[Editor's Note: We're not just a (rad) news site -- we also publish opinions/editorials from our community & employees like this one, though be aware it may not jive with the opinions of Destructoid as a whole, or how our moms raised us. Want to post your own article in response? Publish it now on our community blogs.]

Ah, Thanksgiving. A time of turkey and family for many. A few days off for those in school, perhaps a full week for those in college, and at least one day for those in the working world. There’s seemingly very little about this inoffensive holiday to dislike.

Yet where there is a will, there is a way, and some among us stand at the gates of Thanksgiving with torches and pitchforks in hand, ready to burn that mother down in a fit of righteous anger. Perhaps they were sexually assaulted by a turkey as a young lad, or perhaps that one time that they burned down the neighborhood while cooking stuffing is burned into their memory. Whatever the case is, it is not up to me to judge. If Thanksgiving isn’t your thing, who I am to be insensitive toward your feelings?

What is left to play for a person with such a strong aversion to this upcoming holiday? Believe it or not, you can have a completely neutral or even anti-Thanksgiving gaming experience on your favorite home console or PC. Read on to see my top ten picks to get you through this difficult time. 

view full story + comments

_{[Editor's Note: We're not just a (rad) news site -- we also publish opinions/editorials from our community & employees like this one, though be aware it may not jive with the opinions of Destructoid as a whole, or how our moms raised us. Want to post your own article in response? Publish it now on our community blogs.]}

Sitting next to you is a girl you’ve known since you were a young boy. You were in the same school district, and somehow you kept being placed in the same classes. You hung out throughout school, other than that awkward high school phase where you joined the cheerleading squad and she got way into writing Twilight fan fiction.

Yet now, here you both sit, and something has changed. As you watch Mansquito on the SciFi Channel, you notice that she’s sitting closer to you than normal, no doubt feeling a bit sexy thanks to the super-sexy images flashing on the screen. You’ve always wondered what it would be like. As the buzzing from the Mansquito intensifies, your eyes meet hers, and you know that you’re about to find out.

She’s gone before you wake up, leaving no clues of her presence whatsoever. You try to call her, but there’s no answer. So you sit alone wondering if what you did last night was a good idea. It sure was fun, but at what cost? Will it ruin your friendship? Did you use a condom? Did she notice your third nipple?

Being evil in games should be more like this.

 

view full story + comments

_{[Editor's Note: We're not just a (rad) news site -- we also publish opinions/editorials from our community & employees like this one, though be aware it may not jive with the opinions of Destructoid as a whole, or how our moms raised us. Want to post your own article in response? Publish it now on our community blogs.]}

This post may contain spoilers of spoilers and nautical navigation.

Gamers are like horseflies. They’re drawn to sh*t. Just as the horsefly seeks out the stinkiest, most putrid piles of crap in which to lay their eggs, gamers seek out the most ridiculous, embarrassing topics to roll around in like a proverbial pile of mind feces, diving in headfirst as if they’re Scrooge McDuck going for an afternoon swim in his money bin.

This is nothing new to the sane gamers here, but there’s still one thing that has the power to get nearly all of us riled. It’s not dedicated servers or any other recent debate, sane or not. It’s something far more Keyser Soze, if you’ll allow me the indulgence of using a proper noun as an adjective.

It’s the plague of the spoilers, which seem to be coming like a swarm of locusts lately, filling your favorite social network with angry posts and warnings not to watch videos or use any of those Internets. But are spoilers really that bad, and why do they seem like a far more troubling problem in games than any other storytelling medium? It’s because we’re too damn neurotic. If you want to sail the seas, but you don’t want to get wet, you’d better learn the fine art of staying below the poop deck. 

view full story + comments

_{[Editor's Note: We're not just a (rad) news site -- we also publish opinions/editorials from our community & employees like this one, though be aware it may not jive the opinions of Destructoid as a whole, or how our moms raised us. Want to post your own article in response? Publish it now on our community blogs.]}

There’s a very obvious divide in the way that people, even on this “hardcore gamer’s Web site,” approach videogaming. To some, it is their lifeblood -- a thing of utter divinity that cannot be trifled with by anyone. To others, it is the silly, nerdy hobby that you’re still secretly embarrassed about participating in. Others enjoy it as a passion, and still others use it to provide their livelihood. We’re all slightly different in our judgments of gaming.

Yet some still don’t seem to know how to feel about gaming. They make arguments like “it’s only a videogame,” while arguing with someone else who maintains that a game shouldn’t be made unless it’s art. The seriousness of gaming is called into question, and our weaponry consists of empty statements such as “gaming is serious business.” We join sides and create silly wars, attacking some for being overcritical of a game, and attack others for not being critical enough.

The problem is that we’re not taking gaming seriously on the right level. It’s not completely serious, and it’s not completely frivolous, and any argument made to the contrary is utter nonsense.

view full story + comments

[Editor's note: We're not just a (rad) news site -- we also publish opinions/editorials from our community & employees like this one, though be aware it may not jive with the opinions of Destructoid as a whole, or how our moms raised us. Want to post your own article in response? Publish it now on our community blogs.]

Some of you may already know this, but I hail from a place that is both Mexico and not Mexico at the same time: the newer of the Mexican lands, specifically, a town called Albuquerque. It is a place famous for hot air balloons, Bugs Bunny’s poor navigational choices, and…we named our minor league baseball team after an episode of The Simpsons.

The evidence is incontrovertible: Albuquerque, New Mexico is truly the greatest place on Earth.

But what’s this? A hidden layer of this great city that has long been forgotten? Indeed, what very few know about Albuquerque is that it has offered the single greatest contribution to the world of videogames. Without it, the industry’s landscape would be nothing more than a disfigured scarecrow standing in a field of crap.

Yes indeed, Albuquerque is the home of American Laser Games, creators of laserdisc lightgun games.

So, come on your pilgrimage, all true believers in gaming, as we visit the one true gaming mecca and pay tribute to its incredible contributions to our lives.

view full story + comments

[Editor's note: We're not just a (rad) news site -- we also publish opinions/editorials from our community & employees like this one, though be aware it may not jive with the opinions of Destructoid as a whole, or how our moms raised us. Want to post your own article in response? Publish it now on our community blogs.]   

The heroes of our time are often thought to be presidents, celebrities who “accidentally” show a bit of side boob, and Jim Sterling*, but to this I must reply: poppycock. There is only one hero that you need to be concerned with, for the triumph of this impressive figure is far greater than even a project lead, developer, artist, or that guy who they hire to say stupid shit to get press.

He is the pinnacle of brilliance. The apex of acumen. The king of entertainment.

He is the guy who writes dialogue for random unnamed JRPG characters who do nothing but stand in one place all day.

view full story + comments

[Editor's note: We're not just a (rad) news site -- we also publish opinions/editorials from our community & employees like this one, though be aware it may not jive with the opinions of Destructoid as a whole, or how our moms raised us. Want to post your own article in response? Publish it now on our community blogs.]

The late 80s and early 90s were a very rough, very strange time for me. After joining a gang at River City High and helping my buddies rescue one of their girlfriends from the clutches of a rival gang with a penchant for yelling BARF!, I decided to leave that world behind for something a bit more legitimate. I was done fighting. I would instead devote myself to the spirit of competition.

It was in 1992 that I transferred to a new high school and met a seemingly upstanding group of gentlemen led by a guy named Crash. He and his friends, known simply as “The Boys,” were fantastic athletes, turning their rivals into sniveling, pathetic losers. However, Crash’s biggest rival, Theodore "Todd" Thornley IV, had a plan: he would get back at Crash with sporting events of his own making -- ones that were far less legitimate than I was prepared for. Suddenly, it felt like this wasn’t about sports anymore, and I was about to fall back into the world that I had tried so hard to escape. Still, I had committed to this team, and I couldn’t turn back now.

Little did I know that it would lead to the first glimpse of a world that I didn’t want to see: one where promises were broken and the very foundation of the future could be easily destroyed. 

view full story + comments

[Editor's note: We're not just a (rad) news site -- we also publish opinions/editorials from our community & employees like this one, though be aware it may not jive with the opinions of Destructoid as a whole, or how our moms raised us. Want to post your own article in response? Publish it now on our community blogs.]

[Flower spoilers incoming. Also, sentimentality.]

When thinking back to the sheer number of times that I’ve progressed through an epic journey and saved the world, it’s rare that I find myself thinking back fondly upon that world, that journey, or that triumph. After all, saving the world is an incredible triumph.

So why doesn’t it feel like it?

Too often, saving the world in a game feels like an incredibly mundane task. We’re thrown into some world, given towns, forests and characters, and we’re expected to single-handedly ensure that it’s all still there tomorrow.

But how many times do we actually feel like saving the world is the monumental task that it is? As gamers, we are the people who have the power to change the world -- something that I think we’ve all dreamed of at some point. Yet there are too many of these situations in which doing this is completely meaningless for the player.

The only recent game that really made me feel good about saving the world involved floating petals and a lot of angry girders.  view full story + comments

[Editor's note: We're not just a (rad) news site -- we also publish opinions/editorials from our community & employees like this one, though be aware it may not jive the opinions of Destructoid as a whole, or how our moms raised us. Want to post your own article in response? Publish it now on our community blogs.]  

The era of Antarctic exploration that lasted from the early 19th century to about 1920 was known as The Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration. During this period, expeditions from all over the world were launched toward the Antarctic continent -- often with few supplies and insufficient crews -- in the hopes of being the first to truly explore Antarctica. One such endeavor was called the Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition of 1914-17, led by Ernest Shackleton.

This voyage was ill-fated. Shackleton's ship, the Endeavor, became frozen solid in ice and was eventually dragged into the sea. The crew camped on an ice floe (basically, a large chunk of floating ice) and simply waited, hoping that they would miraculously drift toward land. After a few days, their ice floe broke in two, leaving Shackleton with only one choice: abandon the ice floe and set out in tiny life boats. What used to be an exploratory effort became solely about survival. Eventually, a large portion of the crew was rescued, though there were three casualties.

All of the crew members knew the risks going into it; Shackleton himself had set out for the Antarctic previously. Yet they all did it anyway, and for what? You have to think that they must have been crazy. For what some might call an inherent human desire to explore. To simply look in the distance upon a vast expanse of uncharted territory and feel nothing less than an unavoidable, nigh crippling desire to simply set forth and see what's there.

This is, of course, leading to videogames. I call this draw of exploration inherent in the human condition because I think that every gamer feels it. It's a part of who we, as humans, are, both outside of the world of videogames and within it. If we take a moment to really look at ourselves and our gaming desires, we'll find that we're not so different from Ernest Shackleton and his small crew of Antarctic explorers. 

view full story + comments

[Editor's note: Community member Kauzu contributed a piece to our Weekly Musing subject on how to make gaming communities suck less. Please post your own over on the Community blogs. It may get read during our panel at PAX this Friday! -- CTZ] 

[Objection! is an idea for a new series in which I take on a serious subject in a light-hearted and silly way. And I'll throw it in with the weekly musings as well, as I think it applies.]

Famous philosopher, philanthropist, and philanderer Jack Black once, in the heat of passion, declared, “F**k you, you f**king d*ck, always naysaying everything I create, you piece of sh*t.” Indeed, it is far too often that we, as gamers, sit in our towers and f**king nap -- er, and criticize everything that we can possibly criticize. We seek faults in order to be the first ones to call them out. We approach a new game with skepticism, devoting our first playthrough to the identification of everything that’s wrong with a game. We take the criticism of games to an extreme, criticizing not for the sake of improving games and our experiences with them, but simply to criticize.

We naysay. view full story + comments

[It's time for another Monthly Musing -- the monthly community blog theme that provides readers with a chance to get their articles and discussions printed on the frontpage. -- CTZ]  

When it comes to pitting two fighters against one another to do battle, Mortal Kombat is about where my pseudo-expertise ends. In terms of my current proficiency, the best comparison to make is probably this: my skill in fighting games is akin to the guy who leans back and flails his open palms in a flurry of half-hearted slaps. Pretty much how I fight in real life, too, so in that way I guess it’s pretty appropriate.

So when BlazBlue starting getting so much attention here, I struggled to convince myself to care. After all, I hadn’t played a fighting game in earnest since Tekken 3. My Interest had died. And why should BlazBlue be any different? Despite my reservations, the game arrived in the mail one day, and I gave it a shot, hoping that, by some miracle, I might latch onto it and reignite my passion for fighting games.

I didn’t.

Regardless, my journey through BlazBlue was an interesting struggle, knowing that I wasn’t really having any fun, but desperately wanting to persist, grabbing in vain for an inkling of what made this game so enjoyable for everyone else. But, of course, I was looking in the wrong place. It’s not you, BlazBlue, it’s me. If we look back at my fighting game dating history, it’s pretty obvious that we were never going to work out. We’re just too different. ays suck at fighting games. view full story + comments

[It's time for another Monthly Musing -- the monthly community blog theme that provides readers with a chance to get their articles and discussions printed on the frontpage. -- CTZ]

When searching for strong narrative, the last place that any gamer would look is in a racing game. The player’s many laps around a track leave little place for the development of a story, characters, or personal experiences. Though you, as a racer, might gain a fortune, purchase new cars, and eventually win the most prestigious race out there, the stories that you tell about your experiences will likely be identical to those told by thousands of other players.

This, however, is not one of those occasions. This was not a matter of finding my way to the finish line. This was my Everest.

view full story + comments

[It's time for another Monthly Musing -- the monthly community blog theme that provides readers with a chance to get their articles and discussions printed on the frontpage. -- CTZ]  

I began playing videogames at a very young age. A point at which my rapidly developing mind was quite malleable. I couldn’t do math yet, but I could beat the crap out of River Raid. I sucked at tying my shoes, but I was decidedly awesome at Galaga. So in between learning to spell “duck” and trying to color in the lines, I enrolled daily in the School of Games, where topics varied from division in Math Blaster to typing skills in Mario Teaches Typing.

But the proportion of truly educational games that I played is extremely low. Most of the time, I was playing new releases on Atari, then on NES, Genesis, Gameboy, and so on. For the most part, I just played whatever my brother had. As I continued to develop, I continued to play, branching off into tons of other game types. I didn’t know, but throughout that whole time, I was constantly learning. Sure, I wasn’t zapping numbers with a laser beam anymore, but my mind was unconsciously soaking up information.

Today, I realize how much games have taught me. Sure, not all of it is vital life information, but there are enough valuable bits of wisdom that it makes me glad that I played those games in my childhood.

However, something has changed. I don’t think I’m learning anymore.

So, what happened? Why have games ceased to be educational to me? Have games taught me everything that they have to teach, or have they just stopped trying? To answer this, we have to start by examining those games in the past that offered truly educational experiences.

view full story + comments

[It's time for another Monthly Musing -- the monthly community blog theme that provides readers with a chance to get their articles and discussions printed on the frontpage. -- CTZ]   

If you think about, thinking up a completely new world is a fairly straightforward task. Sure, doing it right requires hours of planning, the creation of an entire history for the world and so on. But perhaps the most monumental task can be found right here in our own world: how do you make our world feel new, genuine and exciting?

We’ve seen our world, well, for a long time, and it’s perhaps the great curse of our time that not much seems to change. We look out the window every day, and the world looks just like it did yesterday for the vast majority of us. However, this rule can easy be broken in videogames, as it was in Fallout 3. Sure, the idea of setting a game in a post-apocalyptic world isn’t entirely novel, but Fallout 3 succeeds in making it feel more like our world than ever before. How do you make our world interesting? Just break it. 

view full story + comments