Sticking to Canon: The Watchmen Flash Game

If you're a fan of comics, intelligent marketing or 80s-style arcade beat-em-ups, you must check out the new Watchmen flash site, which treats visitors to a seedy, Double Dragon-style arcade cabinet situated within the story's alternate-universe-circa-1985 setting.

It's brilliant:  a marketing tie-in that extends the story's narrative in multiple ways (e.g. the game lets you play as a former generation of superheroes, filling in gaps within the film; it's marked as a product of Veidt Industries, etc.).

But in some ways, perhaps it's off.

[NOTE: Unless you're super-nerdy, you may want to leave now.]

Both Kotaku and my new Twitter friend Valentine Donegan point out that, in its opening screen, the Watchmen game claims to be produced in 1977.  Fine, no problem; this would fit within the timeline.

But if the game were produced in 1977, it would look more like this:

 

...than this:

Which it doesn't!, meaning that HOLY CRAP OMG! WHAT A BUNCH OF F- the game doesn't appear to fit into the larger Watchmen canon. Those bastards.

[Another note:  If you're still here but don't know why this matters, click this link; matters of narrative continuity in anything related to new Watchmen product are of serious concern to many of us... um, I mean, to many of other people.]

But, after thinking about it for a few minutes (I'm reminded of this comic), I've realized that the game actually does fit into the larger Watchmen universe.  Here's my rationale:

Yes, it would have been virtually impossible for a "16-bit"-quality game to have come out in the arcades in 1977 at a reasonable cost in the universe as we know it.  But it's not; we're talking about an ALTERNATE 1977, one in which a large blue man has helped the U.S. win the Vietnamese conflict, superheroes run around in the streets (well, up until that pesky Keene Act), and people like PIRATE COMICS.  Everything you know is wrong.

Likewise, this alternate universe houses the world's smartest man, Adrian Veidt.  Shit, that dude can figure out what to name a cologne by watching 16 TV screens at once -- I'm sure he can figure out a way to pack more processing power into a standard arcade cabinet.  He probably invented the SuperFX chip years ahead of its time.  And I'm sure he had developed an early version of the UForce, only to realize it sucked before releasing it commercially.  See, those TVs come in handy.

So, long story short:  in the world of Watchmen, it is feasible that Adrian Veidt's company could have produced a Final Fight-quality game 12 years before that same feat was realized in our pathetic universe.

If Watchmen were a Marvel property, I'd have myself a No-Prize right about now.

Good night.  I'm going to go back to writing slash fiction about Doris Kearns Goodwin.

Minimal Context Theater: Health insurance for all.

Lest I Forget...

My favorite piece of YouTube-based marketing, possibly ever: http://youtube.com/experiencewii

Let's Get Complicated!

Human beings have a tendency to overcomplicate things. I see it every day in my job as a marketer.

Highly intelligent people who have a relatively simple job -- sell things and ideas to people -- overthink things nine times out of 10. But that's not what I'm here to talk about.

Videogame controllers.

The history of videogame controllers is fraught with pendulum shifts from simplicity to complex. Bill Harris over at Dubious Quality wrote an amazing piece on this history a few months back, and we've covered it on my gaming podcast.

Recently, there's been a return to simple intuitive controls with the Wii and music games like Rock Band and Guitar Hero, though things are already starting to become convoluted. Good old Guitar Hero introduced a drum set for its upcoming "Rock Band killer"... with 5, not 4 drum inputs! And Konami just announced a 7 input drum kit for its upcoming Rock Revolution, which is EXACTLY what the world needs. A look at the comment section on Joystiq indicates that people aren't terribly impressed. Learn from the videogame industry: complexity ultimately creeps into everything... and rewards those who resist it. Keep it simple, stupid.

When Videogames Take the Place of Photo Albums.

The business of selling used videogames is a huge one: today, retailer GameStop announced killer Q2 earnings, due in large part to secondhand game sales.

The reason I mention this is I've been trading back quite a few of my old games in recent days. I was actually about to trade in my copy of Grand Theft Auto IV (after all, it's the popular titles that score you the most cash) when I had an epiphany that a) stopped me from making the trade; and b) made me realize just how pervasive videogames have become in my life.

I live in Long Island City, NY, an industrial/residential outpost in Queens and shining example of the pleasures of urban decay. The industrial landscape, however, is rapidly giving way to luxury condos, which, while it isn't necessarily a bad thing, means that what many people love about the area from an aesthetic perspective may cease to exist in a few years.

Enter Grand Theft Auto IV. I'm not a terribly prolific photographer -- and the last time I assembled a photo album was more than a decade ago. In GTA, however, I can spend hours driving past a perfect facsimile of the Citicorp Tower, the graffiti-coated exterior of the 5 Pointz, P.S. 1 and a reasonably good representation of Jackson Ave. The act of playing, for me anyway, becomes an interactive photo tour of sorts.

I've fed nostalgic feelings for old videogames by playing them, but this is the first time that a game has actually shown the promise of feeding my nostalgia for real life. Strange. Digging around the Web, I'm not the only one who's marveled at GTA IV's ability to conjure up NYC:

'The Real-Life Restaurants in New York City from GTA IV' @ Serious Eats

'GTA IV Trailer Stills and Real New York Photo Comparison @ Digg/Games Radar

'Sightseeing in Liberty City - Matthew Johnston @ Flickr

Ever had a similar feeling?