My Stop Smoking Coach: Allen Carr's EasyWay

This was the one DS title of 2k8 I was most excited for. I know that's kind of weird, but I've been smoking on and off for three years and I thought this would really help me stop. Last time I quit, it was with the help of Allen Carr's book, The Easy Way to Stop Smoking, which is more famous in Europe than it is here in the States. Lord knows why – it's an amazing little book that reprograms your entire thinking about cigarettes and smoking. It really does make it easy to quit (though, as he notes often, you have to really WANT to quit for it to work).

So after some terrible personal circumstances in March, I broke Carr's cardinal rule: don't ever accept or smoke another cigarette. Oops.

I was excited not just for myself, but other DS owners out there who might get something really good out of this.

It had been advertised, in its early rumor/preview stages, as simply a game of the Easy Way method invented by Carr. Little did I know it was adopted by Ubisoft of the My AnnoyingCoach series.

Uh-oh.

The main problem with this game is they felt the need to make it a "game." By which I mean, every main point is iterated by a mimi-game, which ranges from acceptable to absolutely maddening in quality. For example:



In the book, Carr tackles the conception that smokers "like the flavor" by basically saying, "No one does. They taste terrible, and here are some enlightening facts and metaphors that explain why." My Stop SmokingCoach instead forces you to play some mini-game wherein you have to find ingredients to various made up recipes such as "Tobacco Stew" and "Baked Ashtray." (I made that last one up, but it would fit right in.)

You do this by guessing. Will "Butt Glacé" have ashes? Nicotine? Tar? Carbon dioxide? There's no way to know, other than trying various combinations and hoping you don't lose so you can finally move on past this pointless torture.


That's the main problem I have with these mini-games, is they force you to play them. A lot of them make even less sense than "Mystery Tomacco Recipe," like one that involved spraying buckets of water into holes (???), and are impossible to win.

I would really have liked if the game had no "playing a video game" elements at all, but instead had some kind of personal commitments calendar, video clips & cutscenes with testimonials and tips from people who quit with the same method, and a lot more text. I'd recommend avoiding this game and just buying Carr's book. Or, even spending the money on cigarettes – this game is as horrid as lung cancer.



(Surprisingly, it's rated E for Everyone!)

Pop Cutie! Street Fashion Simulation: Not so kawaii as you'd think

These androgynous simulacra are rated E for Everyone.

Man, this game.

First, out of life-long tomboy forces, I was reluctant to play a game called "Pop Cutie! Street Fashion Simulation." The worrisome words are in bold. But it got good reviews, and seemed to be more sim than paper dolls for the DS.

And it was. But not much more.

Premise: you're a young person (I chose a lady; the other option is a man) who designs fashions and sells them. You get to earn new types of clothing by combining words you overhear in conversations with folks on the street. You'll ask them something like "Do you have a fear of elevators?" and they'll say, "No, I find them a smooth ride." The word in blue becomes some factor that leads to some new type of clothing.

Sharp + duck yields a greaser hairstyle, in case you were curious.

Then you choose a color for your design, you put the thing out on the shelves, people buy it, repeat.

Other designers (two) exist and sell clothes, and...they might sell more clothes than you. That is the Challenging Thing in this game. Don't let them out-popular you! It was fun trying to make your particular designs the Mostest Popularest. Once season I tried to get everyone to look like an Edwardian dandy, the next I was going for some like pre-grunge sloppy rock thing, with stripes and things, I guess like Sonic Youth back when they remembered that clothes can have colors. And then, once you had successfully got everyone to buy your clothes, you could win a fashion battle wicked easy.

Fashion battles were a quarterly event wherein you and a rival designer deck out a person in your designs. You can get extra points for things like color combos, but they don't add up to much. The way to rack up mad points is by having sold plenty of the selected designs. Then you win. You win. You will have won. You don't not succeed. Over and over. It's more of a challenge to try and lose the battle.

And that was kind of it. You made some clothes, they got popular, you won. You sold enough, you moved onto the next level, repeat. What little strategy there is becomes mastered rather quickly. Advertise a thing in the quarterly magazine: dozens of people buy that thing. Hire some models to stand on the street, passersby buy the things you had the models wear. Hire a decent person to run the cash register, another to do inventory, you're set.

There isn't a lot to explore in this game. Sometimes, out on the street, your character thinks: I should visit my rivals' stores and see what they're designing. Well, you can't. You can't visit anywhere but this less-than-one-block pedestrian area outside your store. You can also be inside of your store. This just seems a lazy, lazy, lazy way to make a game.

Weird note: there's only two black characters in the game, and one runs a business called "The Spade Agency." uh...

I won the game in about seven hours, but it had run our of pleasure and challenge after four. It's the game equivalent of an airport novel, a simple piffle that entertains over the duration of a short flight. And definitely not worth your dollars.

Oil well.

Etrian Odyssey 1 & 2: the little RPGs that are too hardcore to go on!

I was telling my husband about Etrian Odyssey: "You get to make your own map!" This is a thing all the reviews point out with glee. HE thought this meant you laboriously create and design your own dungeon.* Not so much – you just do some junior cartography on the bottom screen, illustrating your charted territory in the mazelike dungeons. Thought I'd clear that up first.

Bottom screen: creating your own map. You draw the places you've been, and you can place icons for doors, stairs, locations of extra-difficult monsters, + many more! Top screen: Note how many of the characters have died a cruel, cruel death already. Also: what kind of a name is "Gerald" for an RPG character?

These two games, which are pretty similar, are wicked old school RPGs that are both awesome and frustrating. Classic stuff – encounter baddies, destroy baddies, get killed way too many times by baddies, eventually level up and maybe not get killed as much but maybe even more, etc. I pretty much don't swear at anything but 'Iron Chef America' and video games, and this one has a lot of cussable moments. A lot. But it's really exciting, too, even after long, long grind sessions. Is it Stockholm syndrome? Casino effect? Am I one of Skinner's pigeons, fighting villains for the intermittent, random pellet? Or is it just really well made? Some of each, but mostly the latter.

I started out playing the first Etrian Odyssey, because, you know, it's the first one. It got mediocre marks from game-review type places, but I figured I should begin with that one.

Both games feature a really slow, cruel initial upward climb toward leveling up and earning enough $$$ to get decent weapons and armor ("en" is what they call money – at least it's not the way too commonplace "gold"). One of my five little characters would inevitably die every half hour or so, which is to be expected in a game like this. But the prices for reviving and resting at the inn to restore HP/magic points increased like crazy after every single time you did it! A revive started out at 15 en, not too bad. But the third or fourth was like 250 en! (I want to say it increased exponentially, but I don't want to do the math to make sure that I can accurately use the term "exponentially." Let's just say prices zoomed up without reason.)

So reviving and resting were practically unaffordable, especially given how one earns money in the game. You don't get gold for killing monsters, like in many other games. After you fight monsters, maybe one in three will drop items, and the starting-out type items they DO drop sell for 5-8 en. Minor HP-increasing items run about 50 en. So doing anything to keep my characters alive quickly became prohibitively expensive.

I am always ridic conservative in RPGs – I make sure I've levelled up beyond belief & bought all the gear available before I try the next tiny increase of challenges. Naturally, I used this policy here, but I still kept dying to death. Seriously, you have to get to around level ten before you can even battle weak first-level mosters without having to hang on for dear life. It was terrifying, especially since I knew there was no way I could afford saving them. Just had to cross my fingers. For hours. And hours.

I started the game over, knowing this go-round to try and never die or stay at the inn if I wanted to be able to not hit a point of no return. It worked out quite a bit better – I had a more balanced line-up and was a lot more careful with enemies. I love a punishing RPG but after reaching the fifth level or so (out of 30), I just got worn out. I had lost all will to go on.

"Why not check out the second one, then?" I thought. It did have better reviews, after all. But none of them mentioned what I thought was the best improvement of the second game: it didn't cost 8 zillion en to revive your character after their third or fourth death. I was terrified from the first one that I would quickly be drained of all my scant resources if a charcter died. But if one of your best characters dies, it's not like you can just walk around with this great, but dead, person in your party. At the second revive, I was ready to shill out 100+ en, cringing and worrying at the prospect. But it cost the same amount! Same with the inn stays! In fact, the cost of each is just 5x the level of your highest character. (Level 15 = 75 en inn stay. You have no idea how excited and relieved this STILL makes me, even after 20+ hours of playing. I have Etrian Odyssey 1 PTSD or something.)

There's some other nice changes. You have almost all available classes at the start of II, whereas you had to do a lot of tasks in the first one to get new classes. (By 'classes' I mean types of character: ie strongo warrior, healer, bow-shooting chap, and my favorite – sad panda.)

"Beast" class. You get four character designs to choose from for each character you choose. They all work the same, no matter which design you choose. The beast I like is the SAD PANDA, who looks just like this guy, but sad. And a panda.

Honestly, I didn't care about the extra classes being available at the start. Balancing character classes in Etrian Odyssey is way more difficult than in your typical RPG, but I don't really need 30 choices to start out with. It made some people happy, but it's sixes for me.

The map options are way tricked out in the second one. This I appreciated. The best part is now the option of three different colors for the floor. Not too impressive, right? Wrong. You can have a color for "oh crap those poison floors that remove extra harsh amounts of HP" or a color for "okay here's the exact way I can walk through here without dying for the 800th time."

The colors, children, the colors! Though why they added six different traffic arrows is beyond me. Maybe this is explained in the instruction manual, which I don't have.

SUMMARY for those with TLDR syndrome:

• These RPGs are wicked harsh compared to a lot of modern ones, but the ramped-up challenge makes them a lot more rewarding, IMO.
• The first one is so mean that it's practically unplayable. So I'd start with the second one and if you find it laughably easy (I don't know how you'd do that), then pick up the first one.

Interesting note: This game is made by ATLUS, makers of Trauma Center. The character design is really similar, meaning they're all bafflingly androgynous. Half the time I could not tell if I was picking a boy or girl. No bigs either way, it's just...odd. If you can relate to being a scrawny person in a giant trenchcoat, with pink hair and indeterminate gender, you'll feel right at home. Or if you look like a sad, sad panda.


*Did anyone ever play RPG Maker for the PS1? If so, you will know what I mean when I say: thank my lucky stars you don't have to create your own dungeon.

Lower than the eukaryote....

I plan on doing more than reviewing games here, but that's the main thing I've been doing so far. All I can think when I do this is: do the people who write 'for real' game reviews actually PLAY the whole thing through first?

I mean, it would be wicked easy with a puzzle game. Those things take 15 minutes max to get the complete story. So that's one thing. And I guess you wouldn't HAVE to finish an FPS. You basically know the hows & whys of the shootenany in an hour or so, max. But some platformer? An RPG?

I've definitely got the impression they actually do, with some RPGs, anyway, or how else could they advertise a '40-hour playtime' or such? (My finished time to completion is always way longer than theirs.) But 40 hours – that's way more than even a book. And with a game they REALLY HATE, do they feel obligated to see it through? Especially when writing one of those seven-sentence capsule reviews?

I haven't finished any of the games I have talked about here. I don't feel like I'm cheating anyone here, but OTOH I am not getting paid and I don't have the suffocating self-importance of the '
professional game reviewer' (I think the latter may be a bigger factor in feeling obligated to complete a game. The Power Glove; it is so sweet.).

Does anyone know if they do or not?

Life Signs: Surgical Unit = ;_;

Maybe some of you have played Trauma Center, the challenging and exciting game of surgery, with your stylus as a scalpel. It's the kind of thing that made me want to get a DS – in fact, it was the first game I bought for it. It was innovative, it was unique, and it was ambitious (video game characters have been to college, apparently, since the arcade days of Root Beer Tapper and Burger Time). Also, it was wicked fun, the most important factor of all.

So naturally, when I found out about "Life Signs: Surgical Unit," I was antsy to get my hands on it. Surgery! Right in the game's title. Hello.

Maybe not so much, title of game! There's surgery, maybe 20 percent of the time. The rest of the game is as dullsville and confusing as the worst old-style text adventure games. The order of operations (hur hur) has as much logic as a drawing colored by a three-year old.

I guess I should have been warned by the absolutely guano loco opening tableau. Title doctor (I can't even remember his name) has a picnic with a female hospital admin so hyper-sexy that she makes House M.D.'s Dr. Cuddy look like Nurse Ratched. Other, even sexier (and super teenaged-looking) hospital employees show up one by one to complain THEY were supposed to be the romantic picnicker. And, of course, it was all a dream...

Even during waking hours, the patients and employees are stupid sexy. Just ridic sexy. (Exception: babushka-looking, gossip-crazed head nurse. lol fattey!) When examining patients, you can 'accidentally' touch their barely-clothed boobs. ("Doctor, that's not where it hurts!")

Not an O-face

So the game has a lot of "fan service," executed in a really silly fashion. Not my thing, but not an obstacle to being a good game either. But, like everything else in the game, it takes forever to figure out where it is and how to achieve it.

The game mainly consists of getting handed things by various people, and trying to figure out who needs to get one of your random goods in order to tell you what's happening next. You'd think a surgery would be top priority start if someone's dying. No, it appears to be more important walking from room to room trying to find something (you aren't told what, you just hope you happen upon it).

That or trying to find someone, a person invariably impossible to find. Everyone you meet who isn't your sought target has wicked juicy gossip about employees two-timing or having crushes! zomg! It's like some bad junior high dream where you can't find your locker, but with the added element of a bunch of really boring, chatty people with eye-popping decolletage.

Trauma Center delivers the goods in fast, generous doses. You have a few soap-operatic asides, but they're truncated by operations. Trauma Center had me shouting the game's boldly delivered catchphrase, "Let's being the operation!" at my dog. The only thing Life Signs has me shouting is "What the crap is this for crap?" (Not at my dog, though, which I'm sure he appreciates.)

Summary: if you want to play a surgery game, there's two Trauma Centers, though I would love if some other, quality ones came out. If you want to look at drawings of semi-naked women, I'm sure you can be imaginative enough to find that without having to sludge through this game. If you want to be vexed most sore, there's always Life Signs: Surgical Unit.

How did all these game characters get so freakin' precocious?

Certain people in their 20s have a vibrant, ambitious air – just out of college, on the bottom rung of the career ladder, but full of the confidence and energy needed to climb higher. I'm 25, and still in college, but I've got my goals in motion and I'm fully stoked on living forever, lighting up the sky like a flame, etc. What I mean is, I don't hate myself too much. In fact, I feel pretty good!

But good old Phoenix Wright and Trauma Center are kind of making me feel like a slug with a minor case of retarditis. These are worlds where young, stripling Dougie Houser legends are the norm, not the exception. All these district attorneys and lauded surgeons are a few years younger than I am, and I am by no means even half old.

Look at Phoenix Wright – he and his semi-rival attorney, Miles Edgeworth, are barely old enough to go to a bar for sloe gin fizzes after a hard day in the courtroom. And Edgeworth already holds the second highest prosecuting position in his district. Dr. Stiles, star surgeon of Trauma Center, is (IIRC) 21. Did he start college at age 16? Even then, that's cutting it close to get through med school by age 21, if that's even possible. What is this fantasyland where I'm already an old maid?

I know this is videogame fiction. In real life, surgeons don't have the magic ability to slow time by drawing a star in the air. In real life, spirit mediums aren't decisive witnesses. (Well, actually, that's not always true.) But in real life, star lawyers are definitely not too young to be able to rent a car! And, real life or not, I spend a lot of time with these video games. A lot of time that kind of makes me feel..."special."

Animal Crossing: Wild World

Thanks for getting Cat Stevens stuck in my head every time, game subtitle. *grumblecakes*

That, however, is the worst thing I can say about this little bit of crack in your DS card slot.

I never played the Game Cube incarnation of this, although my husband had it. His first semester of college, he bought a Cube and Animal Crossing (for the novelty? the memory card? who knows.). Apparently he was happy to play that game, and only that one, every day in his spare time. I still didn't give thought to playing it: it seemed like Harvest Moon without the farming, which I thought was supposed to be the main appeal of Harvest Moon.

Wrong! Harvest Moon is a torturous little brat in comparison, all making you eat ALL THE TIME and work with little reward. (Plus, after all that work of breeding a "star cow," it didn't even have a star on it. It was at this point I quit playing the game.) The soothing, breezy world of Animal Crossing feels positively liberating in comparison.

It's not too hard to describe Animal Crossing, but it is a bit challenging to explain why it's so engrossing. You play a human in a town full of animals, and you get to collect furniture/decorate your house, catch bugs and insect, dig up fossils, and design clothes and constellations. Your fellow townsfolk always have something amusing to say, and sometimes there are town contests and festivals. So I have just described a game of simple tasks. "So what?" you may be asking. I mean, I did.

One, I think, is it's a cute, harmless vicarious play-life, like the Sims, but without happiness meters and jobs. You just get to live a chillaxed existence of toodling around and improving your town and museum.

Another is the game compels you to pick it up every day for new items and new scenarios that you'd miss if you skipped playing it for a day. Every day new furniture and items are available at the shop of Tom Nook, mercantile and the raccoon to whom you are constantly in debt for owning your home. (Paying off debt = bigger house = more decorating space = unfortunate bigger chunk of money owed to Nook.) Different fish and insects appear at different times of day (and year), and darn if it doesn't get intense trying to get all of them into the town museum.

The stylus makes it really easy to play, too: you can just press a character to interact with them, rather than having to walk right up to them & press 'A.' It gives it a loose, natural, pleasant feel.

I can dig it!

Drawn to Life (that is the name of a game)

At what point does a thing's dullness cancel out its endearing ways? (This is a cost/benefit analysis that I hope isn't performed too often on yours truliest here.) Drawn to Life – man, I got a lot of affection for the little platformer. It tries really hard to make the best of the DS and its unique potential. After a few hours, though, the novelty isn't enough to balance out that its gameplay is that of a platformer generic enough to be one of hundreds '90s shareware games (obvious exception: Commander Keen).

Don't let my intro rain too wet a blanket on this parade: its merits are strong enough to make it compulsively playable, and a good deal of fun. The main thing is you get to draw your character, as well as many other things in the game. You get a little template that shows you the boundaries of the character and where its little joints will bend (Todd McFarlane may want to note there are nine points of articulation). You then get to draw in a face, torso, and limbs with the stylus and around 16 or 24 different colors. You can make more than one template throughout the game: one of my characters is a confused purple duck, and another is a business man with an electrical socket face. You also get to draw, later on, their wings and their guns. (Don't worry, ESRB moms, the guns shoot acorns and snowballs, and your drawing doesn't show up large enough on the screen for it to look badass or threatening.)

The game explains that you draw the "hero" and other things in the town because you, as the player, are "The Creator" who has come to save the town from baddies. (It's up to you to determine whether the towns little mammalian inhabitants, the Raposa, are being blasphemous here.)

I suppose I was being a bit harsh earlier when I criticized the gameplay for being simple and generic (it reminds me of the Aladdin video game, of all things). It's the Raposa that make mild-manned me want to ANGRY and SMASH. Between levels, you go back to your town with the Raposa you've saved, and you're forced to do a lot of tedious running around by the little guys. "I think MINXY has stolen my FLOWERS. You need to talk to the MAYOR about this!" Even this wouldn't be so bad, if there were less of it. My breaking point was an inexcusable cutscene of a town concert wherein some pop-star Raposa performs a long and tedious rap about everything you did in every level up to that point. It's like a Greek chorus if they were retarded and you had to press "B" 67 times to get them to quit telling you what you just did.

Summary: if you can handle cutscenes, especially stupid ones, then you will have far fewer problems with this game than I did. If I was ten years old, I would definitely annoy my parents by recounting it in extreme detail during the rare moments I wasn't playing it.

(Note: I got this game from a friend, who got it because he found someone's DS (with this cartridge) at a record store. Moral: do not leave things at record stores. The employees are invariably a sausage party comprised of unscrupulous vultures.) (Record Store employees of the world: you know I love you guys. Mostly.)

Contact v. Earthbound

Maybe some of y'all have heard of the loving cult surrounding SNES RPG Earthbound (aka "Mother 2," its Japanese title, if you want to yield a few more Google search results and/or sound like a complete self-righteous RPG snot). It was a flop in its heyday, but big big love has smoldered since for its amazing humor, exciting gameplay and sort of transcendent elements (lol a self-righteous sezwhat?). I've played it through three or four times since I discovered it about 18 months ago (on an emulator, no way am I paying $60-80 on eBay for the cartridge). It's also coming out for the Wii virtual console. That deserves a toast from the world.

When I was in seventh and eighth grade, I discovered the Beatles, and after replaying all their albums so much that my blood is mostly composed of the drumline in "Ticket to Ride," I had all the fix I could get. Was there another band that was basically the Beatles, exactly as awesome and good, but not actually the Beatles because I had already memorized the Beatles? Badfinger? No. (A thousand times no.) Harry Nillsson? Very close.

And again, now, with Earthbound. Could I find the RPG equivalent of Harry Nillsson to Earthbound's Beatlemania? Promise was in the air, from the main Earthbound fan site no less, that the DS game Contact was Earthbound's freshborn spiritual kin.

Maybe you want to hear about Contact not as an Earthbound simile, but rather on its own merits. Too bad! As my poor husband can tell you, that besides early epidemiologist Joseph Goldberger, there is little I discuss more than I discuss Earthbound. So.

Contact, then. Here's what I liked about Earthbound, and how Contact compares.

• Battle system. In Earthbound, it was straight-up post-Dragon Warrior "you have killed X, you get Y gold and Z experience points." The unique element there was your HP went down on a little odometer-style meter: if one of your characters was totally slaughtered, you could stop them from hitting zero HP and dying by getting out of battle quickly. The battle system in Contact is most similar to the abomination of Tingle's Freshly-Picked Rosy Rupeeland (described in last post): you point at a baddie and they just kind of duke it out while you watch, occasionally using an HP-increasing item mid-battle. Grinding is boring enough, but it's practically a soporific when you don't even get to make any strategic decisions. Video games should only be a spectator sport when your brother or your boyfriend is hogging the controller. (NB: if you are dating this selfish man, it's nigh near time to pen a Dear John letter.)
– Pleasant similarity: In both Earthbound and Contact, enemies that can be defeated in one hit run away from you, so if you don't want to deal with the equivalent of the blue slime at level 53, you don't have to.

• Music: Contact has the most generic music that I can't remember having heard in a long time. (Help parsing that: the music in Contact is so nondescript that I cannot remember anything about it, or how it sounds, save that it is unremarkable.) I'm definitely not one of those people that buy game soundtracks or anything, but isn't it great when a game like Katamari Damacy comes out and the music is a fun, exciting knockout? When I was playing Earthbound, I'd fall asleep with those tunes in my head. I'd think of them at work and smile. If one is trying to achieve an Earthbound vibe, don't skimp on the music. Sheesh.

• Items, towns, NPCs. Earthbound's first three levels are Eagleton, Twoson (lols), and Threed. Contact attempts to do the same thing by calling its first level...Fort Eagle. Uh-huh. That's a Badfinger move, guys, not a Nillsson move. Similarly, Earthbound had parodies of typical RPG weapons: as a little American boy, title character Ness equipped items like frying pans and slingshots as weapons, things kids had access to. Contact does this by letting your character equip such items as a frying pan and a slingshot. I realize every RPG has "leather sword" or "spike whip," but if Contact is trying to be original, it shouldn't straight rip everything unique in Earthbound. In fact, I think all the "holy Hannah it's the new Earthbound" hype is born of this dullsville "homage" (aka stealing).
– Difference: While Earthbound's NPCs were idiosyncratic and hilarious or mysterious, the NPCs of Contact are not. You can kill them, however. That's novel.

• A weird need to encourage kids to play outside. Earthbound did this by having your dad call you periodically and remind you to maybe stop playing and go talk to your mom. Cute, weird, non-intrusive. Contact, however, does this by making journeys between "levels" long and dull. You travel from place to place on a sailing ship, and it takes upward of five minutes to get to wherever it is you're going. In the meantime, you get to stare at the stupid ship or occasionally check in and be told "we've got a while until we get there." Argh! It encourages me to get really mad. I believe a person can be killed in less than five minutes. Should a game be making me think this?

I haven't gotten very far in Contact. I can totally handle that it's not Earthbound – I knew it wouldn't be – but it has no excuse being completely passive and yawn-inducing. Go to charm school and earn some kind of certificate of goodness, Contact, and I'll try again.

Yggdrasil

World of RPGs, I ask you: Yggdrasil? Why yggdrasil?

Why?

Tingle's Freshly Picked Rosy Rupeeland Rocket Slime Clap Your Hands Say Yeah Yeah Yeahs Hey Jude (srsly dudes, what?)

MAYBE you fastidious readers of the outrageous world of the DS have heard of the probably-not-ever coming to America game devoted to all's least favorite, Tingle of "Zelda" fame. In what appears to be a growing DS trend, it's got a ridic wicked long name: 'Freshly Picked: Tingle's Rosy Rupeeland.' If people are mad hating on a video game character, if it's so weird and, er, 'fey' that its company decides to ignore an entire continent, then is my curiosity ever piqued.

I wanted to play the thing! Japan has it, in a language I can't speak, and about a year ago, it got shipped to the home of Stephen Fry and cross-dressing Pythons: thee U.K. If you are easily charmed by their old-fashioned manner of adding an extra letter 'u' to all kinds of words, well, then you'll be easily charmed here.

So, now I'm playing it, and it is downright exhausting. It's got all the wacky that's associated with "Japan" in content, humor, originality of premise, etc. One of the NPCs, a construction worker, is clearly supposed to be (non-leather) Hard Gay, Japanese TV guy and internet sensation who I do not find amusing. (sorry?) So that's all cool, all fun.

What is not cool and fun? The game is largely a bunch of frustrating drudgery. Tingle's sole focus is Rupees, and so is everyone else's, and that's kind of all there is to the game. Want to see what a shop has to offer? You have to pay the NPCs an unspecified amount of rupees to even talk to them (beyond terse comments like, "No money? Go away!"). You make an offer: if they don't like it because it's too low, they laugh at you and then keep your money. At which point you up the ante, and they laugh at you for paying too much, and they keep the rest of your apparently exorbitant offer.

The battle system, too, is a wicked, passive shame. You press the stylus on a baddie, Tingle attacks the baddie, rupees flow from your savings, and items pop up. That's right, you watch the battle. And that's it.

In sum, this game is maddening. Anyone who says otherwise is succumbing to the sunk costs fallacy, especially any U.S.er (or Canadian, etc.) who got this thing on import. Caveat emptor!

David Hume described his books as "stillborn at the press"

Hopefully this blog won't be, eh? Eh? Amirite?

Ever since I found out Nintendo was making a crazygonuts stylus handheld with two screens of glory, I all started breaking the tenth commandment and coveting like mad. This was 2005? 2004? Whenever it came out, natch. Two years ago I bought a white DS lite (they look like cuets baby versions of the iBooks circa 2003? 2004? The white ones. You know what I mean.).

Totally worth it. Totally my favorite console ever (sorry we had to break up, SNES, but you still have a soft place in my heart). Totally kept coveting gamezzzzzz. A lot of the ones that looked unique/fun in that crazy DS way, like Phoenix Wright...well, word on the grapevine was their 'play time' was kind of weak, in the 10 hour range. And being: 1. paycheck-to-paycheck poor college babe and 2. severely indoctrinated to be frugal, I didn't want to drop $35 on these awesome, exciting, but brief pleasures.

Recently, I got hitched, and some friends gave us each 'Edge' cards, micro SD cards...Homebrew ROM madness setup. That pretty much knocked us out of the water (not that I didn't dig the Foreman 'Lean Mean Fat-Reducing Grilling Machine,' sis-in-law). So since then...June 30, when I got home, it's been work/DS/sleep/sometimes eat.

I reckoned I would get all 'opinions 4 u' on the world and share my thoughts on all the DS games; so, so many of them, so you can know whether they're "boss" or "toss," "spin it" or "bargain bin it," etc. Hope you dig!