It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

As a rule, Introversion’s output oscillates rapidly between exultant and sobering – Uplink invokes both tension and terror from the humble progress bar, while Darwinia’s corrupted themepark vibe only makes the plight of its pixellated citizens more ghastly – but none more than Defcon.

Never has impending thermonuclear war been so relaxing. Then jubilant.

Then terrifying.

After this song had been running through my head for the past three weeks, I decided last weekend it was time to dig the Gamecube out and dive back into the balmy seas of Hyrule.  In my eyes, The Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker is a flawed masterpiece. Visually, it’s breathtaking – to the point where I can’t help but feel that the half-hearted handheld sequels are thoroughly wasting the potential of the art style – and as mentioned previously, thanks to the quality of the animation it’s the only Zelda game in which I feel any connection to Link as a character in his own right rather than a blank-faced voiceless nobody.

Moreover, the first half hour spent on Outset Island is delightful.  This time I gave in and spent an enjoyable fifteen minutes chasing pigs and throwing them in the sea. It’s an easy and enjoyable lead-in to the game, teaching the player the skills they need to learn without beating you over the head with it, and acts as a perfect example of all that is right with Wind Waker.

But it is Wind Waker’s flaws which have taken root in the collective consciousness – not least due to the horrendous nature of the triforce fetch-quest sapping all pace from the progression prior to the stupendously excellent finale – and even as you leave Outset and embark on your journey, disaster looms.

I’m still not entirely sure how Nintendo got the Forsaken Fortress – the first dungeon of the game – so wrong.  It’s a stealth-based mess of patrolled corridors and pointless rooms, with no clear sense of progression and an infuriating habit of returning Link to his ridiculously insecure cell every five minutes.  The stealth mechanics – and lack of a sword – encourage you to give every foe a wide berth, but it’s not until you’re lost and confused and sick to the back teeth of repeated imprisonment that you realise the game expects you to man up and face one specific type of monster, one who doesn’t immediately incarcerate you on sight, armed only with what initially appears to be a rubber chicken but eventually turns out to be a distinctly overwrought stick.

Finally, I escaped the fortress (read: was thrown out on my ass), and began to sail the high seas. And to be honest, if the rest of the game were just me sailing from island to island, hopping off and poking all manner of strange outcrops, flora and fauna with my reclaimed sword, I’d be a happy fellow. But I’d still have that damned tune in my head.

100 weeks in a row of doing Generation Minus One! Wowies!

Teph and I are still really enjoying making this strip, so we’ll keep making ‘em as long as you promise to keep visiting. We’ve got some plans to spruce up the website this year, including more bonus content and interactivity. Not to mention the addition of a store!

As always, if you want to get in contact with either of us, I can be reached at mana@generationminusone.com and Teph can be reached at teph@generationminusone.com. We look forward to hearing from you!

With Mana’s sojourn into Mass Effect well and truly over – for now – we can turn to the next items on our to-do list. Exhibit A: the beginning of more plot-related shenanigans.

And Exhibit B: Bayonetta.

Bayonetta is sublime. Ridiculous, insane, delightfully self-indulgent, and as a result almost entirely impervious to satire. Oh, and then it kicks your ass.

As I write, Mana is being dissected by what appears to be a giant lego dragon. And she’s dead again. And once more into the breach. I almost want to play it tonight, but honestly, I’m not sure whether my brain can take the sheer explosive concussions of light and sound the game kicks out. I think I’ll leave her to it and simply marvel at the spectacle.

And what spectacle; our feverish button-mashing is nothing compared to the sheer beauty of a master at work:

So Mass Effect had managed to convince me to play just a little while longer with the surprise of expansive exploration. “Just a little while longer” soon became “beating it for the third time” in the space of a few weeks, for the sole purpose of character development.

To begin, here is an actual conversation I had with Teph at the start of my latest playthrough, in which I try to figure out my (female) commander’s path in life:

Mana: This time, Shepard’s gonna be a little Renegade; bitchy when trying to make a point, but she’ll say and do nice things for people if it doesn’t put her out. But I’m trying to decide if I should make her fall in love with Kaiden.

Teph: Oh?

M: Well, see… I was thinking about how in Mass Effect 2, when [SPOILER REDACTED], she’ll probably gravitate towards Renegade, cuz I know I’d be super cranky if that happened to me. Perhaps to twist her even more, I should have her fall in love with Kaiden and then choose him to [SPOILER REDACTED], so that in the second game she’ll have every reason to be even more fucked up, after having lost both her [REDACTED] and her [REDACTED].

T: *stares at me* You’re thinking way too hard about this.

Perhaps I am. But I’ve never created characters before. I didn’t even realize that was what I was doing in this game until I had the exchange with Rob above. But with the knowledge that the decisions you make, the people you help, the people you allow to die in this game carry over to the next two games where they’ll snowball and flesh out your character and your galaxy, thus creating an almost limitless number of endings  in the third volume, I couldn’t help but to attempt some manner of forethought in the path I was driving my character.

Hence why I’ve played this game three times so far. Each Commander Shepard I created with different personalities and relationships to other characters, so that when I eventually get the second and third games, I can choose from a few different destinies and see where they lead the character by the end of the tale.

I think that’s what I like so much about this series. I’ve never identify with blank slate protagonists that you’re supposed to shape as yourself because I never liked playing pretend (you can barely get me in a Halloween costume. Don’t even think about cosplay!). Although you certainly can play the game role playing as Commander Shepard, I felt like Bioware made it possible for me to feel like I am in control of the path that Commander Shepard can take in her life. I didn’t shape my character’s personality after my own so that I can play pretend and be a space hero, I actually shaped my character around events and interactions with others that occur before and during the game. I feel like I’ve been given the chance to tell a story.

I wasn’t convinced I’d be enamored with Mass Effect. But with Saren on the run for the third time, I’d better start looking forward to getting my hands on ME2!