Fan games are amazing. So amazing that my first Destructoid article ever was about fan games. So amazing that I wrote a second article nearly four years later. So amazing that I'm following up that last article with another o...
Nearly four years ago, when I was but a fresh-faced Destructoid community member, I submitted my very first feature-length article in response to that month's musing assignment. I wrote about fan games, unofficial software based on official works, because I strongly believed that fans are driven by a level of enthusiasm and creativity that the major property holders no longer possess.
Since then, my feelings have only strengthened. Many companies can no longer provide -- or are no longer willing to provide -- the kinds of experiences we crave out of our favorite long-standing series. In response, that gap is being filled by passionate individuals who truly understand these games' essence.
I believe it's time to remind everyone why fan games are amazing.
When you think of the word "trap," what's the first thing that comes to mind? If your psyche isn't in the darkest depths of the catacombs, you're probably thinking of a mechanical device with the purpose of inflicting harm up on another entity. How could that not bring joy to your heart?
For some reason, the prospect of out-crafting other AI and unsuspecting players cures me like a Black Forest ham. There's a certain sense of accomplishment in luring people into traps that virtual shooting, stabbing, punching, or any form of maiming can't replicate. It's a shame that there aren't more trap-setting games, because playing them is one of my greatest joys in gaming.
You walk into an arcade. Whether you just finished playing miniature golf, swinging a bat in the batting cages, or just decided to make your way to one of the few remaining standalone arcades hidden in some random downtown nook, it doesn't matter. You are in an arcade and you are happy.
As you walk around on the gaudy, gloriously retro carpet, the smell of lukewarm pizza and burnt popcorn fills the air. The light of a claw machine reflects off the side of an unpolished token dispenser. Kids run past you, waving long trails of red tickets in their hands, as you make your way to the very back of the cabinet-filled room.