Gaming: Why do "Loading" Screens still Exist?

If you're a gamer than you probably noticed Assassin's Creed: Unity has been in the news a lot since its release.  Did it get super-duper awesome scores?  Nope.  Does it have unbelievable gameplay that took the series on a whole new path for future additions?  Nope.  AC: Unity has actually been in the news because of its awesome invisible cart racing and Arno's incredible ability to hang from thin air.  He also has the unique talent to stealth walk fifty feet above bridges to cross rivers and sometimes loses his face but not his eyeballs.  These hilarious glitches are more on the humor side than game-breaking side and that's a relief.  But we're not here to talk about why AC: Unity has been getting a ton of press.  We're here to talk about loading screens.  And one thing no one mentioned are the new loading screens in Unity.

 

Tim Burton is rumored to be using the above picture as inspiration for Beetlejuice 2: A Love Story.

Before the game released, Ubisoft announced there'd be no loading screens once in Paris.  And that statement can be seen as true…but just like a legal document, it has several holes, making it resemble a wonderfully crafted piece of Swiss cheese.  Yes, once you load AC: Unity and you're running around Paris in 1791, there aren't any loading screens, but you better never fall from a high roof without your hay net, or get stabbed or shot, or decide to fast travel or even start a new mission.  Why?  Because…loading screens.  They're not as long when going from killing to cut scene, but fast travel and dying are another matter altogether. 

Now you're probably thinking, "Well, that's okay because Assassin's Creed games have at least a unique loading screen that allows you to run around in an Animus fog for a bit."  And you'd be right, just not in the new Unity.  Apparently some hot shot in the technical department had the bright idea to do away with those old loading screens for something much more elegant.  So instead you get this:

Add another emblem in the bottom left and you almost--ALMOST--get the 1972 action hit: Pong.

A wonderfully crafted black screen with a tiny spinning emblem in the top right.  And if you're really lucky—if your loading is taking an astonishingly long time—you could get the thin white bar at the bottom of the screen too.  Both—the emblem and white bar—at the same time are just a graphic overload of pixelated greatness.  And these lovely loading screens can go on long enough to cause the player to pass out from boredom.  But the real fortunate gamers are the ones that attempt to complete a mission and continue to die over and over again, only to be rewarded with a long ass loading screen every single time.  So the simple question is—and keep in mind it’s 2014 and computer processors have advanced tremendously since the 70's—what the hell happened?  Why do gamers still have to sit in front of a black screen and pick their noses for long periods of time?

"My God, Madame, some treacherous individual has folded you up like laundry."

THE DON'Ts:

Hasn't technology and game creation come far enough to keep us away from the blank loading screen?  It seems as though Ubisoft is trying to pull a fast one by at least removing the words "loading" from the actual screen.  Well, Ubisoft, gamers are much more perceptive than you think.  We know a loading screen when we see one and we can—oh look…a cat playing the piano.  Damn, now where was I?  Oh yeah, the worst thing a developer can do is be lazy enough to give you a blank screen.  Hell, even attempting to cover it up with say an elevator ride like Mass Effect would have been better.  Or having a useless upgradable spaceship fly through clouds like in Destiny would have at least kept the gamer from falling asleep (maybe).  In this day and age, the last thing a "now" culture needs is nothing to see or do.  Each moment spent staring into the abyss is a moment that could have been spent beating some pixelated NPC over the head with a brick.  And it's on the next-gen (current generation to be honest) consoles.  If you're a developer reading this, then please understand there's a ton of things you can do to make this experience a smidgen better.

"I don't know why you two are giggling about back there, but I'll have you know: whatever that 

smell is...it did not leak from my spacesuit."

THE DOs:

People not only remember Bayonetta because she was a smoking hot piece of pixelated flesh that ripped her clothes off before each battle, but gamers also remember her because of her loading screens.  The high-heeled chick with nerd glasses had so many moves, that the developer let you practice them during each loading screen, making the loading time fly by.  Rayman's Origins and Legends gave you a silhouetted background to run around in, creating a loading screen that became practically non-existent.  And sympathizing with the player, The Devil May Cry 3, gave you the "loading" text, but allowed you to shoot and slash the crap out of it.  What a simple solution to a terribly boring problem.  Hell, the even simpler solution is loading a picture—any picture, even a random pic of someone's food is better than blackness.  Gamers love concept art.  And getting a glimpse into what sparked a level design is always a nice way to transition within a game.

 

"Eyes up here, young one, I wouldn't want you getting the wrong idea about me."

THE FIX:

So how could Unity have fixed the long blank loading screen without having to revert back to the past Assassin's Creeds?  Easy.  They could have built upon the game's strengths.  AC: Unity is based during an actual historic event...just like all their past games.  So why not show some random French Revolution facts while the gamer waits?  Why not attempt to teach players what exactly went on during that turbulent time in Paris?  What easier way is there to remove the blank screen then with a piece of art and some text underneath?  So game-developers, when you're considering and/or building your next game, please keep in mind: a simple picture with some text will go a long way to keep gamers from getting narcolepsy while they wait for their pixelated adventure to load. 

"Some days, sky-walking is all I can do to take my mind off of those dreadful Templars.  

This article has been bought and paid for by The Gamers Association of America.  (Disclaimer: The Gamers Association of America doesn't really exist.  Have a nice day.)

The 3 Stages of Gamer Maturity

WARNING: the following article is filled with sarcasm and humor, but it's also filled with a whole lot of love for the art of gaming.  Enjoy.

Ah, the simple satisfaction of coming home from school without a care in the world.  No bills to pay, no reports to finish, no mess to clean up—just you and a pixelated adventure.  Slipping a controller between your fingers felt like hooking your genitals up to an electrical socket, nothing but pure elation.  Enough to make you cry and laugh and sometimes…even throw the controller at the wall.  These are simple moments of absolute joystick fondling goodness.  But time marched on. 

You awake one day to find more hair growing in your nose than on your head.  You look around and discover that—holy crap—you grew up.  But only in the physical sense, because even though you can solve big problems like why the Wi-Fi is out, or why two small humans keep calling you daddy or mommy, you still haven't grown out of the need to level up a Mage or a Wizard or a Thief or—you get the picture.  You're a gamer, an adult gamer.  But adult gaming comes in stages.  And it all begins with a little money in your pocket.

"Perfect!  Now kill the hooker, so you can get back the money you just spent on the handjob."

STAGE ONE: THE MONEY ISSUE.

Nothing hurts worse than your parents telling you no.  And no amount of crying or pulling on your mother's arm will help.  So you suction-cup yourself to the video game display case and hold on for dear life, but it makes no difference.  When you were young, parents beating children in public was a standard and most of the time even encouraged.  As a result, you always returned home with nothing more than a sore bottom.

Years flew by and you finally obtained a job.  A mystical place adults travel to every day to complain about life and bosses and in return are rewarded with a paycheck.  This gave you a chance to venture forth to the electronic store and buy your own damn game.  You skip down the aisle and slap an entire week's pay on the counter in return for the latest platformer.  It's a magical moment, but it comes with a cost: TIME.  You now have the money to afford the fun, but no frigging time to enjoy it.  Why?  Because of all the newly acquired hours at your job.  Damn.  A loud ding echoes in the distance.  Welcome to the first stage of gamer maturity.

"I'm serious.  In that outfit, you look good enough to eat."

STAGE TWO: BECOMING A WUSS

It's 7am.  Your eyes are stuck open from no blinking in the last nine hours.  Your brain has shut down and is running on gaming instinct alone.  A, B, A, B, B, UP, DOWN, A plus B, FORWARD.  You eye the clock.  If you spend just another half hour trying to get to the next level, you'll have exactly eight minutes to shower, eat, crap, dress, and drive to work.  "You have died," has been displayed on the screen so many times, it's now burned into the TV.  But the necessity to beat the game has overcome all priorities in life, including relieving yourself.  What do you do?

You pull what any desperate gamer in this situation would.  You switch the difficultly from hardcore to puss.  Not because you lack skill of course, but out of sheer necessity.  Valuable time is slipping away.  And it's okay, because no one will ever know about your trek into wussville.  You'll never tell your better half, co-workers, or even best friend.  You'll just live with the shame and sadness of wussy gameplay deep inside your heart.  Only you and the pixel gods will know of this sacrilege.  But such is gaming life.  A loud ding sounds in the heavens, alerting the world that you have achieved stage two of gamer maturity.  With one final push you can become a fully mature gamer: a player that is easily crushed in online matches by nine year olds that squeal about banging your mother.

"You talkin' to me.  You talkin' to me.  Well, I'm the only one here--dammit!  Do you guys have to 

stand directly behind me all the time?  You're ruining my De Niro."

STAGE THREE: PASSING THE BATON

With money in your pocket and easy difficulty hiding in your heart, you somehow manage to find that special someone.  They make you laugh and cry and hide your gaming addiction until marriage.  And you realize this feeling is called love…or stupidity, depending on who's doing the defining.  But you don't only want an extra person sleeping in your bed.  No, you also need a miniature version of yourself running around, wreaking havoc, and smearing crap everywhere.

Against everyone's better judgment, you take the plunge and produce another human and find yourself at a loss, because you can't pick the gender or align skill points.  You wait for a ding, but nothing happens, because this isn't the final step in gaming maturity.  The love you have for electronic storytelling must be passed on to future generations, so says the pixelated text.  Only then can one obtain the rank of fully mature gamer.

"Ow!  It burns, it burns.  Hurry up and do the other armpit."

"Will you stop jumping around like a little girl."

"Are you sure the ladies like a smooth-shaven beast?"

"Just hold still."

So you wait.  And wait, until the tiny human can finally sit up without their head lolling from side to side like some broken Vault-Tec bobblehead.  You look at your controller and then at the smaller version of yourself and smile.  Cautiously, you push the controller toward their baby hands and can't help but feel sadness and joy at the same time.  As if you're passing on a part of yourself.  But wait…what the hell are you doing?  There's no way you're giving up on the greatest form of storytelling.  You snatch the controller back like a hungry convict with the last Twinkie.  The miniature person starts to cry and you cringe.  But then a light shines down from the heavens, illuminating the answer sitting right next to your gaming rig.  A second controller.  You dive at it like a fumble in the Super Bowl and then jam it into the whiny kid's hands and the excessive screaming stops. 

Three loud dings.  Congratulations, you have achieved the final step in gamer maturity.  And the best part?  You don't even have to connect their controller, because they're too young and dumb to realize that all their button mashing and slobbering does nothing.  Isn't parenting fun?  They're happy and you're happy.  The world is once again at peace.

"Jesus Chri--will you stop with the camera already!  Can't you see I'm busy?  It's not 

like you're the one snooping around, elbowing faces.  Why don't you go shoot something?"

"I am shooting something."

"Nobody likes a smart-ass."

END GAME

Some people may look at you like you have three heads and crap out of the side of your mouth, but other gamers understand.  You have an appreciation for pixelated storytelling that will never disappear.  Game playing may reduce in allotted time or even difficulty, but the amount of love will never change.  Gaming isn't a hobby or a bad habit.  It's a way of life.  And for better or for worse, till death do you part.


If you like this article, check out:

Why does "Gamer" = No Love?

Violent Video-Games Create Sickos

Smile, and then wait for the flash!

The Barnum and Bailey rejects that have surfaced in Washington, are attempting to scratch the violent media rash that's plagued our society for decades.  If you haven't been paying much attention, I don't blame you, in fact I applaud you.  The following work is ridiculous and is written to show exactly how foolish all this crap really sounds.  Enjoy.

Let me start out by saying the effects of watching violent movies and playing violent video games, are creating psychopaths right in my very own neighborhood.  Why, just the other day there were a few zombies just hanging out, minding their own business on my front lawn—and really, how much trouble can zombies get into—shuffling around, enjoying the fresh air when out of nowhere this sword wielding freak jumps out of the bushes and starts hacking them to pieces.  It was horrible.  Blood splatter and decaying flesh stuck to my windows, brain matter sluggishly crawling down my stone work.  I'll never be the same again, and the only conclusion I came up with: violent media.  It's plagued our society for long enough and it must be stopped.

Batter Up.

Let me share a personal story that I haven't told anyone, ever: 

A few years back I was spending a perfectly good Saturday morning playing a violent video game, like a normal individual.  So there I was, in my underwear, barrel of cheese balls snuggled into my crotch, and bam—something clicked.  I can't really describe it, but it was like the perfect rule-following, society-loving person died and just a crazed shell remained. My brain and my emotions suddenly scrambled and I couldn't help but instantly jump up and run outside like a feral beast looking for food.

I heard a rumbling in the street about fifty feet away, and felt a shiver crawl up my legs.  I don't know why, but I ran to my shed and grabbed the only gun I had laying around at the time.  It's a hefty piece of equipment with automatic/semiautomatic firing, and a chainsaw's chain wrapping around the bottom of the barrel toward the trigger.  Now, I know what you're thinking: "Man, that gun is already outdated, he’d be better off with a full suit of armor that allows stealth, strength and speed."  And right you would be my friend, but alas, the chainsaw machine gun was all that hung in my shed that day.

A little off the top?

I holstered that sucker between my waist and forearm and went plowing toward the street.  No one but me seemed to notice the earth rattling, and I knew deep in my soul that only I would be able to stop it.  The rumbling I felt ceased for a split second and then it happened.  A sink hole erupted in the middle of the street and a grotesque humanoid crawled out.

Grrrr aghhh grrrr burp arghhh!

It grunted and stuck its lip out at me.  I just snapped.  Without thinking, I serpentine toward the towering beast and let fly a volley of assault bullets that tore the poor grunt down, but he hadn't fallen yet.  He just crawled toward me with outstretched hands.  But I couldn't help myself; I churned the chainsaw underneath the gun, the sheer power and sound thrilled me to my core, and I ripped him clear in half.  The grunt’s body lay underneath my feet, split from head to torso in a heap of flesh, acid blood and organs.  I raised the chainsaw machine gun high and howled at the sky.  My breathing heavy and fast, and yet I felt nothing.  Looking at the faces staring at me, an obscure human feeling rose up from my loins: shame.  What did I do? And more importantly—why?

After satisfying my urge to slaughter the grunt, I learned that he worked for a local florist and was attempting to deliver some flowers right before I slayed him.  It's a stain on my record and on my heart and I want to make a full apology to the grunt nation if I caused any type of harm or loathing toward mankind.

Because of this terrible mark on my record, when asked to save the galaxy from the reapers, I gracefully declined.  I just stood there frozen, with a Johnny Walker in my hands and started shaking.  Remembering Emergence Day rested too heavily upon my shoulders.  Fortunately, I do hear a valiant Commander by the name of Shepard picked up my torch.  All I can say is: I'm still here and the world is still here, so he must have done something right.  Apparently though, after all the decisions he made along the way, nothing really mattered, and he just ended up dying anyway.  It's really sad when you think about it.

We're here to stop the robots from stopping humanity, from stopping the robots.

All these lessons I've learned, I took and stored away in my torture chamber—the same place I use to play violent video games—and realized that there's a lesson to be learned.  Violent video games or any violent media, are bad for people, and create psycho tendencies in perfectly healthy humans that ruin our almost perfect society.  Video games shouldn't feature blood, aliens, death-dealing robots or vampires.  They should feature rainbows and butterflies and whales and panda bears.

There, don't you feel better already?

So needless to say, I burned all those brain melting games, just like the Nazis did books, and I'm happier for it.

Well, this action created more people jumping on board, because sometimes a person just wants to feel involved in anything, and together our small but mighty neighborhood had one heck of a video game bonfire going.  See, some people just decided that all games were bad and burned anything they had, and really...can you blame them?

It's really been peaceful since.  Not one crazy video game freak has done anything to ruin our perfect society.  Why, the other day a zombie was walking the street and a little girl offered up her ice cream to him; a kind gesture that made all our citizens proud.  Not to mention the zombie.  He was so thankful, he ate the ice cream and then just continued right on up her arm, and now little Jenny is a walking, talking, flesh-eating zombie too.  And her father couldn't be more delighted.

Hi, big daddy!

You would think that since our town is doing so well, we would have no further improvements to make.  You'd be wrong.  I personally instituted a drug program that will remove all emotions from society, and heading up the law enforcement branch will be an actor named, Christian (though he is fascinated with gun-kata, weird right?).  We're all very happy. 

Hope you have a wonderful day, and if there's one moral to take from all this, please remember: zombies, aliens, robots and grunts are people too.  Oh, and video games are bad, bad, bad.

______________________________________________________________________________

The above piece is to be read only as satire, and is in no way to be construed to make fun of any tragic events, recent or in the past.  We aim to make you and ourselves laugh, because if we don't, we’re afraid we'll cry.  We also believe that love, caring and faith starts at home with every parent.  It's not the act of telling someone you love them, it's showing them that you love them.  Our hearts go out to all victims in any crime.  And those souls, who have been lost, will forever remain in our prayers.