EDIT: Title changed to better reflect the content of the game...
Hi y'all. Been reading the forums for a while now, and it seems like this 'game review' business is a bit of a lark. These, then, are some thoughts on Mass Effect, although not presented in a proper review format, which I lack the will to do. Enjoy. If it's too long then...
Well, stop reading and go do something else.
But if not, enjoy!
The Alliance Military Handbook: Chapter 3- Engaging The Foe
Enemy sighted! Heavens, those chaps look unfriendly. What large firearms they bear. What fierce visages are stretched across their hideous alien skulls! Forestall your panic, soldier! Rely on your years of training; your superior military technology; if nothing else your chiseled jaw and manly stubble will see you through.
Scenario 1 - Enemy takes cover! Curse these cunning aliens and their knowledge of the game's cover system. Such is the state of the art, next generation artificial intelligence at work! Fortunately for the hapless Alliance soldier these aliens fall into the age-old, inter-species pitfall of sticking their heads out precisely every 5.2 seconds to be promptly perforated by a round from whichever weapon you see fit. Unless you choose a non-soldier class and have the gall to try and use an assault rifle of sniper rifle (which constitute 50% of the game's usable arsenal), in which case you will be riddling the surrounding countryside with stray bullets whilst your enemy CUNNINGLY exploits your stupidity by sticking their head out of cover precisely every 5.2 seconds and shooting you. Until such a time as you are dead, anyway, and your ragdoll body flops unconvincingly to the floor .
Scenario 2 - Enemy charges! Hold the line, chaps! These scaly fiends shall not pass. We provide, here, a detailed transcript from the posthumously decorated Lieutenant Wankface in his final skirmish.
WANKFACE Williams, you take cover behind that crate! Once they've passed you, leap into action, use your Marksman and Overdrive abilities, and at...
WILLIAMS Sorry sir, can only use one ability at a time. Poor short term memory, you see.
WANKFACE Right...right you are. Not to worry! Just wait 'til they're in your sights, then shoot the shit out of the reptilian scum.
wILLIAMS Roger that, sir. Wait 'til I can see the oranges of their eyes, then shoot the crate directly in front of me 'til they all be dead. Brilliant, sir!
WANKFACE Good, I...no, wait. Shoot the aliens. Not the crate.
WILLIAMS Oh. OH! Yep, sure. What if the crates in my line of sight, though?
WANKFACE Step around it. Step to the side... then shoot them.
WILLIAMS Gotcha, right. I can see why you're the commander sir. That and your chiseled jaw and manly stubble. And such a troubled past. Why, I often think...
WANKFACE Not now Williams, the enemy are only 25 feet away and I'll wager that one is at least 2 levels higher than us, it hardly seems the time to be reminiscing about my troubled past. We'll talk about it after.
WILLIAMS Sorry sir. I'll go show that crate who's boss.
WANKFACE I...Fine, do that. Now, Liara, I want you to stay here with me. When the enemy closes, use Force Push to stagger them, then Force Lift to...Liara? Where are you?
LIARA Over here with Williams, sir!
WANKFACE Well...come over here. I command it.
LIARA Sorry sir. If she goes over here, I go over here. Separate path finding is a forgotten art in the far future in which we live. Hella shiny armour though, look!
WANKFACE Yes, very shiny. Stay over there then, and use Force Push to...
LIARA I cannot perform 'force push', sir. I have Biotic powers, technologically enhanced psychic abilities. Not to be confused with the Force, sir.
WANKFACE Oh. Can you do Force Lightning?
LIARA I cannot, sir.
WANKFACE Fuck, that got me through both KoToR's. No time to debate details! The enemy are here! Close combat it is then, you xeno-fiends! Have at you! Ha! Haha... (screaming and the sound of a crate being shot can be heard, then static)
---Transmission ends---
Lieutenant Wankface was a brave and honourable man, undoubtedly. Handsome too. An inquest was heard after his death, attributing his slaying to the following tactical shortcomings:
i.His rudimentary close-combat abilities no doubt contributed to his passing away. Indeed, they consisted of nothing more than holding down the sprint button and charging at his foe. He would often miss, sprint headlong into a wall, and spend two seconds turning around, beaten around the back of his head by his enemy until his brain was little more than a handful full of space jelly nestling in his (still-shiny) helmet.
ii.He lacked effective grenade tactics. Tragically, the 'throw grenade' action was mapped to the BACK button, prohibiting him from moving, aiming AND throwing simultaneously. Furthermore, when he did use grenades he found they did not bounce, thus mitigating their effectiveness for deployment around corners or over walls. Our best experts are working on a solution to this problem.
iii.He was often too occupied with the business of choosing which items to sell, leave, equip and upgrade to focus on shooting the alien who was the best friend of the corpse he was looting. To his credit this meant that, within 2 days of beginning his mission, he was the richest man in the universe, and able to buy every firearm and piece of armour in the universe. And a solid diamond spaceship.
Chapter summary- If there should be serious soldiering to be done, the wily commander would do well to order his comrades to stand in the corner and polish their helmets whilst he or she deals with it. It has been asserted and scientifically proven that in space, no-one can hear you scream. 'Stop shooting the crate. Stop it. Move over there. No, not there! Stop getting shot by rockets! Hide! NOT IN FRONT OF MY GUN! BASTARD MOVE SHIT BASTARD!' You are therefore at liberty to swear as loudly and comprehensively as you wish. Act accordingly.
Chapter 4- Exploring New Worlds
Ah, the life of a space soldier in space, space year 2504. Traveling through space may be required in your role, although fortunately travel has been streamlined to a simple 'select a location and sit through cutscene of travel' system. The miracles of technology mean that journeying between distant star systems need take no longer than a lift journey! No tedious piloting need be managed by the soldier- special celebrity voice soldiers have been drafted for this purpose.
Detailed below are excerpts from the log of a special operations soldier on a mission of grave importance for the stability of the galactic community. Names and locations have been changed to ruder, more childish names and locations.
Day 1- Finally, a promotion! No more standing around on space stations, waiting for a player character to engage me in conversation. Not me! This NPC is going places!
Day 3- My own ship, the 'S.S.TitsMacGee'! She's a beauty, no doubt. Can't seem to find the toilets, but I'm sure it won't be a problem. Everyone's so friendly and talkative. I wandered around and had a good long chat with the whole crew! At least, with the people who were highlighted with a cursor...
Day 6- I must be losing my mind. It seems like everybody says the same thing to me, over and over again. I tried being rude to them but it didn't seem to make a difference. This is crazy. I need some time off this ship...
Day 10- Some action, at last! The 'S.S.TitsMacGee' dropped us in from a low orbit in a small buggy onto the planet of Ballsac V. Bumpy landing, but nothing serious. We followed a distress beacon to a military base, taken over by a rogue AI! It was touch and go for a moment, but we fought our way through and disabled the AI. A good haul of loot, too. I brought back 76 assault rifles in my rucksack.
Day 26- God these planets are ugly. Honestly, they look like rumpled bloody tablecloths. Is a lake too much to ask for? Or some pissing trees?
Day 35- Every day, another planet, another bloody planet. All this travel must be addling my brain. I was sure we'd been to this planet before. We entered the solar system; we surveyed a couple of planets; found one habitable planet; landed on it. It seems so familiar. Sure enough, I check the scanners- a mineral deposit to the North, a crashed probe East, some sort of bunker to the West. I head to the mineral deposit, but I can't tell what it is until the textures pop in for it. Gold, apparently. I plant my little flag and move on. I thought I was supposed to be saving the galaxy here? I feel like a bloody miner. And what's with the little button pressing events every time I try and do something? I swear, one popped when I wanted to go for a piss the other day...I messed it up so I ended up having to reload my save before I could have a slash. I head to the bunker in the West. It's full of pirates, or robots, or some sort of shit. It's all pistol fodder in the end. I gun them down (I left my team to watch Finding Nemo in the buggy) and find out it's the same bunker! Not just a similar layout, fucking identical! Small universe...
Day 67- Tried to be evil today. Needed a change. But I can't do it. I want to do evil things to these people. I want to shoot orphans and make toasted kitten sandwiches. It's like I don't have any choice. When I try and say something evil I just come out with something that makes me sound like a wanker, and then everyone carries on as if they hadn't heard me. It's as if the illusion of good and evil, paragon and renegade, is just a flimsy curtain, a way to make me think I'm free when I'm just a prisoner. I have these huge worlds to drive around, but there's nothing to do there. It's all an illusion...the people on this ship, they just talk, they don't converse. Their skin seems so shiny and plastic. Their mouths don't quite seem to move properly when they talk to me. I talked to the weapons officer for 14 hours today- I asked him how the weapons were, he said they were fine. I asked him how the weapons were, he said they were fine. I asked him how...
Day 73- I can't take any more. I'm going to end it. I'm stand between my team and some enemies until one side shoots me to death. Toodles...
Good luck soldier. And be wary- the universe is full of many dangers. Mostly in crate form.
Hi y'all. Been reading the forums for a while now, and it seems like this 'game review' business is a bit of a lark. These, then, are some thoughts on Mass Effect, although not presented in a proper review format, which I lack the will to do. Enjoy. If it's too long then...
Well, stop reading and go do something else.
But if not, enjoy!
The Alliance Military Handbook: Chapter 3- Engaging The Foe
Enemy sighted! Heavens, those chaps look unfriendly. What large firearms they bear. What fierce visages are stretched across their hideous alien skulls! Forestall your panic, soldier! Rely on your years of training; your superior military technology; if nothing else your chiseled jaw and manly stubble will see you through.
Scenario 1 - Enemy takes cover! Curse these cunning aliens and their knowledge of the game's cover system. Such is the state of the art, next generation artificial intelligence at work! Fortunately for the hapless Alliance soldier these aliens fall into the age-old, inter-species pitfall of sticking their heads out precisely every 5.2 seconds to be promptly perforated by a round from whichever weapon you see fit. Unless you choose a non-soldier class and have the gall to try and use an assault rifle of sniper rifle (which constitute 50% of the game's usable arsenal), in which case you will be riddling the surrounding countryside with stray bullets whilst your enemy CUNNINGLY exploits your stupidity by sticking their head out of cover precisely every 5.2 seconds and shooting you. Until such a time as you are dead, anyway, and your ragdoll body flops unconvincingly to the floor .
Scenario 2 - Enemy charges! Hold the line, chaps! These scaly fiends shall not pass. We provide, here, a detailed transcript from the posthumously decorated Lieutenant Wankface in his final skirmish.
WANKFACE Williams, you take cover behind that crate! Once they've passed you, leap into action, use your Marksman and Overdrive abilities, and at...
WILLIAMS Sorry sir, can only use one ability at a time. Poor short term memory, you see.
WANKFACE Right...right you are. Not to worry! Just wait 'til they're in your sights, then shoot the shit out of the reptilian scum.
wILLIAMS Roger that, sir. Wait 'til I can see the oranges of their eyes, then shoot the crate directly in front of me 'til they all be dead. Brilliant, sir!
WANKFACE Good, I...no, wait. Shoot the aliens. Not the crate.
WILLIAMS Oh. OH! Yep, sure. What if the crates in my line of sight, though?
WANKFACE Step around it. Step to the side... then shoot them.
WILLIAMS Gotcha, right. I can see why you're the commander sir. That and your chiseled jaw and manly stubble. And such a troubled past. Why, I often think...
WANKFACE Not now Williams, the enemy are only 25 feet away and I'll wager that one is at least 2 levels higher than us, it hardly seems the time to be reminiscing about my troubled past. We'll talk about it after.
WILLIAMS Sorry sir. I'll go show that crate who's boss.
WANKFACE I...Fine, do that. Now, Liara, I want you to stay here with me. When the enemy closes, use Force Push to stagger them, then Force Lift to...Liara? Where are you?
LIARA Over here with Williams, sir!
WANKFACE Well...come over here. I command it.
LIARA Sorry sir. If she goes over here, I go over here. Separate path finding is a forgotten art in the far future in which we live. Hella shiny armour though, look!
WANKFACE Yes, very shiny. Stay over there then, and use Force Push to...
LIARA I cannot perform 'force push', sir. I have Biotic powers, technologically enhanced psychic abilities. Not to be confused with the Force, sir.
WANKFACE Oh. Can you do Force Lightning?
LIARA I cannot, sir.
WANKFACE Fuck, that got me through both KoToR's. No time to debate details! The enemy are here! Close combat it is then, you xeno-fiends! Have at you! Ha! Haha... (screaming and the sound of a crate being shot can be heard, then static)
---Transmission ends---
Lieutenant Wankface was a brave and honourable man, undoubtedly. Handsome too. An inquest was heard after his death, attributing his slaying to the following tactical shortcomings:
i.His rudimentary close-combat abilities no doubt contributed to his passing away. Indeed, they consisted of nothing more than holding down the sprint button and charging at his foe. He would often miss, sprint headlong into a wall, and spend two seconds turning around, beaten around the back of his head by his enemy until his brain was little more than a handful full of space jelly nestling in his (still-shiny) helmet.
ii.He lacked effective grenade tactics. Tragically, the 'throw grenade' action was mapped to the BACK button, prohibiting him from moving, aiming AND throwing simultaneously. Furthermore, when he did use grenades he found they did not bounce, thus mitigating their effectiveness for deployment around corners or over walls. Our best experts are working on a solution to this problem.
iii.He was often too occupied with the business of choosing which items to sell, leave, equip and upgrade to focus on shooting the alien who was the best friend of the corpse he was looting. To his credit this meant that, within 2 days of beginning his mission, he was the richest man in the universe, and able to buy every firearm and piece of armour in the universe. And a solid diamond spaceship.
Chapter summary- If there should be serious soldiering to be done, the wily commander would do well to order his comrades to stand in the corner and polish their helmets whilst he or she deals with it. It has been asserted and scientifically proven that in space, no-one can hear you scream. 'Stop shooting the crate. Stop it. Move over there. No, not there! Stop getting shot by rockets! Hide! NOT IN FRONT OF MY GUN! BASTARD MOVE SHIT BASTARD!' You are therefore at liberty to swear as loudly and comprehensively as you wish. Act accordingly.
Chapter 4- Exploring New Worlds
Ah, the life of a space soldier in space, space year 2504. Traveling through space may be required in your role, although fortunately travel has been streamlined to a simple 'select a location and sit through cutscene of travel' system. The miracles of technology mean that journeying between distant star systems need take no longer than a lift journey! No tedious piloting need be managed by the soldier- special celebrity voice soldiers have been drafted for this purpose.
Detailed below are excerpts from the log of a special operations soldier on a mission of grave importance for the stability of the galactic community. Names and locations have been changed to ruder, more childish names and locations.
Day 1- Finally, a promotion! No more standing around on space stations, waiting for a player character to engage me in conversation. Not me! This NPC is going places!
Day 3- My own ship, the 'S.S.TitsMacGee'! She's a beauty, no doubt. Can't seem to find the toilets, but I'm sure it won't be a problem. Everyone's so friendly and talkative. I wandered around and had a good long chat with the whole crew! At least, with the people who were highlighted with a cursor...
Day 6- I must be losing my mind. It seems like everybody says the same thing to me, over and over again. I tried being rude to them but it didn't seem to make a difference. This is crazy. I need some time off this ship...
Day 10- Some action, at last! The 'S.S.TitsMacGee' dropped us in from a low orbit in a small buggy onto the planet of Ballsac V. Bumpy landing, but nothing serious. We followed a distress beacon to a military base, taken over by a rogue AI! It was touch and go for a moment, but we fought our way through and disabled the AI. A good haul of loot, too. I brought back 76 assault rifles in my rucksack.
Day 26- God these planets are ugly. Honestly, they look like rumpled bloody tablecloths. Is a lake too much to ask for? Or some pissing trees?
Day 35- Every day, another planet, another bloody planet. All this travel must be addling my brain. I was sure we'd been to this planet before. We entered the solar system; we surveyed a couple of planets; found one habitable planet; landed on it. It seems so familiar. Sure enough, I check the scanners- a mineral deposit to the North, a crashed probe East, some sort of bunker to the West. I head to the mineral deposit, but I can't tell what it is until the textures pop in for it. Gold, apparently. I plant my little flag and move on. I thought I was supposed to be saving the galaxy here? I feel like a bloody miner. And what's with the little button pressing events every time I try and do something? I swear, one popped when I wanted to go for a piss the other day...I messed it up so I ended up having to reload my save before I could have a slash. I head to the bunker in the West. It's full of pirates, or robots, or some sort of shit. It's all pistol fodder in the end. I gun them down (I left my team to watch Finding Nemo in the buggy) and find out it's the same bunker! Not just a similar layout, fucking identical! Small universe...
Day 67- Tried to be evil today. Needed a change. But I can't do it. I want to do evil things to these people. I want to shoot orphans and make toasted kitten sandwiches. It's like I don't have any choice. When I try and say something evil I just come out with something that makes me sound like a wanker, and then everyone carries on as if they hadn't heard me. It's as if the illusion of good and evil, paragon and renegade, is just a flimsy curtain, a way to make me think I'm free when I'm just a prisoner. I have these huge worlds to drive around, but there's nothing to do there. It's all an illusion...the people on this ship, they just talk, they don't converse. Their skin seems so shiny and plastic. Their mouths don't quite seem to move properly when they talk to me. I talked to the weapons officer for 14 hours today- I asked him how the weapons were, he said they were fine. I asked him how the weapons were, he said they were fine. I asked him how...
Day 73- I can't take any more. I'm going to end it. I'm stand between my team and some enemies until one side shoots me to death. Toodles...
Good luck soldier. And be wary- the universe is full of many dangers. Mostly in crate form.
