GameSpotting: Road Trip

Welcome to another edition of GameSpotting, where it's 382 miles to Los Angeles, we've got a full tank of gas and an iPod full of the Minibosses, it's dark, and we're wearing Game & Watches. The 2004 Electronic Entertainment Expo is less than three weeks away, and the excitement, the anxiety, and the anticipation are so thick in the GameSpot offices, you can almost taste it--and it tastes good. Tastes like freedom, Jake. While we gas up and get ready to hit the tarmac, feel free to ask us endless questions about E3 in the forums, or you could even write your own GuestSpotting column lamenting the fact that you won't be making the pilgrimage to the Los Angeles Convention Center this May 12 through 14.

Return of the M
Greg Kasavin/Executive Editor
"I don't think violent games should or need to pull punches. Violence is scary and ugly."

Confronting Demons of E3s Past
Alex Navarro/Associate Editor
"In essence, for the first several E3s I attended, I relished exactly what I have grown to despise."

E3 Ahead
Curt Feldman/Senior Editor, News
"Hold on to your hat; this time it's for real."

Honey, I Killed the PS2
Tor Thorsen/Associate Editor, News
"My console up and died on me. But with a price cut on the horizon, should I buy a new one now or wait?"

Getting on the Right Track
Tyler Winegarner/Associate Producer, GameSpot Live
"My passion for racing games has given me intimate knowledge of countless tracks around the globe, courses which, in all likeliness, I'll never be on."

E3 Survival Guide
Adam Buchen/Data Producer
"E3 is an unparalleled experience. It's 500,000 square feet of gaming bliss, and you won't regret going."

To Cheese or Not to Cheese
Eddie Bautista/Data Entry Clerk
"Sure, repetitive moves and tactics can become annoying, but what irritates me more are the people who whine about them."

Dial "V" for Video Games
Greg Shortall/GuestSpotter
"You don't think Agatha Christie would have a problem with any of this, do you?"

The Long-Term Effects of Dig Dug
Ben Kerns/Video Game Documentarian
Do you have a hilarious/poignant/touching story involving video games? Well stop being a selfish dork, and share it with the world in this very forum! Read our GuestSpotting FAQ for details on submitting your own column.

Return of the M

Blood is making a comeback. After several years of sterile gaming experiences, we're starting to see the red stuff returning in full force, adding that visceral edge to already-violent gaming experiences. The M rating, which became something of a scarlet letter for a little while, seems to be once again becoming something desirable for a game. Call it the Kill Bill factor.

There's no denying that most games are violent in terms of their subject matter. Regardless of how graphically the violence is depicted, games still mostly revolve around the act of killing or at least beating up lots of other things--exceptions obviously include sports and vehicular simulations, though arguably, more violence has been creeping into those genres, too. At any rate, there are several factors at work here.

One: Gamers are getting older. Those impressionable 15-year-olds who had to have their eyes covered for them back in 2001 are all 18 years old now. Some of them are off at war. I don't think our society is squeamish about violence; not in the slightest. Anyway, there exists a larger customer base for M-rated games now. Some of the bigger commercial successes lately--games like Far Cry, Unreal Tournament 2004, and Resident Evil: Outbreak--have been M rated. Some of the hottest upcoming games, like Halo 2 and Half-Life 2, will inevitably get the M.

Two: Graphics are becoming more plausible and more detailed, yet, as you can tell from the previous examples, we still like playing the same old types of games--games about shooting, punching, stabbing, blowing things up, and so forth. It's possible to make these sorts of violent gaming experiences seem more stylish than gruesome--take last year's Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time as an example. However, there's always going to be the demand for gaming experiences to grow more and more intense by any means necessary. Adding lifelike violence to those gaming experiences is one way to make them more visceral.

Three: The ESRB rating system is itself older and more mature now, and there seems to be less confusion now than there used to be over what the difference is between an M game and a T game. Extremely violent games like Manhunt have stirred up some small controversy these past few years, but really, it seems like society has accepted that some games are extremely violent, while others don't have to be. The distinctions tend to be pretty obvious.

Gearing up for the Electronic Entertainment Expo, I've had the opportunity to take a closer look at some major publishers' upcoming products, slated for release later this year or sometime in the next. And I've been seeing a lot more blood and gore than I frankly expected to. I think it's all in response to the pulled punches of companies like Electronic Arts and Activision, whose successful first-person shooters have offered plenty of mayhem and excitement, without all that unsightly blood. As much as I like games like the Medal of Honor series and Call of Duty, I still think it's kind of a cop-out that these games squeak by with a T. I don't think violent games should or need to pull punches. Violence is scary and ugly. Getting close to it in virtual form (through a violent game or movie) is much the same as simulating the experience of hurling oneself off a cliff through the act of bungee jumping.

Get ready for a lot of games to start pushing the envelope of graphic content. Suddenly, once again, controversy is the "in" thing. Forthcoming military-themed first-person shooters like Vivendi's Men of Valor and Eidos' ShellShock: Nam '67 are attempting to depict a far uglier, much more shocking version of the last century's wars than what we've seen in shooters from the past few years. Meanwhile, recent games like Painkiller, Far Cry, and Unreal Tournament 2004 each have gleefully displayed Mature-themed content for the sake of providing memorable gaming experiences, and they've succeeded with flying colors.

Whether we like it or not, American society enjoys its violence. Our country is at war right now, so the distinction, I think, is quite clear these days between virtual violence and real death. It may be that we look to the virtual version to get away from the reality, without completely getting away from the reality. Everyone knows that games, and other media, are a form of escapism. If we're going to live in a world filled with death and violence, it might as well be cool and stylish and amusing, right?

Confronting Demons of E3s Past

It seems like every year, the time between E3s is just a bit shorter--and thanks to some awesome scheduling by the folks in charge of the convention, which has seen the dates of the show creep up from early June to mid-May over the past few years, it actually is. By this point in my life, I'm almost a grizzled veteran of this yearly stress they call E3. This year will be my sixth year in attendance. However, in actuality, last year's E3 was really my first serious E3. In years past, I had simply gone to E3 for the sake of going--finagling passes and badges out of various friends within the industry just so I could mill about the convention hall, ogling the occasional booth babe and making my yearly trip to the THQ booth to get yet another Bruce Campbell autograph (I've got about four of them hidden away in a box somewhere). In essence, for the first several E3s I attended, I relished exactly what I have grown to despise.

My first year at E3, I managed to get in through a connection with someone who was working for Bleem at the time, who in turn hooked me up with an exhibitor badge with the expressed intention that I would spend a minimal amount of time working the Bleem booth. I made good on that promise, sticking around just long enough for Sony's legal team to come down to the booth and demand that the Bleem folks stop displaying certain Sony titles, and then I was off to explore the show. At this time, I was about 16 years old. Definitely not old enough to be legally hanging out at the show, yet just the right age for the wonder and whimsy of all the bright lights, loud techno, and hired models. This is when it could provide me with a sensation of anything other than that of pure irritation. That first year, I absolutely lost myself in the experience, darting from booth to booth, playing games that I didn't even care about--just because I could. I'd wait in line for obscene amounts of time just to get an autograph of Jerry "The King" Lawler, Brett Favre, or whatever random celebrity happened to be around. I'd jump into any gaming contest I could, even if I was quite sure I was going to have my ass handed to me within eight to 10 seconds of picking up a controller. That first year, I was in heaven.

This sort of idolization of the E3 experience continued for a couple more conventions. I'd keep finding ways in, whether it was going to the shady lengths of pretending to be someone I wasn't or just going the honest route, using real guest passes that I acquired honorably. Along the way came more big games, more parties, more bands, more famous people, and more women dressed up like game characters. The visual and audio assault on your senses is downright addictive, really. After the day is done and you're back at your hotel, or wherever you're crashed out, you start to become antsy for the next dose of loud techno beats and ridiculous pageantry. You start doing everything you can to get into the big company parties, hoping to extend the whole experience just that much more. To a teenage kid with a love for games, this is as close to pure bliss as you can come without actually having to sell your soul.

Finally, however, it all came to a head for me. Over time, I slowly became supremely bored with the whole experience. By year four, I had the show down to a science. I knew where everything I wanted to see was, and I was usually able to see it by the end of day one. The mystique of being able to see games that weren't going to be out anytime soon had long since passed me by, and thus the desire to go see games I wasn't especially excited about had all but worn off completely. Whether it is the general cynicism one develops as one ages, or something completely specific to me, the concept of booth babes had just become incredibly stupid and annoying to me, and I no longer gave a hot damn about whatever moderate celebrities were trotting out to sign their names and grunt vaguely at fans. The din of loud music and flashing lights was no longer appealing; rather, it was completely abhorrent.

Then came last year's E3; my first E3 where I would actually have to do a lick of work, as opposed to simply leeching badges and slacking about the convention hall soaking up the sights and sounds. As an industry-only trade show--and the biggest one of the year at that--E3, from the perspective of the gaming journalist, is a weeklong ass kicking. You go to E3 to work very hard, not sleep much, and do everything within your very being to make sure you've covered every game being shown during the event. When you're working at E3, you don't have time to worry about autograph signings, booth babes, company parties, or sustaining your own personal sanity for that matter. You're there to go to appointments, see games, and write them up doublequick. Last year, being my first year ever to experience this side of E3, was rough on me at first. My self-discipline required a fair amount of tweaking in order to properly handle the workload. Even though my interest in the bells and whistles of the convention had already begun to wane in years past, not being able to pay any attention to them at all, lest my singular focus of covering the show were to be distracted, was tough to do.

Interestingly enough, as I look back upon E3 memories past and compare them to how I currently view this upcoming E3, I simply cannot resolve the differences between how I used to anticipate the show and how I do now. I am no longer just bored with the many distractions of E3; I out and out hate them. Booth babes, parties, celebrities--these are all just annoyances to get in the way of the games. I don't need them, and I don't want them. The single, driving force that has me looking forward to the show is covering E3 from top to bottom with no stone left unturned. If you've never been to E3, then chances are that what I'm saying right now is probably total insanity to you. The fact that I would be more interested in working myself into a frothing insanity rather than taking in the sights and sounds of E3's glitzy showcases, probably makes next to no sense to you. I know this, because if I'd never been to E3 before, I'd be thinking exactly the same thing. The truth is I'm very much glad that I was given the opportunity to experience E3 so early on in life, simply because doing so allowed me to get all of the ogling and partying out of my system. I've been there, done that, and I don't need it anymore. All I want at this point is to get in, get our readers all the coverage they can handle, and get out with my body, mind, and soul relatively intact. I have reduced the experience of E3 to its very essence, and it is that essence that drives me. Bring on the games, and bring on E3. Leave the rest of it by the wayside, because it won't get in my way. I won't let it. Not anymore.

E3 Ahead

You've seen the movie; maybe you've had the dream. This is how it plays out for me:

I'm dressed in green fatigues, my bum is planted on some hardpack bench inside the belly of a C-something-or-other transport plane, no door, 300mph, and coursing through the chop of some billowy clouds, plenty of turbulence, no friends in sight (or, if it's a dream, maybe I'm sitting next to my third-grade teacher: Hi there Mrs. Manfredini. It's Curt. Remember me?).

OK. So maybe the teacher isn't there. I'm stuck in a crowd of jumpers waiting for the red light to go green. Nervous as hell.

It's called the pre-E3 jitters, and considering I've attended the event for the past eight or so years, you would think it would be a piece of cake on final approach (hint: 18 days and counting). But nooooooooo. To offset the cramps, here's how I'm approaching this year's show. My wish list:

1. Hey, will someone please talk about the next generation of consoles bound our way!? Yes, I appreciate how many PS games are still being sold, but that's no reason to continue denying reports of a newer, younger, more robust generation of consoles waiting in the wings. Show us something that will surprise and tempt us. We're not going away, but please remember: This is the entertainment industry.

2. Enough with the doubles and twos. For those publishers willing to take a chance on an original IP, you will be rewarded. Here's a promise: Show me an original game you are getting behind big time at E3, and it goes to the top of the page on GameSpot News. Original IP is what I hold out for. Otherwise, we give the top slot to The URBZ.

3. Hmmm. What's with the May 12 start date? What happened with late May? Next year late April? Paleeeze.

4. Last but not least: I'd really, really appreciate it if the Tecmo girls would cover up just a bit. You know, we've got kids here.

Honey, I killed the PS2

Last month, I went on vacation in Japan. After getting off my return flight from Tokyo-Narita, I thought I'd wind down with a little bit of the old interactive ultraviolence. Still feeling the fuzziness of 10 hours of in-flight cocktails (which were free but were absolutely not self-serve--according to the sky marshal), I surmised my hand-eye coordination was definitely not at Ninja Gaiden level. So I decided to slice open the cellophane that encased Champions of Norrath so that I could try some old-school hackin'-and-slashin' instead.

Problem was, my PlayStation 2 wouldn't cooperate. No matter how many times I ejected and reinserted the game, that little gold disc on the screen refused to yield to Snowblind's latest creation. Defeated and still a few sheets to the wind, I passed it off to drunken incompetence and succumbed to the allure of two weeks of accumulated TiVo.

The next day, it was the same story. So I blew compressed air into the console, ran the lens cleaner, swore at the top of my lungs, pounded on walls, and scared the neighbors. But nothing worked. After three years of dutiful service, my PS2 had finally up and died.

Besides being upsetting, the demise of my console was untimely. Normally, I'd just bite the bullet and buy a new one. But that was when a PlayStation 2 price cut wasn't imminent. While nothing official has been announced yet, the surge of Xbox sales--sparked by its new $149 sticker price--can't go unanswered for long. Indeed, many of the same analysts who correctly predicted Microsoft's semibold move are saying that a similar announcement from Sony is imminent. Others say we may see a $149 or $129 PS2 as early as E3.

Saving $30 to $50 makes financial sense. However, there are a passel of PS2 exclusives on the horizon that I must play. Onimusha 3: Demon Siege arrives next week, Syphon Filter: The Omega Strain arrives the week after that, and Samurai Warriors arrives just two days after that. Besides, my A/V setup would look asymmetrical with the little black box missing, and my PS2-mad friends would accuse me of taking sides in the system wars.

Luckily, there's another solution to my problem. Having been a deft hand at Operation! in my day, I'm going to crack the case, void the warranty, and try to fix my PS2 myself. While hardwareheads and Sony acolytes may utter a collective "Duh!" at this proposition, I was personally surprised at how easily the disc-no-read problem was remedied. According to one of the numerous sites devoted to DIY PS2 repair, all you need to fix the glitch is a few small Phillips screwdrivers, some rubbing alcohol, canned air, and some Q-tips.

So, this week will see me going into the belly of an electrical beast to revive an old friend. Hopefully I'll remember to unplug it first.

[UPDATE] So, within hours of this column going live, my mailbox began to fill up with helpful (and occasionally scornful) messages that revealed to me what I should've already known. Namely, if your PS2's laser wears out, Sony will repair it for free--provided you haven't modded the box in any way, shape, or form. Information on how to get your PS2 fixed is addressed in this GameSpot forum thread.

Getting on the Right Track

I'm pretty excited. I'm excited about E3, but I'll get back to you with my thoughts on that in a week or two--I trust my anticipation of that will be even bigger then. But right now I'm excited because I just signed up for my first track day as a motorcyclist. If you're not familiar with it, a track day is where you take the vehicle of your choice to your local racetrack and drive (or ride) it as you've always wanted to, without the worry of breaking federal, state, county, or municipal road-use laws. In my case, I'm going to learn more about the control potential of my motorcycle without having to worry about cops, gravel, oil, deer, oncoming traffic, or all the other things that can make riding on public roads in this way scary and dangerous.

There's just one thing that is making me pretty apprehensive: I don't know the track, Thunderhill Park, at all. I've looked at maps of it, photographs, and a few videos taken of laps around the 3-mile course, but I don't know my way around it, or where the ideal lines are. Counterpoint to this, my passion for racing games has given me intimate knowledge of countless tracks around the globe, courses which, in all likeliness, I'll never be on. Give me a glance at the chicane at Suzuka and I can identify it for you. I know my entry speed into the Cow's Face at Sepang in Malaysia. I know how quickly the ground can drop out from under you in the Corkscrew at Laguna Seca, and I barely know the ideal line. That thing's going to give me the willies the first time I ride it in person--I don't know how many times I've piled into the tire barrier there in Gran Turismo 3: A-Spec, but then again, I do know that my ex-roommate nearly killed himself there about two years ago. But hey, that's not the track I'm riding on. No need to worry about that now.

I'd be much more comfortable if I were going on any one of these tracks, or even the local Sears Point--sorry, Infineon Raceway--the latter of which Codemasters was kind enough to include in the original Pro Race Driver. As it is, Thunderhill Park is just too low profile to have been included in any race titles, at least to my knowledge. I'm trying to do as much research as possible so I feel more prepared, but I'm sure I'm just overthinking it. I find it odd, and a bit amusing, that I feel like I know tons of tracks I'll likely never be on like the back of my hand, but I barely know the first thing about any of our local limited-access courses.

When you get right down to it, though, it really speaks volumes on how much racing titles have evolved over the years. The first one I ever got my hands on was Pole Position, and I couldn't tell you, for the life of me, if any of the courses in that game were modeled after anything in the real world. I remember countless repetition of lefts and rights, passing an unknown number of drone-like opponents until your car came to a halt and you saw, hopefully, the beloved checkered flag. Compare that with the racing titles of today, where real-world racing knowledge can help give you that extra edge in a racing game, and hopefully, skills taken from a game might take the edge of anxiety off of the first time on a track. I'll let you know should I ever put the rubber to the road at Suzuka.

E3 Survival Guide

Well, it seems that time of year has crept up on us once again. This will be my first E3 working at GameSpot, and while some might say that makes me least qualified to write about the experience, I see it differently. I've been to the show previously as a mere civilian--my admittance was based tenuously on a job in the retail sector selling games. So if you're someone who plans on going to the show--not to work but to play--this is the guide for you!

1. How to Get In
Since I'm sure this is probably the most frequently asked question about the show, I'll address it first. You must be at least 18 to get in. That's just how it is. This includes the people who actually develop and publish games, obviously. It includes the press. No, "the press" does not usually include a fan site that has been quickly thrown together. You need business cards, a tax ID number, and more. Finally, as I've alluded to, retailers can make it into E3. This is probably the easiest way the "average Joe" can get into the show.

2. Prepare a Battle Plan
Obviously, there will be a whole lot to see. That means it's a very good idea to make a mental note of the games that are most important to you. Of course, you might have to be a bit spontaneous if you see something that looks incredibly awesome.

Make sure you prioritize: Is it worth waiting in line to see some of the higher-profile games? Frankly, sometimes it is. Last year I spent roughly five hours in line waiting for that Half-Life 2 demonstration. I never regretted it. On occasion, some companies will be a little more kind about things and hand out tickets to come back and see events at a specific time; this is how Doom 3 was handled two years ago. Make sure that you get your tickets early for these booths.

Lastly, don't put off seeing big games until the last minute. When the doors opened up on the last day of E3 last year, there was a rush to the Half-Life 2 demonstration; within a minute of the doors opening, the line was over six hours long. A lot of people were greatly disappointed.

3. Bring Plenty of Cash and Supplies
A trip to the LA Convention Center isn't cheap. Daily parking will run you at least $10 a day. It's not a bad idea to try to get to the Convention Center a little early so you aren't stuck in one of the backup lots in Timbuktu.

That's to say nothing of the food costs, which are also unsurprisingly astronomical. The whole process of getting food and drink at the LA Convention Center is a gigantic pain. Not only is it expensive, but it's also very crowded. Last year there was a little grilled cheese sandwich stand in the oft-belittled Kentia Hall. They were cheap and as tasty as grilled cheese could be. Considering that there are only, on average, 13 people in Kentia Hall at any given moment, it's a good alternative. Or, you could just bring food, but what's the fun in that?

4. Be Prepared for Downtime
You will get stuck waiting in some lines, and regardless of their length, it's never fun to wait if you're bored. Bring your GBA to play some games. Or, if you're feeling really industrious, bring something to write with so you can jot down some of your impressions of games you've played just in case you ever decide to share them.

5. Bring a Camera!
Whether it's just a cheap disposable camera, a digital camera, or even a camcorder, you're allowed to record most of what you see down on the E3 floor. Once again, this is a great way to share the sights and sounds of the show with those who cannot go. Or, it's a good a way of rubbing it in their face. Either way, you'll want to bring a camera!

6. Stop and Smell the Roses
It's very easy to feel rushed as you go from booth to booth seeing everything there is to see on the floor. Believe it or not, after a while it can start to feel as if you're doing work rather than having fun. If this happens, take a little breather. Once again, I'll preach the therapeutic value of finding your way to Kentia Hall where the people who run the booths might actually talk to you. Of course, "talking" consists of trying to sell massive CD-ROM duplication machines to you, but at least it'll feel personal!

Of course, it is impossible to truly convey the experience in a few hundred words. You need to remember that E3 is an unparalleled experience. It's 500,000 square feet of gaming bliss, and you won't regret going. On the other hand, the alternative would be to kick it at home in your boxers and tune in to GameSpot for the latest news and media. That sure would be easier on the wallet!

To Cheese or Not to Cheese

Cheesers are always getting a bad rap. These gamers (either intentionally or unintentionally) use the same moves or tactics over and over again to defeat opponents and, as a result, are often treated as the redheaded stepchildren in gaming circles. A dated term commonly associated with cheap moves in fighting games, "cheesing" is still used to describe cheap moves in various gaming genres, from guarding spawn points in first-person shooters to repeatedly using the same plays in sports games. Sure, repetitive moves and tactics can become annoying, but what irritates me more are the people that whine about them.

Take, for example, a recent experience I had playing an online doubles match in Top Spin. An experience I thought would be marred by my laggy Internet connection was instead tainted by my opponents' joint-accusation of "cheesin'." Although my partner and I had only scored a few points during the entire match, the opposition--which consisted of two Pete Samprases from somewhere on the East Coast--was unhappy with the way in which my Pete Sampras obtained these points: by slicing the ball at a sharp angle (thus producing a shot that was almost parallel to the net) so that the other team's net player had trouble reaching it. The Samprases refused to play my team again if I continued to use these "shameful" tactics. Now, I don't really consider this move to be cheap or unfair, but this experience goes to show how quick some gamers are to label a move as cheap when they don't know how to properly counter it.

There are cheaper moves to cry about in fighting games. Back when every kid was playing Street Fighter II, arguments over character etiquette were common. It was well known that if you trapped your opponent into a corner and performed E. Honda's "One-Hundred-Hand Slap," your friends would hate you. Another move that required slightly more skill was knocking the opponent to the ground and then keeping him or her there by sending perfectly timed fireballs in his or her direction. It was funny whenever button mashers were singled out for using low-brow tactics, even when they didn't know what they were doing.

It takes more than the random hammering of buttons to cheese in first-person shooter games. Sometimes, in the heat of battle, players resort to shady tactics to achieve victory. In any Halo team bout, for example, you can always find one team complaining about another team that only snipes newly spawned players, blocks warps with vehicles, or hangs around the overshield. Sometimes these strategies work, and sometimes they don't. But time spent complaining about these so-called cheap moves would be better spent learning how to counter them. If every Master Chief played honorably, we wouldn't shoot others in the back, steal kills from our teammates, or whack people on the back of their heads. Now that wouldn't be any fun.

I'm certainly not above all this. Sometimes I can ride a move or two all the way to victory, and it makes me smile. In Soul Calibur II, I use only two moves with Raphael--not because I hate variety but because I don't have the time to study each character's wide array of attacks and defenses. Also, since I'm allowed two free illegal moves in Fight Night 2004, I usually make it a point to throw in a couple low blows or head-butts, for both a competitive advantage and a good laugh. However, in most games, such as Top Spin, I try to win with a variety of moves, not just one.

So here's the point I'm trying to make: As long as there are video games, there will be people--like me--who choose to cheese. The challenge then, for those who prefer to take the high road, is to find ways to beat them. If Raphael uses repetitive moves in Soul Calibur II, trip him up with throws, counters, or well-timed blocks. If the red Master Chiefs are hogging all the overshield, toss a grenade or two in their power fest. If Pete Sampras is being a pain at the net, then--for goodness sakes--lob the ball over his head. Don't lay guilt trips on players who use the same moves over and over again; instead, expose their lacks of variety, and force them to adopt new strategies. Don't get mad. Get better.

Dial "V" for Video Games

Here's an interesting fact: Mystery writer Agatha Christie, author of some of the best-selling crime novels of all time, is outsold only by Shakespeare and the Bible. Believe it or not, more than 2 billion of Christie's books have been sold worldwide, in 45 different languages. But why, you might ask, am I going on about a mystery writer in GameSpotting? As odd as it sounds, game makers are eager to get their hands on the rights to these books and turn them into video games. In fact, Christie's grandson, Matthew Prichard, has already granted permission to game-maker Chorion to adapt five of his grandmother's books to CD-ROM PC games.

Keep in mind, a lot of these books were written more than 50 years ago--so I thought they could do with a small makeover. I tried to stick with the original storylines but admittedly ended up taking a few "artistic liberties." I did manage to keep the titles the same, so these are the real titles of Agatha Christie books--I did not make them up! Anyway, read on...

The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding
Transport yourself through the mists of time, to a long-forgotten age when Men and Dragonkind fought against a feared and evil force known only as the Pudding. You are a young and cocky street fighter by the name of Marlowe, concerned only with making a quick buck and keeping yourself and your dragonsteed, Krurr, out of the hands of the evil Savory English Dish. But when you try to rob the pocket of an old, wizened mage in the city square, you get more than you bargained for and learn that you are in fact heir to the Orb of Mazulon, a powerful and mystical object that lies deep within the lands of the evil, evil Pudding. Will you tempt fate and seek this Chalice of Power or stick to picking pockets on the streets of Muhundur? Whatever you choose, it's only days from Christmas, and the preordained clash between Man and Pudding is going to happen whether you're ready or not.

Hickory Dickory Death
Sitting alone in the dark, miles beneath the city streets, the deadly work of the Xurx bombers is as clear as Bentlaxian crystal in your ears. It's the year 2209--a decade since they first arrived and almost as many years since the troubles began. They came with open arms at first, with promises of technological exchange and betterment of mankind. "Beware those who come bearing gifts," you think to yourself while polishing your trusty Rotterdam G-9 lasgun, "for they may level every city on your whole stinkin' planet." Suddenly, you pick up a bit of movement on the face of the battered old grandfather clock in the corner of the room. It's a mouse. "Could be contaminated, or worse yet, a Xurx spy," you think, while training your sites on the vermin. "Hickory...dickory...death," you mutter, and pull the trigger, atomizing the mouse and most of the old clock. If only the genetically enhanced Xurx ground infantry were so easy...

Enter a world of action and stealth where things are not as they appear. Travel back in time to thwart the impending destruction of humanity, and lead a squadron of battle-tested warriors in revolt from the sewers deep beneath Capital City to the bridge of the Xurx Imperial fleet's flagship. Choose from over 100 weapons, battle armor, and dozens of ground and air vehicles. Go online and play as part of the evil Xurx invaders or the gritty resistance. Practice your aim on mice or jump right into the action. The clock is ticking...

The Secret of Chimneys
The first game ever with the word "chimney" in its title, and also the most magical. Enter a realm of river and wood, where magik folk are as common as will o' wisps or winking stars in the evening sky. You play Trip (short for Triplindor of the Foggy Dew), a young chimney sweep determined to become a Magik One. But life is tough for a young chimney sweep, especially one in the employ of Murlik Baggelraff, a miser with rumored connections to the Shadows, the mysterious creatures that live on the other side of the Great River. Travel with Trip over the Great River and beyond, learn swordplay and acrobatics from a traveling circus troupe, make friends with the mythical Birdmen, even fall for the Silver Fox, an elf of great beauty and power, all on your quest to have Magik powers of your very own.

You don't think Agatha Christie would have a problem with any of this, do you?