Tuesday, May 8, 2012

#0055: Resident Evil 3: Nemesis (GC)


I give you fair warning: I'm kind of drunk right now. So if I spout anything incoherent or controversial, I assure you they are not necessarily my views, but the ones forced upon me by my good friend, Mr. Miller.

That being said: Euthanasia! Abortion! Stem-cell research! Cel-shaded Zelda! Controversy is fun when it's also incoherent.

Eight. (I wanted to say 'right', but I mistyped it three times on my iPhone and gave up) Tonight we look to tackle zombie masses, with a series I only have brief history with. The Resident Evil games have been lauded over the years for their eerie atmospheres, clever blend of puzzles and action segments, and the ability to seamlessly introduce sharks in a mansion. That's right: MANSION SHARKS. The fear of every billionaire!

Originally made for the PlayStation, the first title was later re-invented on the Gamecube. And boy, did it look pretty. With approximately four times the graphical power, those zombies were comin' atcha with a whole new look, like a brand new Edgar suit.

Unfortunately, either in an effort to cash in, or a queer way of re-establishing the timeline for RE4's premiere, the next two titles were hastily ported. Resident Evil 3: Nemesis is all 32 bits of terror, brought to you, as the box says, 'in all its original glory'. It's like asking for an iMac and getting the 1998 G3 model. Sure, it's neat and all, but times have changed, and the peak of the iMac came with Zoolander. Henceforth, I'm going to envisage Nemesis as being voiced by Owen Wilson. Golly, almost makes him seem cuddly now!


I've decided that I'm suddenly a BAMF, and I opt to select hard mode. ...At least, I'd like to claim it was because I was a BAMF: in actuality, I selected hard mode by accident. Indeed, the very vibration of the controller and menacing voice stating the title of the game was enough to frighten me.

The game starts with a bang (literally). Jill Valentine, who between RE1 and now has concluded that zombies are best fought in a tube top and miniskirt, muses that this is her last escape, before exploding through a wall like the Kool-Aid man.

A pair of zombies lurch out behind her, and when I first played the game on PlayStation, un-aided by a manual, these zombies were serious trouble. Why wasn't the attack button working?! Was I already out of bullets? A quick squiz at the control screen reveals that you first have to take the attack stance in order to fire, but obviously the zombie invasion had me in such a panic that I failed to realise this. Tragically, I fled right into the waiting arms of a third zombie, who gave me a most unpleasant hickey.

But now, I am a wily veteran. Pow, pow! I shoot the first one in the head, and then dance over his fallen body. Whether it's because hard mode makes them faster, or I'm just an idiot with no depth perception, the second and third zombie close in on me quicker than expected and commence devouring me. Om nom nom! According to lore, that should be the end for me right there, but Jill's a hardy lass who shrugs it off. Regardless, I proceed to piss bolt down the alleyway, squealing like Cyndi Lauper.


So obviously, I'm no better at this game now than I was in 2003, and 2003 Tony was no better at this game then than he was in 1999. I'm glad to know that in a potential zombie invasion, it appears as though I will be quite useless. In all likelihood, I'd probably stay with the dude who locks himself in the shipping container. We could talk about Goof Troop into the wee hours of the morning. Sounds okay to me.

After my inauspicious start, it's a romp through the rendered backgrounds of Raccoon City, fighting for survival and seeking signs of life. Personally, I always struggle trying to find my way around these environments: since every setting is static (save for a camera angle change as you move around), I occasionally have trouble differentiating props from paths. I like to press A to observe everything. I enjoy the concept that Jill would take her eyes off her attackers long enough to note partially eaten food and a discarded toy box. Also, for shits and giggles, I take any opportunity to climb up on things and mock the monsters who are just out of reach. Which was great fun until one of them vomited on my Ugg boots. Fucker.

Twenty minutes into gameplay, and I am so frigging lost, and so frigging out of bullets. It's rapidly shifted from a game of survival into a really upsetting game of tag, and I'm fast lamenting my earlier decision to take pot shots from a balcony, naming the zombies as I shot them.

Finally, after sidestepping countless enemies and eating some green shit I kept finding on the ground, I've made it to the police station, an excellent place for me to chill. Before I can enter however, I'm confronted by the titular Nemesis, who, as you can see from the cover, is not a friendly sort of fellow. He lumbers towards me, muttering 'stars' like an obsessive Javert fanboy, and I'm given the option of running into the police station, or taking his ass out.

The choice is obvious: I'm going to fight him like a (wo)man! Here's a video detailing how it went:


...No, this isn't what actually happened. As you may recall, I had no more bullets, and I've yet to figure out a way of throwing my gun like a boomerang. He killed me quite swiftly. The game handily informs me that I died. I make sure to check that I am actually still alive, and begin typing this entry. Pretty sure its claim was erroneous, but I suppose I could just be a particularly wordy zombie.

As a final side-note, I always felt very morose when fiddling with the options screen. A combination of this music and a depressing grey background of twitching, infected cells certainly made me feel guilty for being there. Dammit, all I wanted was to change to control type B! Don't judge me!!

2 comments:

  1. It's been a very long time having not played any Resident Evil games myself. I just lost interest i guess after Nemesis.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I reckon RE6 looks pretty awesome, but we'll see if I ever end up playing it.

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