FOR FRIENDS FAR & WIDE.

News.

23 November 2004
GAME: RATCHET & CLANK: UP YOUR ARESENAL (2004).

Sorry about the lack of postings--I've been playing Ratchet & Clank: Up Your Arsenal. While buggier, shorter in length, and not nearly as amusing ("Poop! Crotch! Bwahaha!") as the last two installments of R&C, Up Your Arsenal's weapon variety, secrets and collectibles, puzzle mini-games, and the cathartic satisfaction of smashing everything in sight all contribute to a formula that still holds up well enough to make it a definite auto-purchase. It's so damn fun that I find myself playing compulsively, integrating gametime seamlessly into my regular daily routine of snoozing, eating, and hardwood-floor gliding.

Along with occasional weird bugs (malfunctioning sniper zoom, pockets of bad collision detection, nauseating camera) are convenient new features that tighten up gameplay and focus attention on only the fun stuff. Hoverboard races? Gone. Space dogfights? Vaya con dios. In place of these tedious chores are tons of arena gauntlets (great for earning cash and weapon XP, by the way) and spiffy new puzzles, such as my personal favorite: a Dance Dance Revolution-style "chat with a space alien" mini-game. It all makes me wonder if games are less about dreaming up groundbreaking ideas and more about presenting fresh takes on tried-and-true pasttimes: Simon Says, shooting galleries, chess (specialized functions), play money.

Whatever--I should be getting back. I still have to get all the skill points, mega-weapons, and the Ryno 3.

GAMEPLAY: Like the other R&C's. 3D platforming and shooting, with a wealth of weapon types and mini-games.
REMINISCENT OF: Ratchet & Clank, Jak & Daxter, Sly Cooper
LIBRARY WORTHY? Sure, why not--R&C's reached classic franchise status by now. Plus, you just know that today's weapons can be saved for bonus use in a future R&C version.

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MOVIE: TOUCHING THE VOID (2003).

Tragedy befalls a two mountain climbers during their descent from Siula Grande in the Andes. This otherwise average docudrama is propelled solely by the sheer drama of its story of survival: two cocky young Englishmen attempt to "conquer" a mountain for the first time; on the way, one is forced to abandon the other for dead. From the start you know that the one left behind somehow manages to hobble his way back to safety on a horrifically broken leg--the film makes no attempt to hide the outcome of the story. Everyone survives, natch, or else they wouldn't be able to narrate the re-enactments.

The injured climber's sheer will to survive clearly shines as the movie's centerpiece, even if its fire is mitigated by a cocksure nonchalance that, I guess, comes with the territory when you're talking about people as crazy as mountain climbers. But did the expidition, fueled by pride, teach its pupils a lesson of abject humility? Reflecting on being trapped alone in a pitch-black, 300-foot deep crevasse, the mountain climber scoffs at the tears he shed on that terrifying day. "I thought I was tougher than that." Weird. The two men later recover and soon return to climbing. Baffling.

So yes, the story: absolutely riveting to see how far one man's life could stretch without breaking, even if he is a pint-swilling meathead at heart. Touching the Void is not a movie but a PBS-style, small-screen production that blends highbrow cinematography (dancing sheets of ice crystals) with the butt-clenching thrills of reality video shows like Maximum Exposure.

I wasn't thinking about my family or friends. I was only thinking about me.

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