.
I have been a gamer since I was 7 years old. I recall, fondly, playing a game title Ally Cat, which involved jumping a cat, ingeniously constructed from about four pixels, onto a series of dustbins, which then allowed him to leap into a set of open windows. Each window held a mini-game, and each mini-game was so ridiculously difficult I didn’t finish any one more then a handful of times in two years.
Soon after Alley Cat I was introduced to Space Quest, then King’s Quest III, and eventually Police Quest. These games were ridiculously difficult for a whole new reason; being that early adventure game logic is notoriously obscure. But I played each one until my eyes curled up in their sockets and turned to raisins, from the sheer bombardment of early computer monitor radiation. I never finished any of them.
Then, soon after, my life would be changed forever. My eyes and ears beheld the utter brain exploding glory that was Mean Streets. 256 colours, digitised voices, and, be still my heart, something that resembled live action video. It was a turning point in my life. Yes, by modern standards 256 colours looks like someone attempted to paint a masterpiece with a half a colour palette and one arm tied behind their back, but I understood the true potential of computer games, and never again would I go back to a paltry 16 colours. If I had paid any attention as a young eye-candy loving teenager, it might also have occurred to me that I didn’t enjoy the game, had no idea how to play it, and basically did nothing but use the video phone in an attempt to get the lady to say something new.
The rest of gaming history we all know. Doom arrived, followed by Quake, and then the world drowned under a flood of generic first person shooters. My interest in gaming all but dried up around the time Modern Warfare 3 assaulted me with more explosions then I could possibly comprehend. I stopped paying much attention, and only occasionally took a moment to be impressed by new physics technology or Batman kicking ass in an amazing new fighting system. A part of me gave up hope and went to sleep; the part that longed to make a game of my own since Alley Cat.
But then, flash forward a few years. My hair is thinner, stomach softer, and I’m playing a game titled UNDERTALE. Something incredible happens; I’m faced with graphics from 1995, but an unidentifiable sensation is tugging at the corners of my mouth. At first I can’t grasp what it could possibly be, and am just about to grab my phone and call in the medics for what must be a stroke, and it hits me; I’m smiling.
UNDERTALE, using no more then a handful of colours, text, and a combat system that went out of style decades ago, is the best game I’ve played since I was 20. Sure, at first I was a bit sceptical; who wouldn’t be after suckling on a diet of more polygons then hairs on my head for so many years. But it is utterly astonishing how quickly graphics stop mattering, and how a pair of skeleton brothers can make me smile and laugh like haven’t done since Psychonauts.
But let’s not get carried away. Yes, The Walking Dead games made me have an emotional reaction, and yes, so did Last of Us. But those games did so with budgets of millions, professional voice actors, and with the benefit of the Game of Thrones style shock-value and “guess who is going to get shagged, stabbed, or humiliated next” formula. UNDERTALE managed the same emotions with good old fashioned written words, charm and heart. Not a drop of blood is seen, not a cuss word flung, and not a single person is purposefully murdered in a terrible way, or a bloody wound stitched shut before your eyes, to jump-start your emotions into ticking.
Putting it short, ladies and gentleman, UNDERTALE just owned the modern game industry. Full stop.
I give full credit to the game makers; they clearly have an amazing grasp of tone and skill in abundance where quirk is concerned. I certainly don’t expect the game to outsell Call of Duty Part Seven; So Many Explosions Your Eyes May Just Combust, but I was thrilled to see it is getting recognition, and deeply hope this marks a new wave of similar games.
It was as I finished UNDERTALE that the old part of my brain woke up. I realised graphics were no longer an essential a part of a game as they once were, at least not for a certain part of the modern audience, and a good story could once again win and be recognised. So, after a bit of research, I started to make a game of my own. A teenage dream came true. It’s going pretty well.