Bad Games and the Women Who Love Them

A few weeks ago I was deeply immersed in playing Summoner, an early RPG by THQ that I bought around the same time I got my first PS2. I've finished the game, oh, maybe three times already. And I mean really finished it - completed every side quest and maxed out my characters (well, nearly). As the classic Evil Summoner FAQ eloquently describes, the game itself is a piece of shit. Badly designed, badly written (except for one mildly interesting plot twist), frustrating, and inflexible.

"God, I hate this game," I'd mutter while guiding my clumsy characters through yet another prolongued FedEx quest. "You say that all the time," my boyfriend observed. "So why do you play?"

It's still hard to answer that question. Each time I've picked up the game, I've felt compelled to play it through and thouroughly. My wrists and thumbs aching at the monotony of button-pressing through countless inane conversation trees, multiple brain-deadening random encounters, I preservered until the final tedious battle in which you have to run around a temple trying to hit at a winged creature that continually escapes from you. Why do I put myself through this frustration?

I think I need a self-help manual to break the destructive cycle.

Maybe it is like being in a bad relationship. You keep thinking, this time it'll be better! Or the problems are so numerous that fixing them at least give you something to do. Are good relationships boring? It's just a theory.

But obviously my addictions have to be bad in the right way. Some bad games are simply unplayable. Summoner is bad in a way that I still found interesting, because I could make a game of exploiting some of the badness. The enemy AI, for instance, is so moronic you can cast a fire spell and the Frozen Bone Knight or whatever it is happily stands there basking in the fire, burning to death, unaware of its mortal danger. That's fun. And each time I played the game, I collected new information about how to better maximize my character's stats. When I first played through, I didn't know how to use Fleece. I just gave her a bow and had her as a ranged attacker as my other characters entered melee or did magic. A bow's damage, even with the higher-level bows like the Bow of Lynnai, is negligible against the serious monster. There's no way to enhance the damage either. So I thought of her as unimportant in melle combat, only useful in sneaky situations, or for opening locks, or stuff like that - secondary skills. Which is too bad, because the rogue/thief class is my favorite to play.

But the second time I played through, I discovered that properly optimized Fleece is hands down the best character in the game, even in face-to-face combat. Yes, her hit points aren't great and she can't handle the more damage-dealing weapons, unless you waste Skill Points in Heavy Arms, but she has the unbeatable combination of Backstab and Trip. Trip an enemy, then run around and Backstab it - works every time. Instant kill! It feels like cheating because it's so easy.

Then I would challenge myself. Can I get through this area using only the magic user, Rosalind? Or using only Fleece? Or, for a real challenge, using only the men? That would take lots of strategy and planning ahead.

And finally, I'd optimize the quests themselves. The surfeit of FedEx quests as I mentioned above can keep you running around town and between towns forever, slowed down by interminable loading times and random encounters on the map. But if you know where everything is and what everyone wants, I found it satisfying the organize my expedition to perfect the reward vs. time spent ratio. I felt a strange sense of victory over the game itself. Ha, THQ, you tried to make me run around but I know what to do, you can't make me sit through your stupid level designs.

No doubt there are better ways to spend my time. Way better. I know. But I have to admit that there is a strange satisfaction in playing a "bad" game well. This activity probably should not enthrall me quite to the extent that it does. It is, you may well say, a waste of time. And I agree with you. I got to the final battle of the game this time round and stopped. It'll probably be a year before I pick it up again. I hope.

But we live in an imperfect world. Maybe a bad game is just teaching me to optimize what I've got, to make the best out of a situation out of my control. Or maybe I just have a real problem.

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Comments

[ryan]

three times! that's psychotic... i love it ;)

I've often considered making "king's field" my bad game of choice... I should really pick that foul thing up!

[turandot]

I own that game. The original PS2 issue, bought at the same time the PS2 was launched (back when I was an early adopter). The game got almost universally panned, but I didn't mind playing it and finishing it. Now if you want bad games one irrationally keeps going back to, mine would have to be Tsugunai. The game is as boring as it can get, and hellishly hard to finish. But I'll be damned if I don't still get the itch to play it every once in a while even with shinier toys around.

[Girl_from_Mars]

*raises her hand and says: I'm Robyn... and i play PN 03.*

Yes. It's terrible. And repetitive. And pretty boring... but... i just had to have it... and occasionally, i just have to play it. And i dont kid myself. I know it's bad. So strange.

[Mike]

Playing bad games and buying really cheap games from the bargain bin are always tempting to me. I always prefer to buy the half-assed Game Boy edition of a game (this was truer back when games like Mortal Kombat came out on every system) before I buy the console version, simply because I think that I want the worst possible version of a game.

While you think of it as being in an abusive relationship, I think of it as being in a relationship with someone you know you're better than. There's a sick sense of compassion, because this poor game is awful, but you're giving it the love that other people just can't give. Other folks might find the game's graphics wanting, its polygons bland, its dialoge predictable, its quests dull. But the fact that you give it the time of day not only makes you a better person (because in some way you're also giving the poor saps that spent a solid chunk of their lives making it), but it raises the level of the game.

To put it another way...bad games are like Sloth from "The Goonies," and I'm Chunk, goddammit.