It’s strange but undeniable that for all the millions we’ve spent on creating and consuming videogames over the last 20 years, we lack any broad clarity on what they are or quite why they have won their space in the sun. Never before has so much been spent on something so little understood.
I grew up flying around Metropolis with my good buddy Superman. My parents introduced him to me when I was five. His movie was on TV and they taped it for me. I proceeded to spend all my afternoons and weekends with him, fighting crime and exploring the universe. We were always on a quest. Sometimes it was a simple quest, a quest for justice. Someone had been wronged and we were off to right it. Our quests for truth were more complex. We had to set aside our super speed and heat vision and use our powers of deduction
It is easy to forget that games don’t spring forth fully formed, like Minerva from the head of Jupiter. That isn’t true, though. Games, unlike most other mediums, are constantly changing, like a snake perpetually shedding its skin. Every version is called a build. There are thousands of builds for Jostle Bastard. In terms of scale, it isn’t a game on par with Skyrim or Red Dead Redemption, and yet, there are thousands of iterations that chart its evolution from inception to completion. Every meaningful change to the game spawns a new build. Some seem hardly changed, others are hardly
Towards the end of the development of Jostle Bastard, I received an email from Pippin Barr that said: Have also pulled out all my diary entries on the subject [of Jostle Bastard], which I’m attaching. They sound a bit disjointed because they’re pulled from my actual diary, which of course includes a bunch of stuff unrelated to this game! The attached document was a kind of poem of doubt that oscillates between the heights of triumph and the depths of despair. After reading through it, I replied: The diary is great stuff. It kind of reads like Dracula or a
The following is the latest in a series of journal entries chronicling the author’s descent into next-gen gaming degeneracy and assorted geekery – from getting his first television in years to trying to figure out why the @$@$&@@ you need two goddamn directional pads just to walk down an effing hallway.
Last weekend we buried my friend Carlos Batts on the side of a hill in Glendale. It was the magic hour, so the sun and smog conspired to give mourners a Tony Scott panorama of downtown Los Angeles while we pondered the loss of a friend gone too soon. In attendance were the bent and burnt of Hollywood. I counted more than a few pornographers in black, models with tattoos spilling from dress sleeves too. One dude looked like a East L.A. biker. More than a few bore the cultivated look of art collectors and gallery owners – pricey-looking clothes
Hi, I am Ian Gonzales and I have opinions. I’ve been writing for Unwinnable since the summer of 2010. I mostly write about comic books and movies (hence the title, Panels & Frames) and I curate our annual Best Comics list. This is a place where I will ruminate on whatever catches my fancy or my ire in this all encompassing box we call culture. So, here we are. Today, I am here to write about zombies.
Like Bob Dylan to the press, de Blob is playfully coy about its revolutionary message. Yes, it is a colorful Wii game for players of all ages, but it wields those colors like a fist in the air. de Blob is the story of a colored blob in a land drained of color. The titular Blob joins the Color Underground in their fight to bring the color back to the people.