…though not necessarily in that order.
First, the apology: dear reader, I am sorry for the absence. Now, hear me out–arguably, my main motivation in resuscitating this text-based beast was as means of procrastination from my university work. However, second to that and the proverbial back-breaking straw was as means of entertainment for you. You see, I know you’re busy, I know you’re tired, but hey, this is a shelter from the storm, you know? I want this to be a place where you can come in, kick off your tattered shoes and forget about the growling beast in your gut, the ravenous wolves at the door, and the fact that you’re a stranger in a strange land. This blog is your home away from home and I, your ever humble host, mistakenly locked the door… oops. Well, welcome back. Come in on, you bastard. Let’s drink some scotch and talk about…
Dead Space continues to entertain and, lo, a few familiar themes are starting to emerge. Much like DOOM 3 before it, Dead Space appears to be an examination of the effect an elite may have on a captive populous, and the struggle that emerges in the wake of personal belief (read: religion) interfering with external responsibility (read: politics). Assuming accuracy in these statements (disclaimer: I’m in the midst of the third level, and I’ve heard that there are as many as twelve), this casts a rather emancipatory light on the player’s actions.
Beyond this–and I’m hoping that, as the game progresses, my assumptions here are cemented via the fortuitous finding of audio logs–themes of pregnancy and the pains of birth continue to skirt the periphery, at best silhouetted and casting shadow. Assuming I’m reading the shape of said shadow accurately, I’m seeing, as I wander the Ishimura, the birth of a new form of life. It’s crazy, man; I stumbled across a lab-cum-menagerie of grotesqueries in which, in addition to a few (fucking huge) fetuses in jars, there lurked a fetus-like monstrosity that, when attacking, looks eerily like a peacock in heat trying to attract a mate. To further the idea of new life and birth pains and what have you, there’ve been audio logs to that effect, talking about how “beautiful” the whole process is. I dunno. Maybe I’m reading to much into this, but I hold to a few things: Nicole, literally or figuratively, is (was?) pregnant and this is all linked, somehow, to her and Isaac. Hell, playing with the ol’ Bible, this whole game may culminate in the sacrifice of Isaac (note that I didn’t say death) to prove faith. Just leaves the question of who’s Abraham, yes?
Finally, the title of this (increasingly long) post mentioned weapons, so I would be remiss not to discuss them. A few things: kinesis is, sadly, useless on those smarmy, swarming green globules that like so much to maul me to death. My disappointment upon discovering this was a palatable entity in the room which, my damnedest be damned, I simply couldn’t get to leave. Mr. Disappointment then ended up keeping my wife, cats, and I company as I finished the second level. Have yet to try kinesis in a zero-g section (wherein you’d think it could be used gloriously), but I only just convinced Mr. Disappointment to leave and am hesitant to ask him back. Moving on, I’m still using the plasma cutter. Yeah, that sucker’s damn useful. Ammo’s plentiful (more on that in a second), and it’s stunningly useful at all but the closest of ranges. Now, I’m probably abusing the designers’ intent in doing this, but I haven’t bought any other weapons and I’m currently mid-way through the third map. You see, I began to notice that I’m provided (almost exclusively) with ammunition for the plasma cutter so long as it’s the only weapon in my inventory. There have been a few exceptions (to wit–I’ve found a whopping 50 pulse rounds and four lines), but thus far, the lowest I’ve been on plasma munitions–on Hard difficulty–is ~40. Glee.
Another weapon-specific behaviour I noted tonight is that firing on an empty clip initiates the reloading sequence. I’m of two minds about this. While I think it’s pleasantly generous of the designers to do so for a blind or desperate or stupid player, it has the potential to be bug-fuck annoying to someone who is not any of those things. EA, seriously: if I drain my clip in a hot’n'heavy shoot ‘em up with a few necromorphic hotties, you know, if I manage to shoot myself dry, I’m unlikely to want you to reload my weapon for me. Rather, I’d very much like to hear a click-click-click corresponding with my frantic button-mashing, see unhindered enemies advancing towards me, and contemplate which course of action I’d prefer pursuing–reload tool of destruction, swap boom-sticks, initiate stasis field, run to the hills–than I would you assuming what’s best for me. Make no mistake: I understand, hell, I even on some level appreciate the gesture, but the gamer in me cries out that I know what’s best for me, that the only way to learn is through adversity and struggle and sometimes messy, messy failure, and that I can choose when I want to reload all by myself, thank you very much.