Archive for the ‘Response’ Category

Pac-Man in depth

Monday, March 23rd, 2009

The eyes of one of the ghostly antagonists in “Pac-Man”

Jamey Pittman’s “The Pac-Man Dossier” is all about Pac-Man, only barely sparing readers the actual machine code in which the game is written (something Nick Montfort just couldn’t resist adding into his excellent Combat in Context”). Fortunately, there’s much more to the dossier than technical details, and so it appeals not only to programmers and game dorks: it’s about history, complexity, and culture.

Pac-Man is the most successful coin-operated game ever and one of the most recognizable cartoon characters in the world. The original game—to say nothing of its many sequels and adaptations—has been in demand since its release almost 30 years ago, from its arcade cabinet, to home computers and emulators, up to the release of Pac-Man: Championship Edition on the Xbox 360 in 2007. Pac-Man is a part of gaming history, among the few games (like Tetris) that deserve to be considered classics, well worth learning more about.

Pittman does a good job of covering Pac-Man‘s many aspects. He has not only gone over old strategy books, but, with access to the source code and decades of study by fans, the actual behaviour of the software. He describes a lot of technical details without becoming dry or irrelevant; what details are, are trapped in tables.

The processes of Pac-Man are presented clearly, particularly those concerning the ghosts’ behaviour, but Pittman doesn’t make the mistake of presenting it as a simple game. Indeed, though he doesn’t say it, Pac-Man is another example of how relatively uncomplicated processes acting together can lead to complex behaviour (an example more familiar and relatable than Conway’s Life).

Though Pittman spends most his words on the software, he also goes over some design decisions—from the cross-gender appeal of a non-violent action game based on eating, to the colours of the sides of the cabinets—and, to me most intriguing, touches on Pac-Man culture and lore:

Blinky will increase his rate of speed twice each round based on the number of dots remaining in the maze. While in this accelerated state, Blinky is commonly called “Cruise Elroy”, yet no one seems to know where this custom was originated or what it means.

This endearing little mystery (and the speculation which follows it) is one example of the human dimension of Pac-Man. The article breaks down exactly how each of the ghosts behaves and why, and goes on to mention the ghosts’ various Japanese and English nicknames, how players saw in each ghost a different style of play, a personality. The game isn’t just about the mechanics of play or the colourful, beeping rewards it gives its players, but what people see in it, what they’ve made of it (cf. Senet).

It’s great to have such a full picture of a game, from the low level of memory bugs in the software to Buckner & Garcia’s Pac-Man Fever. Pittman does a good job of showing us Pac-Man as system and of telling us its story, of reminding us that it is still very human.

After all, someone had to feed those quarters in.

Killing time and zombies

Wednesday, August 29th, 2007

Typing zombies to death in “Typing of the Dead”

Do you like zombies? Like arcade games? Want to improve your WPM? Well, there is a way to combine the joy of Land of the Dead, Virtua Cop, and repetitive keyboard drills: Sega’s goofy masterpiece, The Typing of the Dead. The game alters the well-known rail shooter The House of the Dead 2 by replacing guns with keyboards. Zombies advance on you with word bubbles floating in the space ahead of them. To defeat them, you need to type that word as quickly and accurately as you can.

For those of us who are lazy and in front of a computer all day, but still have a nagging urge for self-improvement, Typing of the Dead is a great way to avoid work, the out of doors, and other people. It’s a tounge-in-cheek re-purposing of a badly written old arcade game (the voice acting is atrocious) but there’s just enough Mavis Beacon to it that you won’t feel too guilty for sinking an entire afternoon into it.

But Typing is satisfying in a way the Mavis Beacon tutors never were. Landing a long word without making a single error means juggling a walking corpse with bullets. Your skill isn’t a score or a ribbon, but explosions of green blood, the rush of having destroyed a wave of infected, knife-weilding circus chimps. You get the feeling that the home row can really kick some ass.

Typing was developed by the same company responsible for the excellent Jet Grind Radio. Originally released for the Dreamcast (your in-game character carries one strapped to his back), the game seems to have found an audience on the PC, and was popular enough to have been re-released for the PS2 in Japan a few years ago.

The full game is available at HOTU, as a direct download or BitTorrent. Be warned, it comes with a suspicious, warez-fabulous installer and loud sound-effects.

I recommend disabling the music: go to the folder where the game was installed and, in the sound folder, rename the bgm folder to anything other than bgm.

I’m a Man Man man

Sunday, April 16th, 2006

Man Man’s Six Demon Bag is poised to become a long-time favourite of mine. Every track of rock-jazz oddness is appropriately elating or sorrowful. It’s one of the most enjoyable albums I’ve discovered since Odelay or Actual Sounds and Voices.

Six Demon Bag is strange, undoubtedly. Its voices and instrumentation are all over the place: a raspy chorus, candied falsetto, and sweaty growls play over organs, bass, synths, and accordions. “Black Mission Goggles” is punctuated with exuberant whoops and laughter; the sadness of “Skin Tension” is made of gravelly regrets and a saxophone. Man Man makes an album of it all. There’s a weird, consistent style in its red-faced joy, earnest heaviness of heart, and somewhat threatening excitement. Despite being so varied, there is a unique and compelling sound to it all.

The lyrics are similarly eclectic and successful. There’s a strain of surreality throughout, suitable in everything from the psychedelic “Engwish Bwudd” to the lament of “Van Helsing Boombox”. For all the grandiosity of the rousing chanteys (and the masculine hardness connoted by the name “Man Man”), many songs tell of pain and a want of intimacy. It may seem maudlin to ask “will we ever find the one that we were meant to love like we want to be loved?” or to hope to “sleep for weeks like a dog at her feet,” but Man Man communicates honestly, without pretension. Just as honest are the manic freak-outs (“Young Einstein on the Beach”) and threats to “hide in the dark and stab him in his heart.” The music is all the more involving for its soft truths and creepy edges.

Six Demon Bag can’t be classified. Generic labels don’t stick. It’s not released by a major label, sure, but it doesn’t sound indie (thankfully). Its closest analogues are probably Captain Beefheart‘s Trout Mask Replica and Tom Waits’ Rain Dogs, although these may come to mind only because they also don’t fit a genre. Regardless of what Six Demon Bag may or may not be qualified as, I recommend you get it in your ears.

Their record label provides “Van Helsing Boombox” and “Engwish Bwudd” (for which there is a suitably frantic animated video); “Feathers”, the opening track, and “Black Mission Goggles” are available for download elsewhere. Man Man’s official site is regrettably Flash-only, and their MySpace page is, like all other MySpace pages, a barely navigable mess, but, you know, they’re there.