I just recently re-played through Star Fox 64 (in HD, which only further proves the point that the N64 had some amazing graphics. Even in high definition, the textures are smooth and the games look amazing). I noticed something video games have been missing for a while. Something I want dearly back in them: theatrics.
Some may say "No theatrical flair in video games? Have you played a game in the last 10 years?". Yes video games have always turned toward the dramatic, the visually stunning, and the aurally astounding, but there's something missing. Among all the spectacle and hubbub, some of the majesty of video games has been forgotten. I harken back to Nintendo's days in the 90's. Nintendo was the Disney of video games (actually they still are, but Disney hasn't been hitting many home runs besides Pixar).
In the 90's Nintendo brought a sort of majesty to the spectacle of video games. Their video game openings featured some very artistic and incredible scenes. Who can forget the creepy intro to Super Metroid? The camera panning slowly across the ransacked laboratory, dead bodies on the ground, and a familiar alien screech echoing through the room. It's simple, but effective, and makes the title screen much more than just a billboard graphic. What about Ocarina of Time? The soft piano music with an ocarina playing, while silhouetted Link rides Epona across the dawn horizon. Both of the Star Fox games of the 90's had excellent intros that revealed part of the story before the game even started. They didn't use loud, obnoxious sound effects, or crazy music to get your attention. They weren't blatant ads for the game you already bought or plain billboard graphics. They were simple scenes that set the tone of the game (and possibly a bit of the story) while giving the player more to look at and making the game feel more alive.
Even the way the stories were told in those old games were very powerful. The limitations of the SNES and the N64 meant that long passages of dialogue and FMVs couldn't be done. You had to tell your story with in-game visuals and music. Ocarnia of Time features some of the most nuanced character performances ever seen in a game, even when compared with today's multi-million polygon character models. It wasn't the superior graphics (come on, it was early 1998) or the touching music (N64 still used almost strictly MIDI, as real music required way too much space on a cartridge) or the excellent dialogue (Nintendo was among a host of game companies with some very questionable dialogue choices). It was the camera, and what the characters didn't say that made it so effective. When Link leaves the Kokiri Forest in the beginning of Ocarina of Time, his best friend Saria comes out the entrance of the forest to wish him good bye. She tells Link she will miss him and hands him her ocarina, which she always loved to play in the forest. The music stops, the camera focuses on Saria's kind, warm face, then cuts to Link's solemn expression. Another cut shows the two of them staring at each other, realizing this may be the last time they ever see each other. And then Link slowly turns and walks away, and the camera cuts to one final look at Saria's face, now a bit more sad and lonely, and fades to black.
Not a word is spoken after Saria hands Link the ocarina, but the emotion in the scene could not be higher. It is a crowning moment in video game storytelling. A touching departing of friends, all done with characters who look like they were cut out of soap by a retarded prison inmate. This is part of the magic missing in many video games.
Another sign of Nintendo's golden reign is the credits. Most games (even today) just use simple black screens with scrolling credits (similar to most movies). But Nintendo didn't think that was enough. Check out the credits sequences from A Link To The Past, Ocarina of Time, and the one that started this whole [RANT], Star Fox 64. These kinds of credits/epilogue endings really made you feel like you had finished something grand. The music, the camera cuts, the scenes they chose, all meant to instill a very grandiose and meticulous moment of awe. And did they ever. The Star Fox team running along a sunset, the music billows and blossoms into a massive fanfare as the Great Fox rises in the background, creating a picturesque scene. Then, a cut to the Great Fox and four Arwings flying off into the sun, the music alternating between a soft good bye, and a powerful send-off. It is as beautiful and inspiring as the end of any Star Wars film, and you feel like you just saved the Lylat System like Fox McCloud himself.
There is a classic air to these games. Beyond the nostalgia and excitement of playing the games, these games and their majestic theatrics are just damn good storytelling, and draw from classic film techniques. These games will not be remembered just for their gameplay, or because they had some good tunes or awesome graphics. These games will be remembered for the grand adventures that they are, and the inspiration that they left with everyone who played them. Recent games like Shadow of the Colossus have nailed this majesty, but diminish it slightly (and appropriately) to fit the style and presentation of that game. But on the whole, games are cutting out these little details and techniques, because most game are still not taken seriously enough for people to care. And that is a sad thing. But it makes games like these so much sweeter, as they are so far and few between. Maybe their scarcity is not such a bad thing after all.
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