For every game that you can't put down, for every game that you can't get away from your steampunk custom rig [read: amazing work] to use the necessities in time, for every game that you feel glued to and compelled to beat, there's a talented team of individuals who poured their heart and soul into the development process. In light of recent events, this is a dedication to those incredible people.



A name is a name, right? When I was young, I would get a game based on the picture on the box. "Cool, that space janitor is using a plunger on an alien's face, maybe the game won't suck." It was playing Russian Roulette every time (though in this example to say Space Quest is an empty chamber is an understatement). It didn't take long before I had played several legitimately awful games and realized that those names I kept seeing on the boxes and intro screens were a mark of the game's quality. Certain names kept appearing on good games. Names like "Westwood".


Westwood Studios is a company I am personally very fond of. They gave me so many beloved games that I don't even know how to begin thanking them. As a huge science fiction fan, I was granted access to two universes that were almost sacred ground: Blade Runner and Dune.

Blade Runner adhered to the point-and-click adventure mold while creating memorable gameplay variations on the standard. As a blade runner, the main character had an entire police training simulation set up at headquarters to try his hand at, after all, he didn't want to "retire" a civilian by mistake. Even the photograph "enhancing" mini-game was engaging and a treat to stumble through.

Dune II was one of the first real-time strategy games I ever played (the Ancient Art of War at Sea being the first), and truth be told, my introduction to Dune as well. I was fascinated by the scurrying to collect as much spice as possible before Shai-Hulud came and took my spice carrier. The petty squabbles between houses and the military fallout that followed was something that you couldn't expect in an adventure game. If even one of my men died there would be retaliation. My addiction to this game was only to be expected from the company that brought us the Command and Conquer games.

Westwood also brought me fantasy games that I loved: the Lands of Lore series and the Legend of Kyrandia, and if that weren't enough, they helped bring me one of the greatest genesis games: The Lion King.

When Westwood Studios was closed down, I was truly saddened to hear the news.


Working Designs, though not a developer, helped bring quality games that I might not otherwise have played to the US. I have been an RPG fan since I first discovered Shining Force, and now I can't be torn away from the genre (turnbased, real-time, strategy, I love them all). Working Designs brought me what was traditionally a Japanese-only genre and localized the games with a loving care even to the point of infusing them with humor designed for a western audience. I would never have experienced games like Lunar: the Silver Star, Lunar:Eternal Blue, Alundra, Popful Mail, Growlanser Generations, or Dragon Force if it weren't for Working Design's dedication to localizing these classics.

Working Designs took something that wasn't being done properly (faithful translations), and set a standard for the industry. As a fan of niche titles and RPGS, I am forever grateful.


HENSHIN A GO GO BABY! Clover's passing is recent, but serves as a great example of how when a company's name dies, it doesn't mean that the talent dies with it.

I remember getting Viewtiful Joe on my Gamecube on my birthday of the year it came out. From the moment I put it in the system, I was hooked. With my parents at choir practice and the television free, I jumped at the opportunity to play. Rain started pouring down outside, but I didn't care, I was kicking ass in slow motion. Then the lightning came. Suffice it to say that my system stopped before I did. Not only did I lose power mid-game, but my church was struck by lightning and burned to the ground (my parents were okay, it took a while to burn but the fire station a block away couldn't get enough water pressure to put the blaze out). That night with one single game, Clover had become so amazing that it took a catastrophe to pull me away.


After Viewtiful Joe came Okami and God Hand, games that were so different from each while at the same time so different from everything else on the market. While we no longer have Clover around, it seems that Platinum Games is doing just fine at creating games that explore new control schemes and push the envelope of what a game should be.


After killing countless of goons, gun-toting baddies, paraplegic anthropomorphic mushrooms, dragons, aliens, and avatars of plumbers, I feel no remorse. These were cleverly concocted obstacles to my gaming success, but nothing more. What brings a tear to my eye is the parting of cherished game developers.

These game studios may be forever gone, but the talented people who are left behind, these ronin of the digital age still give me hope. After all, what is a name?