The post 8 boss fights that are way different from the rest of their games appeared first on Game News.
]]>
Sometimes a change of pace is good. We may love a game to pixels and be happy to while away our days in its digital landscape, but once you start hitting 10, 20, 50-hour benchmarks, variety starts to become a necessity. It’s not hard to inject something different into the mix–some mini-games here, a couple of side missions there, maybe a boss or two with their own gimmick to nab our attention again. Come on devs, mix it up a little! Go crazy!
Well, okay, maybe not too crazy, because the more one thing differs from the game around it, the more likely it’s going to feel out of sync. That’s especially the case with boss battles that are so unique that it doesnt feel like they even belong in the same game anymore. Theres different and then theres straight-up mismatched, and if you push it to too faryou already did it, didn’t you? You did it eight different times. Aww, frick.

Uncharted is, for the most part, pretty open-ended in terms of how you beat down the waves of enemies thrown at you. As long as you follow the don’t-get-dead rule, you can shoot/snipe/blow up mooks to your heart’s content. All that goes out the window when you go toe-to-toe with Navarro, the game’s devious final boss–and by toe-to-toe, I mean his gun to your face.
From the wide-open battlegrounds that fill the other 99% of this game, the final battle funnels Nathan Drake onto a heavily guarded tanker as he tries to stop Navarro from leaving the island laden with ancient cursed gold. The ensuing battle is comparatively claustrophobic, as Nathan is cooped into a small portion of the ship with only destructible boxes to hide behind. Regardless, its tolerable, and taking out the gun-toting maniacs that fill the ship is all a matter of skill. Then you get to the final-final encounter, disarmed and staring down the barrel of Navarro’s rage (and also his gun). Cue jumping between boxes and throwing perfectly timed punches, where even the slightest deviation from the developers’ plans ends in failure. Jeez, somebodys a control freak.

A game-changer among first-person shooters, Portal broke the gun mold by focusing more on puzzle-solving and physics manipulation than killing. Excluding the disturbingly cute turrets, Chell doesn’t cause any sentient being harm during her excursion through Aperture Science. That is until GLaDOS tries to dispose of her still-living body, at which point the portal gun becomes a weapon of mass DOStruction.
Once Chell reaches GLaDOS’ secret lair, the object of the game goes from shooting yourself across rooms to shooting the AI with rockets, knocking off and incinerating pieces of hardware that contain her personality. However, a straight-up boss fight feels really out of step with what comes before, since Chell’s most violent act in the testing chambers is knocking over some egg-shaped bullet-douches. Plus, the fight is timed, so thoughtful pondering is right out while you try to deal with this brand-new kind of pressure. There are still puzzle-solving elements to it, since you have to figure out how to get each object from point A to point Burn, but in a lot of ways the change just doesn’t compute.

The story of BioShock is, first and foremost, the story of Rapture. Discovering what led to the citys downfall creates its own natural sense of rising action, so no need for clunky trope signposts to get you through. Instead, things develop organically from Raptures shattered ruins, instilling a sense of melancholy when you finally leave it behind. Oh, but you have to beat this generic three-tiered boss before you go. Thats cool, right?
Compared to BioShock’s natural build-up, its conclusion suffers from final boss shoehorning with the fight against Fontaine. Before the encounter, Bioshock’s only “boss fights” are the optional, player-driven Big Daddies battles, and those don’t yank you out of the experience for a bland beatdown. Fontaine, however, is completely separate from the rest of the world, a level unto himself. All of a sudden you’re focused on a straightforward boss fight with no room for different choices or play styles, reducing the game to a pseudo-magical shootout. Compelled to take part in this forced charade? There’s a man vs. slave joke in there somewhere

Sly Cooper is a man–er, mammal–of many talents. From sneaking to swiping to stealing the hearts of (literal) foxy ladies, there seems to be nothing Sly can’t do. Which is good, because in the middle of some plot-important sleuthing, he travels to the jungles of Haiti and must defeat the heinous reptilian mystic Mz. Ruby in a voodoo dance off. Oh lordy.
Mz. Ruby’s main method of attack is throwing objects conveniently shaped like Playstation buttons, which you have to match to keep Sly from getting knocked on his furry ass. Apparently this hurts our lady lizard somehow, because each time Sly passes one of her trials she loses a fat chunk of health. If it’s confusing how that’s supposed to work, its even more confusing how it’s supposed to fit in a game comprised of stealth mechanics and boss beat-ups. Thankfully, it doesn’t take much to bring Mz. Ruby down–you just need the power of dance.

Unless youve had your head in the sand for the past ten years (and I mean, even if you have), youve probably heard of Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time. But did you know there was a Prince of Persia before that? No, its true! And it got quite a bit of attention in its day for having one of the most confusing bosses gaming had yet seen. A shadow version of the main character, the Prince’s doppleganger does everything exactly as you do, so it’s impossible to kill him without getting killed yourself. A difficult boss isn’t weird for Prince of Persia, but the answer to defeating him is about as out of place as a Swede acting as Iranian royalty. You do nothing.
In a move that was new for not only Prince of Persia, but gaming itself, the answer to defeating the doppelganger was to have the Prince sheath his sword and walk up to the shadowy other, joining with him in one form. This pacifistic solution bewildered many players back in the day, since there are no other circumstances where the Prince can lower his sword without being ruined by enemies.

If there’s one thing Final Fantasy has taught me, it’s that the solution to everything is to beat the shit out of it. Childhood rival, vicious dictator, malevolent half-sword, half-clock god, the answer’s the same. Kick the ever-living bejesus out of it, and the universe will thank you. That’s why when I first played Final Fantasy VIII and got to the Adel fight–where you have to avoid hurting a friendly party member attached to the boss chest–my brain started to smoke.
Following a series of events infinitely too complicated and dumb to explain, monster sorceress Adel comes down from her space prison on a wave of sky-demons and absorbs leading lady Rinoa, forcing the party to fight Adel while not brutally killing their friend. That means all ranged attacks are out, as are summons, and for a game where summon-spamming is a perfectly legitimate strategy, that throws a wrench in the works. We can really only take so much insanity, Square-Enix–and we’re the folks who were fine with Quina.

Banjo-Kazooie is the kind of game that prides itself on being weird and non-traditional. I mean, there’s a sentient cheat code book! And garbage disposal whale-sharks! And you win the main character’s sister back during a game show! This quirky title plays by no rules but its own, and its rules are freaking weird. Well, except for the final boss. Yeah, that is weirdly normal.
Like Portal, Banjo-Kazooie is solidly about one thing through most of its run: hunting around while funny stuff happens, and probably saving your sister at some point. However, it turns into something else right before the credits roll. Banjo and Kazooie climb to the highest point of the game’s overworld and fight the kidnapping witch Gruntilda, at which point things play out like a pretty generic boss fight. Its disappointing when you look forward to more corny fun and get the same kind of final battle youd play in any other game. Well, at least they bring in colorful bird-lizard-creatures to assist, after you fill their statues with eggs. There’s that weirdness we know and love!

I hate you so much, Magnusson. First you show up like I’m supposed to know who you are, then you won’t get over a twenty-year-old exploded casserole, and then you give me this thing. This ungainly ball I have to use against five-story-tall robots while their little underling friends try to turn me into mincemeat. Thanks for nothing, you jerk.
One of the most difficult fights in all of Half-Life 2, the strider battle that ends Episode 2 is made five times harder by the Magnusson Device–a magnetic ball you attach to striders, then shoot to blow it up. While the idea of one-shot-killing a strider is sick as hell, it’s less amazing in practice. The devices can only be found at far-between dispensaries, so God help you if your aim is bad. Then if you manage to attach it to a strider you better be ready with that shotgun, because if youre not fast enough itll deactivate and you have to start all ovER AGAIN GODDAMNDJSKLFJSDKLFDAFDSJKLFD. Since this is the only “boss fight” where you do anything like that, the minute-long practice session you get beforehand doesn’t help much. So yeah, fuck you Magnusson. I’m glad I ruined your lunch.
The post 8 boss fights that are way different from the rest of their games appeared first on Game News.
]]>The post 9 hilariously evil ways games punish cheaters appeared first on Game News.
]]>
Since time immemorial, video games have included cheat codes. A tiny handful of letters, numbers, and symbols let players experience their favorite games in ways that the developer may not have intended. Infinite lives. All the weapons. Oh, look, a tank just appeared! It’s a great way to get some additional joy out of a game you’ve thoroughly crushed, or perhaps get past a level that’s giving you a really hard time. So then, why would developers put a cheat code in a game and then slap the player’s hand for trying to use it? Because they’re evil, that’s why.
Many games will openly mock, berate, or even punish players for using codes. Plus, with products that specifically change the game’s code (like the GameShark), these penalties aren’t always deliberate. Whether intentional or not, these are some of the most diabolical ways in which games penalize players for cheating. The punishment may not always fit the crime, but the results are usually hilarious. Well, at least when it’s not happening to you..

Banjo-Kazooie is a mean, vile beast of a game. Sure, it’s got a bubbly theme song and cutesy bug-eyed characters. But underneath that adorable demeanor lies not only one of the most disturbing abominations to be found in a kids game (opens in new tab), but also a cheat system that will completely ruin your day if you’re not careful.
In order to enter cheats in Banjo-Kazooie, first you have to find a secret keyword, then enter it in a special room inside a sand castle. These cheats won’t get you in trouble, and are a natural part of playing the game. But there are super-secret level-skip cheats that aren’t part of the actual game, and if you enter too many of them, Grunty will swoop down and completely erase your save file. At least your helper Bottles is courteous enough to warn you before you go too far.

Remember the GameShark? Essentially a hexadecimal editor for dummies, the GameShark would rewrite bits of code in the attached game, granting infinite health, ammo, lives, or all sorts of other neat features that the developers never intended. Most of the time, these cheats would go away when you turned the game off. Using it with Donkey Kong 64, however, will make you instantly regret your decision.
Using certain GameShark cheats on Rare’s classic platformer will occasionally cause your game to glitch out in some very strange ways. But that’s not the half of it; the GameShark can also make it so that you literally cannot pick up a single item off the ground, and you’ll always die in one hit. It wouldn’t be so bad if it went away after you turned the game off, but if you accidentally save your game while in this state, this glitch never goes away. Nope, you’re now stuck with a broken game. Forever. I know cheaters shouldn’t prosper, but this is just mean.

The shopkeeper in Link’s first Game Boy outing has his eye on you, and if you try to walk out of the store with a pocketful of bombs, he’ll yell at you to come back over to the counter and pay for them. But, if you’re clever, you can (literally) run circles around the store owner, tricking him into looking the other way while you walk out of the store scot-free.
Or so it would seem. You may think you’ve pulled a fast one on the game, but you’ll start to notice that people are starting to nonchalantly call you “THIEF” instead of whatever name you typed in at the start. Also, if you try to go back into the store because you forgot to pick up some arrows to go with that bow you just stole, you’ll find the shopkeeper waiting to laser blast you out of existence. Was it worth it?

Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right B A. You probably know it as the Konami Code, a sequence so ubiquitous that even non-Konami published games feature this string of button presses. Most of the time it grants the player infinite lives, or some other awesome power or ability. Which is why it it’s incredibly evil when developers prey on players’ expectations and punish them for giving the code a shot.
In the SNES version of Gradius 3 (a Konami game, no less), players who attempted to input this code were “rewarded” with a destroyed space craft. No, you had to replace the “left” and “right” button inputs with L and R button presses to get the real cheat code; something you’d never even know unless you read the Classified Information section in Nintendo Power. Less mean but still kind of emotionally scarring, Super Monkey Ball Jr. on Game Boy Advance changes the title to Super Nice Try if you attempt to put in the Konami code. It’s not even a Konami game.

Oh, we all know you’re a hard working mayor, doing your best to keep your metropolis running smoothly, but sometimes things get a little rough, and you have to do whatever you can to get a little extra cash. In the first SimCity game, typing in “FUND” would get you a cool ten grand; more than enough to help float you for a bit. But free money is alluring, and typing in the code too many times will cause an earthquake to rip your city apart. It’s probably God coming to punish you for your avaricious ways.
SimCity 2000 also lets you type “FUND” for some extra cash, but here, it’s given to you as a loan. A 25% loan. Which is worse: a city-shattering earthquake, or debilitating debt? You can type in “CASS” for a smaller amount of $250, but there’s also a 15% chance something terrible will happen to your city. Do you feel lucky?

Afterlife is pretty much SimCity for heaven and hell. You control both realms of the afterlife, and have to build structures to either reward virtuous spirits or punish naughty ones. It’s also a LucasArts game, which means it’s filled with pop culture references. Namely, a particularly notorious moon-sized space station crops up whenever you decide to play it fast and loose with the cheats.
If you type “$@!” while you’re playing, you’ll get an additional ten million pennies to spend on various implements of torture/virtue. Get a little trigger happy with the copper coins, though, and the Death Star will show up in your metaphysical little kingdom and start cleaning house. Just further proof that you don’t mess with the Dark Side.

Glitching out a horror game so you don’t have to confront its horrors seems to defeat the entire purpose, but hey, you bought the game, and you want to play your way. I get that. The developers of the creepy Slender: The Arrival get that too, and they’ve specifically tuned their game to anticipate any sort of player malfeasance and scare the shit out of you for trying to pull a fast one.
If you attempt to escape from the faceless horror of the Slender Man by glitching outside of the borders of the map, you’re greeted with a ground that has no bottom as you instantly fall to your death. But that’s seems like a typical punishment for trying to walk where a floor hasn’t been programmed. Slender: The Arrival ups the scare factor by taunting you with a haunting “Not even a bug in this game will save you from me” while you die. Damn you, Slender Man! Why must you torment me so?

Cheating in an offline, single-player game isn’t so bad when your conscience is the only thing you have to answer to. But being an unscrupulous player in an online game, with volatile economies and real, in-game consequences well, there’s no excuse for that. Typically, cheats are punished with an account ban and an email detailing why they’ve been booted permanently from the game. But the developers of Guild Wars wanted to make sure that everyone got the message, and have come up with a sadistically brilliant way of doing so.
If your account has been caught breaking the end-user agreement in any way, be it through illegal mods, duplicating items, or whatever other infractions that could otherwise give you an unfair advantage, you’ll get a visit from the massive, screen-filling Dhuum. It’s Guild Wars’ version of the personification of Death–complete with giant scythe–and he pops up out of the ground to slice your character in half (opens in new tab), thus booting you from the game entirely. It’s a win-win for everyone; The Guild Wars team gets to kick out the riff-raff, and the people around the offending player get to have a bit of a laugh. The only person not laughing? Well, they had it coming.

Now, banning players completely from playing online is a totally understandable thing to do. If you break the rules, you have to face the consequences. But what if you don’t want to kick potential players (and future DLC purchases) out right away? What if you want to give them a chance to atone for their sins, while making sure they never, ever cheat again? Well, you do what Rockstar did, and lump all of the cheaters into one big room full of jerks.
If you get caught cheating in Max Payne 3, you’ll find it increasingly difficult to find matches online, and when you do end up in a match, you’ll notice it’s full of cheaters just like you. That’s right, you’ve been relegated to the cheaters’ servers, and have been banned from normal online play. There is a way to get back on the regular servers, but it probably involves some kind of blood oath or just being nice and not cheating any more. One of the two. Camping, however, won’t get you banned. It might be cowardly, but it’s a legitimate strategy.

It’s one thing to poke fun; it’s another to completely demolish your save file just because you wanted to skip a level or two. Have you been berated by a game for trying input some hot Game Genie codes? Let me know in the comments below!
Be sure to check out this Top 7 list of insane video game musical numbers no one asked for (opens in new tab), or gaming’s 15 best living weapons. (opens in new tab)
The post 9 hilariously evil ways games punish cheaters appeared first on Game News.
]]>