League of Legends has been called many things, from a DOTA knock-off to an ongoing Dunning-Kruger effect study. I know people who consistently call it a terrible game. It has its share of flaws, to be sure: the art direction of female champions can be quite dodgy at times, the model of its microtransactions and the seemingly arbitrary nature of sales and point gain rate can be called into question, and the community can be quite caustic and deriding, though not (thank the Maker) to the degree of X-Box Live. Yet.
Over and above other objections are those regarding the characters players choose to represent them in the Fields of Justice. Every few weeks, sometimes more often, Riot Games introduces a new champion. More often than not, the newcomer’s abilities and scaling power dwarfs that of other long-standing champions instead of rivaling it. While this is not always the case, it happens often enough that the new champions are labelled as overpowered, and Riot is forced to take time to re-examine them and perhaps adjust the balance of power in the next patch.
Along with this comes a less obvious but more insidious problem. As competitive players lean towards certain champions for their team compositions, and new champions join the roster, some older champions, around since the inception of the game, fall by the wayside. Their abilities may get tuned down in power (“nerfed”) but never readjusted to remain on par with others (“buffed”). Thus, they rarely see play, and some have even come to be regarded almost universally as bad champions that no sane champion would ever pick, unless they were trolling.
The source of this apparent problem, according to some, is that League is growing vertically, not horizontally. Given that it’s a young game, going through spurts like this is perfectly natural. If the trend continues, however, other games may learn from this failing before Riot does. As new champions with hitherto unknown abilities continue to join the roster while previous champs remain as they are, naturally the older ones will be outclassed. But did you notice how I used the word “apparent”? It’s possible this “problem” isn’t a problem at all.
With a few exceptions, no champion can be slapped with the broad label of “bad”. Every champion has something – a crowd control ability, a natural escape, a snowballing capacity for damage – they can offer a team. If the summoner who chooses that champion is competent with them, a relatively unknown or underused champion can suddenly be dominating the game. And even if domination doesn’t happen, competent players can often work around or directly against the power of new champions. It’s possible that the skill set of the “OP” newcomer gets entirely shut down when a much older champ ends up against them. It’s just a matter of finding the ‘bad’ champ and dusting them off, so to speak.
Theorycrafting remains a big part of strategy games in general and League in particular. Sites and communities are dedicated solely to examining the entire roster, providing guidance on how to build champions for certain situations or modes of play, and arguing about which champs are OP and which are terrible. As much as major tournament setups may try to convince you otherwise, not every team needs to have one golden composition to always win. Every player on the team has different taste, abilities, skills, and flaws, and they can and should choose their champions accordingly. The more a champ is in line with a particular player’s style of competition, the more fun that player will have, regardless of the outcome of the game. There will be the occasional hard counter situation where a player’s entirely locked down, but these incidents tend to be isolated. And the plethora of champion choice in League of Legends, for all of its inherent balance issues, means that no player is ever railroaded into a single choice of champion or even role. Nor should they be.
This, then, is my advice, fellow summoners: do what you like, and if you’re not having fun, chances are you’re doing it wrong.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and apologize in advance for what may turn out to be only passable fan fiction as I write down stuff that goes through my head as I play this game. Also, the following does contain spoilers for the game. Fairly be ye warned.
Since coming to Skyrim, I’ve faced many challenges. I’ve faced down wolves, bears, trolls. I’ve taken on a veritable army of draugr and more than my share of hagravens. I have laid waste to bandit encampments and strongholds alike. I have slain dragons. I have saved the world on at least one occasion. And yet, yesterday morning, I felt more edgy and nervous than on any of those occasions.
Aela, of course, knew something was on my mind, and asked me about it immediately.
I remember the first time I saw her. Fresh from my aborted execution, on the run and confused from Helgn, she glanced at me with narrowed eyes while she fought that Giant outside Pelagia Farm. I’d met Nords before, but to see one such as her in her native environment, full of beautiful ferocity and unwavering bravery, I was struck, even then. She said nothing of my magic but I could feel her suspicion. Now, as a Companion, and chosen by Kodlak Whitemane to succeed him as Harbinger, her eyes were not suspicious, but concerned.
“I’ve been thinking,” I managed to begin.
“You do that quite a bit, for a Companion. Maybe that’s why Kodlak chose you.”
“He could have chosen you. You were close. He trusted you. You ran by his side many nights.”
Aela shrugged. “What could be is not what is. I’m more concerned for you than I am for Kodlak. He is in Sovngarde. You are here.”
“And so are you.” I cleared my throat. Why was this so difficult? “I keep thinking of how I came to be here, of that day at the farm when we met. Do you remember?”
“I do.” She smiled a little. “I thought this spindly little mageling had a surprising amount of balls, standing with us against a Giant.”
“And I found you more dangerous than that Giant, to be certain.”
“Yet you stood by me and helped take it down. You’ve stood by me many times since then.”
As she spoke, Aela noticed the metal glittering under my tunic. Without prompting, she pulled out the amulet, and looked in my eyes.
“You know what wearing Mara means, don’t you?”
I nodded. “The priest in Riften told me. The question is, Aela, do you know why I wear it now?”
There was softness, there in her eyes, that I had not anticipated. Her fingers lingered near my chest. “I won’t lie. I’d like that.”
“I won’t lie either. I want you for my wife.”
She smiled. “Then it’s settled. We should go to Riften immediately. Times like these, to dally is to waste precious moments.”
So we did. We made the arrangements at the Temple, and the delighted priest admonished me not to be late for my own wedding. We rented a room at the Barb and Bee for the night, but Aela was restless. It was her nature. Her blood ran as hot as ever.
“You know what we should do?”
She turned and looked at me. It was an incredulous gaze, anticipating some sort of arcane scheme worthy of the Archmage of Winterhold.
“We should hunt.”
She blinked. I smiled. I was glad I could surprise her.
“On the eve of our wedding?”
“Can you think of a better way to spend it?”
Her smirk was coy. “Connor, you do know the way to a lady’s heart.”
So it was that we found ourselves north of Riften, stalking wolves, her with her bow and I with my Skyforged blade. Its edge softly glowed with the electric energy with which I’d enchanted it. Eorlund disapproved of my doing so, but nobody denied the results. I was watching Aela, taking in the way she matched the wolves move for move, until they bolted. She looked back at me, wondering perhaps if I’d made too much noise, and then her eyes lifted and widened.
I don’t know how it snuck up on us. They’re not known for being terribly sneaky or subtle. But the dragon plummeted out of the sky on us, and my Skyforged blade flew from my grip. I brought up my dragonbone shield, and seeing it and that I was armored in the stuff, the dragon was incensed. I looked in its eyes and, in that moment, as it always was when I fought the Dov, we knew one another. His body pinned mine and his jaws snapped at me. My other blade was far from my hand, strapped to my back, and I was too distracted to summon Magicka. I struggled, smelled the fetid breath, closed my eyes.
I heard Aela’s howl. By the light of the moon, I saw my bride-to-be leap across the dragon’s snout, raking him with her claws. I had banished my own wolf-spirit to settle a conflict within myself, but Aela was as comfortable as ever wearing her two disparate skins. Now she wore the skin of Hircine, the skin of the werewolf, as she protected me and distracted the dragon. He wheeled on her, leaving me half-pushed into the muck, taking a deep breath and bathing the foliage in blue fire. Aela was quick, dodging away, roaring in defiance. The dragon snapped at her, swept in with claws and wings, finally catching her with his tail. It was when Aela was knocked away that I properly introduced myself.
“YOL TOOR!”
The words Paarthumax had taught me took shape in my mouth and issued forth as orange flame. The dragon staggered, turned, and stared. Now on my feet, I reached over my shoulder and drew Dragonbane, the sword of the Blades given to me by Esbern. I gripped my shield and charged. Dragonbone met dragonbone with a mighty crash, and Aela was slicing into its hide with her claws. But dragons are cunning, and he knew there was a bond between us, the way we each leaped to the other’s defense. When Aela sprang again, the dragon spun and swept out his tail, grabbing Aela’s ankle and slamming her back into the ground. He faced away from me, and even if I got his attention, I didn’t know how badly he would hurt her with his back claws as he turned.
“TIID KLO!”
Time itself stilled at the sound of my voice. I dropped my shield, ran as fast as I was able, and with my free hand I scooped up the werewolf from where she lay. I shoved her with as much strength as I could muster. I then backed away, as time once again flowed, as the dragon’s jaws closed on empty air. Aela hadn’t yet moved from where I’d pushed her. I swallowed my fear and looked up at the dragon, backing away slowly. My foot glanced off of Skyforged steel, and I bent to hold my Companions blade in my off-hand. Dragonbane seemed to gleam in the moonlight. The dragon leapt into the sky, blanketing the forest in fire. I ran, sheathing my blades, picking up Aela and running from the inferno. The dragon landed directly in front of me. I bent to lay Aela aside and stood between her and my foe. He inhaled, glaring eyes full of hatred, nostrils flaring as he prepared to breathe again.
“FUS RO DAH!”
The first shout I’d ever learned, one of my most powerful weapons, caused the dragon to lose his footing and slide down the hillside. Blades came free of their scabbards and with the mightiest cry I could muster, I leapt down after it. I slashed across his snout, ensuring I had his full attention. He roared at me, and I roared right back. I stabbed him in the cheek with Dragonbane, pushing myself upwards using the blade as my fulcrum. Landing directly between his horns, I brought my weapons down with all of my strength. Scale, muscle, and bone gave way under the strike and the dragon twitched violently as life fled from his body. Gasping for breath, I pulled my blades free and slid down the side of his still face, returning my blades to their homes. I looked up at the moon and closed my eyes as the wind came over me, carrying the voices of the Dov with it to fill my ears and my soul, telling me this Dovah‘s name and adding his voice to my own. When it was over, and nothing but his bones remained, I turned to see to Aela.
“No wonder they sing songs about you.”
She was already there, clad only in moonlight, holding my shield in one hand and her own axe in the other. Bruises and scratches did nothing to slow her as she made her way down the hill to me. I tipped her chin towards me and tasted her kiss for the first time.
“After tomorrow, I will take this dragon’s scales and make you something special.”
“You already gave me something special.” Aela’s gaze didn’t break from mine. “I’m going to spend my life giving you all I can in return.”
It was with a heavy heart that I decided to retire my House of Markov deck. It simply wasn’t performing up to my standards. There wasn’t much good news following the Avacyn Restored release events, either. My notion for a white-green Humans deck had little to distinguish it or make it truly competitive, and other than [mtg_card]Elspeth Tirel[/mtg_card] had few major threats to speak of. Things started to come together, though, when I paired Elspeth with [mtg_card]Sorin, Lord of Innistrad[/mtg_card].
At first glance, it may be difficult to understand why two such disparate personalities would work together. Elspeth is a driven and skilled warrior with righteousness in her heart and little tolerance for the corrupt, and Sorin is something of a hedonist who’s only concerned about Innistrad because it was his plane first, and the vampires he once fostered have gone a little bonkers in his absence. However, as fun as it would be to play out this dynamic, in terms of the card game they have an incredible amount of synergy.
Both planeswalkers produce tokens, provide intangible benefits (life and emblems), and have powerful ultimate abilities that can turn the tide of battle. Plus, their colors, white and black, also meet in one of the best token-generating spells in Standard: [mtg_card]Lingering Souls[/mtg_card]. Combined with enhancing cards like [mtg_card]Intangible Virtue[/mtg_card], removal such as [mtg_card]Go for the Throat[/mtg_card], and the deceptively powerful [mtg_card]Vault of the Archangel[/mtg_card], these two form the core of a very solid, very competitive, and very frightening weapon.
[mtg_deck title=”Vengeance at Dawn”]
Creatures
4 Doomed Traveler
3 Hero of Bladehold
2 Bloodline Keeper
Spells
4 Gather the Townsfolk
4 Lingering Souls
4 Intangible Virtue
3 Midnight Haunting
3 Go for the Throat
3 Oblivion Ring
2 Day of Judgment
Planeswalkers
2 Sorin, Lord of Innistrad
2 Elspeth Tirel
Lands
11 Plains
7 Swamp
4 Isolated Chapel
2 Vault of the Archangel
The most important part is, of course, that I love playing this deck. It’s very rare for me to be in a position where I feel helpless. It has not won every match, but every loss was a close game that left both me and my opponent smiling. And that’s really what it’s all about, isn’t it?
As much as I like Vengeance at Dawn, I do have another idea for a deck that has nothing to do with tokens, plays to my colors of choice, includes perhaps my favorite planeswalker, and may give my opponents nightmares instead of smiles.
It’s been a week now, and so far I’ve resisted the call of Diablo.
Diablo III continues to make headlines, and not always in a positive way. I’ve been trying to curb my extraneous spending a bit since PAX, both to recover from that phenomenal trip and to save for the upcoming move. But I can’t deny I’ve noticed just how many people I know are playing the latest action-RPG from Blizzard and Activision. I can definitely understand why, as I’ve played more than my share of its predecessor and the expansion.
The gameplay is the right mix of mindless leveling-and-looting catharsis fresh from the most basic of D&D campaigns and interesting storytelling in a fascinating setting. Seriously, Diablo tends to nail the ‘dark gothic’ atmosphere other games strive for. The Witcher also does this well, while Dragon Age and Kingdoms of Amalur just feel like more regular fantasy settings with extra blood spattered on. It also helps that the story itself is rather nuanced, with interesting characters and prevailing themes of power, betrayal, deception, and the struggle against hopelessness. Diablo III looks to very much carry on all of these traditions.
So why aren’t I playing it?
The first indicator that something was off in Diablo III came from the character designs. For the most part, they’re fine, good examples of Blizzard’s art direction, but the Witch Doctor gave me pause. A character basing their attacks on hexes and summoning minions, not unlike Diablo II‘s Necromancer, and the best design Blizzard could come up with was a half-naked dark-skinned man with a bone in his nose? I’m sure they wanted to differentiate the class from the others in the game as well as the Necromancer, but there’s no law saying characters like this have to look a certain way. I mean, consider Dr. Facilier from Disney’s The Princess and the Frog:
Back in Diablo II the character of color was the stalwart, righteous paladin, a role usually given to generically handsome white men. To do the stereotypical Witch Doctor thing felt like a step backwards, and gave me a measure of pause.
That said, I did try the beta for a few hours and found the gameplay to be just fine. I could see myself playing it for hours, to experience the story and collect loot, but my next problem came up in the form of the always-online aspect.
I know that Diablo has a very heavy and lively multiplayer scene. It makes sense that you’d want to have an Internet connection to be a part of it. Requiring said connection for single-player, however, puzzled me. While logging achievements and downloading patches are part and parcel of gaming these days, requiring a constant connection to a remote server to play a game by yourself that you’ve purchased strikes me as somewhat silly. This was confirmed for me on launch, when the Blizzard servers collapsed under the onslaught of people wanting to play their new game and kept everyone from playing it. People paid $60 US or more for the privilege of playing Diablo III, and the very developers of the game said “Nope, sorry, you can’t play it now, not even in single player, no matter how much money you’ve already paid us. We’ll fix it… eventually. But hey, you don’t have to worry about those nasty pirates right now!” Of course when people did manage to get connected, many found their accounts had already been phished, hacked, or otherwise compromised. This probably could have been at least somewhat mitigated if people could play single player without the constant connection.
Finally, there’s the real-money auction house. Now, I’m not above making more than one contribution to a game I enjoy playing. I’ve bought points for skins in League of Legends and gold for items in Tribes: Ascend. However, the monetization of an in-game auction house feels a bit sketchy to me. Asking people to perhaps invest in some cosmetic character changes or a hot new item by purchasing them directly from the developer is one thing. Taking a cut directly from the cash made by players as they exchange items is quite another. As far as I know, the RMAH isn’t active yet, and I know it’s an optional thing that I wouldn’t have to get involved with, but just knowing it’s there makes me uncomfortable.
Put it all together, and you have the reasons why I’ve resisted the call of Diablo. It’s a shame, because from the beta, I could see the potential for the game to be fun. I played a Monk for a few hours and punching minions so hard they explode was very satisfying. However, between the design decisions, the idiotic always-connected aspect, and the rather seedy RMAH, I can say I won’t be playing Diablo III.
Saying goes that a proper story starts at the beginning. This one ain’t any different. Not all video games roll out to store shelves full of glitz and glamor, backed by big studios with lots of cash. Some are quiet affairs. Some are carefully assembled by a small, tight-knit group of fine people with a singular vision and talent coming out their ears. Don’t let the name fool you. Supergiant Games is anything but, ‘cept in the dreams department. It’s those dreams, after all, that gave us Bastion.
Bastion’s set in Caelondia. It was a nice enough city, once. Plenty of innovation, opportunity for those after it, haves and have-nots, just like any city. It was nice enough, before the Calamity hit. Nobody really saw it coming. Sure there were rumors of new hostilities between Caelondia and the people out past its walls, the Ura, but nobody expected this. Nobody expected the world to just stop working the way it should. Nobody expected the land to all but disappear, bits of it floating in great seas of empty air. Nobody expected any of it, least of all the Kid.
Don’t know if he’s got a proper name, or if we’re supposed to saddle him with one. He’s the first warm body we meet in Bastion, though, and just about every move he makes is narrated. Good thing, too. Things are a bit violent and chaotic in the wake of the Calamity. All sorts of beasts, creatures, and foes come at the Kid from all sides. We watch the whole thing from above as he goes to work on all comers with a variety of tools, long arms, and some really interesting surprises. He’s capable, this Kid, but he ain’t the only survivor of the Calamity.
He’s got a mean swing.
I mentioned his actions are narrated, right? Turns out the narrator’s a character, too. Goes by the name of Rucks, kind of a seasoned older fella with plenty of stories of his own. Seems that way, at least, but his focus is on the Kid. Even as the Kid rolls, blocks, fights, and explores, Rucks is filling us in on what Caelondia was like before the Calamity, what the Kid’s coming up against, and how the Bastion can fix things up. Right, almost forgot. The game takes its name from your home base, a sort of last-resort refuge for folks from Caelondia who could make it out of the Calamity. Not that many did.
When the Kid does find survivors, their stories get told, too. Rucks ain’t shy in that regard. Takes a little doing to get all the details, but it’s definitely worth it. As the Kid’s doing his thing, he’s earning back parts of the world, which he brings to the Bastion and changes into upgrades for his weapons, improvements to the Bastion itself, even fresh bottles of spirits from Rucks’ private stock. The best thing about all of this is how seamless it is. Other places might see you moving from story to gameplay to upgrades and back again with audible clacks and clunks. Not Bastion. If it’s got seams, they’re pretty stylish ones.
Calamity really tore things up. Down to the Kid to make it right.
Normally this’d be where someone like me’d do a summation of the experience, lay out likes and dislikes, maybe even tack on some arbitrary number. But I ain’t gonna do that to ya. Not this time. This is different, and deserves different treatment. It’s a fine tale as well as a fun and challenging distraction, well worth your time and effort to seek out. Art’s gonna pull you in. Music’s gonna stick with you. Best of all is that it’s available to ya just about any way you please. Consoles, digital distribution, hell, you could buy it through Chrome and play it literally anywhere. So what’re you waiting for? Find your way to the Bastion.
Story like this ain’t gonna tell itself. You gotta make yourself a part of it.
