A Game of Unbridled MAGnitude
We've heard of MAG, of course, long before any game play was shown. Discussions have flared up and subsided, as anything does on this Internet of ours. The flavor of the month and whatnot, you know? Well, Zipper Interactive and SONY have brought it back to the forefront this week, and have made damn sure that we remember about the 256 players engaged in modern warfare simultaneously.
An impressive number, as far as multiplayer shooter numbers go. Two hundred and fifty-six feels well rounded, especially in the savvy tech world of computing. A number we have, in days of old, associated with the number of kilobytes or megabytes found in gaming machines, such as the Tandy 1000, with its 256 KB of RAM; or the 256 color modes able to display with VGA hardware. Now, this number comes back to bite us in the ass (a pun, if such a thing is permitted, was absolutely intended here).
But outside the technical marvel of such a value lie questions, and mysteries that may only find answers with the consumption and later digestion of the product here advertised. What I would like to ask first is this : if within 16 players engaged in virtual combat, one finds nearly half to be either inadequate partners who knife their own team mates for a laugh and frivolous man-children screaming to their moms about PB sandwiches and Mountain Dew refills, how much will 256 bring about? Map vetos are probably going to become metagames at this point.
Sure, I'm most possibly not seeing the bigger picture here. The whole concept of deathmatch and team deathmatch will now consist of more than just two factions, and the bipolarity of competitive gaming will be thorn asunder, making place for a new world order. Two hundred and fifty-six could very well be divided in 64 teams of 4 people, or vice-versa. Eight teams of 32 players? Why not. It doesn't matter how you divide this whole mess, since you still have the shocking total of a big two-five-six running around a map teabagging each other. To the casual observer, MAG will probably look like a virtual version of Gangbang 32, starring Ashley Blue.
Okay, maybe I'm taking this reflection a bit too far. I should perhaps keep this within the spirit of the Grand Ol' Design of Gaming them. Team Deathmatch, then. It has been a fixture in competitive and casual gaming for a while now. And the reason it has proved itself so fulfilling and undeniably addictive is because the individual player can, and will, become the hero. One player can turn the tide in these proxy wars and rise himself above the fold. Inside a group of 16 combatants, it is much easier to become a Lil' Poison or Thresh and to prove yourself worthy of attention. The multiplayer community, especially when it comes to FPS, thrives on this feeling of singularity; it is the opportunity to show your peers that you have what it takes, to give 'em a beatdown and, in the immortal (yet now ambiguous) words of John Romero, have 'em suck it down.
How will you become the One, when 255 other jocks are getting busy with the shotgun and your face? Pardon the analogy.
Maybe MAG is after all a cooperation thing. Perhaps this game will bring people together in teamwork, bridging the divide between the different generations and factions of the ludo-community. The individual will transend the self, the id, and in symmetry with the rest of the world "he" or "she" will become "we". Gamerscores and trophies will dissapear to make way for a universal chant, of voices so clear and loud that the skies will open new horizons. Aliens will hear the unity of our hearts and offer guidance and technology, and an era of space travel will confirm humankind as bearer of the flame of knowledge. It will be glorious.
Or just 256 guys humping each other's face...
An impressive number, as far as multiplayer shooter numbers go. Two hundred and fifty-six feels well rounded, especially in the savvy tech world of computing. A number we have, in days of old, associated with the number of kilobytes or megabytes found in gaming machines, such as the Tandy 1000, with its 256 KB of RAM; or the 256 color modes able to display with VGA hardware. Now, this number comes back to bite us in the ass (a pun, if such a thing is permitted, was absolutely intended here).
But outside the technical marvel of such a value lie questions, and mysteries that may only find answers with the consumption and later digestion of the product here advertised. What I would like to ask first is this : if within 16 players engaged in virtual combat, one finds nearly half to be either inadequate partners who knife their own team mates for a laugh and frivolous man-children screaming to their moms about PB sandwiches and Mountain Dew refills, how much will 256 bring about? Map vetos are probably going to become metagames at this point.
Sure, I'm most possibly not seeing the bigger picture here. The whole concept of deathmatch and team deathmatch will now consist of more than just two factions, and the bipolarity of competitive gaming will be thorn asunder, making place for a new world order. Two hundred and fifty-six could very well be divided in 64 teams of 4 people, or vice-versa. Eight teams of 32 players? Why not. It doesn't matter how you divide this whole mess, since you still have the shocking total of a big two-five-six running around a map teabagging each other. To the casual observer, MAG will probably look like a virtual version of Gangbang 32, starring Ashley Blue.
Okay, maybe I'm taking this reflection a bit too far. I should perhaps keep this within the spirit of the Grand Ol' Design of Gaming them. Team Deathmatch, then. It has been a fixture in competitive and casual gaming for a while now. And the reason it has proved itself so fulfilling and undeniably addictive is because the individual player can, and will, become the hero. One player can turn the tide in these proxy wars and rise himself above the fold. Inside a group of 16 combatants, it is much easier to become a Lil' Poison or Thresh and to prove yourself worthy of attention. The multiplayer community, especially when it comes to FPS, thrives on this feeling of singularity; it is the opportunity to show your peers that you have what it takes, to give 'em a beatdown and, in the immortal (yet now ambiguous) words of John Romero, have 'em suck it down.
How will you become the One, when 255 other jocks are getting busy with the shotgun and your face? Pardon the analogy.
Maybe MAG is after all a cooperation thing. Perhaps this game will bring people together in teamwork, bridging the divide between the different generations and factions of the ludo-community. The individual will transend the self, the id, and in symmetry with the rest of the world "he" or "she" will become "we". Gamerscores and trophies will dissapear to make way for a universal chant, of voices so clear and loud that the skies will open new horizons. Aliens will hear the unity of our hearts and offer guidance and technology, and an era of space travel will confirm humankind as bearer of the flame of knowledge. It will be glorious.
Or just 256 guys humping each other's face...
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