Diamond in the Rough column The Mutant Behind the Curtain talks Fallout 3's successes and shortcomings.<blockquote>Why is this? Fallout 3 succeeds whenever it tries to present you with the blunt, unimaginative side of its activities: you can kill anything, in tens of different ways, as long as you try hard enough. You can harvest enemies for multiple kinds of items and goods, lay live explosives in their backpacks, cripple their legs with poison, listen to the lost travelogues of a doomed family, discover ancient communication towers, and basically soak up the wilderness around you.
However, what Fallout 3 completely fails to do is make any of these varied experiences feel personal, reliable, or “realistic,” to use a difficult term. I’ve never felt a moment of empathy, understanding, or connection with Fallout 3. I am always oppressively aware of the bounds, possibilities and failures of my world. They stare me in the face, never hidden, disguised or integrated into the fabric of the world. This game flaunts its man behind the curtain, whereas other games try to dress him up or explain him away. Fallout 3 presents me with a boundless, versatile gameplay system, but presents a bounded—or nonexistent—narrative system.
When I play The Witcher, the fiddly bits, the minutiae that so entrance me in Fallout 3, are merely part of what makes me like The Witcher, they are not the be-all and end-all of the game. Instead, what attract me to The Witcher are its core mechanics, and the way in which it depicts my journey through this world. It’s the fidelity with which The Witcher tries to emulate moments of visual, emotional and experiential recognition that I love.
Yes, in The Witcher combat is basically a rhythm game, but every style has different moves, every enemy has different animations. I feel that if I met a Drowner or Alp in the wilderness, I could anticipate how they would look or move. Conversely, if you asked me to describe the motions or feel of a Super-Mutant, I might say something about “big, yellow, orc-like guys.” In Fallout 3, the way one differentiates between experiences is always based upon and predicated by its “gaminess,” that particular element’s very nature as a piece of a fake world. Despite being a rather weird fantasy, The Witcher has the air of reality.</blockquote>Thanks runab0ut.
However, what Fallout 3 completely fails to do is make any of these varied experiences feel personal, reliable, or “realistic,” to use a difficult term. I’ve never felt a moment of empathy, understanding, or connection with Fallout 3. I am always oppressively aware of the bounds, possibilities and failures of my world. They stare me in the face, never hidden, disguised or integrated into the fabric of the world. This game flaunts its man behind the curtain, whereas other games try to dress him up or explain him away. Fallout 3 presents me with a boundless, versatile gameplay system, but presents a bounded—or nonexistent—narrative system.
When I play The Witcher, the fiddly bits, the minutiae that so entrance me in Fallout 3, are merely part of what makes me like The Witcher, they are not the be-all and end-all of the game. Instead, what attract me to The Witcher are its core mechanics, and the way in which it depicts my journey through this world. It’s the fidelity with which The Witcher tries to emulate moments of visual, emotional and experiential recognition that I love.
Yes, in The Witcher combat is basically a rhythm game, but every style has different moves, every enemy has different animations. I feel that if I met a Drowner or Alp in the wilderness, I could anticipate how they would look or move. Conversely, if you asked me to describe the motions or feel of a Super-Mutant, I might say something about “big, yellow, orc-like guys.” In Fallout 3, the way one differentiates between experiences is always based upon and predicated by its “gaminess,” that particular element’s very nature as a piece of a fake world. Despite being a rather weird fantasy, The Witcher has the air of reality.</blockquote>Thanks runab0ut.
