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Game Review: Middle-Earth: Shadow of Mordor

It has been a mere week since I wrote up my First Impressions of Monolith’s open-world Tolkien-based stab-’em-up Middle-Earth: Shadow of Mordor. While I have not finished the game, I have opened up quite a bit of the world, engaged in a plethora of power struggles, learned a great deal about one of the darkest corners of this famous fantasy realm, and nearly thrown my controller in frustration on more than one occasion. I think we’re on to a winner, here.

Courtesy Monolith & WB

Middle-Earth: Shadow of Mordor takes place after the time of the adventures of Bilbo Baggins in the Misty Mountains but before his 111th birthday in the Shire. At that time, Gondor was in control of the Black Gate of Mordor, its Rangers keeping watch over the dark and blasted valley of Udun that lead into Mordor. Talion, a Captain of those Rangers, lived there with his family, and was training his son to fight when the Black Gate is overrun. The assault is lead by the powerful and menacing Black Captains, on-the-ground commanders of Sauron’s armies, one of whom personally puts all of Talion’s family to the sword. Talion, however, does not die. His murder was part of a ritual, and that ritual somehow bonded him with a mysterious Wraith who has no memory of his former life. The two consciousnesses strike a deal: the Wraith wants answers, and Talion wants revenge.

It has been mentioned previously that Shadow of Mordor has some elements in common with the games from the Assassin’s Creed or Arkham games. Talion can certainly scale buildings and rock faces like an Assassin, and his combat style does have the same satisfying hit-block-hit-fininsh structure as Batman, but that is where the similarities end. These elements help shape the foundational gameplay and there really isn’t much to say either way about it. The combat is fun when it’s rolling, and it’s good to have movement capabilities that foster both exploration and escape, but a truly memorable game needs more than that.

Image courtesy Lazygamer.net
Not listed: Azdûsh’s love for ice cream sandwiches and irritation with people snickering at his name.

Shadow of Mordor does far more than giving you a list of targets to kill or a solitary objective to follow. Open world games will scatter quests, collectibles, and challenges all of the map, and this game does that as well, but apart from the map is the Nemesis system within Sauron’s Army. Every orc you encounter has the potential to become a part of this system, just by killing you. When you die, the orc who defeated you gets promoted and more powerful, possibly challenging another orc for their position. Other orc captains within the Army struggle and squabble to get closer to the Warchiefs, the cream of the orcish crop. These characters do have distinct personalities – some are afraid of fire, others become enraged when they are wounded, and still others REALLY don’t like the fact that you shot them in the face with an arrow and left them for dead. Thanks to these cantankerous Uruks, the world of Shadow of Mordor isn’t just open; it lives and breathes.

At first, the knowledge that there is no real penalty to the player for dying may sound like a deal-breaker. “Where is the challenge?” one might wonder. The answer is the Nemesis system. When you die, you have all of your powers and experience intact, but the world around you changes. Your killer gets glorified, power struggles resolve without your intervention making other orcs stronger, and another one of Sauron’s Army becomes a target for your revenge. On more than one occasion, I have put aside my desire to advance the plot or learn more about the Wraith’s story just to hunt down that one really irritating Orc that keeps getting cheap shots in on me while I am trying to kill his buddies. Dying may be free of direct consequence, but there are still ramifications that make it irritating, and coming back to exact bloody vengeance on your killer is incredibly satisfying, especially if they are in a position where killing them makes taking down one of the Warchiefs even easier. It is a stroke of brilliance that makes Shadow of Mordor unique and thoroughly enjoyable.

Image courtesy theonering.net
That “dagger” has a story. Ratbag (the orc) has a story. Talion’s story has real pathos.
The world is rich and textured, and I’m not talking about the image rendering.

There are a handful of things that keep Shadow of Mordor from being perfect. There are a few mandatory stealth missions as part of the main story that slow down the action, the way mandatory stealth always does. Getting the right prompt at the right moment can be dodgy at times, costing you precious resources as you try to detonate an explosive barrel or mount a ravenous, deadly beast to use as a mount. And your only thinking, feeling foes are the Orcs. While the Captains and Warchiefs have personalities and strengths and weaknesses, for the most part you’re just slicing through the ranks to get to those unique guys, and that can get repetitive after a while, sooner for some if you’re really itching for a lot of variety. But honestly, those are just some general nit-picks about the game, and the only real flaws that I could find that had nothing to do with my own learning curve or lack of experience.

Middle-Earth: Shadow of Mordor is definitely a winner. Its combat is visceral and satisfying. Its Nemesis system makes it a unique and challenging experience. The story is steeped deeply in the rich lore of Tolkien, from the identity of the Wraith to the texture of Mordor itself, from the connection of Gollum to the goings-on to the palpable sense of dread contingent with the return of Sauron. The music is haunting, the voice acting superb, the environments well-realized, and the game is filled with moments you will never forget. If you are a fan of Middle-Earth, solid combat systems, or unique gameplay features that make the game compelling regardless of its story or other aspects, you must play this game.

Against the Grind

Gears

The writers I am fortunate enough to know either in passing or in person are exceptional people. They are endlessly creative, skilled with language, and above all else, pretty stubborn. You have to be, if you want to make it as a writer. Especially given the systems in place in the world around us.

When I would doubt myself or encounter bullies in my school days, my mother would tell me “illigitimus non carborundum – don’t let the bastards grind you down.” Despite being faux Latin, the phrase stuck with me. However, I’ve come to understand that rather than individuals doing the bullying, there is an entire system that wants to grind me, and people like me, down.

In my case, the saddest part is that I subjected myself to it. Be it due to pressure from an impending life-change toward marriage and parenting or a complete lack of confidence in my ability to sell myself and my words, I turned away from the written word and towards a more immediately lucrative career path in programming. I can’t say for sure if any one of the several motivations I had back then took the fore, or if it was a dire mix of many things, including undiagnosed mental health issues, that pushed me towards that threshold. Regardless, it was a decision I made, and I alone shoulder the blame for the next twelve years of struggle, failure, and aimless meandering.

Yet, I never quite lost sight of that dream. I tried to maintain at least a semblance of writerdom, carving out words where I could. That is really what makes a writer, more than any sort of published success or positive reviews. The willingness to never give up. It was something absolutely necessary to maintain in the face of employers and creditors and clients. None of them gave an actual damn about my dreams, my frustrations, or what I was seeking to make my life better: it’s all about the bottom line in those systems.

As bitter as I might be about time lost to what was ultimately a dead-end pursuit, I know that without my experiences, encounters, and endurance of those times, I would not be who I am today. I could have struggled just as long given my relative inability to sell myself, and my writing has developed during that time in spite of the workload. Provided I can maintain a proper level of motivation, I should be able to use my experiences and desire to avoid those dead ends to achieve the goals I have been striving for as long as I can remember.

Artists in general, and writers in particular, are iconoclasts. Molds and strict structures get broken. Work ethics and methods work in mysterious ways that baffle the bureaucrat and frustrate human resources. In the eyes of the strictly corporate world, writers should not be able to function properly, and yet they do, and sometimes even turn a profit while doing so.

Go forth and do likewise, writers! Make some businesspeople’s heads spin. Work against the grind. And don’t ever let the bastards, whomever they might be in your life, get you down.

Flash Fiction: You Had To Have It

Courtesy LifeHacker

For this week’s Terribleminds Flash Fiction Challenge, I chose the sentence written by Vicente L Ruiz. Enjoy!


I have witnessed the end of humanity.

I don’t know how any rational human being could have a different thought at the sight of people lined up outside of the ostentatious glass-walled store. For release after release, I watched them gather in excited little clumps, like concert-goers or the anticipatory audience of a brand new film, but this was for a piece of technology. These are over-priced, gaudy, soulless devices that wrap their purpose in distraction and push their purchases as hard as any pimp or corner dealer, and people are just sucking them up.

They’re getting more than they anticipated this time around.

I’m sitting in a mass-market coffee shop across the street from one of these peddlers of pointless pretentiousness. It sounds funny to say it that way, considering this venue is no better, but it has the best view for what’s to come. My cup of improperly brewed, thoroughly burnt swill sits in front of me, untouched. It is the rent I have paid for my seat; I am under no obligation to actually put the black sludge in my body. I have fresh beans, filtered water, and a flame-warmed kettle back home. I am here for the sights, not the fare.

The glass-walled store finally opens its doors. The first patrons, camped since the night before, lead the assembled in a cheer and saunter through the large glass doors. I check my pocket-watch. It is a simple mental calculation, provided all of my measurements and equations were correct. The patrons start streaming out as others stream in, holding their new prizes high. I watch as one of the happy new owners unwraps the plastic sealant, dives into the ostentatious over-designed packaging, and touches the object of his desire for the first time. It’s time for me to go.

I walk down the city streets, head into the public transit stop, and ride to my neighborhood. The mail slot in the door to my rented basement is stuffed with mail I continue to ignore. My rent, utility bills, and other angry correspondence is not going to matter in – I check my watch – a matter of minutes. All over the country, people are opening up their new devices and letting their skin come into contact with the aluminum. I turn on my radio and I wait, looking over my scattered notes and my practice at writing and translating several Chinese dialects.

My understanding and pronunciation of Mandarin were passable at least, and better than my Wu or Xiang, and clear communication had been a concern. Stowing away with international freight is not difficult if you know where to go and to whom one needs to speak. That necessity to speak is significantly more difficult, however, when it must happen outside of one’s native tongue. With the right words, however, you can convey meaning, especially with clear gestures and items in hand. I bartered more than bought, acquiring what I could in the wild or out of public sight, making trades in disparate sections to avoid detection. Even cash can be traced, if one is clever enough.

I open a can of beans from the stacks towards the back of the basement and spoon myself a mouthful. I am disinclined to go through the process of warming them up, so occupied are my thoughts with what is to come. I have anticipated outcomes, to be certain; one does not embark upon a plan such as this without some proper forethought. It is simply a matter of discovering which of the various sequences of events will play out. I have my hopes, to be certain, but there is a certain thrill in the unknown.

The Emergency Broadcast System breaks up the flow of the station to which I was listening. It is a general message: remain in your homes, an unknown sickness is manifesting, stay calm, and so on. I change stations to find live news. I come across the right position on the dial just as a crackling voice talks about people acting irrational, even ravenous, clutching new phones as they fended off other owners, attacked those they saw who were not owners of new phones, even using the devices as makeshift bludgeons. I check the time again. My estimation had only been off by a matter of an hour. Still, it had worked out that the effects were being felt on one coast while on the other, people were still in line, or opening up deliveries from their phone companies, or otherwise laying hands on the new phones for the first time.

I had been tempted, while in China, to limit myself merely to one manufacturer. While this day and its release would have the greatest immediate impact, I did not wish to have the outcome thwarted by a boycott or a mandate to not purchase that manufacturer’s goods. I had stayed overseas longer than I would have liked, risking detection and incarceration, but hearing the results, I knew I had made the right decision. Even if they turned away from the newest devices, purchases of substitutes would yield similar, if not identical, results.

Now came the question. Do I transmit my message now, or see if some other group claims responsibility? There were no shortage of religious fanatics who will feel envious they did not implement this solutions. But I have no delusions of invisible father figures whose approval I must attain for eternal bliss. My goals are more pure.

I have revealed the nature of humanity, petty and cruel and self-serving, and brought it into glaring relief for all to see through the means of the 21st century’s most prized possessions.

If you are reading this, you know the answer to that final question. You now know what I did, how I did it, and why I did it.

I do not imagine you will be thanking me, or grateful for the lesson.

But for what it’s worth: you, too, are witnessing the end of humanity.

First Impressions: Middle-Earth: Shadow of Mordor

At first glance, the concept for Middle-Earth: Shadow of Mordor seems like something you’d find on a fan-fiction site, aching for the sort of opportunity that was afforded to 50 Shades of Gray. An Illithen Ranger, one of the fabled Dunedain, falls victim to an untimely death but is resurrected thanks to the intervention of a Wraith that is, apparently, unconnected to the Ring-wraiths that plague Frodo and the Fellowship later in the canon of Middle-Earth. So now he’s immortal, a skilled fighter, and has the grizzled, manly voice of Troy Baker. That certainly sounds like a self-insertion fantasy persona to me. Thankfully, there’s more than enough going on in this game to merit more than that somewhat dubious first glance.

Courtesy Monolith & WB

First and foremost, Shadow of Mordor (as I will call it going forward because I’m not a fan of colon cancer) is steeped in atmosphere. While Mordor is not yet a barren, blasted wasteland, as this tale takes place before Lord of the Rings, the darks are deeper and the land definitely feels corrupted. While Howard Shore did not compose the music, the score is definitely in tune with the themes and timbre of those famous strains from the six films. Despite the stick I gave the developers for putting Troy Baker’s voice behind our hero Talion, he sounds less like Booker DeWitt and more like someone who’s been living rough in the outskirts of Gondor right before the events that propel him into the adventures through which players guide him.

Seeing as this is a video game on major consoles, the primary means of that guidance will be through various forms of combat. Shadow of Mordor has looked on the success of both Assassin’s Creed and Rocksteady’s very successful Batman-based games (Arkham Asylum and Arkham City to be exact) and worked on a way to combine the two. The result is quite compelling: Talion moves from place to place to avoid detection, climbs to and leaps from ledges and tall places with grace, is limited in weapon choices, and uses prompts to avoid or block incoming blows which he redirects into deft ripostes. Movements are smooth, blows are powerful, and skills are satisfying – but the really interesting stuff doesn’t happen until someone dies.

Courtesy Monolith & WB
Things look pretty amazing, as well.

Rather than simply be a quest to slay endless, nameless orcs in a quest for vengeance and XP, the game takes pains to give its antagonists names and personalities. This is more than window-dressing, however; it is essential to what makes Shadow of Mordor stand apart. Each orc Talion kills brings him closer to his true goal: the Warchiefs who control the mighty armies of Mordor. The array of nasties seen when you check your progress tells who where they rank and how much closer you are to victory. This also has intriguing implications when it comes to failure. Shadow of Mordor is not the first game to boast an immortal protagonist, at least in terms of being considered that way in-universe, and making failure mean something when you cannot die has often challenged designers. Rather than lose experience or suffer an otherwise arbitrary setback like paying a toll to the underworld, when Talion is defeated and requires rescuing from his wraithly friend, the orc lieutenants and captains he was fighting grow stronger in the intervening time. There is also a system in which orcs squabble with one another for control, and if Talion does not sweep in to kill everyone involved, the victor of the squabble will gain power in a similar fashion. It’s one of the many things that contribute to giving the game a living, breathing world.

On top of innovative design and satisfying combat, Shadow of Mordor has not skimped on the Middle-Earth lore. Dipping deep into the history and culture of Middle-Earth, the story of Talion is far more than one of mere wish fulfillment. While the Ranger has a rather immediate need for vengeance, his benefactor has an even more seething bone to pick with Sauron: he was Celebrimbor, the elf-smith in the Second Age who forged the Rings of Power to begin with. Through his experience and vision, Talion (and by extension, the player) learn the tales of the items scattered throughout the land, unearth ancient runes that add to the ongoing story of the events at hand, and give all the more reason for us to fight our way through the diabolical forces of Sauron the Deciever.

Courtesy Monolith & WB
There are even some familiar faces around.

So yes: my very first, up-front impressions of this game were entirely wrong. A lot of care has gone into the game from all sorts of perspectives. The combat, stealth, and open world draw from a plethora of contemporary, quite successful sources. The story has threads that tie it deeply into the rich lore of the beloved tales of Tolkien. It looks and sounds pretty amazing, taking full advantage of modern rendering and development techniques. And if that weren’t enough, it both delivers satisfactory results for success and reasonable, compelling consequences for failure. In short: I must play it.

I’m An Adult, I Swear

Courtesy Andre Jordan
Art courtesy Andre Jordan

I feel, at times, that I am failing at this whole “adulthood” thing.

I don’t have what people would consider a traditional career path. I’m not looking after or interested in inheriting the family business, as the family doesn’t really have one – other than being awesome. I do not walk in my father’s footsteps, though I do have an intense amount of love and respect for the man and all he and my mother do for this family. I didn’t stay in the stability of an office despite indications of job security, and instead opted for a new path that seems to be, on the whole, better for my personality, if not my prosperity.

I am unsure if that is what people would consider the ‘mature’ thing to do.

I’m not a very conservative person. If you know anything about my political views (which I used to broadcast pretty hard in this blog space) that would be fairly obvious. There’s also the fact that I spend a great deal of time inside my own head. I have story ideas, a desire to write more, thoughts on games and films and comics and entertainment in general, and that’s to say nothing about the static and white noise of various disorders, doubts, and dread tied to mistakes of the past and fears for the future. But, hey, at least I’m still getting resumes and job applications out every day, right?

I should be writing more. I need a tight reign on my spending. I waste too much time, sleep in too late, exercise too little. I criticize myself pretty much daily, if not hourly, because I feel like if I don’t, I will accomplish even less than the little I already do.

Then again, this could be the influence of depression that comes from being uncertain about income in a situation where I really can’t afford to be. I am aware of this, and struggling to internalize the idea that no, the situation is not hopeless and things will improve, especially if I keep working on it. Even an inch of progress towards a goal is forward motion, and it’s better than nothing. I have to hold on to that.

I’m going to finish this post, look after the needs of the cats, and hopefully do more writing and job hunting before I get terribly distracted. I do have a great deal of work ahead of me, and nobody else can do it for me.

I guess that realization and the actions that follow in its wake really are a mark of adulthood.

Even if I have no real clue as to what I’m going to be doing next.

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