When Games Are Not Stories

An example of the animus slipping past the sight of
local guards in Assassin's Creed. If only it worked as
well in the game.

I am the Warden!!

Today is a day off to recover from the Return of the Torn Throat. Yes, I'm aware that I'm writing on my blog, so for argument's sake, this is not work. Seems that strep throat wasn't cured after all and has come back with a vengeance. After three nights of very little sleep, my mind was worn down and unable to complete a coherent thought. The majority of the afternoon was spent on the couch playing Assassin's Creed (which I picked up for $10 a couple of weeks ago and haven't been able to play very often until now).

As I write this, I'm knee deep in the middle of the first true assassination in Damascus and loving the fact that it takes place during the Crusades, something I read about extensively back in my post-college days. The graphics are amazing and the controls are very intuitive (assigning each of the four core buttons to the four limbs on the animus' body - head, hands, and the feet). Plus, the idea of playing an assassin sounds fun. Not sure why.

But there's a problem. I'm having a hard time investing myself into this story. It started the first time I saved a citizen's life and escaped from a pair of nearby guards to the roofs of Damascus. Easily making my way to the curtained roof garden, I ducked and covered just in time to remain out of sight... and watched as these "professionals" searched everywhere except the most obvious hiding spot in sight. "Bah! I've got better things to do," one decries and back they go to their post.

Really? (sigh)

Why Am I Attacking That Guy?

Insert yo broodmama jokes....NOW!!

I am the Warden and I hate video games again!!

Back story. For the past couple of months, I've returned to the world of Dragon Age. Electronically, that is, in the form of Dragon Age: Origins for the Xbox 360. It's not my first time, but I've enjoyed it immensely more than my first time out due to two simple factors. One, elves aren't the glorious immortals made out in every other fantasy campaign known to existence. And two, I'm a rogue.

Yet last night's events have threatened to derail my efforts to finish this fucking game once more by striking at my weakest point: reminding me that it's a video game. During all three efforts to take on the infamously nippled broodmother (pictured above), my elf rogue continuously changed his mind on who he was going to attack, wandering off to get into some bizarrely accurate position against a tentacle or approaching shriek and throwing my entire plan of attack on its arse. Which is exactly where all my party members ended up, except dead.

I'm not sure if it's a glitch in this particular skirmish or intentionally done to complicate matters, but it broke the veil of fantasy and reminded me that I'm holding a controller in my hands and the commands and options presented are only limited to the decision put forth by the creators of the game. It's not the first time it's happened to me during a video game and it always leads to my dismissal from the game's presence, but this one was personal. I thought we had something, Dragon Age and I.