Oct 16, 2012

In Episode Four, Telltale's The Walking Dead Shambles Assuredly Toward The Finish Line

The Walking Dead

It's no accident that Telltale's The Walking Dead game refers to its five-episode run as a "season." The whole thing is structured quite a bit like a season of television, with the accompanying peaks and valleys. And so it's perhaps not a huge surprise after the operatic highs of the spectacular third episode, episode four, "Around Every Corner," might feel like a bit of a letdown.

By design, episode four occupies a precarious place in the season as a whole. Not only did it need to bring together all of the disparate threads of the previous three episodes, it needed to then re-focus everything and set the table for the finale. I thought it accomplished the second part better than the first part, but I'm entirely on board to see how this all shakes out.

Spoilers: For this article, I'm just going to go ahead and assume you've played through the fourth episode. I won't tease around spoilers—I'm interested in talking about it like we would talk about an episode of television. So, if you haven't seen the episode, consider yourself warned.

As it turned out, episode four didn't have the same kind of megaton spoilers as there were in episode three. A lot of that was by design—the fates of the cast, including Lee and Clem, will be decided in the finale, and too much resolution in the penultimate episode would've spoiled our appetite for the finale. As a result, we really just got to decide what to do with poor, stupid Ben.

Ben was the weakest link in the episode for me—throughout the season, he's never quite gelled as a character. His continuing betrayals, fuck-ups and cowardice, while interesting in theory, never quite rang true. In particular, the moment in episode four when he removed the axe from the door was just too far beyond the realm of believability. So many moments in The Walking Dead feel real and believable, and so to have a character do something so boneheaded felt jarring and unnecessary.

Surely there could have been another way to let the zombies into the school? For him to remove the axe from the door (which it was obviously holding shut, and where did all the walkers go, and… okay you get it) just felt cartoonish, right down to the beat after "Where did you get that axe?"

Still, a small complaint in the grand scheme of things, particularly in an episode that had so many fine individual moments. It was a well directed episode, too, as Nick Herman made some very smart decisions about when to have the characters talk, and more importantly, when to have them remain silent. The scene in the attic was so rich and layered, and for the most part Herman just allowed Lee and Kenny to occupy the space and let us sit with them. I could only imagine what Kenny was going through in that moment, and I appreciated that the game allowed me to do just that.

As far as the action goes, I've reached the point where I never quite feel taken aback by anything that happens on screen, even while I'm still absorbed by it. It's a bit of a formula: Now it's quiet, now the zombies are attacking, now it's quiet again—whether it's a shortcoming on Telltale's part or just the constraints of the zombie genre, in episode four more than the previous three episodes, I got the sense that Telltale is reaching the bottom of their bag of tricks. There were no moments as jaw-on-the-floor as the salt-lick execution in episode two or the mid-episode shooting in episode three. But then, this episode wasn't about shocks—it was more about coping with what had come before while steeling ourselves for what is still to come.

The script, this time written by Gary Whitta, was strong throughout, though occasionally Whitta overplayed his hand. Some lines, like Vernon's line about always looking for irony when choosing living quarters, made me chuckle, while others, like Ben's "I've got a bad feeling about this," felt too on-the-nose. I loved Molly's backstory, but wished that a bit more had been left to the imagination—I didn't need to see that final video of her with the doctor. I'd put together enough that a little bit of ambiguity would have made the story more effective. (Granted, I could've just not opened the doctor's locker or not watched that tape, but I can't really imagine that was Whitta's intent when writing the script.)

As for the choices—I let Ben die, and Kenny decided to stick around and help me out. I could see when he made the decision, and it seemed like he very well could have told me to go screw myself and left. If that had happened, it would've been a big change for the finale, assuming he stayed gone and doesn't just return regardless.

Telltale had a difficult task with this episode, and for the most part rose to the occasion. As I noted before, this episode occupies a tricky spot in the overall season—it needed to pull together all of the past choices, conflicts and character arcs while simultaneously setting everything up for the finale. Whitta, Herman and the rest of the team at Telltale achieved that goal, and did so with some artful moments, a couple of fun scares (That jump-scare near the end nearly did me in, even though I should've seen it coming), and a solid cliffhanger leading into the big finale.

What did you guys think? Which party did you end up with, in the end? Did you let Ben die, or spare him? And most importantly, what do you think is going to happen in the end? I have my theories, but I'll share them in the comments.

Oct 15, 2012

Sorry Nolan North, My Gaming Voice Hero is Dave Fennoy

The Walking Dead

Quick. Name your favourite video game voice-over artist. If it's not Nolan North, it's most likely...that guy who played..that guy. Or that lady who was that woman in that one series I really like.

It's sad that so few of these talented artists are recognised for their work, so I figured today I'd shine the spotlight on a man who is not only one of the most accomplished veterans of the trade, he's a man who, with his incredible work on Telltale's The Walking Dead, is so hot right now.

Dave Fennoy began his career in voice-over work over twenty years ago, and has appeared as prominent characters in everything from the Metal Gear Solid series to World of Warcraft to Bayonetta.

Some of his more recent (and prominent) roles include Valve's DOTA 2, where he voices six heroes, and perhaps best of all his turn as StarCraft 2's Gabriel Tosh, who even looked like Fennoy, courtesy of his long dreads.

He's outdone pretty much all of that this year, though, with his performance as Lee Everett, the star of the first season of The Walking Dead. Helped out by some great writing from guys like Sean Vanaman and Gary Whitta, Fennoy has given Lee a depth of character that embarrasses more big-budget games, and is one of the biggest reasons the episodic series has come out of nowhere to be one of the best experiences of the year.

My favourite role of his, though, might be the time he had to step into the shoes of Billy Dee Williams, and play Lando Calrissian in Lucasarts' 1999 X-Wing Alliance. He of course couldn't quite nail Williams' perpetual state of surprise, but I remember even at the time thinking he still did one hell of a job.

Games aren't all he's done, though. Far from it. If you've ever used Hulu, for example, you may recognise Fennoy as the "voice" of the service. He's also done commercial voice-over work for clients like Toyota, KFC and McDonalds, while Ben 10 fans may recognise him as the badass alien Tetrax Shard.

If you're interested in checking out more of Dave's work, head to his personal site, where he's got clips from interviews he's done explaining the art of his craft. You should also check out the reels put together by his fellow voice-over artist Adam Harrington (like the Walking Dead one just above).

Oct 10, 2012

The Walking Dead’s Episode Four Finally Broke My Resolve

The Walking Dead

Spoilers for previous episodes follow, as well as minor episode four spoilers.

For all my positivity and knack for comforting others, for all my efforts to preserve any sense of morality in a dark, dim world full of death, nothing I do seems to help for more than a moment.

Last night I played as Lee for a fourth episode of Telltale's wonderful adventure story, The Walking Dead. Episode four—Around Every Corner—takes the remaining survivors of your zombie adventure on a train ride to Savannah, Georgia. It seems greener pastures, or waters, may lay ahead. The group intends to find an escape boat, but as we've learned through Telltale's first three episodes, none of their plans play out without at least a few hitches. Zombies aren't the only hazards lurking in the shadows in episode four, and paranoia becomes perhaps your group's biggest threat.

I've played as Lee before. I've taken a stray little girl called Clementine under my wing, and grown to love her. I've met many new men and women, and seen those same people die. But Clementine has always remained my one ray of happiness and the one motivating factor to staying alive.

The The Walking Dead adventure game series feels like it was building up to this moment all along. Things were always troublesome, whether that included groups of bandits that had formed as a response to the zombie apocalypse, or tensions rising in our own group of survivors that threatened our already miserable livelihood. Telltale has a way of getting you used to getting stabbed in the back. You almost expect that every person you meet has an ulterior motive or a hidden secret that could bring your small shred of current safety tumbling down around you.

But episode four took everything away from me.

And I kind of love it for that.

Playing as Lee, I try to give everyone a fair shake. Even the seemingly dim witted, scrawny kid named Ben seems like he has a good heart. He tested my trust in him during episode three, revealing that good will and bad decisions sometimes play hand in hand.

But episode four broke me. I was finally ready to just not care anymore. To throw my hands up and admit my patience has waned. Even Lilly—the overbearing wench that stole our RV without any thought to what would become of us after all we did to help her and her psychotic father—wasn't enough to push me over the edge. It was Ben's sniveling self-consumption. His obsession with trying to do well but ignoring every piece of advice I gave him. His little quiver when he doesn't know what to do to or what to say. It was Ben that pushed me over the edge. I stuck my neck out for him, I gave him guidance, and he still learned nothing from it. It was enough to make me think for just a moment that maybe the only thing he'd be good for is an emergency push to the ground to slow down any walkers nearby.

I swear I'm a nice, decent person. But at a point of time you have to wonder if what you think is being nice is actually being naive.

I can understand Kenny's drunken stupor and tendencies toward aggression. He just lost his wife and son. But he's always been there for me as a loyal friend, never even doubting me when he found out about my murky past. We not only experienced together, we grew together.

Then there are the new characters you meet, like a sassy lady named Molly. Her colorful attitude can be a bit off putting, but I respect her thirst for survival, even if that means she often neglects others. It's clear she has trust issues of her own, and you know what? Who can blame her? I can't much blame Christa for her snappy attitude, either. Her main concern is her companion, Omid, and shouldering the responsibility for another person's life is something I can commiserate with her on. Although her steely heart and stubbornness certainly don't put her on my list of favorite people.

Clementine, of course, is still my favorite. She's the sweetest, toughest little girl you'll find. And no matter what we've been through, and no matter how many mistakes a person has made, she finds a way to keep smiling. She can see beyond my misgivings and embraces people's good nature regardless of the evidence on the table. Though her frame may be tiny, she might be the strongest survivor among us. And even though I'm at the brink of abandoning my moral compass—which has been battered by repeated betrayal—one look at her furrowed little eyebrows and teared up eyes sends guilt rattling down my spine. Clementine keeps me grounded. I never want to disappoint Clementine.

What a powerful, emotionally evocative game The Walking Dead is. When I play games I typically like to experience some amount of fun. Sure, a lot of games' stories may be morbid and the enemies rancid, but The Walking Dead takes that to a whole other level. It breaks your heart at every turn. It strips you of hope and leaves you with nothing but the bad taste of dread in your mouth. And yet, I love it. I love being tortured, submitting myself to the whims of this increasingly devastating game. I love having my instinct for survival put to the test with difficult decisions that, no matter what you seem to choose, always result in even more difficult situations that need difficult decisions. By the end of episode four, you'll see just how much your decisions have impacted the group you travel with.

I've taken each episode, and each problem that surfaces in them, one step at a time. I'll deal with my dying group member or the bitter argument going on just as soon as I get everyone into the safe-looking house first. As long as I keep focused on one problem at a time, it's easier not to look ahead at the dreary road in front of us. Especially when it oftens feels like getting a shred of luck takes its taxes in the form of a landslide of problems first.

At the end of episode four a new character made a statement that resonated with me. This character said something like, "I don't feel too much. Not a lot on my mind." This was just after an insanely chaotic, insanely harsh fight for survival. We learned horrific things, and lost people in horrific ways. And that's sort of where my journey through Telltale's The Walking Dead has landed me. I'm accustomed to things going wrong. I expect people will die. I anticipate that my decisions will not always be received favorably. Episode four has me finally looking up to confront the horizon of dead in front of me. I can't face my problems one baby step at a time anymore. These new problems are unlike any I've faced before. I'm in a situation that I know I might not be able to come out of, that I might not be able to solve. You thought episodes one to three were serious? Now I'm really starting to panic.

In the end, all I can do is make judgment calls the best way I see fit. All I can do is protect Clementine to the best of my abilities.

But it's never enough.

Aug 30, 2012

Everything Breaks Bad In The Darkest, Strongest Episode Of The Walking Dead Yet

The Walking Dead

Everything Breaks Bad In The Darkest, Strongest Episode Of The Walking Dead Yet If there's anything Telltale's The Walking Dead game has taught me about myself, it's that come the post-apocalypse, I'd be of no use to anyone.

We like to think that all our time spent scoring video game headshots in Left 4 Dead and Dead Rising, or yelling advice at the protagonists of 28 Days Later and Zombieland has prepared us for the rising of the dead. But when the time comes, I bet our skill-at-arms won't even be tested. It'll be our diplomacy and our snap decision-making that allow us to survive, as well as our ability to cope when everything goes wrong.

Unfortunately, as I learned from the astonishingly good third episode of The Walking Dead, I'm terrible at all of those things. Especially that last one.

Hey now: Spoilers follow for the first two episodes of The Walking Dead. I'll keep spoilers for the third episode very light, though I'll discuss some stuff that happens at the very beginning.

Upon reflection, I found that I preferred the first episode of The Walking Dead, "A New Day" to the second, "Starved for Help." It was more well-rounded, and though it didn't have anything to match the gross-out shocks of the second episode's cannibalism subplot, it was more measured, mature and interesting. The third episode, "Long Road Ahead", is very much in the vein of that first episode. In fact, it's meatier, longer, and more drenched in tension than anything to come before it.

Was it worth it? Probably, yeah.

The episode took about three and a half hours to play through, and man, what a three and a half hours it was. Put it this way—I had to get up at 6AM this morning to catch a flight to PAX, and I put off packing to play from 11PM until 2AM with nary a break or a thought of going to sleep. Good storytelling thrives on rhythm, on balancing peaks and valleys to keep you moving forward. I daresay "Long Road Ahead" has some of the best pacing of any video game story in recent memory.

Where "Starved For Help" started out with a bang—Quick! Will you chop this guy's leg off to help him survive, or leave him to die?— Long Road Ahead begins with a much more ghastly conundrum, and one that somehow feels more in tune with the energy in Robert Kirkman's graphic novels.

As Lee and his friend-turned-possible-frenemy Kenny make their way into a Macon pharmacy on a run for more medicine, a doomed woman comes screaming out of a shop, set upon by walkers. You have the choice to put her out of her misery from range (but alert the zombies to your presence) or allow her to occupy the walkers long enough for you to grab some extra medical supplies from the pharmacy you're looting. As with all choices in The Walking Dead, it's on a timer—a bar quickly drains at the bottom of the screen, pushing your brain into overdrive.

It's just the kind of hard choice that I (and, I suspect, you) would grimly, quickly make if it came down to it. I let her be chewed to death. Sorry, lady. Her screams provided the soundtrack for our drugstore run, right up until, well, until they stopped. And after that, the walkers came anyway. We'd bought just enough time to grab a few more supplies before they were at the door. Was it worth it? Probably, yeah.

A beleaguered, doomed air hangs over Lee and the surviving members of his party from the outset of "Long Road Ahead." Kenny and Lilly have finally buried any chance of trusting one another after he killed her father at the end of episode 2. Clementine is withdrawn and enigmatic as ever, trusting Lee but too young to be able to process or understand what's going on around her. Everyone in the party is wrapped up in their own miserable existence, and Lee feels more alone and helpless than ever. In my playthrough, Carley is still alive, and so she and Lee have forged something of an alliance, but it's a fragile comfort at best.

The gang has retreated back to their precarious motor inn sanctuary in the wake of the events on the dairy farm, and everything feels fractured, hopeless, and grim. It's a nice touch bringing us back to familiar ground—not only does it save the cost of building a whole new set, but it lets it sink in just how much of a toll "Starved for Help" took on the gang. You can't walk about the motor inn and not notice how empty it feels compared to the beginning of episode two. At this point, writer Sean Vanaman and his crew at Telltale have you right where they want you—stuck with no way out and no plan, desperately hoping nothing goes wrong.

Guess what? Things go wrong.

In fact, over the course of the ensuing exodus and adventure, just about everything goes wrong, oftentimes at the worst possible moment. No one behaves as you'd expect them to: it's amazing just how much more interesting these characters are than the vast majority of video game characters. They behave, to put it in simple "I can't believe our standards are so low" language, like real people—and when under duress, real people do stupid, crazy stuff.

Everything in The Walking Dead revolves around choice—every interaction Lee has, every choice he makes, is made by the player on a timer. If episode two gave you no "good" choices, episode three ups that ante considerably. There were times I was paralyzed by the crap choices in front of me, even if they weren't life-altering ones. What do I say to someone who can't see through to forgiving someone else? We've been through this so many times, and I don't want anyone to fight any longer. But what if I alienate someone I will need in the future?

In every dialogue interaction, The Walking Dead leaves players the option to say nothing. I'd never used that option until episode three, but several times over the course of Long Road Ahead I simply remained speechless. What was there to say?

I can't praise the rhythm of the writing and dialogue of this episode enough—the voiceover work is outstanding. Characters curse, moan, carry on, whimper, and interrupt one another as the camera deftly hops between them. A tense mid-episode sequence outside of a broken-down RV was so tight, well-directed and shocking that my jaw was on the floor—video game directors of the world, this is how you create interactive drama! For sheer poise, guts and bravado, that one scene outdid any dialogue sequence in BioWare's Mass Effect games. Color-coded "paragon" and "renegade" options, my ass.

The episode never falls into a predictable rhythm, and you'll never quite be able to guess what's coming next. The story hits so many different notes through the episode's run that I couldn't help but think about just how often other games skimp on real drama and pad their runtime. Here we've got action, tragedy, coping, more tragedy, betrayal, hope, denial, humor, paranoia, problem-solving, chase sequences, introspection, character development, mentoring, and unlikely triumph, all painstakingly arranged in a runtime that's a third the length of the shortest big-budget games. It's astonishing.

It must be said that all this great stuff serves to make the technical shortcomings of Long Road Home stand out all the more. Telltale has wisely put a lot of work into their facial animations, and as a result the characters look and react beautifully and convincingly… when they need to, anyway. The rest of the tech, particularly the bodily animations, are stilted, floaty and weird. In this episode more than the others, those shortcomings detracted just enough from the overall experience to frustrate me. When players take control of Lee and he runs up against the edge of the scene, he floats bizarrely in the air, his legs splayed wide, suspended above the asphalt. Characters turn their heads at bizarre angles and generally move around like puppets, and much of the action lacks any real feeling of kinesthetic punch. As good as the vocal rhythms are, the visual animations seem to be operating on a delay, as if the device "running" the characters operates a split-second behind the audio tracks.

Fortunately, director Eric Parsons has done an impressive job of working around these shortcomings, and the "camerawork" for the episode is never less than artful and considered. He makes consistently smart decisions about what to show, what not to show, and how to show (and not show) it.

There's nothing to do but hang on for dear life, choose as best you can, and hope you can live with the consequences.

Long Road Ahead also features a good deal of environmental puzzles, more than either of the first two episodes. The puzzles are almost all fine, though at times they feel a bit adventure-gamey and at odds with the naturalistic momentum of the other segments of the game. You know the drill: Gather an item to unlock another item, but the first item is broken so you'll need a third item to fix it, etc. A couple of other adventure game contrivances also stuck out to me. For example, in one scene, Lee can't reach an item that's just over another character's shoulder, but the character won't get out of the way unless Lee does something in another screen to get him to get up. A simple "Hey, no, seriously, I need to reach over you for two seconds and grab that thing," would have sufficed. It may seem like a small complaint, but in an episode that moves with such roaring force, those kinds of things are distracting.

But when I look back at the episode, it all comes back to that momentum, that force. It's appropriate that "Long Road Ahead" prominently features a train, as the episode itself steams forward with an irresistible, terrible momentum. There's nothing to do but hang on for dear life, choose as best you can, and hope you can live with the consequences.

Kudos to Vanaman, Parsons, and the rest of the team at Telltale for nailing this crucial middle episode and solidifying the Walking Dead series as one of the most galling, welcome surprises of the year. I am dreading how it all turns out, but I can't wait for the next episode. This train has left the station, and we are going to make it out the other end, come hell or high water. It's the end of the world, and there are no good options.