But then, I have something of a soft spot for Alan, for some reason. The original game sticks with me more than I thought it would; it's the sort of game that I think of more fondly while I'm not playing it than while I am. That's in part because while I'm not playing it, the repetitive combat and endless wandering through the woods don't seem as interminable, and the game's best aspects don't feel as spaced out.

While the game itself does have some highs—that heavy metal concert blowout among them—the narrative setup is also something I really dig. I like the setting, which still feels fresh as a place to put a video game. And while Alan himself can be a bit of a drip, I like that he's a novelist, and dig how the game experiments (usually unsuccessfully) with that by using the scattered manuscript pages to flesh out characters and provide foreshadowing.

But how close is the game to accurately portraying the life of a writer? Alan wake isn't some internet writer like certain people I could name; no, he's a tweed jacket-wearing, typewriter-using capital-W Writer in the mould of Stephen King. Or actually, as I've always maintained, Dean Koontz.

Game designer and writer Matthew Burns, who in addition to being a fantastic writer is always good for a laugh, looked into this very question on his blog "Magical Wasteland" back in 2010, and the post has always stuck with me. First, Burns wrote the tongue-in-cheek "An excerpt from the novel 'Departure' by Alan Wake." Key bit: " I was relieved. As the twisted forms evaporated into slivers of light, I realized that my kill count with the flashbang had reached fifty. A sense of achievement washed over me.").

After that, he decided to see do a further investigation (tongue still firmly planted in cheek) of what Alan Wake gets wrong, and right, about being a writer.

Butns turned to who else but Tom "actual writer" Bissell for an interview on the subject. Is Alan Wake an accurate portrayal of the modern American novelist?

"I read that this fiction writer protagonist could sprint for only about ten feet or so," Bissell says, "and I thought, 'Yes! They've done their research!'"

Personally, I'm not sure I ever bought Alan Wake as a realistic writer. I grew tired of his plodding writing style, though I do like the theory that his manuscript pages are something of a joke, a commentary on how bad writers become famous every day in America. Burns brings up this question and Bissell mentions Dan Brown, who despite his huge success you may have heard is a fairly terrible writer.

I did like how Wake's writing improved noticeably between the first game and American Nightmare. Apparently, he's been working on his craft between games. And given the fact that he can finally run for more than a few seconds without running out of breath, I guess he's been hitting the gym, too.

What Alan Wake Gets Wrong, And Right, About Being A Writer [Magical Wasteland]

Warning, spoilers ahead, starting with the end of Casablanca:

EXT. AIRPORT HANGAR – NIGHT

RICK, only moments after watching the plane containing ILSA, his love, taxi down the tarmac and fly away forever, slowly walks away from the hangar with LOUIS.

RICK: Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

The two walk off together into the night.

FADE OUT.

THE END.

The ending of Casablanca (1942) is one of the most memorable film conclusions in the history of cinema. It isn't necessarily a happy ending, but it leaves the audience on a hopeful note, with Rick (Humphrey Bogart) telling the French officer, Captain Louis Renault, that it's going to be "a beautiful friendship."

But I've been tossing around an alternate way this film could end; perhaps a conclusion that is a bit more powerful:

EXT. AIRPORT HANGAR – NIGHT

RICK, only moments after watching the plane containing ILSA, his love, taxi down the tarmac and fly away forever, slowly walks away from the hangar with LOUIS.

RICK: Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Louis: But what about ze plane?

Rick returns his gaze to the sky.

Louis: Ilsa will have a new life now. Using this oversized futuristic remote control, I will be rerouting the plane to...

Rick turns toward the camera.

RICK: ROBOT DINO ISLAND.

A giant robotic Tyrannosaurus Rex grabs Ilsa's plane out of the sky, as we EXPLODE to the words "CASABLANCA" in flaming typeface.

THE END.

We can all agree this is a better ending, and more appropriately sets up for the sequel, Casablanca 2: This Time More People Die.

All of this nonsense regarding the unfavorable wrap-up of Mass Effect 3 got me thinking: Have video game endings really mattered that much to me? It seems that endings of books and movies stick with me moreso than their middle content, whereas the early levels of video games stick with me moreso than their endings.

Rhett Butler didn't give a damn. Bill Murray whispered a secret to Scarlett Johannson. Frodo destroyed the ring. Jack Nicholson's cabin fever convinced him that chopping up his family with an axe was probably a good idea. And what's in the booxxxxx?

Conversely, when it comes to some of my favorite video games, their endings are rarely at the forefront of my mind when thinking back on the experience:

• How did Bioshock end? Didn't the bad guy get really bloated and angry or something? I only remember epic Big Daddy battles, shooting bees out of my fingers, and the big plot twist in Act II.
• How did Bulletstorm end? Not sure, but I kicked a whole lot of people into cacti.
• How did Red Dead Redemption end? Oh! I remember. I broke Bonnie's heart and then was forced to play as John's bratty, annoying son.

Speaking of that, Red Dead Redemption is a perfect example of the video game industry giving gamers what they consider to be an ending with a "tragic plot twist," but done in such a poor fashion that it just makes us bitter. We understand that Rockstar wanted us to really feel something, and realize that the Wild West was no "It's A Small World" ride, but the way the story's conclusion played out seemed more like a slap in the face than a well-crafted twist on a fantastic adventure. [Editor's note: Oh, Lisa... we're going to have a big argument about this.]

I'm not saying we always need "happy" endings; I'm saying we need to be satisfied.
The ending of Final Fantasy X was extremely sad, but gamers were still more than willing to cry those tears. Sure, it was resolved in Final Fantasy X-2, but the mere existence of that game is more depressing than X's ending.

As another example, I was fully prepared and content with the ending of Prince of Persia 4, when it appeared that Elika must give her life to save the world. It was her choice. It was beautiful. It was heart wrenching. …But just kidding! You get to bring her back to life and undo everything you've worked for since the beginning of the game. All your efforts have been erased so you can have a girlfriend! Isn't it great?

Nope. I found it sad, irritating, unsatisfying.

"But real life isn't always satisfying," you may argue. In my opinion, we play video games to escape the cruelties of reality. Getting audited by the IRS isn't satisfying in real life either, but the second it starts happening to me in my video games, I'm setting my consoles on fire and fleeing to wherever Margaritaville is.

So it's established. Basically every video game ending is terrible. Guys, I know we didn't want it to come to this, but please print out this letter and mail it ASAP:

Dear Federal Government,

Please change the original endings of the following video games to the obviously better and way more badass alternate endings provided. Thanks, and get your shit together regarding all the debt.

Sincerely, (Your Twitter Handle Here)

Fable 2

How it ended: You are left with the choice of either A.) returning the lives of all those who died, but losing your dog, B.) saving your dog, but letting all of those innocent people remain dead, or C.) giving it all up for a million dollars, you greedy, greedy jerk.

How it should've ended: Your dog becomes King of Albion and, as his slave, you are faced with the moral choice of feeding him overly-priced organic dogfood (recommended by 4 out of 5 veterinarians) or processed cornmeal, which will give him gas. You also have to find your own dig spots. (Sucker!)

Mario Kart

How it ended: Wait, do these games have endings? Other than you just win a fancy trophy and tell all your friends to "suck it?"

How it should've ended: We would turn the series into "The Hunger Games," so when you win, you are the only character still living. It is now your job to single-handedly carry on every Nintendo franchise left behind by your dead opponents.

Alan Wake

How it ended: "It's not a lake… it's an ocean!"

How it should've ended: No. It's neither. Alan, you're inside the snow globe of an autistic child.

Rock Band and Guitar Hero series

How they ended: You started out as a starving musician, but gig after gig earned you massive amounts of fans and upgraded your van to a stretch limo. Now, you're the world's greatest rockstar and nothing can stand in your way of achieving god status.

How they should've ended: Yoko Ono shows up during your final song and, if she is not defeated, breaks your game disc and renders your console forever unplayable.

Uncharted: Drake's Fortune

How it ended: Nathan Drake saves the day Indiana Jones-style, beating the bad guys and getting the girl.

How it should've ended: Right before the credits, you get a personal phone call from Nathan Fillion. He says he's glad you enjoyed the game, but he's not going to star in the movie adaptation, so please don't ask.

Bioshock

How it ended: Fontaine injects himself with a large amount of ADAM and attacks Jack as an inhuman monster.

How it should've ended: The REAL antagonist turns out to be that scary clown from The Circus of Values vending machines. He comes to life and has unlimited everything, and the only way to defeat him is with a carnival-style water gun hidden somewhere in Rapture. If you win, you get an oversized Tweety Bird doll filled with sawdust to give to the Little Sisters in exchange for their undying loyalty. [Editor's note: Lisa, you've redeemed yourself for the Red Dead Redemption thing.]

Batman: Arkham Asylum

How it ended: The Joker injects himself with Titan and transforms into a huge, ugly Super Joker, and then your typical boss battle takes place.

How it should've ended: How about something, anything that would have actually made sense in the Batman universe? You know, where The Joker doesn't really want to kill Batman? It's all mind games? Just spitballin'.

Super Mario Bros.

How it ended: Bowser takes princess. Mario beats Bowser. Mario saves princess.

How it should've ended: Once he comes down from the mushrooms, Mario realizes Bowser won and Peach died, so he has to go back to being a plumber all day. And for some reason, he's just really mad at Luigi all the time.

Borderlands

How it ended: You just spent the entire length of an RPG searching for riches beyond imagination inside "The Vault," only to discover there is nothing within its confines except a final boss fight. And then everyone was sad.

How it should've ended: Narnia. You enter Narnia with all your guns and shoot everything in Narnia.

Monkey Island 2: LeChuck's Revenge

How it ended: After Guybrush's suspenseful cat-and-mouse game with the Zombie Pirate LeChuck, he exits the scene and realizes the entire game took place in a theme park and he was only playing make-believe with his older brother.

How it should've ended: NO DIFFERENTLY. THIS WAS THE GREATEST ENDING OF ALL TIME.

And finally…

Mass Effect 3

How it ended: The ending to Mass Effect 3 involves vast amounts of energy spreading throughout the galaxy via the Mass Relays.

How it should've ended: Instead of energy, it should be Skittles, with Skittles explosions erupting at each Relay. Then we find out the entire Mass Effect series was just another entry in the long line of those weird-as-f*ck Skittles commercials.

Got it? Now go write to your favorite federal official.

Part of Panel Discussion's mission is to look at the ways and places where comics and video games intersect and here in Crossover, we'll be talking to game creators about the comics stories and creators who've shaped their sensibilities.

In our first installment, we hear from Remedy Entertainment's Mikki Rautalahti, who—along with the dev studio's Sam Lake—puts words and ruminations into the head of Alan Wake. Given how the light-wielding writer battles a shadowy evil, you'd figure that Rautalahti would prefer his comics dark and gritty. But Rautalahti enjoys a broad variety of sequential art, including upbeat superheroics from writers like John Byrne and Mark Waid. Here's the writer describing his likes and dislikes in his own words:

I'm a big fan of the form. Don't get me wrong, I love video games, but if I had to pick just one of the two, there's a good chance that in the end, I'd end up with comics. To quote Harvey Pekar, "Comics are words and pictures. You can do anything with words and pictures."

In general, superhero comics are a kind of a safe bet, no matter what era we're talking about. I can be picky about which titles I like at any given time, and I do have standards of quality, but it's a safe bet to assume that a good superhero comic is a thing that I enjoy. I'll mention a few specific titles below, but whether it's Mark Waid's Flash, the Giffen/DeMatteis Justice League or Peter David's Hulk, chances are I'm game.

This list could be endless, and my problem with something like this is always that I go, "OH GOD I'M LEAVING SOMETHING IMPORTANT OUT," so I've tried to just list things as they pop into my head.

Some current favorites:

• Locke & Key by Joe Hill.
• Robert Kirkman's The Walking Dead, of course.
• Mike Carey's The Unwritten from DC/Vertigo.
• Hark! A Vagrant! by Kate Beaton
• Morning Glories by Nick Spencer (not sure if I really like it, but still).
• Almost anything that Ed Brubaker writes.

I'm not a big fan of:

• The Image stuff from the 1990s. A lot of the ‘90s superhero stuff in general, actually. It just was not a great decade for that kind of material.
• Comics by people who are intent on creating art but don't understand anything about comics, which generally results in an unreadable mess.
• Mark Millar and Garth Ennis. Preacher? Great fun, until you realize that it's nowhere near as ironic as you think at first. Stupid shit.