How a lustful dog changed video games forever

I’ve been on a quest of sorts for the past week. But
don’t give me too much credit, because it’s not a quest
for knowledge, love or even a search for my Film 184 books (status:
AWOL).

I’m searching for “Guitar Hero” for the Sony
Playstation 2. I read about this game last week, and from what I
can tell it’s the pinnacle of music and rhythm-based video
games.

I mean, for Ian Curtis’ sake (Ian Curtis equals God from
now on), the game comes with a mini Gibson SG ““ with a whammy
bar.

Having been a fan of the genre of rhythm video games since their
inauspicious beginnings, it brings a tear to my eye to see how far
we’ve come.

Many who hang out at the arcade and play “Dance Dance
Revolution” likely don’t know this, but the
now-lucrative rhythm genre began with a small Playstation game
called “Parappa the Rapper.”

The game told the story of a boy named Parappa who was in love
with a girl named Sunny Funny. Well, replace boy with
“beanie-wearing dog” and girl with
“anthropomorphic flower” and you get a better idea of
what we’re dealing with.

The game chronicled Parappa’s attempts to win over Sunny
through a series of ill-fated adventures to play through, including
an attempt to learn kung fu, getting his driver’s license,
and cooking Sunny a cake with the help of a cooking show hosted by
a manic chicken.

The catch was that you helped Parappa “rap” his way
through these adventures.

This led to all sorts of bizarre sequences, such as if you
happened to do really well on a level, the game switched into
“freestyle mode.” This mode combined previously used
verses from the level.

So theoretically, in the baking level, you can combine
“Crack crack crack the egg into the bowl” with
“M.I.X. the flour into the bowl” to produce
“M.I.X. the crack!”

This game was viewed as an oddity and a niche product when it
came out, but in the eight years since its release, music-based
video games have become a genre in and of themselves.

I never thought I’d see the day when the most popular
video game in the arcade wouldn’t be “Mortal
Kombat” or some shooting game, but rather a game where people
like me stomp on arrow tiles and humiliate themselves before
getting swept under the rug by an 8-year-old girl.

DDR, of course, is just part of the story. Some other popular
music-based video games include the drumming simulation
“Beatmania,” as well as the recent “Karaoke
Revolution,” which may end up being the best drunken party
game of all time (though it remains to be seen how “Guitar
Hero” fares in that avenue).

In fact, with the recent release of “Guitar Hero,”
I’d love to see somebody attempt to create a band entirely
composed of these music and rhythm games. All we need is
“Bass Hero” and we’re good to go.

It’s very interesting that this genre has caught on to
such an extent in the U.S. because in Parappa’s day this was
viewed as a fad that would only catch on in Japan, where one of the
most popular genres is horse-racing simulators.

For all the advancements in the genre, though, there are a large
number of cookie-cutter moneymaking schemes.

Witness the recently released Mario version of DDR, which
advertises the player being able to dance to “remixes of
Nintendo hits” and goes on to proclaim that dancing is
exercise and prominently displays its calorie counter feature.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want my music
video games to be my exercise. That’s what iPods and the
Wooden Center are for. No, in my music games, I want to RAWK.

And that’s what “Guitar Hero” will let me do,
and that is why I must have it. Yet as I scour the Internet and
various Best Buy and EB Games locations looking for this holy grail
of axe-shredding, I can’t help but remember one thing.

If it weren’t for Parappa’s quest to get play from a
walking plant, I wouldn’t be able to RAWK on a mini SG at the
expense of my roommates’ sanity, and you wouldn’t be
able to get yourself embarrassed by an 8-year-old girl at DDR.

Humphrey is still upset about being humiliated by an
8-year-old girl at DDR. Send him a sympathetic e-mail at
mhumphrey@media.ucla.edu.

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