As more games attempt to eliminate the boundaries that limit
our interactivity with the medium, they become increasingly aware of their own
potential. In doing so, they’ve succumbed to many of the restrictions that such
ambitions possess. One of the drawbacks of an interactive medium is the
overextension of creativity. Games have become more ambitious in terms of user
interaction. As compelling as a game’s concept may be, the idea is only as
strong as its execution. When hype is driven by potential, the game is suddenly
judged on its ability to meet, if not exceed, it. Though they often become
bestsellers, they also never seem to follow with their promises thus
disappointing many gamers who’ve pinned their hopes upon such games.

Prince of Persia:
The Sands of Time was one of the most brilliant adventure/platforming games to
have graced our generation, and despite its merits, the title’s most defining
attribute was its freerunning feature. Yet no matter how compelling the
feature, it was always limited to the game’s environment. So when the
masterminds behind Sands of Time announced they were starting work on a new
title that promised to take this defining feature into an open gaming universe,
you can imagine the gaming world’s excitement. What the game eventually became
was Assassin’s Creed, one of the most ambitious, and ultimately disappointing,
games of this generation.

I applaud the game’s attempt to create a huge and dynamic
playground for which to parkour into ecstasy, but the playground is meaningless
if you can’t do anything inside it. The problem with Assassin’s Creed is that
developers forgot they were making an actual game. Truth be told, what the game
did right, it did it in awesome fashion. Freerunning is one of the most
enjoyable features I’ve ever experienced in any videogame. However, it’s the only feature that the game
gets right. Though the actual assassinations are genuinely fun — if not an
annoying lesson in the dangers of repetition — they only comprise about 5
percent of the game. To compensate, the developers thought it clever to have
gamers redo the same chores before every mission. Interesting at first, the
appeal of the tasks becomes increasingly stale as the missions go on, wherein
players are suddenly aware that the only thing that changes about the tasks is
the irritability level.

No matter how ambitious Assassin’s Creed was, it can’t hold
a candle to Peter Molyneux. Molyneux could easily be described as the
industry’s most ambitious game developer, and he’s been more than outspoken in
his attempts to incorporate elements of morality and emotion into his games.
While Black & White was Molyneux’s first attempt at this, it was Fable that
tried to implement moral choices and consequences into the actual design. Yet
because morality is such a complicated thing to tackle, Fable ends up a
mediocre RPG, too ambitious for its own good.

Of Molyneux’s many promises of Fable’s potential, few were
actually implemented. The game’s biggest selling point was its freedom of
choice, and it does a wonderful job in crafting that illusion. Truthfully, the
choices you make only amount to how heroic or demonic you become; there is
never any middleground to your morality. The only choice in the game that
exists is whether you want to be either the world’s greatest civil servant or
the world’s biggest douchebag. Though the types of quests you choose may change
with your character’s morality, the actual game is completely linear, with a
world that never seems to age along with you.

It’s hard to be convinced that my actions have
consequences if the world around me
refuses to change. It’s like being constantly trapped in a time bubble, only
I’m tragically exempt from everlasting youth.

Describing these two grandiose games brings me to the point;
the ambition of Spore. Ambitious doesn’t even begin to describe what Will
Wright intends to do with this title. Wright, creator of the phenomenal Sims
franchise, aims to beat out not only Molyneux in ambition but also every game
developer who has promised bigger and better things. Dubbed “Sim everything,”
the game will attempt to imitate the stages of evolution. Essentially, the
entire game is divided into five stages known as the cell, creature, tribal,
civilization, and space stages. You’re able to create and control the evolution
of a species, and each stage will provide gameplay distinctive to that
particular level. Yet a greater aspect of Wright’s ambition comes in the
inclusion of a Spore encyclopedia, aptly titled the “Sporepedia.” Unlike
typical multiplayer affairs, the Sporepedia will allow you to share your
species with other players.

Not only that, the game will give you the option to select
other species to inhabit your world. The feature will also implement a function
called the Sporecast which will constantly update you with information about
the most popular species — you can even choose to subscribe to the creations of
a specific player. It’s a sort of social networking built into the game, with
ambitions of file and video sharing along with community filters not unlike
those found in YouTube.

Spore is not just ambitious but potentially revolutionary.
However, with promises of ambition comes the standard expectations and
disappointment. While I applaud games that are becoming more and more
ambitious, how many Assassin’s Creeds or Fables can I possibly bear? Despite my
fears, however, I’m glad that these games exist. Without their attempts to
further develop the industry, games wouldn’t be as evolutionary and radical.
Though many of these games have arguably been disappointments, if more and more
games like Spore become successful, perhaps the general public will see our
industry as a viable medium. Hopefully Spore’s success can convince people of
the craft’s potential.