Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to mourn the passing of a great friend, the PlayStation 3 internet servers. As they power down into oblivion, so too does the defining venture of my multiplayer gaming life, Uncharted 3.
My first brush with online gaming came in the early 2000s, in the house of Sam Touch Sam, he who once roller-bladed crotch first into a door. Sam Touch Sam was also well known for having provocative posters in his upstairs bathroom, as well as access to unlimited And-1 dribbling tapes, but in that era those items commanded less of my attention than the neighborhood rumor that he could play SOCOM US Navy Seals on the internet against ... well, anyone in the whole world.
Prior to this point the landscape of multiplayer gaming was decidedly local. The recipe never deviated from the following equation: one N64 + one basement + four friends + GoldenEye = maximum fun. Although I would experience this mix with groups ranging from John and Brent Warr to that random family on my mission, it never got better than our original four player Smash squad of Ian, Bunna, Spencer, and Chris (aka Herb-Goro v The Wright Brothers). And it didn't get any bigger either ... until we met Bryce Thorup.
For only spending three years in my life, Bryce sure played an outsized role in my teenage entertainment. It was at Bryce's swimming pool that we unearthed the secret that girls were cool. It was at Bryce's home theater that we once tried to watch all extended Lord of the Rings back-to-back-to-back ... and failed miserably. It was Bryce who had the camera equipment capable of bringing mine and Bunna's commercials to screen.11. Which consisted of Man Phan the Ladies Man, Sophomore Bodyguard Protection, and something about Magellan's telescope which involved a scene where we filmed Bryce taking off his shirt. Crafting these commercials made more sense to us than -- woof -- participating in the Renaissance play. But most importantly it was Bryce who had a living room big enough and nostrils tolerant enough to support 20 Halo enthusiasts on the weekends.
Getting that many people together for Halo was not easy! To test the Xbox limits with 8-on-8 mega battles required going beyond the boundaries of Granger High, as we scoured West Valley for additional gamers, cables, TVs, Xboxes, and of course their giant controllers to boot. It required bribery too, in the form of Papa Murphy's pizza, and my what a conundrum this presented attendees, for if you left your controller to grab a slice of pizza your spot in the next match was immediately taken by one of the numerous onlookers. Thank goodness it wasn't Marcos Pizza or perhaps I never would have played a single round of the glorious action.
And so it was in the home of Bryce Thorup, where we often joked that Bunna was most likely to experience rice throw-up (aye, we were 16), that the scope of multiplayer gaming grew in my eyes. So did my driving skills! I almost forgot that entry into the sprawling Thorup compound required a left turn in a middle lane that doubled as the left turn lane for oncoming traffic. Executing this move was stressful every time, and often the primary reason I'd pressure Bunna to drive and vice versa. Man, it's weird to think about the trivial concerns that troubled me 16 years ago.
Online gaming didn't trouble me because it didn't seem real. The thought of getting a virtual group together, of playing online against strangers, at any time, at will, without leaving the house or spending a week making plans and phone calls, with no effort required beyond turning on the PlayStation, seemed impossible unless you had access to NASA technology.
Thus it was with skepticism that Bunna and I headed to Sam Touch Sam's home on December 24th, 2002 to see if he was full of crap or if he really could battle the online masses in SOCOM. What we saw that day was hard to believe at first. Sam wasn't playing against AI, he was playing against other people who were reacting in real time and moving in non-computery ways. He was talking into a mic ... and people were talking back. When he was defeated, instead of the game ending it carried on, with or without Sam's contributions.
Eventually the controller was passed to me. I remember trying to hide in some shrubs to ambush someone. I don't remember if it worked. I remember the connection being very choppy. I remember thinking this was a great way to pass Christmas Eve, typically the longest and slowest moving day of the year for a youth with presents on the mind.22. And slowest moving night, the longest of which had to have been the Eve before the arrival of the Cowboy Jail or X-Wing Lego sets, I'm not sure which one. What I do remember is listening to late night radio (Rick Balou?) on the quietest level possible to not wake up Eric, before finally giving up and going upstairs to admire the tree and shake presents in search of the tell-tale lego shuffling sound. And I mostly remember this takeaway: it's more fun to play multiplayer games with your friends, in person.
Fast forward a couple of years. Online gaming was developing into something greater; I was not. I was a freshman in college, enrolled in the greatest period of my life, and yet I was squandering it playing ping pong in the USU Institute (the shame) and playing Yahoo Towers in computer labs. Yahoo Towers didn't support audio, but it did allow myself, Bunna, Landon, and Nathan to duel online in this Tetris-lite game from disparate locations. I say Tetris-lite but really this game borrowed liberally from Dr. Mario, which meant suffering for this color-blind soul. Speaking of color troubles, why is it so hard for multiplayer games to use vibrant colors to distinguish between foe and friend? No more green allies and red enemies please.
The computer labs at USU with their high-flying internet speeds were full of these online opportunities, culminating in the day Pearson showed me how to access Halo, where again I failed to see the draw of battling the unknowns of the world.33. Sure, I can claim I didn't "see the draw" but that sure didn't stop me from taking frequent breaks during my early morning essay writing sprees in the TLC lab, the same lab that would deny me entrance and revoke my borrowed ID 7 years later during my terrorist presentation. I had more fun when Pearson and I caught the midnight release for Halo 2 and spent the wee hours drinking root beers and rebuffing girls who dared interrupt our use of the communal TV.
The years carried on. I missioned and returned. I started and finished school. I got a girlfriend here and lost one there. And then I purchased a PS3, somewhat on a whim, largely because of a brother's suggestion. His exact direction -- "play the Uncharted series" -- proved so spellbinding that his next prediction, that the Uncharted 3 Multiplayer Beta would be the pinnacle of our gaming existence, left me no choice but to visit every Subway in the valley in hopes of finding the one retailer that had the large drinks with the online access Beta code inscribed on its side.
Might I point out in this largely rambling shpeel that Subway, despite pedaling some of the worst sandwiches known to man, was instrumental in the early 2010s in providing financial support to two of my favorite entertainments: Chuck the TV series, and the Uncharted 3 Beta. But Subway did not make it easy. I called a number of stores and boy were those conversations wild.
"Hi welcome to Subway would you like a sandwich?"
"No ... ummm ... do you guys have Uncharted cups?"
"What?"
"Like, do any of your cups have a picture of a handsome looking video game character on them?"
"Sir this is a sandwich store."
Bless Jackie Johnson, a merciful girlfriend with a car more reliable than my Taurus, who kept driving me from location to location, until we finally succeeded and could snap this picture.
Has a face ever revealed more? Three parts excitement, one part exasperation, maybe a quarter of embarrassment,44. In my defense I wasn't married yet so I still cared about things like reputation, though my drab shirt would suggest otherwise. all mixed with a dash of hope that this wouldn't be posted to Facebook (it was).
Now allow me to say this: I've spent a lot of time on the interwebs fighting fellow dweebs in the years since Uncharted 3. It's been Star Wars Battlefront and Halos 3 and 4, The Last of Us, Call of Duty WW2, Uncharted 4 of course. Me oh my there have been some great times, Connect 4s, point blank arrow shots to the face, the day Eric, Scott, and I simultaneously deployed what seemed like 200 clones in Halo Reach ... but like they say you never forget your first time.
The Uncharted 3 Beta was my first time. It finally clicked: playing online wasn't about abandoning the friend experience and playing with people you don't know; it was teaming up with your friends to dispatch the dregs of the internet. Shooting up your buddies is fun, sure, but not as fun as avenging your friend who is getting squatted on by some 9-year old slug.
And in this specific case Wiggles Brown was both friend and family, meaning this became blood versus the world. And in the Uncharted 3 Beta we ruled the world, dominating the scoreboard so consistently that I could think of little else between the close of the Beta in the summer and the arrival of the fully-fledged game in November. I think there were only three boards in the Beta, and I lie not when I say I could've played those three alone for years.
The debut of the full game brought with it the birth of the sandal wearing, crotch pant brothers. Our moments together were as rich as any wrestling tag-team duo could ever hope for. I think of my favorite boards: Yemen, Airstrip, Chateau,55. The Beta trio. Museum, Train Wreck, Desert Village. I think of my favorite weapons, the T-bolt sniper, the Mag 5 pistol, and the trustworthy FAL. I recall spending hours trying to unlock the stable hands perk by sniping enemies from one end of the museum to the other, or debating between the 'drop-a-grenade when dead' perk or the 'faster reload' perk. The interactive elements of the boards seem quaint now but a sandstorm in Desert Village or a floor collapsing in Chateau was awesome at the time and threw little wrinkles into the quest to eliminate 50. And who could forget dueling pelvic thrusts after a combined Brown-Climps clobbering?
We never reclaimed our title of world beaters once the game went fully public and that was OK. One did not need to be king to enjoy the game. I will say we tried though, even going as far as rewatching our matches in theater mode, a nerd's version of a quarterback studying film. On those happy occasions where we'd unlock a particularly satisfying medal -- 'Fly on the Wall', 'Tricky', 'BBQ', 'Death from Above', 'Hail Mary', 'Extinction', 'Yippie-kai-yay'-- we celebrated like it was Summer 2011. On those sad occasions where we were on the receiving end of the beloved 'kick in the dick', we swore payback would be returned ten-fold.
The servers hung on for 13 years, which is only slightly longer than the amount of time I clung to ledges trying to get those hilarious pull down kills. Time passes. I no longer hang on edges waiting for the unsuspecting victim -- nor do I imagine doing so in real life as happened on my honeymoon when wondering if we were to be ambushed on the 12th floor balcony of the Royal Kuhio -- but I will forever hang on these memories. There have been many multiplayer experiences, and there will be more to come. But as for Uncharted 3, my friend, you were the finest.
No comments:
Post a Comment