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Up All Night: X-Blades and the D-List Preservation Society

“We need new pornos!” – “Spaghetti Western” by Primus

Les Claypool was right. We do need new pornos. We need new trashy entertainment that borders on the pornographic. It’s essential. No, seriously. Come back. For all my highfalutin talk about the creative potency of games, I relish those games that might be a little base. A little crass. Sometimes, those games are terrible. That’s a good thing.

I’ve been suffering a weird fascination with Gaijin Games’ X-Blades ever since it first popped up on Kotaku way back in November 2007, when it went by the name Oniblade. Its origins got me curious. There are hundreds of games out there that, even if you’re a rabid fanboy or a member of the press, you’ll never hear about. Korean MMOs, unlicensed Brazilian Genesis games, and, yes, weird action games from the Eastern Block; it’s impossible to follow everything. There’s just too much. So when something like X-Blades, some Russian paean to Japanese action games, pops its head far enough out of the ground you take notice. Especially when it’s coming out for consoles notorious for exorbitant development costs and marketing budgets.

Weight of History: Velvet Assassin and National Identity in Game Design

Guest contributor Adam Rosenberg covers games from his secret lair in Prospect Heights, Brooklyn, typing, reading and playing the days away as his dog Loki looks on in bewilderment. In addition to the noble pursuit of video games, Adam enjoys spending time with fine film, finer food and his fine fiancée Bekah.

Velvet Assassin is an anomaly. For one, it’s a Hard Stealth game. Not “hard” in the challenging sense — though expect the finished product to be difficult — but rather it stays true to its roots. Sneaking isn’t just one possible route to success in Velvet Assassin; it’s the only one. Show yourself even once, and get a face full of bullets for your troubles. I can’t even remember the last video game that focused solely on striking from the shadows.

Then there’s the premise and its real life inspiration. The game’s protagonist is Violette Summer. She works as an MI6 spy behind enemy lines during World War II. The game unfolds as a flashback, with Violette recounting her wartime experiences from a hospital ward. Violette Szabo is the real life velvet assassin. After her husband Etienne was killed in action at the Battle of Battle of El Amain, the twenty-two year-old Szabo joined Britain’s Special Operations Executive as a spy. She completed one successful mission in 1944, but was captured following an attempt to sabotage German communications prior to the Normandy invasion. After enduring months of torture and hardship while confined in a Nazi concentration camp, Szabo was executed in 1945.

The Nazis are the undisputed “bad guys” in the game — how could they not be? — but it’s interesting how nationality informs Assassin’s design. Its creators are Hamburg-based Replay Studios, and the context of their German heritage colors even a brief session with the game. For example, Violette frequently comes across personal effects belonging to one soldier or another. During my hands-on, I came across a love letter addressed to the sweetheart of a German soldier. Perhaps even the one whose throat I’d just viciously slashed open. In moments like these, it’s tangible how national perspective has affected the game’s development.

about the blogger

John Constantine, our superhero, was raised by birds and then attended Penn State University. He is currently working on a novel about a fictional city that exists only in his mind. John has an astonishingly extensive knowledge of Scientology. Ultimately he would like to learn how to effectively use his brain. He continues to keep Wu-Tang's secret to himself.

Derrick Sanskrit is a self-professed geek in a variety of fields including typography, graphic design, comic books, music and cartoons. As a professional hipster graphic designer, his recent clients have included Nerve, Pitchfork and MoCCA, among others.

Amber Ahlborn - artist, writer, gamer and DigiPen survivor, she maintains a day job as a graphic artist. By night Amber moonlights as a professional Metroid Fanatic and keeps a metal suit in the closet just in case. Has lived in the state of Washington and insists that it really doesn't rain as much as everyone says it does.

Nadia Oxford is a housekeeping robot who was refurbished into a warrior when the world's need for justice was great. Now that the galaxy is at peace (give or take a conflict here or there), she works as a freelance writer for various sites and magazines. Based in Toronto, Nadia prizes the certificate from the Ministry of Health declaring her tick and rabies-free.

Bob Mackey is a grad student, writer, and cyborg, who uses the powerful girl-repelling nanomachines mad science grafted onto his body to allocate time towards interests of the nerd persuasion. He believes that complaining about things on the Internet is akin to the fine art of wine tasting, but with more spitting into buckets.

Joe Keiser has a programming degree from Johns Hopkins University, a tiny apartment in Brooklyn, and a fake toy guitar built in the hollowed-out shell of a real guitar. He writes about games and technology for a variety of outlets. One day he will stop doing this. The day after that, police will find his body under a collapsed pile of (formerly neatly alphabetized) collector's edition tchotchkes.

Cole Stryker is an American freelance writer living in York, England, where he resides with his archeologist wife. He writes for a travel company by day and argues about pop culture on the internet by night. Find him writing regularly here and here.

Peter Smith is like the lead character of Irwin Shaw's The 80-Yard Run, except less athletic. He considers himself very lucky to have this job. But it's a little premature to take "jack-off of all trades" off his resume. Besides writing, travelling, and painting houses, Pete plays guitar in a rock trio called The Aye-Ayes. He calls them a 'power pop' band, but they generally sound more like Motorhead on a drinking binge.