Every few years, I get the itch. I’ll be reading a book or sitting in café, enjoying the air and taking in some company, when my conscious mind will simply shut off. My eyes glaze over, I drool a bit, and whoever I happen to be with at the time starts to worry. They wonder if they’ll regret not bringing a tranq gun by the end of the day. It’d probably be wise for me to start wearing a medical bracelet. It should read: “John Constantine. Irregular shmup addiction. Administer either space/terrestrial, horizontal/vertical shooter immediately. Contact Dr. Vic Viper at Up, Down, Left, Right, B, A, Select, Start.” At the very least, it would ensure that no one gets hurt.
While Derrick’s been having a renaissance with the genre and Joe’s all but abandoned it, my predilection for shoot ‘em ups has been constant over the past two decades. As I said, it isn’t regular. It just comes out of nowhere. It starts with having to track one down, preferably horizontal, with a killer soundtrack, and bright color. Then I go for weeks without playing anything except for stray, half hour sessions with them, games like Einhander, Life Force, or R-Type Final. Thing of it is, I’ve never gotten good at any of them. I wouldn’t say that I’m terrible. I can usually get through the first level of a shooter without dying or, in extreme cases, continuing on the first try. But I’ve never beaten one without cheating and I’m usually struggling to keep up just a few levels in. I love the ebb and flow of a great shmup, the movement from speed and escape to the sluggish crawl that almost always precedes some giant conflict against a screen filling boss. When I die, I smile, and start over. Bullet hell or Konami standard, I take immense satisfaction in pushing the rock uphill and letting it tumble back over me.
Which, when you get down to it, flies in the face of what we expect to be a satisfying experience, right? When we judge games, the most damning thing you can say about it is that it’s frustrating, the highest praise that it challenges us in a way that makes us want to persevere, to master it. If you aren’t good at it and you don’t get better, what’s the point?
Maybe it’s an issue of play vocabulary. If something is closed and linear, defined by a beginning, middle, and end, the way we play is defined by adhering to that linearity. That’s the game language we understand. For games like a shooter though, the pleasure comes from locomotion and reflex, moving a digital phantom limb about the screen and having it respond to your intent. Winning, beating it, getting to the end doesn’t need to be the point. This might be why we feel fighters and shmups feel like evolutionary dead ends design wise; they aren’t being designed to be fun even if you fail.
I’ve got the itch right now, and I know I’m going to have to clean out the Wii fridge one day very soon. Gradius ReBirth is a scratch worth scraping at. I won’t get past the third level, I know. But I’ll push against the stone, pick up a few options, and have a hell of a good time.
Related links:
Roundtable Discussion: Genre Design Evolution
Get Option. You Cannot Reach Option.
The Ten Greatest Opening Levels in Gaming History
