I think the issues all started with The Legend of Zelda.
When I started gaming it was on the Atari. Think Donkey Kong and Space Invaders and Pitfall. Good times. Game designers set up an objective and you attempted to reach it—e.g. Princess, Alien Annihilation, not dying via scorpion bite.
Then we brought home my gateway drug—NES. Between Super Mario Bros. and Duck Hunt I was a happy gamer. Again, a clear objective—save the princess, shoot the dog, etc. Sure, SMB had shortcuts and warp pipes and magic blocks, but ultimately it was all about getting Mario to pull the bridge out from under a big dino-lizard-dragon-asshole.
But then, in 1987, when I brought home a little golden cartridge, something broke in my head. It all looked innocuous enough.
But inside this little 8 bit gaming masterpiece was a challenge—
I became a man obsessed. Where the hell was that last heart piece? There were no internets to ask. I didn’t subscribe to Nintendo Power and my parents would never let me call the Nintendo Hotline because that would cost $7 a minute.
So I looked for damn heart container for the better part of a month. Did I need it to complete the game? Hell no. With that sweet blue suit on it was like I had 30 heart containers already. Why did I need to find it?
Because it was there. Somewhere in that damn game was something I overlooked. And it pissed me off.
Fast forward to 1995. I asked to pool all my birthday and Christmas money into one lump sum in order to buy one game. I had heard about it and wanted nothing more than to lose countless hours in its storylines and amazing turn based team fighting system.
$75.00 later I was the proud owner of Chrono Trigger.
And 6 months later I finally had seen all 15 of the endings. But this was a day before save states and trophies and achievements. There were only three save slots on that cartridge and I had no proof that I’d seen them all. Other than the testimony of an 8 year old witness. But his memory was spotty at best.
2001 came around with a bang. GTA III was like nothing I’d ever played before and I was hooked. I completed every mission. I did every fire truck, ambulance and police challenge. And that completion bar was really helpful. Just before the end of the game I felt certain that the final boss fight would take my completion bar to the top.
But it didn’t. And there were 100 tiny packages scattered arbitrarily around Liberty City. And guess who was going to have to find them all?
Since I grew up without sites like GameFAQs or Cheatplanet or IGN I hate using walkthroughs. It makes me feel like I’m cheating myself. Now, given that I’ve a life outside of gaming that doesn’t allow me to sit in front of the television for 8 hours at a stretch in search of one elusive floating package, I’ll turn to an FAQ after reaching levels of frustration that should be reserved for heart surgery or rocket science. But I don’t like it.
Recently (because I get stuck completing games to 100% I’m usually about 1-2 years behind new releases) I finally finished Batman: Arkham Asylum. Now, here was a game after my own heart. Hidden maps of the Riddler’s puzzles ensured that nearly every item was attainable without a walkthrough. Chattering Joker teeth gave away their location (and in all but one instance were laid somewhere in the route the gameplay would naturally take you with one notable exception) and there was only one puzzle without any indicator on the map as to its whereabouts. But the clever developers at Eidos had solved for this in a series of clues you picked up during the course of the game.
Finally a game with a clear objective and secrets that were attainable without the help of a Walkthrough. My faith in gaming restored, I continued onward to Braid.
Braid blew my mind. I loved it. I wanted to invent a time machine to go back before
I played it, just so I could play it all over again. But then the ending came.
Secret stars, huh? Excellent. Sounds right up my alley.
So I tried for them. I really did. But, as my blood pressure and aggravation reached Hulk-like proportions,
[Artist rendition of what the author looks like when aggravated by secret stars.]
I turned to my old dirty secret: Game FAQs. And this is what the ho had to say:
So first enter world 2-3 and then go back via the door you're next to, to correctly enter world 2-2. Once you do, look all the way up and you will see a cloud platform (it might be hard to see because of the background). This cloud is actually moving extremely slowly to the left of the map and it is the only access you have to the star. So make your way along the platforms to the left of the screen and position yourself between the locked door I told you about, and the cloud firing cannon right next to it…1hr 30mins later check back on your … cloud. Anyway, once the cloud is above the locked door, jump on the cannon, then the door, then finally to your platform cloud. Then wait for the cloud to approach the cliff and..... JUMP! Your star is waiting in the alcove in front of you. Ohand if you do happen to miss your jump, just rewind time and jump again.
*Cue Scooby Doo confused sound*
W. T. F. How in the hell is anybody supposed to sit around staring at a screen for 1.5 hours just to get a secret star that there is no damn evidence of this being the correct manner of getting to it unless you have monastic levels of patience?!?!?!?! ß [Gratuitous punctuation]
I will level up until the cows come home to ensure that Cloud et al can safely defeat every Ultimate Weapon in a game. I will do three run throughs of Chrono Trigger to get my team to a point that they can manage defeat Lavos as soon as the fair begins. I will even hunt through every nook and cranny of Liberty City without a damn marked map to find every stinking package to ensure 100% completion.
But I’ll be damned if I’m to sit in front of a screen for 1.5 hours just to notice a cloud inch its way across my screen to attain a secret star.
F#%$ you, Braid. F#%$ you in your stupid f#%$ing face.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I left some stone unturned in Epic Mickey and it has been nagging at me for days.