The First Five

Before I begin my excellent Viking dissection of the 'First Five', I have a few announcements to make.

As you should know from last weeks blog, I now have an assistant Dwarf technician who knows his way arround computers and technology in general the same way Ianardo knows his way around the house of a married woman who has become infatuated with him and demands every carnal pleasure imaginable. To put it much more simply, our Dwarf knows his way around computers as I know my axes way through a peasants intestines. Even more simply, he's very VERY good with computers. In fact his resume (it wasn't really his resume, he was just wearing a shirt with the words on it) only said 'I Will Hack the Shit Outta You'.

Moving on, the reason this Dwarf is so important is that he has indeed 'hacked the shit' out of my site, and found out that I'm getting roughly 84 unique hits on a monday, aka, when the blogs go up.

Better yet, some of these hits are coming from people outside Vikingland, such as the UK and the USA.

There is only one thing I have to say to these people.

WELCOME! AND FOLLOW MY BLOG, BY ODIN! REALLY! FOLLOW IT! I HAVE A QUOTA OF 100 FOLLOWERS BY YEARS END TO FILL!

Many of my followers may believe that I wouldn't like foreigners, maybe because they are inherently racist (you bastards) or that my general Viking experience with foreigners has been, in fact, when I am the foreigner looting, killing and pillaging in a place foreign to me.

THIS IS UNTRUE. I love people from other places! Without raiding and pillaging, which is the BACKBONE of Viking economics, we wouldn't be able to do anything. Our whole way of life depends on having people living in places we have to sail off to to plunder.

Unfortunately, due to my growing popularity (84 unique hits bitches!) I risk invading a village which holds a follower of yours truly.

That's why I, the Viking Gamer, am setting up Viking tourist industries.

That's right! The genuine Viking experience! All you have to do is set up a village, away from your own, and on an unspecified date we raid your fake village and 'kill' (we may accidentally kill, there's a waiver involved) and loot and pillage and go away. There will be heaps of photo ops, as long as you have a quick finger and can duck and weave well, as well as the opportunity to really experience the sheer horror and terror of watching your whole life burn down before your eyes while giant, muscled men run towards you, drenched in blood, wielding axes bigger than your fathers newly made corpse, screaming demonic battle-cries.

Prices vary according to the population of the village, distance to the village etc.

We also do childrens parties.

So, yes, I love people from other places, and encourage these people to follow my blog and leave a comment. I would love to put on my horned hat and talk gaming with people from anywhere, and remember people, there's always the chance I will interview you.


What do I mean by the 'First Five'? Well, as a Viking warrior (a handsome, Viking warrior {a handsome, kickass Viking warrior [the bestest handsomest awesomest amazingest Viking warrior EVER]}) I am used to be exhilerated in much less time than 5 minutes. A raid my only last five minutes! If I dragon punch, it's about 30 seconds.

So when I play a game, my attention has to be more grabbed than my hand on a peasants tunic when I'm bearing down on him, ready to steal his sandwich.

In the first five minutes of Bioshock I am trapped in an underwater city, and I can feel my chest tighten as claustrophobia sets in. My nerves start to unravel as a broken jukebox plays a skipping Pattie Page; 'How much is that doggy in the window doggy in the window doggy in the window...'

In the first five minutes of Final Fantasy VII I am stunned by the enormity of the situation I am thrown into, fascinated by a reality alike yet so unlike my own, aching to know what's going to happen next.

In the first five minutes of Darksiders, I wondered if my money would have been better spent on a fleshlight, or better yet, a different game that wouldn’t have been a waste of my life.

The first five minutes of any game are crucial to its success, and inevitably define the pace and narrative structure for the entirety of the game. These same minutes will often also be the deciding factor of whether or not you’ll want to finish the game.

Think of the most critically acclaimed games. How many of them had you from the moment you took control? And why did these games draw you in?

Take God of War for instance. Our protagonist declares himself abandoned by the gods, and as he steps off the cliff, our narrator begins with; ‘And Kratos cast himself from the highest mountain in all of Greece...’

Even before the introduction of our protagonist we are placed in the middle of a story. Why has he been abandoned? Why is he so willing to die? Has Kratos ever seen the sun or is he simply the whitest boy alive? My personal quest to find out whether Kratos was a warrior trying to find redemption or a pissed off buff albino was one of my motivations for finishing this game.

For the next two minutes we don’t even realise how bland our enemies are because we are entranced with our newfound weapons and abilities. Swords on chains. They don’t teach you genius like that at university. They also don’t teach you how to pick up an enemy single headedly and rip him in two, which is the next thing you figure out how to do.

Before the fifth minute has come up, we fight a hydra, half razor sharp teeth, half ugly reptile, one hundred percent ready to tear a chunk from the other, other white meat. In this fifth minute we also discover there are fight sequences that test our abilities to push a button whilst simultaenously trying to tear our eyes away from the insane amount of carnage that you are inflicting on this mythological beast.

To emphasise the point, I didn’t like God of War, and I still don’t. I am also less willing to give a second of my time to something I don’t like, which explains my irregular visits to the dentist.

The obvious question is, ‘why did I finish it then?’

Quite simply, I had to see the conclusion, and I knew this would require hours of gameplay. Why didn’t this deter me? Because in the first five minutes I discovered the joy of slashing enemies with swords on chains and smashing a hydras head into a ship’s hull. I understood there would be ways to entertain myself with the combat system as the game progressed, and if that got boring I was promised with gore and carnage a-plenty.

The first five minutes should be as important to developers as it is for gamers for several reasons. Many retailers are now offering the choice to return a game in a short period of time if you didn’t enjoy it, so impressions have to made quickly. On top of this, gaming is an expensive hobby. If we aren’t initially impressed by our product why should we, as consumers, risk around one hundred dollars (ed: $AUD for you foreign types) on a product that might not live up to its price?

Whether we are aware of it or not, we judge our games in the first five minutes of playing them. In these minutes, our favourite games, and all great games, provide us with an insight into the games big picture as well as giving us a new experience.

It is with games as it is with life; make your first impression count. I know that's easy for me to say, because I'm a 7ft Viking, and ALSO the Viking Gamer, but goddammit, GRAB MY ATTENTION.

And to those of you in the industry who regularly, nay, RELIGIOUSLY follow my blog, just remember that my scoring system is out of five...

COINCIDENCE!?

I think not.

Til next time, the gamer with horns on his hat.