Under the Gun

Kept you waiting, huh?

It's been a while. For good reason, I assure you. Please bear with me - the tone of this post is probably going to be a lot more serious and relevant than I'm used to writing. In the past two months, I've been rather busy. Granted, work takes a lot out of me, and I basically work a second job in MechWarrior Online at this point, but I've been meaning to get something off my chest. It's something I've been thinking a lot about, and I've been waiting for someone in the video game community to come out and say it, but as far as I can tell, nobody has, so I guess it falls on me. Here's hoping it doesn't fall on deaf ears.

I love guns. That much should be obvious; people typically don't write blogs about shooters without taking a serious interest in their real-world equivalents. I've been fascinated by the things ever since I was a kid. Like everyone else who hasn't been under a rock since mid-December, my news feed has been lit up daily about the events at Sandy Hook Elementary and the immediate political impact it has had on the United States. Now, I know where I stand - I like guns, and to me, the Second Amendment is very clear cut in its protections of civilian firearm ownership, especially in the historical context of the Bill of Rights. The D.C. v. Heller case, and later, McDonald v. Chicago established that yes, the Second Amendment protects individual firearm ownership (i.e., it's not about the National Guard), and that weapons considered "in common use" were specifically protected by the Second Amendment.

And yet, here we are, with Sen. Diane Feinstein and the Obama administration attempting to strip away firearms they've deemed "assault weapons" (despite having no difference in function to traditional semiautomatic firearms) and "high capacity clips" (i.e., standard capacity magazines). Vice President Biden fully admits that none of these proposed regulations are likely to stop mass shootings, yet they plan to move forward with them anyway. This is despite the fact that the real effect will likely be an increased likelihood of death for any law abiding citizen faced with multiple attackers when seconds count - a crazed gunman facing no resistance has plenty of time to reload 10-round magazines, but if I'm facing multiple attackers with just my FNP-9, I want all 16+1 rounds of 9mm in my weapon at once. People constantly tell me I'm paranoid for even thinking that's a possibility outside of the ghetto (where I used to live), but it can and does happen, no matter where you live.

Remember: efficient self-defense is only for the privileged. So sayeth the Brady Campaign.

Luckily, the NRA, in all their heavy-duty lobbyist glory, has come riding along to the rescue. Wayne LaPierre came out a week or so after Sandy Hook, and blasted the Obama campaign for their political opportunism, offered a reasonable solution to prevent school shootings by recommending armed guards (a solution which, despite the left railing against the suggestion as "irrational," has already been accepted by Newtown, CT), showed no intention of throwing AR-15 owners under the bus, and...blamed video games?

It was an accusation that made my blood boil.

Let me give you some background to this - growing up, my parents did not want me anywhere near firearms. I've always had a short temper, yet rarely was ever moved to actual violence with the exception of one short-lived fight in middle school. I was always all bark and no bite, mostly because I a.) didn't want to get into trouble, and b.) have never been physically capable of being a good fighter thanks to being both out of shape and asthmatic growing up. I've made great strides towards fixing the latter issue, but the former has still prevented me from ever resorting to resolving issues with violence, even though I now carry the aforementioned FNP-9 on my hip wherever I'm legally allowed to and keep multiple firearms - including an AR-15 I built in college - in my apartment. Like tens of millions of other sane, gun-owning Americans, I'd prefer not to torment myself by knowing I took another man's life unless it was absolutely necessary.

As a child, my experience with firearms and violence in general was exceptionally limited. Despite having two parents who were active military and later in the Reserves, I never fired a gun nor did anyone in my family own a firearm until I was 19 and well out of my parents' home. Like most kids in the late '90s and early 2000s, I played plenty of video games too, but my parents were exceptionally careful not to let me own things like dart guns for a long time (even getting a slingshot was an affair that resulted in me writing an essay to my parents as to why I wanted and needed one), and violent video games were entirely off the table until I was around 13. While I had fond memories of playing Mortal Kombat and Goldeneye 64 with my uncle, the first time I was allowed to buy an FPS game was when Halo: Combat Evolved came out. It was all downhill from there; next for me came Half-Life, then Counter-Strike, Ghost Recon, Rainbow Six, and so on.

More accurate than I'd like to admit.

Nonetheless, when Columbine happened - well before I was ever allowed to own shooters and had to beg and plead just to get permission to borrow my uncle's copy of Medal of Honor (in which I was terrified of dying) - I still very clearly remember getting a stern lecture a few months after the shooting from my dad about how similar I was in personality to Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold. While he wasn't entirely off-base considering my temper and my general social awkwardness, I still felt like I was being singled out for something I'd never do. Virginia Tech was more of the same. I felt like I could not indulge in the things that I liked, the things that fascinated me, because I had to shoulder the sins of a handful of psychopaths. I was ashamed for being myself, perhaps wrongfully so, as I don't think it's what my parents had intended for me to get from the lecture, but ashamed nonetheless.

Because I didn't have enough reasons to hate Seventeen magazine.

It should thus go without saying that I'm no stranger to the political crusades that Sandy Hook has spawned. The difference is that this time, instead of feeling ashamed, I'm now angry, I'm an adult whose opinion might actually be considered valid, and most importantly, I vote now.

I've been playing violent video games since I was 13. I've been shooting since I was 19, and carrying a firearm almost daily since I was 21. I've yet to kill anyone, never drawn my weapon in anger, hell, I haven't even been in a fight in almost a decade. So, can someone please tell me why the government has seen fit to tell me that I'm dangerous and should not be allowed to enjoy what I do, and the one group with the political leverage to oppose them is telling me the same about my other big hobby?

We as a country have far bigger issues to address in the wake of the Sandy Hook shooting. The most obvious issue is our country's mental health system, in which normal people with issues are too afraid to get help lest they lose control of their lives to the state. There's plenty of other factors - poverty, culture, a disrespect for the lives of others, ignorance of the real dangers our world poses to our lives and our livelihoods, the list goes on.

I think my parents may have been a bit overzealous in their sheltering of me (but who doesn't think that growing up?), but they did instill in me a sense of morals that made me understand the power of the gun and the responsibilities that come with it. The grim consequences of taking someone else's life were made very, very clear, and I approach the subject extremely seriously, as many people like me do. Yet here I am, stuck between a rock and a hard place, desperately lobbying and defending one hobby that's explicitly protected by the Constitution by begrudgingly supporting an organization who apparently didn't get the memo that my other big hobby was already deemed protected by the Constitution as well (and, incidentally, happens to be alienating a huge source of future supporters - i.e., people who got into guns because of Call of Duty, Battlefield, etc. - by attacking it).

I'm angry about this whole situation, and I think I damn well have every right to be. That doesn't make me dangerous to anyone else though, and I hope both the government and the NRA will come to realize that as soon as this thing comes to an end. The other thing I hope they realize? I have a right to vote, and I'm very careful about who I give my money to. It's not what I do with my guns they should be worried about - it's what I do at the ballot box and with my money that they should be concerned with, because I can and will fight them with both.

And I am not alone.

2cool4u: 343i's UNSC and the Death of (Good) Lore

Ok, I'll admit it. I love Halo. Bungie's Halo: Combat Evolved was the first FPS I really ever sank my teeth into (yes, I know, "babby's first FPS," etc.; blame my parents and their rules on video game violence). To this day, I still claim that my life simple would not have been the same without Halo. The friends I've made, the rivals I've gained, and the experiences I had in my teenage years often could be traced back to me sitting slack-jawed in awe during the summer of 2002 as I fought my way through the game's titular ring world.

While the gameplay was nothing short of superb - Goldeneye 64 had created a working formula for console FPS games that Halo: CE perfected - my favorite part of the series was its thoroughly well-defined lore, especially in the novels such as Eric Nylund's superb Halo: The Fall of Reach (said novel was passed around so often in my circle of middle school friends that the binding was nearly destroyed). The Covenant seemed vast and truly alien, the Forerunners were shrouded in mystery, the Flood seemed unbeatable and terrifying, and the UNSC, the military arm of humanity, was written as a capable and strategically sound fighting force that was only being pushed back through attrition and due to a technological gap with the Covenant that was bordering on the extreme. Of the major players in the universe, the UNSC was always my favorite.

Oddly enough, it was never the SPARTANs that made me like the UNSC. Rather, it was their portrayal as a whole - the UNSC was structured like a modern military (Marines, Army, Navy), had plausible future technology at its disposal (helloooooo railguns!), and perhaps best of all, was imperfect but still highly competent. Internal conflicts would often pit parts of the UNSC against one another such as Dr. Catherine Halsey and Col. James Ackerson, and the UNSC would often find itself fighting human insurrectionists on their own colonies over political differences. Nonetheless, humanity was shown to be a tenacious and capable opponent. To me, this alone was worth nothing in comparison to what little sci-fi games I had played at the time, where humanity was often seen as hopelessly outclassed by alien invaders. Halo's UNSC represented a plausible, logical evolution for humanity's military in an age of space exploration. It was by no means perfect, but still effective and highly professional.

Look at these badasses. State of the badass art.

And now, in the age of Halo 4, 343 Industries has seen fit to throw that all out the window.

Personally, I blame a large part of this on Karen "Mandalorians" Traviss and Greg "ancient humans" Bear. Neither author's work fits well with the existing Halo canon, with Traviss distorting Dr. Halsey's character from a brilliant scientist willing to go to extremes to save humanity into a mustache twirling villain whose greatest success - the SPARTAN II project and by extension, the Master Chief - saved humanity by pure accident. She also champions the ODSTs as being superior fighters to the SPARTANs (which is flat-out wrong), but I'm not as angry about this because the ODSTs are total badasses and the Halo equivalent of SEALs/Delta/CIA SAD. Bear on the other hand has seen fit to rewrite humanity into an ancient spacefaring race that lost a war against the Forerunners and was "devolved" as punishment...but for some reason is still chosen to be the successor to the Forerunner empire. Not only is it exceptionally stupid, but it flat-out ignores pre-existing canon (i.e., 343 Guilty Spark explicitly explaining that humans are basically Forerunner descendants in Halo 3).

"I'm not saying it was the Forerunners, but..."

While utterly disgusting from a literary standpoint and insulting to Eric Nylund's work (which is more or less the reason "video game fiction" is such a large part of any modern bookstore's sci-fi section), I was ok with ignoring it for a while simply because Bungie had always stated that games overruled the extended universe canon. This sometimes resulted in stories losing a bit of their awe factor, such as the Covenant blitz on Reach, but it did help clear things up when certain questions would be raised as a result of an in-game revelation.

Of course, now that Bungie no longer has complete control of the franchise, 343 Industries can allow as much of the stupidity present in the novels to be present in-game as they like. The biggest casualty thus far, and the reason I'm worried I'll be disappointed on Tuesday, is the image of the UNSC.

Halo 4's UNSC is not the UNSC we know and love from the original games. Their entire design philosophy has appeared to shift from "efficiency-focused, purpose-built" to "rule of cool." Even their new logo reflects this - what was previously a relatively simple silhouette reminiscent of modern military logos is now this:

LOOK AT ALL THOSE STARS, STRIPES, AND EAGLES, MAN. GOD I LOVE AMERICA EARTH.

The rest of the UNSC's design hasn't fared much better. Halo: Reach had a stable of very impressive, canon-friendly armor designs for use in multiplayer. Halo 4...well, see for yourself: For comparison, you'll also find Halo: Reach's armor variants shown below as well.

Halo: Reach armor permutations. Note the clean lines and logical visor placement.

Halo 4 armor permutations. Note the elaborate,  almost-decorative designs.

Halo 3 (not shown) and Halo: Reach had armor designs that always had an explicit purpose such as the EOD "chin fins," which would supposedly redirect blast pressure from explosives to prevent decapitation, or the Operator helmet, which has integrated cameras that likely provide improved thermal/night vision capabilities in the extended universe canon. Halo 4's armor designs seem to almost entirely be designed around aesthetic appeal rather than any in-universe purpose. The uniform design philosophy of its predecessors has been tossed right out the window in the hopes of having a better "cool" factor. This is an art direction decision that appears to have seeped into every part of Halo 4 - from the UNSC Infinity's ridiculous size (numerous small ships would have served its in-universe purpose much better, more reliably, and at a lower cost) to the stripped-down armor of the redesigned Covenant Elites. The result is a setting where everything but the brand-new Promethean race has been made to look like a mockery of their old selves.

Now, before I get crucified for being a nitpicky jerk (I am), let me go on the record as saying that the shifting of the art direction from a focus on logical design to a lens flare-and-dubstep montage-friendly design is something I've seen happen before, and it utterly broke my view of that game's universe as a coherent setting. That game was Mass Effect 3.

While my disgust over Mass Effect 3's ending was enough to make me call it quits on the series right then and there (yes, the extended ending was terrible too and you know it), I did keep an eye on Bioware's work with the game's multiplayer aspect out of morbid curiosity. For those not in the know, Mass Effect 3's multiplayer is considered to be canon and in-universe - the multiplayer battles are fought by players in an attempt to hold key locations previously secured by Commander Shepard. While Mass Effect's armor and weapon designs have gotten progressively worse as the series goes on (why can't I get my old space opera armor back instead of this carbon fiber monstrosity?), nothing could prepare me for this:

SHAMEFUR DISPRAY, BIOWARU

This is the N7 Shadow Infiltrator (such an edgy name!). While Kai Leng and his Phantom buddies were bad enough in the main questline, I always just imagined that the Illusive Man had a hidden weeaboo streak. As it turns out, no, weeaboo fightan sticks samurai swords katanas are, as of Mass Effect 3, somehow an ideal weapon on the battlefield. In a universe where guns shoot particles at a fraction of the speed of light and people can throw you around Vader-style. Riiiiight. The fact is, these weapons had no place in a setting that had originally set out to present itself as a "talky sci-fi," where there were well-thought out, well-explained explanations for pretty much everything short of space magic biotics. The inclusion of space katanas - and, by extension, all the OTHER stupid stuff that didn't make sense in Mass Effect 3 like Volus combatants - utterly destroyed any sort of consistency that the setting may have had, and thus my interest in it.

Of course, this isn't to say that I have no faith in Halo 4. Pre-release reviews have been nothing but glowing (though we all know how reliable reviewers are after Mass Effect 3), and 343i knows exactly how much is riding on this title. It's not a case of "well, if we screw up, it was the last game anyway" like Mass Effect 3 was. However, I am exceptionally concerned - Bioware already ruined one of my favorite franchises for me this year, and seeing 343i fall prey to many of the same mistakes they did is worrisome. Ultimately, though, I can't bring myself to make a statement on the quality of a game like this without playing it, and luckily dedicated fans like myself are starting to speak out about their complaints over Halo's new lore direction. Here's hoping that I'm pleasantly surprised on Tuesday, and these issues all ultimately turn out to be nothing more than temporary missteps.

Overdrive: Why Games Need More Run and Gun

In a world of cookie-cutter shooters, "ordinary" has once again become the extraordinary.

(Sorry for the long absence, real life has (sadly) caught up to me recently. Moving sucks. - VR)

This past week saw the long-awaited, totally free, and shockingly well-polished Black Mesa. A mod a full eight years in the making - and technically still not finished - has recreated Half-Life from the ground up using the engine that powered its sequel. Needless to say, the bar was set quite high. Half-Life has long been considered a cornerstone of modern video games, and with good reason. When it released in 1998, Half-Life was considered revolutionary, and many of its design tenets, such as the use of scripted sequences to both advance the plot and create dynamic scenes during gameplay, are still used widely in modern shooters.

Black Mesa, amazingly enough, manages to not only maintain the spirit of Half-Life almost fourteen years after the game's debut, but also improve upon it in several ways. By refining level progression, puzzle solving, and scripted events, the Black Mesa team was able to polish the few rough segments that were present in the original game. It is very much a 90's shooter in the clothes of the modern era. This isn't to say that Black Mesa is without flaws, but it did an utterly fantastic job at hiding them, considering the project was done entirely by volunteers.

Black Mesa's greatest achievement, however, may be the complete shift that the game will represent to players new to 90's-style shooters. Valve has always been big on games littered with health packs, where finding that one vending machine while stuck at 5HP seemed like a godsend, even if you had to stand there manually dispensing sodas to increase your health 1HP at a time until the machine ran out. Even if you didn't find a way to regain health, the game benefited. The feeling you get while crawling around Black Mesa Research Facility knowing that hurting yourself while solving a puzzle or missing a single errant headcrab can mean instant death borders on paranoia - which suggests a great level of immersion in a game's universe.

My crowbar loves you too, headcrab.

These design tenets make Valve's games fairly unique in the modern shooter world - even the descendants of classic 90's shooters such as Duke Nukem have traded in high speed, high-risk running and gunning for regenerating health and endless waves of enemies. Gaming as a whole has suffered as a result. For a great example of how much games suffer in a world that holds your hand and lets you magically regenerate fatal wounds simply by retreating, consider the following. Spoilers ahead, but you've had fourteen years to catch up. If you haven't played the game yet, go do so now, then come back.

In Black Mesa, arguably one of the best scenes in the game comes just after rescuing a group of scientists from self-isolation in a medical lab. At this point, Gordon Freeman (the player) has fought his way through the Black Mesa Research Facility, going from ground zero of an alien invasion, through countless offices, across a forgotten tram system, past swarms of government HECU soldier death squads, and has finally made it to the surface, which will allow him to fight his way into the Lambda Complex and possibly halt the inter-dimensional takeover. The problem? He has to get someone to let him out.

Unfortunately, Gordon doesn't work at CERN, where everyone already knows to leave the doors open for him.

The scientists, who until now had been pinned down by aliens, HECU troops, and a horrible device of their own creation, are more than happy to let Gordon out. After disabling the device that originally entrapped the scientists, the group immediately runs towards the exit. Just before they return to the lobby, however, one scientist stops and points out a terrifying reality: it's simply too easy. Fearing for their lives, they ask Gordon to scout ahead and make sure the lobby is clear. Suddenly, HECU soldiers lock the door behind Gordon as he enters the room. The scientists panic as their worst fears are realized, and the game kicks into high gear.

What results is the following - a spectacular encounter that got my blood pumping like no other game has in years, and a battle that I never wanted to end:

I won't lie, I got chills the moment the music kicked in. A bizarre, zen-like quality washed over me as I strafed all across the room, only stopping to reload behind cover. The actual battle lasted at a minute and thirty at best, but felt like half an hour. It was nothing short of exhilarating.

Of course, similar battles play out across every major shooter to come out these days. Many of them involve far more explosions and enemies. Why does this one stand out?

Simply put, it all lies in the gameplay mechanics, namely the lack of regenerating health. Whereas one can simply go prone in Call of Duty for a few moments, be back at 100% and have had time to reload their weapons before resuming the fight, Black Mesa gives no quarter. Stopping and shooting from cover is generally a mediocre plan at best, as HECU troops are fairly decent marksmen, and failing that, soldiers with shotguns will rush your position and swiftly end you with a few solid hits. Your health isn't coming back any time soon either. Survival then becomes a matter of skill, rather than patience. Speed and efficiency become far more important than clever abuse of game mechanics and a cozy corner to camp in. At the end of it all, when the scientists come out of the hallway and stand in awe of your handiwork, you're given something that retaking the White House in Modern Warfare 2 completely failed to provide: a sense of satisfaction.

I understand that for many people, Black Mesa, and by extension, Half-Life's gameplay is very unfriendly. It pulls very few punches, and takes pleasure at making you squirm. Often, the game will push you down a path that will make you ask "how the hell am I going to get out of this mess with just 12HP?" But, I will argue that the effort the game asks of you is repaid in spades with the sense of accomplishment you get from thinking your way out of a bad situation. After all, Half-Life was originally called a "thinking man's shooter." With modern shooters, the previous question is almost never asked, but I do often wonder "why the hell am I still playing this?"

Games by their very nature should provide a challenge to encounter and overcome, providing enjoyment to the player as they do so. Modern shooters appear to have forgotten this, instead providing us with an endless array of identical bad guys to fight, never stopping to make us develop and apply clever solutions to unique problems. The challenge of games has disappeared, and with it, much of the fun has too. The removal of risk often means the removal of rewards, and when the rewards of games are no longer worth the time one has to invest in them, why play them anymore? Here's hoping that Black Mesa finally gives the industry a reason to let us make risks and allow the consequences to give us a memorable experience in the name of "accessibility." We're adults now - let's shift back out of first gear and bring back the adrenaline rush.

A Tale of Two Spin-Offs: Ace Combat Cross Rumble and Ace Combat Assault Horizon

As someone whose childhood was defined by repeated viewings of Top Gun, it should be no surprise that I love the Ace Combat series. For the uninitiated, Ace Combat is basically an arcade-style flight action game, mixing an accessible flight model with plenty of missiles, melodrama, and music that results in a truly unique and enjoyable experience. However, after the release of Ace Combat 6: Fires of Liberation, Namco saw fit to try and liven up the series by changing a number of the franchise's established concepts. After numerous sequels and spin-offs, evolving the series' formula was to be expected - one of the few criticisms that was leveled at Fires of Liberation from nearly all reviewers was that the game brought very little new to the table compared to the last 7+ games in the series, especially since most dogfights effectively boiled down to "do high-G turns until you can shoot a QAAM at the other guy."

Ace Combat Assault Horizon was to be the rebirth of the series, introducing a number of new features and concepts to the formula. Sadly, Assault Horizon may ultimately have done more harm than good to the series. But, before one can discuss what AH did wrong, it's important to understand what previous Ace Combat games did right that gained Project Aces both immense respect and the undying adoration of a legion of fans (myself included).

Ace Combat has always had a very simple gameplay formula, trading realism for fun as much as possible without trying to ruin the fantasy of being an elite fighter pilot. Every game since the original Air Combat on the PS1 has featured a wide variety of modern fighter jets from all over the world, and armed players with scores of missiles or bombs that "reloaded" after being launched, giving players reason to concern themselves with ammunition consumption without forcing them to return to base once all their hardpoints were empty. Flight was simple but enjoyable, with most fights coming down to "knife-fight" range where you could visually track your bogey and confirm your kills, unlike modern flight simulators where beyond visual range (BVR) combat is the norm. Enemies presented themselves in vast numbers and varieties, creating epic air and ground battles for every mission. After each mission, players would receive points which could be used to purchase bigger and better airframes - you had to earn your F-22A Raptor or Su-47 Firkin, it wasn't simply given to you.

Ace Combat also featured an alternate-reality world, known collectively as "Strangereal," which allowed the stories of the series to form a cohesive, comprehensive universe. Strangereal has scores of unique nations that have obvious parallels (like Yuktobania and the Soviet Union or the Principality of Belka and Germany), but there was always enough variation to make them unique. This fictional setting is what made the politics of the series, the wide variation in aircraft, as well as the signature melodrama and superweapons acceptable within the constraints of the universe.

I'm pretty sure Germany hasn't ever built a giant laser cannon.

Perhaps most importantly, by having the games take place in Strangereal rather than the real world, it allowed for Project Aces' writers to pen grand tales of near-legendary heroism in the face of all odds. In keeping with the goal of the series - to make the player feel like an ace pilot - Ace Combat treated the player with respect that eventually gave way to sheer awe and borderline hero worship, only giving them a callsign and never any characterization to encourage players to treat their character as a self-insert. 

There's an old joke in the aviation community that asks, "What's the difference between a fighter pilot and God? God doesn't think he's a fighter pilot." Ace Combat takes this "big hero" mindset to its absolute extreme, and it paid off, with many players' fondest memories of the series being the moments where your allies regained hope and your enemies began to panic on the radio simply because they heard you had shown up. It was a consistent theme within the series, and despite being a very small part of the narrative in each game, there was simply nothing like hearing NPCs cheer on the "Demon of the Round Table" (you) or "The Ghosts of Razgriz" (you and your wingmen) before the final showdown, which was naturally set to equally epic music. Ace Combat games are essentially modern fantasy tales, like stories of Arthurian legend, with fighter jets and flying aircraft carriers in place of horses and dragons, and the player was the star of the show.

With each and every one of these things being part of the established Ace Combat formula, it's not just puzzling, but downright shocking that many of them were simply thrown out in Assault Horizon. The missile count and plane variation was still there, but almost nothing else was, at least not in a large enough quantity to matter. Plane buying? Gone. Strangereal? Gone. Melodrama? Gone. Superweapons? Gone (nukes do NOT count, as far as I'm concerned). Heroism and that empowering sense of invincibility? Gone. Even the free-form dogfighting was mostly stripped out in favor of a new, often-scripted gameplay mechanic.

So, why exactly was Assault Horizon changed so much from the original formula? Well...

WARWOLF BLOW UP THAT TRINITY WITH YOUR LANDING GEAR

As much as Namco insists it isn't true, it's evident that Namco's executives decided that having a loyal, mid-sized fanbase wasn't enough. They, like BioWare and DICE, wanted the Call of Duty audience (which, to date, has never resulted in good things, much less commercial success - I'll touch on this in a later post). From the moment it was announced, both myself and the Ace Combat community as a whole noticed the parallels to Activision's Call of Duty series. The color palette was suddenly subdued compared to the game's predecessors, the setting was now generic "evil Russian ultranationalist" modern warfare tripe, and the scripted events appropriately Michael Bay-ish.

The most jarring change of all was in regards to how dogfighting was approached. Whereas the older Ace Combat games had entirely free flight for dogfighting, Project Aces attempted to add a bit of variety and flair to combat by introducing Close Range Assault, or CRA. CRA locked the player onto a semi-guided track that followed the target once CRA was engaged, and often flew them through plenty of low-altitude obstacles such as skyscrapers and cranes. 

The stated goal of CRA was to make dogfighting more personal and flashy as opposed to simply waiting for a lock tone and firing, but it often became a hindrance to personalized gameplay. Certain targets were simply invincible unless they were locked into CRA, and in some cases, they were still invincible until they passed a certain scripted event on the CRA flight path. The result was a gameplay mechanic that felt fresh and slick at first glance, but ultimately became boring and static once you knew that no matter what you did, you didn't have to actually follow the target yourself, couldn't kill him before he passed a crane, and that even if you broke off, the enemy would fly the exact same path every time until you killed him.

It's obvious that CRA was also introduced to make online play more accessible (and, hopefully, as popular as Modern Warfare 2's by making combat a matter of style over substance). Online play was plagued by unlockable skill sets that were required to stay competitive (just like Modern Warfare), overpowered combinations (also like Modern Warfare), and enough lag to drive you insane (definitely like Modern Warfare). While online play in Ace Combat has never worked well, why Project Aces decided to focus on attempting to improve adversarial combat that would likely be a laggy mess (as it ended up being anyway) rather than extending the single player campaign or co-op missions is beyond me.

Wait, nevermind, I know why they did it.

Still, perhaps the biggest reason Assault Horizon fell flat was due to something else entirely. The thing that most people remember the Ace Combat games for is the aforementioned feeling of pride in one's abilities, and the fantastic tales that the games spun with you as a protagonist. This was a consistent theme from the very first Ace Combat all the way through Ace Combat Joint Assault, which had a real-world setting like Assault Horizon, but otherwise kept all the cliches Ace Combat is normally known for. 

Assault Horizon, however, threw this out entirely, and that is perhaps its most underrated crime against the series. The pilot you play is no longer a faceless, nameless self-insert (as I mentioned previously, this worked to the benefit of the series in the past), but rather one Col. William Bishop of the United States Air Force. Let's ignore the fact that this may already be making him hard to relate to for folks outside of the U.S. and focus on other things. Col. Bishop has a voice. He has a personality. He has an appearance. He has a history. He is DEFINITELY not you. 

However, Bishop's most out-of-place characteristic is that he has fears. Compared to the cocky, can-do persona one thinks of when they think of fighter pilots, he's definitely unlike any of the other protagonists in the series. To make matters worse, the game insists on switching your perspective, forcing you to play as both a helicopter pilot and a bomber pilot - both of whom were so bland that I can't even remember their callsigns, much less their names - in missions that felt like they were forced into the game for the sake of adding another bullet point on the back of the box ("Ace Combat, now with an AC-130 mission just like that one other modern war game you like so much!").  This confusion was only exacerbated by the lack of briefings. Apparently people don't have the attention span for them, nor any interest in knowing where they're going or why, despite the fact that it might actually make them care about what they're about to do and help create a coherent plot.

Bringing our focus back to Bishop, he does one other thing that furthersets him apart from all other Ace Combat protagonists - he fails, nobody has confidence in his abilities, nor do they cheer him on, for good reason. No matter what you do against your nemesis, Markov, there is a point in the game where he will beat you, thanks to CRA. This has nothing to do with skill, and will even occur if you have enough skill to beat him under normal conditions (the first time I fought Markov, the game literally made him instantly counter and hit me after I managed to somehow break his scripted attack). This, above all else, shatters the illusion of being an ace pilot by saying that you will lose when the game tells you to, and will only win when the game lets you. You are not an ace, you're just along for the ride. It completely negates what Ace Combat is all about. 

Not all is lost, however. Shortly after the launch of Assault Horizon, a second, lesser known Ace Combat game was released. Ace Combat Cross Rumble, also known as Ace Combat Assault Horizon Legacy outside of Japan despite having NOTHING to do with Assault Horizon (thank god), was a much humbler game released for the Nintendo 3DS, likely as part of a contractual obligation by Namco to release an Ace Combat game on the system.

Incidentally, it is also a superior game to Assault Horizon in nearly every way.

I also happen to think that the Japanese box art is the best box art in the series, but that's probably just me.

So, what does Cross Rumble do that Assault Horizon didn't? The short answer is "pretty much everything." Cross Rumble  is a complete remake of the legendary Ace Combat 2, which means that it has a fairly well defined standard to meet. Of course, Project Aces didn't -have- to release a remake of AC2, but they did anyhow, which incidentally bodes pretty well for those currently petitioning for an Ace Combat HD Collection. What made Cross Rumble special even as a remake, however, was how much thought and effort went into making it a complete package. Not only does Cross Rumble expand on the original experience by adding in new planes, better graphics, and improved controls, it gives long-time fans of the series a reason to play by essentially revamping everything else. 

After Assault Horizon was initially announced, one of the most common complaints was that fans wanted more stories set in Strangereal. AC2 was already set in Strangereal, but Project Ace opted to go a step further and make massive additions to the plot. The original plot was fairly barebone, but the Cross Rumble version took many of the best parts of the subsequent Ace Combat games and integrated them into the experience. 

The result is arguably the best campaign in the series since Ace Combat Zero: The Belkan War, including multiple ace squadron dogfights (Zero), branching campaign paths (AC2, Ace Combat 5: The Unsung War), plenty of radio chatter (every AC after AC2), new characters, new subplots, improved briefings that helped you understand your part in the conflict...the list goes on. Additionally, in classic Ace Combat style, your character - who is once again nameless, voiceless, and faceless - goes from "new hire" to "legendary hero" in short order, gaining all sorts of praise and encouragement along the way. Whatever ego-stroking was taken out of Assault Horizon was definitely back for Cross Rumble. Another welcome re-addition is the ability to choose whatever aircraft you wanted for any mission. Unlike Assault Horizon, where CRA was so integral to the game that taking an attack jet like an Su-25 Frogfoot was simply not allowed, you're given the freedom to choose your weapon under any circumstances in Cross Rumble (though the game will warn you if the plane you selected isn't ideal).

That said, crushing these guys with an A-10A is beyond satisfying. Hat tip to whoever drew this.

The improvements don't end there, either. A number of other unlockables and special modes were also added to extend game time. Special challenge missions and survival modes offer experienced AC fans an extra challenge, while collectible addicts can spend hundreds of hours trying to unlock every plane and every color scheme for said planes, including AC2's signature fantasy "superplanes," which were missing from Assault Horizon. While controls and graphics are less than ideal thanks to the limitations of the 3DS, the sheer wealth of gameplay options makes it a better value than Assault Horizon ever could have hoped to be, and no development time was wasted on a multiplayer mode that would have been underutilized at best. It's also in 3D, but let's be honest, nobody really cares about that.

Additionally, Cross Rumble, like Assault Horizon, needed a special gameplay mechanic that would differentiate it from the older games and break up the monotony of "circle of death" dogfights. However, rather than utilizing CRA, Cross Rumble integrated the Tactical Maneuver (TM) system from Project Aces' sole non-Ace Combat game, The Sky Crawlers: Innocent Aces. The TM system works by building up a gauge the longer you're in close proximity to an enemy aircraft while in normal flight. Once the gauge is partially or completely full, you can hit one button and your plane will automatically do a fancy maneuver that should put you in a prime position to annihilate your target with either missiles or guns, with a full gauge giving you a better attack position than a half full gauge. Dodging missiles can also be done in the TM system by waiting for a prompt, then pressing the circle pad in the indicated direction while hitting the maneuver button. Best of all, this new system, while useful and satisfying to use, is entirely supplementary to old-school dogfighting. It makes things easier, but you're never railroaded into using it like Assault Horizon does with CRA.  

In summary, Cross Rumble succeeds where Assault Horizon didn't because the new gameplay mechanics didn't force the player to play a certain way, and the formula that made Ace Combat popular to start with stayed intact - once again, you were the star of the show, and you succeeded on your own terms, not just when the plot and/or gameplay mechanics allowed you to.

There's very few bad things I can think of to say about Cross Rumble, and it's because it does what Assault Horizon set out to do - update the Ace Combat formula - while refraining from throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Fan responses have been similarly positive (aside from the typical console fanboy whining about it not being on the PlayStation Vita), which is a far cry from the response to Assault Horizon. These responses should be all the proof Namco needs that fans want more Ace Combat, not "Call of Duty in the sky," as one reviewer called it. Variety has been and always will be important to the industry, and by comparing these two spinoffs, as well as the fan reaction comparing them to the legacy games, it's clear that Ace Combat is at its best when the series is allowed to sing with its own voice, rather than forced to emulate that of another. One can only hope that Namco will realize this sooner rather than later, and we'll get both an Ace Combat HD Collection and an Ace Combat 7 long before we ever have to revisit Assault Horizon.

P.S.: Go support the Ace Combat HD Collection petition. Seriously. The fans should always be in charge of getting releases green-lit, not company executives and bean counters.

The next time I get asked this question, I want it to be in 1080p.

Author's Note: I'd like to credit Chi-Chun Liu, creator of Assault Horizon's "Death Rider" F-15C Eagle skin, for pointing out the similarities between Ace Combat and fantasy myths. I knew there was something about the series I'd seen elsewhere before!

Balance, Tactics, and the Problem with Pistols

Average semiautomatic pistol, according to DICE

Author's Note: This article will include discussion of both real-world and virtual weapons deployment. If you are unfamiliar with one or the other, I strongly suggest doing some research on your own so that you can have a better understanding of my claims.

I play Battlefield 3. A lot. Like, an awful lot. As in "I give myself insomnia playing this" levels of "a lot." While the game is certainly fun for the most part, there's a certain element that has bothered me since launch, and, curiously, it doesn't seem to bother anyone else. In fact, it doesn't seem to bother anyone in Battlefield 3, it didn't seem to bother anyone in Modern Warfare 2, and it didn't even bother them in Rainbow Six: Vegas. Maybe it's simply because it's such a small part of the actual gameplay, but I feel like I'm the only one who's bothered by this. Whether or not anyone else notices, it's a problem that has gone on for far too long and needs to be addressed. 

The problem? Automatic pistols.

It does seem like a non-issue, right? Wrong. There are currently 18 (including the DICE-exclusive M1911A1 S-TAC variant) handgun variants in Battlefield 3. One would think that with so many guns available, everyone would be using different sidearms. The problem is, the community as a whole uses three main guns - the M93R, the Glock 18, and the .44 Magnum.  Of these three, the latter does enormous amounts of damage in comparison, and the former two are automatic. 

Still seems like a reasonable choice, right? A sidearm is a last resort, after all - why not use the most powerful ones? Well, to put it simply, the automatics can double as primary weapons due to their extreme rate of fire (ROF) and damage in close quarters. I've lost track of how many times I've turned a corner, opened fire with an assault rifle, and been instantly killed by a quick burst from someone's pistol before he keeps running, usually killing one or two more people with it rather than using the shotgun or sniper rifle on their back (it's always -always!- a Recon player).

This shouldn't be happening. If you decide you want to slip through enemy lines with your sniper rifle, your approach should be one of extreme caution and stealth. It should NOT be as simple as swapping to a Glock 18 and cutting your way through anyone who happens to be there. By giving people something that is effectively as powerful as a primary weapon, you a.) discourage certain playstyles, and b.) put anyone who isn't using one of these weapons at an extreme disadvantage. It's a bit hard to justify using the M1911 or any of the stock pistols when you could pick a weapon that basically boils down to "point it in the general direction of the enemy and receive kills."

This is, in essence, my issue with handgun balancing. It has been an issue in nearly any game with automatic handguns I've ever played - in the name of "realism," they often have either equal damage to the semiautomatic handguns or such a high rate of fire that the damage output and reduced accuracy is negligible since you're able to spray a wall of lead at anything that moves. Rainbow Six Vegas pistol-only matches were often ruined by one person using a Glock 18C, which inevitably turned what would have been a slower, more intense match into yet another run-and-gun disaster. 

The only game that has ever managed to properly balance automatic handguns (that I've played, anyway), was, oddly enough, Battlefield: Bad Company 2. The M93R made an appearance here as well, but it was balanced in accordance with its damage per second (DPS) compared to the other handguns. In addition, it was relatively inaccurate past spitting distance, which made it a great "OH <censored>" weapon when you were caught off guard, but relatively useless otherwise. At close range, it could easily tear through enemies, but past about 10m its inherent inaccuracy and spitball-like damage became apparent. Oftentimes, I would deploy with the M93R as a backup in case I ran out of ammo at knife-fight range, but would find myself needing to engage targets at a slightly longer range and wishing I had taken a standard, more controllable semi-auto instead.

The fact of the matter is that handguns should be balanced by keeping these sorts of trade-offs in mind. A handgun should never be an acceptable replacement for a rifle, shotgun, etc. without requiring exceptional caution and skill on the part of the user. In real life, modern combat handguns in a military or counter-terror scenario are used primarily as backup weapons - they are carried and trained with almost exclusively as defensive weapons. Typical standard operating procedure for handguns is to deploy the secondary (handgun) only when the primary weapon (rifle, SMG, etc.) is empty, dropped, or otherwise not an option, and to use the secondary to fight your way back to safety or to a position where you can bring your primary weapon back into the fight. Attempting to fight on using only this secondary weapon is generally not recommended. 

Translating this back into game balance theory, it means that games should strive to emulate Bad Company 2's handgun balance. By giving each weapon its own niche (all-purpose backup, emergency sidearm, high-damage/high recoil/low capacity gamble, etc.), however unrealistic that may be, developers will encourage players to emulate real-world pistol tactics. When players begin gravitating towards sidearm choices that best fit their playstyle, they'll vary their weapon selection more, and when multiple weapons are viable choices, the game becomes better balanced, more dynamic, more enjoyable, and more likely to capture and retain a loyal fanbase.

Thoughts? Be sure to sound off below!

P.S.: Stop putting the IMI Desert Eagle in games. It's an overrated, ineffective piece of junk in real life, even more stupid than "realistic" automatic pistols in video games, and is worthy of an awfully long post in its own right.

Seriously, I've shot one before. It's a terrible choice for a combat handgun.

I TROL U: "Trolling," "Entitlement," and the Industry

Recently, there's been a rather interesting trend that I've noticed in the way game developers and publishers treat their customers. Perhaps not so coincidentally, it coincided with the popularization of internet trolling. Now, I'm not going to pretend that trolls haven't always existed, but in the past year or so it has gotten to be a bit excessive, especially with memes and general *chan culture finding its way into the mainstream via sites like Reddit and Facebook. Trolling has changed as well - it used to simply be things like griefing (think "that one guy who stands still in the hallway as your team tries to push through so you all die a horrible death when an enemy eventually notices").

These days, the most common method of trolling appears to be consistent repetition of intentional logical fallacies or insults with no real basis. It's exceptionally stupid (and in my opinion, not even nearly as entertaining), but it's very widespread these days, especially on any site involving video games. In a way, it should be expected - internet culture has been tied to video game culture for a long time - but it has resulted in some unexpected consequences. For every obvious trolling attempt where someone says "this game sucks, needs more ponies," there's a legitimate complaint that rabid fanboys, or worse, the developers themselves, will write off as "attempted trolling." Overzealous forum moderators like Bioware's infamous Stanley Woo eventually see anyone who isn't licking their organization's boots as a troll, regardless of whether or not their complaint had a point or a well structured argument. This ultimately impacts how companies see their customers as well.

Our first real glimpse at the future of gamer/industry relations was given to us earlier this year. Bioware, already suffering from the underperformance of Star Wars: The Old Republic, was fending off community attacks left and right. Forumgoers would regularly attack SWTOR in every manner imaginable, from critiques on the Hero engine the game used to its stunning resemblance to World of Warcraft (many referred to SWTOR - and still do - as "WoW with lightsabers," and with good reason). Bioware staff were also placed under the crosshairs. Woo was often mocked as a totalitarian moderator, while Chris Priestly and Jennifer Hepler were also under near-constant attack. Eventually, Bioware instituted a policy which stated the following:

"Effective immediately there is a zero tolerance policy on any form of abuse towards staff, moderators or other Community members.

Anyone posting a personal attack on staff, moderators or other Community members will, at the sole discretion of staff or moderators, be banned from the BioWare Social Network without notice and is no longer welcomed."

It seems like a reasonable response, right? Not quite. 

While there were certainly legitimate trolls who did nothing but call Priestly and Hepler fat, there were also a number of people who were silenced for doing things like calling Hepler out on her terrible writing and desire to effectively make gameplay entirely optional (and Hepler's writing really is terrible - have anyone with a background in creative writing read her graphic novel, M.I.T.H.: Operation Smoking Jaguar, and watch them twist their face in agony). Hepler's critics in particular were called "misogynists" who had vagina envy, despite many pointing out the significant flaws in her writing. Since Hepler's writing in Bioware games often focuses on same-sex relationships, critics were swiftly demonized by both Bioware and the gaming media as homophobes who hated women, regardless of what their actual arguments entailed.

The issue came to a head around the time Mass Effect 3 launched, especially with the revelation that Javik, a Prothean squad member, would be day 1 DLC. Bioware insisted that his story was optional, but long time ME fans saw right through it and called it out as a cash grab where content was cut from a game simply to be sold alongside it. In Mass Effect, the Prothean race has been extinct for millenia, and the things they left behind have nothing short of a monumental impact on the game's universe. Consumers who complained often found their posts being edited or outright deleted in response. Many forumgoers saw this and expressed their complete disgust with Bioware's heavy-handed moderation.

Once Mass Effect 3 launched and the ending to the trilogy was revealed, Bioware's forums once again exploded with anger. The ending was nothing short of disastrous, with more plot holes and inconsistencies opened than the game could ever hope to close. To add insult to injury, the game's "epilogue" screen was effectively a pitch for players to buy more DLC.

Yes, this was really the original end screen for Mass Effect 3.

Gamers, including myself, were livid with rage. Not only had many of us watched what we once considered one of the best new IPs of this generation crumble around itself due to poor quest design, cliched writing, and oversimplified gameplay, but now we were being told that it would cost us MORE money to (maybe) fix it. Criticism was fast and furious, birthing the "Retake Mass Effect 3" movement in a matter of days. The only thing more interesting than the community's rapid response was the response of EA/Bioware and the gaming media as a whole.

Instead of shining the spotlight on these consumer movements - many of whom simply wanted Bioware to admit they screwed up and release a rewritten ending - they chose to demonize them. I was told by EA employees that I had no right to complain about the poor quality of the ending because I didn't pay for any of the games since I had worked for EA until a couple of weeks prior, and that I was a "troll" for complaining (this was entirely false, as I bought the N7 Collector's Edition, which was not available via the EA employee store, and had bought all my previous Mass Effect games and merchandise before working there). Bioware stated that redoing the ending would compromise ME3's "artistic integrity," while sites like IGN and Kotaku - both of whom were swimming in EA-sponsored ME3 ads - began talking of how these consumers were simply "entitled" and had no right to demand Bioware cater to their whims.

The problem here is that consumer demands drive the market. It's the very basis of customer loyalty - if a company caters to a consumer and provides them excellent customer service, that consumer is likely to continue buying from them. However, because EA already had our money in hand, somebody in public relations decided it was perfectly ok to call dissenters "trolls" and claim that they represented a minority, rather than mending the wounds and ensuring a loyal following for their next project. In their eyes, ignoring the problem and hoping it went away would be far easier and cheaper than actually putting in the man hours to give them what they wanted. Ultimately, the tactic did not play out in their favor, and Bioware was forced to put together the Mass Effect 3: Extended Cut. While this did not resolve every issue with the original ending, it did fix a lot of issues and was generally well-received.

However, the damage was already done for many people. Bioware's handling of the ME3 ending debacle is alarming; it took Bioware far too long as a company to swallow its pride and admit they had made a mistake, much less accept that criticism wasn't simple trolling. I, for one, will never again buy any Bioware product unless their public relations department improves exponentially. I also refuse to visit or even link to IGN or Kotaku for the way they treated their target audience during this time.

It has also brought to light a serious issue with the way the games industry handles public relations: while trolling is in fact more common than ever, developers and publishers are far too eager to simply write off any dissent from their audience as "trolling," whether or not it actually is trolling. Heavy-handed moderation and the system of confirmation bias that has been implemented between publishers, studios, and the gaming media thanks to bonuses and advertising dollars has created an echo chamber where any complaints, valid or otherwise, can be ignored. This is ultimately bad for me, bad for you, bad for gamers, and bad for the industry. If nobody is a critic, gameplay will stagnate, and "innovation" will be a farcical buzzword thrown around by the media to a playerbase that simply doesn't know any better. Once that happens, the hardcore base will disappear, and when the casual base eventually loses interest, the industry will collapse under its own weight, all because those who offered solutions to the problems they faced will have been classified as "trolls."

So, for anyone at EA/Ubisoft/Activision/etc. whoever is reading this, please, I beg you, listen to the trolls once in a while. More often than not, you'll find reasonable arguments where you least expect them, and even if you don't, even broken clocks are right twice a day.

Giant Robots for Japan (and why it might just work)

According to Geekosystem (who, admittedly, credits Kotaku, but there's no way in hell I'm linking to that terrible site), two members of Japan's Liberal Democratic Party, Tadamori Oshima and Bunmei Ibuki, plan to discuss the plausibility of building a real, fully operational giant robot. Now, you may recall that the Japanese have previously built a 1:1 scale model of a Gundam, but building a Gundam that is capable of actually moving, nevermind operating in a live-fire combat environment, is a significantly more difficult challenge.

Now, don't get me wrong - I love my 'Mechs. My desk currently has a pair of BattleTech miniatures on it - a Clan Jade Falcon Loki and a Clan Nova Cat Shadow Cat, to be precise - the vast majority of my PS2 games have "Armored Core" in the title, and in high school, any time not spent at the FLGS playing MechWarrior: Dark Age was spent at home playing MechWarrior 4: Mercenaries online. You dig giant robots, I dig giant robots, we dig giant robots, chicks dig giant robots. It's an unavoidable part of being a nerd.

Unfortunately, in real life, giant robots (hereafter referred to as 'Mechs, because I grew up using the BattleTech term) are...well, stupid, especially those that are bipedal. Really stupid, in fact. There's a number of issues with the concept from both engineering and tactical standpoints that make the idea of Atlases serving in the future U.S. Army ridiculous.

Without going into too much detail, let's look at the shortcomings of the 'Mech platform, assuming one wanted to build a "traditional" 'Mech in the vein of a BattleTech Timber Wolf/Mad Cat:

• Energy: In BattleTech, BattleMechs use miniature fusion reactors to power their movements, electronic equipment, and weapons systems. IndustrialMechs use internal combustion engines, but are much slower and more primitive than their bigger, combat-ready cousins. In real life, 'Mechs would likely be fairly slow and difficult to field, as they would either need nuclear reactors like BattleMechs or would be tied closely to supply lines like IndustrialMechs due to the mass consumption of fuel involved.
• Reliability: 'Mechs are depicted in most sci-fi as unstoppable killing machines that shrug off heavy ordnance with ease and can annihilate entire tank battalions with ease. BattleTech is a bit more realistic about this, and BattleMechs can be disabled in any number of ways - critical engine hits in the torso, destroying leg actuators (causing them to fall), destroying a 'Mech's gyroscope and making it lose balance...the list goes on. A real 'Mech would encounter all of these issues and more, with exceptional vulnerability in the joints, as armoring the joint would slow it down even further due to the reduced range of movement, and leaving it unarmored means a single RPG, tank shell, or even tripping and falling could potentially cripple the entire 'Mech. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. Speaking of falling over...

Ow.

• Movement and Profile: Mechanically speaking, bipedal movement is woefully inefficient, especially for a war machine in the 75t+ range. This is a large part of why a 'Mech would probably be very slow without vast amounts of energy. With something like a bipedal BattleMech, it also means it will have a very high center of gravity, making it prone to being knocked over/falling over and potentially injuring the pilot, which could render the whole thing useless. There's also the matter of BattleMechs being very, very tall, thus presenting a much larger target for long-range weapons and making it very difficult to conceal their movement. A BattleMech would likely be carrying far more firepower than a modern MBT (main battle tank) and thus be a prime target for hostile forces - making it such an obvious target isn't going to help.
• Cost: Any 'Mech that is capable of overcoming the previously mentioned engineering issues and is still able to mount a lot of weaponry is not going to be cheap. In fact, designing a power plant to make it move, armor to make it survivable, and internals to keep it from falling on its face while it walks around and shoots things is going to make it very, very expensive. At a certain point, one has to think "why develop all that technology and then have to design a 'Mech to use it when we could just build a bunch of MBTs that use it for cheaper? Then we'd have more firepower, less risk, and more money to boot!"

At this point, I'm sure someone is going "well then, why -would- you build a 'Mech if the idea sucks so hard?" The fact is, as much as I love 'Mechs, I can't see them being viable for 98% of the world's militaries. If anything, powered armor that bridges the gap between traditional infantry and armor, a la Starship Troopers (the book, not the movie), is a much more worthwhile concept for the world's militaries to develop.  

However, there are still potential roles that a 'Mech could fill. Assuming all other engineering hurdles can be overcome, quadrupedal 'Mechs akin to the Stalking Spider or Scorpion could in fact prove exceptionally useful in extremely difficult terrain such as mountains or heavy forests. Traditional armor is capable of moving across some very rough areas, but a quadrupedal 'Mech has the potential to go where even they would have to stop and look for a way around. The designs also have the added benefits of a much lower profile compared to bipedal 'Mechs that can drop low and evade fire on short notice, the lower center of gravity makes them less prone to falling, and the increased number of limbs makes it easier to balance on uneven terrain while also maintaining better mobility should one leg become crippled.

In addition, urban areas are notorious for presenting a challenging environment for armored operations. Close quarters and a plethora of elevated positions can make it very difficult for large tanks to move around and fight in. Enter the bipedal 'Mech. While a bipedal 'Mech would still need infantry support to keep it from being swarmed just like traditional armor, its taller profile and smaller width mean that it can bring heavy firepower where an MBT would never dream of going, and bring that firepower to bear against enemies hiding in positions that traditional armor simply would not be able to angle towards. As an added bonus, dense urban areas would provide plenty of cover to maneuver around, which would negate bipedal 'Mechs' inherent target profile and speed issues.

Now that we've looked the why 'Mechs wouldn't work for the vast majority of the world, it should become clear why they would work for Japan. Japan doesn't have an army; rather, they have a self-defense force, known collectively as the Japanese Self-Defense Forces (JSDF), which is made up of the Ground Self-Defense Force (JGSDF), Maritime Self-Defense Force (JMSDF), and Air Self-Defense Force (JASDF). By its very nature, Japan's military does not engage in long-term overseas conflicts around the globe like the American military. While JSDF forces can be found supporting allied operations such as the war in Afghanistan and various UN peacekeeping duties, their primary mission is the domestic defense of the Japanese homeland - a volcanic archipelago with numerous mountains, forests, and densely populated urban centers. 

In other words, the JGSDF finds itself in a very unique position where the development and deployment of 'Mechs could give it the edge in domestic defense missions. Combine that with the Japanese robotics industry and an entertainment culture where 'Mechs of all sorts are featured prominently (remember, they built a 1:1 scale Gundam for fun), and what would be an absolutely ridiculous proposal in any other government is suddenly not only plausible, but possibly ideal. 

In other news, I'm going to start brushing up on my Japanese. The future is going to be awesome...at least until the Clans arrive.