Uncharted

-- A declaration of adoration for video game brilliance



I'm pacing my parent's unfinished basement. The underground air is soothing my lungs. I ran hard this time, harder than I had in a while. Hurt can do that to a person. Hurt can call down motivation, command adrenaline. My climb from the riverbottoms was enthusiastic, but overstated, according to the speed trap revered by soccer moms neighborhood-wide. The reading? A minimum default of 10 mph. I wish. I needed something to tell me I was good. The year was 2011 and I had just been dumped.

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The instinct to run when pained was not unique to me. Christopher McDougall explains:

“When things look worst, we run the most. Three times, America has seen distance-running skyrocket, and it’s always in the midst of a national crisis. The first boom came during the Great Depression, when more than two hundred runners set the trend by racing forty miles a day across the country in the Great American Footrace. Running then went dormant, only to catch fire again in the early ‘70s, when we were struggling to recover from Vietnam, the Cold War, race riots, a criminal president, and the murders of three beloved leaders. And the third distance boom? One year after the September 11 attacks, trail-running suddenly became the fastest-growing outdoor sport in the country. [So] maybe there’s a trigger in the human psyche, a coded response that activates our first and greatest survival skill when we sense the raptors approaching.”

This makes sense. Being dumped is a national crisis. Being dumped is a great depression. Being dumped is when things look the worst. When things look worst is when we run most.

Only one problem. It didn’t help.

Which brings us in one of the most roundabout ways possible to the greatest video game of all time.

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Let’s get this out of the way. I’m not a good enough __________ to detail the greatness of the Uncharted series. Not a good enough blogger, not a good enough reviewer, not a good enough video gamer. Me trying to present something good about a game this great is like a hunchback trying to describe Blake Lively. Thus with inadequacy at my back and a fair warning not to read any further at your front, allow me to wax neanderthalic for a few.

There are four elements that make a game a game. They can vary in order of importance but destiny hinges on these factors: story, visuals, gameplay, and music. Together they create atmosphere and atmosphere is everything. Games with it make you experience something. Games without it are solitaire with revamped packaging.

Which games have done this best? If you've ever wanted to experience life as James Bond I suggest trying Metal Gear Solid. GTA V is a $50 way to visit Los Angeles if you're low on funds. Star Wars Battlefront was a mediocre shooter but holy smokes did it ever make you feel like you were in a movie. WWE No Mercy turned me into The Rock. The Last of Us made me a dad before I ever had a child. Meanwhile Red Dead Redemption is the choice if you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to be a cowboy in the old west.

These games have two things in common.

1. They create atmosphere.
2. They bow before Uncharted.

I came upon Uncharted the same day as that 2011 dumping, flush with cash11. In this instance flush with cash means approximately $300, which is almost $850K when converted to college currency. after saving all year for a Spring Break cruise only to opt out after getting seasick in a hot tub. After becoming a dumpee the urge to spend on comfort food was strong, so I bought a PS3. Surprisingly neither the acquisition of the PS3 or the divestiture of the girl was the most memorable moment of that specific day. The honor resided with Jimmmmmmer(!!) who unleashed 52 points on New Mexico that same night. That this was a sign from the sporting heavens of greater things to come, a cosmic seal of approval ratifying my PlayStation purchase never crossed mind.

Oh by the way, here’s a fun fact: This decade the Utes have failed to score 52 points in a game 23 times. AS A TEAM.

Jimmer owned the night but Uncharted 1 and 2 owned the remainder of the Spring Break. I quickly learned the game had every element of greatness executed at a level superseding everything that came before it. Uncharted's atmosphere didn't just blow me away, it took me away. I wasn't dumped, I was in Nepal jumping out of collapsing buildings. Playing Uncharted made me Indiana Jones, which fulfilled a dream that started in 1992 when I swallowed a lung's worth of mineral water jumping into Crystal Hot Springs in the same skiwampus, one-legged manner Indy had when swinging into the river at the beginning of Raiders.

I didn't care then that I'd added 6 ounces of sulfur to my body and I didn't care in 2011 that I was sans girl because I’d become a character as spectacular as Indy had ever been. Being Nathan Drake made me feel awesome, and whether I was or wasn't awesome in real life -- based on Facebook friend counts I was probably average awesome -- I decidedly had not felt awesome after being dumped. Two Uncharted games changed that but a simple roundabout doesn’t guarantee a free pass to all-time status. It was the eventual arrival of a third and fourth masterpiece that cemented this series as the owner of every 'Best of' title in my library. Best in storytelling, best in multiplayer, best in music, best in voice acting, best in visuals, best in comedy, best in set pieces, best ridiculous criticism, best response to said criticism, best in second most ridiculous criticism,22. The Washington Post slammed this game for having "overwhelming visual technology" and an "overflow [of] useless detail". Good point, WaPost. Who would ever want visuals or details in a game anyway? and best at doing this:

In the middle of Uncharted 4’s greatest scene my wife walked into the room. For two seconds I remember thinking, “Wait …huh … what are you doing here?” That’s how far away Uncharted had taken my mind. Her presence brought me back to this planet, but not before a smile of recognition passed over me. As it had in 2011 with Uncharted 2, Uncharted 4 took me somewhere. This time it wasn’t as dramatic as cheering up a dumped soul, and it didn’t need to be. Uncharted is good enough to pick up anyone in varying states of happy, sad, or neutral, and take them somewhere better. That’s atmosphere. How impressive was it that the 4th installment could do it as well as the 2nd, when almost every other video game or TV or movie or book series worsens as it ages? Perhaps Uncharted sleeps in recovery pajamas like Tom Brady.

I, on the other hand, have not improved with age. I've gotten balder, but more critically the new age method of measuring awesomeness -- wearing socks at *shudders* calf-length -- reveals my levels of awesome have dropped as low to ground zero as my stubborn ankle socks.

And so if you've made it this far you may be gathering notions as to why I was dumped back in 2011 in the first place. If it's unclear I'll remind you that I'm currently blogging (lame) about a video game (lamer) that buoyed my soul after being rejected by a real-life human (lamest) at a word count that has bypassed the amount reserved for the back-page essays of magazines (lamer even still) after spending two years thinking of how best to say it (lamest of all).

That I do so without a degree of shame is my final testimony of just how great Uncharted is.