Demo: Recettear: An Item Shop's Tale

The items featured in the window tell customers what you primarily sell.

It's not often you get a feel for how the other half lives, but that's exactly what we get in Recettear: An Item Shop's Tale (demo available on Steam).  It's the oldest story in the world: girl's father leaves adventuring and a mysterious fairy loan shark visits the girl telling her t hat she owes some ungodly amount of money on her father's behalf.  She lives in an adventuring town, so why not open an adventuring shop to make back the required gold?

To this end, Recette (the player) and her loan shark/item shop partner, Tear, buy goods low, and sell them high! With a payment lurking every 7 days, it's sometimes stressful when your worried that the poor little Recette might be out of luck without your skillful intervention.

Command changes to the adventurer you hire,
for dungeon crawling hack and slash.

To get items, you may buy them wholesale, or from patrons looking to sell (you're like a pawn shop).  Additionally, you can hire adventurers to go out with you into dungeons to defeat monsters and loot chests.  The adventurers will be equipped with any items they have bought in your store, so it behooves you to consider wisely in item placement and sales to adventurers.

The demo takes you through the first week and the recruitment of a base-level adventurer.  The graphics are quaint, but they really work for the game.  There is plenty of tongue-in-cheek dialogue, which is actually pretty welcome, since the premise is silly anyway.  We also get a glimpse of a rival shopkeeper, so that promises to be interesting.  Also, we really ought to find out what happened to your father and why he burdened you with this massive debt.

Recettear: An Item Shop's Tale is a great grab, even though it's no longer on sale on Steam.  Highly recommend that you run the configuration program prior to playing or you may hit every button on the keyboard before learning that Z was the default key for "Accept."  (Z?  Seriously?)

Do Better Graphics Make Better Games?

While L.A. Noire (r/gameswap'd for Star Wars: The Force Unleashed and Heavy Rain) and Catherine (friend swapped for Dragon Age: Origins) lie in wait of a playthrough - not to mention the new Dragon Age II DLC and Bioshock 2 DLC I've bought, but haven't played, and the Fallout: New Vegas DLC I've nearly finished and have to review - I spent an inordinate amount of time with Crono Trigger, replaying the 16-bit classic for memories and love.

It forced me to think: do better graphics make a better game?

With new games, graphics are often a huge selling point: the ability to create and immerse a player in distinct and lushish environments is part of what makes the game worth it.  However, indie developers (and some big names, too) have rejected this notion - the simplier, easier times might have a place left after all.  Consider the success of Scott Pilgrim or Megaman 9, which embraced the chunky graphics of old with a new niche.  Or hell, MINECRAFT for that matter.

In fact, there are many times in which the graphical beauty of a game, while pretty to look at, distracts from the game itself.  Form and functionality.

Graphics also deny the player's imagination in the same way television and films do for books.  If the representation I am given of Link in The Legend of Zelda is an 8-bit pixel mess, my mind bridges the difference.  In Twilight Princess, there's nothing for my imagination to do: for the game has done it already.  For a game embracing a concept of realism (Heavy Rain, for example), this is a make-or-break thing, but for fun, and unrealistic worlds, why bother with the realism of the hairs on a man's head if I'm already accepting the disbelief that I can carry seventeen different swords?

16-bit sprites really embody the best of both worlds: enough definition to give you a start, but not so much as to disrupt your imagining of a character.  Maybe that's why Crono Trigger got a chunk of my time.  Or maybe because the graphics were limited, programmers felt more willing (or able) to give the story and dialogue the time they needed to be perfect.