Sunday Blogday: "Games of Generation 7 - Batman: Arkham Asylum (PS3, X360, PC)"
I get so caught up in deadlines and guidelines for my writing projects as well as those I complete for freelance clients that I'm often too tired to transfer idle thoughts to paper. Sunday Blogday is a new weekly column of sorts which I'll use to share whatever random topic's been bouncing through my brain. I just crank these out without editing; the goal is to just WRITE, not watch for grammar police speed traps.
On November 22, 2005, Microsoft kicked off the seventh generation of video-game consoles with the release of the Xbox 360. Sony followed suit one year later when it released the PlayStation 3. Eight years later, the two contenders have switched roles: this Friday, November 15, Sony's PS4 will usher in generation eight, with the Microsoft Xbox One arriving seven days later. (I don't mean to count Nintendo out; I just don't know how to categorize the Big N. Heck, I'm not sure Nintendo knows how to categorize Nintendo.)
Given that gen-7 systems are fated to become glorified Madden boxes sooner rather than later, I think it's safe to look back on some of the best games that the PS3, Xbox 360, and the Wii gave us. Let me explain.
Before gen-7, hardware generations typically lasted between four and five years. When a manufacturer such as Nintendo, Sega, or Sony released a new console, they immediately cut support for the previous generation to the bare minimum, spitting out a game here and there while they and the rest of the development world threw the bulk of their weight behind newer, faster, prettier hardware. Microsoft followed that trend when they promptly wrote the Xbox (as in the first one, which I can no longer refer to as "Xbox 1") out of their will when the 360 hit store shelves.
This generation will be different. It lasted eight years, an unprecedented amount of time for consoles to stick around our living rooms. All summed up, Sony and Microsoft sold over 150 million PS3s and 360s. You don't just leave over 150 million consumers to fend for themselves so you can focus your efforts on the few million who will adopt your new platform right out of the gate.
And I might be wrong about that figure. Maybe Sony and Microsoft will sell through 10 million consoles each by the time the sun sets on Christmas Day. Still, that number won't come close to touching 150 million for several years, let alone more. Both companies have pledged to support the current generation (soon to be last generation) for 2-3 more years at least, which means there will be more games coming. This writer is more excited for Dark Souls 2, a current-gen game releasing next March, than he is anything coming out on PS4 or Xb1.
Even so, we need to read between the lines. When Microsoft and Sony promise to support the current-gen for a few more years, that doesn't mean the 360 and PS3 will get all the shiny new stuff. It means that within a year, maybe two, they'll get yearly sports releases and not much else. EA still releases Madden and FIFA games on PS2. And I think the PS2 still gets the occasional JRPG.
As more consumers migrate to shinier boxes, and as developers learn how to squeeze more power out of those more powerful boxes, the 360 and PS3 will fade. That makes this the perfect time to reflect on the treasure trove of great games gen-7 gave us. To start off, let's look back at the game everyone (even you!) suspected would sink like a boulder--Batman: Arkham Asylum.
Superhero games fluctuate from god-awful (see: Batman Forever on SNES/Genesis) to mindless beat-em-ups. Many of those beat-em-ups are well-made. Keeping with our Dark Knight theme, Batman Returns on SNES featured beautiful graphics, responsive controls, a stunning rendition of Danny Elfman's soundtrack from the film, and so many ways to put the hurtin' on crazed clowns and happy homemakers dressed as cat-women. (To quote Denny DeVito's Penguin.) Still, it didn't use the Batman mythos to full effect. Stripped down to its core, Batman Returns gave players control of one of the most complex figures in fiction, and had them punch bad guys in the face. Over, and over, and over.
Batman: Arkham Asylum, released in 2009, proved that the confluence of technology, tight controls, respect for the source material, and the right creative visionaries behind the wheel can result in something beautiful. The premise of the game was, like so many elements of "AA"," simple. Joker escapes the asylum. Batman apprehends him easily... too easily. Sure enough, waits until he's back in the heart of asylum and then breaks free, releasing several members of Batman's rogue's gallery and challenging the player to comb through the asylum's corridors and round them up.
Rocksteady Studios was given the Batman IP on loan and undoubtedly commanded by DC and Warner Bros. to treat it with care. Keep in mind that Batman was undergoing a well-received resurgence around this time. Batman Begins, released in theaters in 2005, had washed the awful taste of 1997's Batman & Robin from our mouths, and the Bat squad over at DC regaled comic-book readers with fun stories such as Hush. There hadn't been a great Batman game since Batman Returns on SNES, however, and many doubted if Rocksteady, an unproven team of driven developers based in London, could pull off such a feat.
Just a few minutes into my first play-through, I felt a spark of hope. An introduction cinematic shows players speeding back to Arkham in the batmobile with Joker in tow. After carting him inside, Batman smells something fishy (other than the remains of Penguin's dinner) and decides to escort Joker back to his cell in the company of an armed escort.
While the escort walks ahead with Joker, players walk behind them and have full control over Batman's movement. Looking around, we can see the love and detail Rocksteady has put into every floor tile and padded cell. It's an opening that echoes the first few minutes of Half-Life, during which players ride a tram into the underground Black Mesa facility and get a chance to watch computer-controlled inhabitants scurry around the environments, just going about their daily routines.
This is the calm before the storm, and AA takes every opportunity to establish a dark mood. We see Killer Croc, a half-man, half-crocodile, whose shackles rattle as he takes thunderous steps over to Batman and announces ominously that he has Batman's scent and swears he will "eat your bones." Stepping into the elevator, the power goes out, and Joker breaks out in maniacal laughter. When the power comes back on, we see Batman with one gloved fist around the clown's throat. He doesn't say anything. Not Joker. He can't talk. I mean Batman. Batman appears to barely move, barely breathe. He's just holding his prey. He is in command of the situation. He knows it. The Arkham guards know it. And, for the moment, Joker knows it, too.
A few minutes later, the tables turn. Joker has broken free of his captors and scurried off to take his position as the puppet master of the asylum, and a night of murder and mayhem. Batman has lost control, but only for the moment. Joker sics a pack of thugs on his nemesis. It's five on one, but Batman's not worried, and Rocksteady conveys that beautifully in the character's stance.
Batman is a master of countless martial arts, yet his fans know he rarely bothers with a "come get some" fighting stance. He just stands, arms at his sides, his cape draped over his arms. He's waiting for one of the boneheads to make the first move. As a player, I felt that connection to Batman. I felt like a bad, bad man, and I hadn't even broken any bones yet.
That connection to the character carries over to the Freeflow Combat (FFC) system. Easy to use yet difficult to master, the FFC system requires players to use two buttons: attack, and counter. Mash the attack button and Batman performs a devastating combo. Press the counter button when a thug cocks back his fist or readies to swing a blunt instrument, and Batman catches it in midair and shoves the do-badder away. Tilt the analog stick in the direction of the thug you want to face and Batman sets his sights on the villain in that direction.
The two-button system was designed to let players get their feet wet. This allows players who often become frustrated with combat in games to muscle their way through even the hardest of encounters while still feeling powerful. In other words, FFC is easy to use, difficult to master. For players who want to dig deeper into Batman's utility belt, earning experience points over the course of the game allows players to purchase more attacks and gadgets.
There's nothing more satisfying than dropping into the center of a group of two dozen thugs and listening to their cries of "It's Batman!" and "He's here!" as they shrink back. All the while, I, THE BATMAN, am standing still as a statue, waiting to see which of them will rush in first. Finally they muster their courage and charge, and I unleash a flurry of fists, instant takedowns, throws, batarangs, and other gizmos. When the dust settles, I stand in the middle of a pack of broken, bruised, groaning thugs, idly cracking my knuckles or working a kink out of my neck, deliberating over what I'd like to do next.
Earlier, I seemed to denounce superhero games that gave players nothing to do but bludgeon everything that moves while walking from left to right. AA gives players plenty to do besides dent spinal cords, and all of it helps players buy into the fantasy of being THE BATMAN. Batman can walk and run through corridors, or he can grapple from ledge to ledge, swinging through the asylum and its grounds like an armed-to-the-teeth Tarzan. That freedom of movement plays into stealth sequences, the counterpart to FFC encounters.
At certain intervals, Batman emerges (via door or ventilation shaft, usually) in a room filled with thugs ordered to patrol the area. Many of these thugs carry assault rifles. True to the source material, Batman is a glass cannon. A few bullets are all it takes to end you, elevating these common purse-snatchers to the superstar status of The Man Who Killed the Batman. Rather than front them head on, Rocksteady litters these rooms with floor vents to crawl through and gargoyle statues around the ceiling on which to lie in wait.
Perching on statues and waiting for thugs to wander by captures the essence of Batman as a predator. And in fact, Rocksteady dubbed these scenarios Predator encounters. Your options during Predator encounters are as varied as they are during FFC battles. You can drop down behind a thug and choke him out; hang from a ledge and pull him over when he draws near; string him up from a gargoyle statue and leave him for his buddies to find, drop through glass and pounce on him for an instant KO; swing across the room and plant your boot in his face; or spray explosive gel on a weak wall and detonate it when a thug walks by, showering him with debris that knocks him out cold.
My only complaint, and it's a subjective one, is that Batman cannot stash unconscious thugs in dark alcoves. If the others come across a downed buddy, they call out an alert and pair off to hunt you down. I love stealth games such as Splinter Cell, Metal Gear, and Hitman, all of which grant you the ability to clean up after yourself and keep the other bad guys unawares. But, again, this is subjective. Rocksteady had to satisfy many masters with AA, casual gamers among them. A casual gamer might not think about, or might not want to think about, dragging bodies around.
The crime scenes were also made to appeal to casual gamers. A handful or so of times over the course of his adventure, Batman must switch on Detective Mode (kind of like Superman's X-RAY vision) and analyze a scene for evidence. Once he locks on to that evidence, such as a set of fingerprints or particular brand of cigar smoke, players can follow a trail that leads to the next area of the game. Honestly, I didn't mind Rocksteady lathering on fluffy frosting in this regard. Batman: AA isn't a CSI game. Analyzing crime scenes should not be the main focus, and it isn't. The developers fleshed out the mechanic just enough to capture the essence of playing as the World's Greatest Detective before moving on to more FFC, Predator encounters, and exploration.
It is the game's exploration, which takes place over a handful of buildings and the sprawling Arkham Asylum grounds, that is the true star of the show. Like Hill House, the Overlook Hotel, and other famous haunted houses in fiction, Arkham Asylum oozes personality and character. It is a character.
To put it another way, playing AA is like touring a virtual museum dedicated to Batman lore. The Riddler's cell is covered in question marks. Mr. Freeze's sub-zero cell is coated in ice. Display cases house the Penguin's umbrellas. Tombstone-like monuments relay the backstory of how the asylum came to be. In each area, players can hunt down recordings that flesh out the backgrounds of villains. Those recordings, five per villain, amount to short stories, and many rival the main tale being told. In his interviews, Mr. Zsasz stalks his psychiatrist, intent on carving his flesh with one of the marks that signifies another life taken.
Riddler, always keen to match wits with Batman, challenges players to solve riddles that lead them to those and other artifacts, such as a dark and dank hole where Mr. Zsasz hid the bodies of three security guards whose throat he cut when Joker threw open his cell, or the teddy bear that was Bane's only companion during his formative years spent being poked, prodded, and experimented on by mad scientists. The developers also stashed green question-mark trophies just in sight yet just out of reach, making for a series of fun extracurricular challenges players can take on during or after finishing the main story.
The mad geniuses at Rocksteady went to great pains to parcel out such extracurricular activities over the course of the game. Batman: AA is what I refer to as a gear-check game. As you play, you'll come across areas you cannot enter until you inherit the necessary gadget required to blow open walls, pull down grates, hack electrified gates. Being able to see these areas and prizes, but lacking the tools to explore them, plays a big part in keeping the player invested in the experience. You want to keep playing, you must keep playing--to finish the story, and to find out what lies behind the door located on the far side of a vast chasm.
Critical to the experience of exploration and forward momentum is the size of the asylum. It's big--not so big that you grow weary running and swinging through its halls and grounds, yet large enough to keep you solving riddles, searching for trophies, and just walking around, soaking up all TLC that Rocksteady etched into every room. AA's follow-up, Arkham City, stumbled in this area, but we'll save that discussion, as well as discussion concerning the excellent story and voice-acting.
In a game filled with jaw-dropping moments, three stand out. At certain junctures, Batman encounters the Scarecrow. Observant players can detect Scarecrow's presence by noting a green tint to the screen and Batman's light coughs, indications that Scarecrow has pumped his patented fear gas into the area. Any who inhale the fumes suffer hallucinations that bring their worst fears to life, and Batman's grow more vivid and terrifying with each encounter. I don't want to spoil them for the five people alive who have yet to play AA. I will just say that they alone are worth the price of admission (which is virtually nothing nowadays).
Every critic and gamer who enjoyed AA praised it for being a great superhero game. And it is that, but to limit that praise to the superhero genre of video games--which, as we've established, wasn't exactly brimming with bold ideas--does it a disservice. Batman: Arkham Asylum is more than a great superhero game. It is a great game, one of the best of this or any generation.
Next week, I look back on Arkham City and compare and contrast its DNA to Arkham Asylum to decide what worked and what didn't in each game.
On November 22, 2005, Microsoft kicked off the seventh generation of video-game consoles with the release of the Xbox 360. Sony followed suit one year later when it released the PlayStation 3. Eight years later, the two contenders have switched roles: this Friday, November 15, Sony's PS4 will usher in generation eight, with the Microsoft Xbox One arriving seven days later. (I don't mean to count Nintendo out; I just don't know how to categorize the Big N. Heck, I'm not sure Nintendo knows how to categorize Nintendo.)
Given that gen-7 systems are fated to become glorified Madden boxes sooner rather than later, I think it's safe to look back on some of the best games that the PS3, Xbox 360, and the Wii gave us. Let me explain.
Before gen-7, hardware generations typically lasted between four and five years. When a manufacturer such as Nintendo, Sega, or Sony released a new console, they immediately cut support for the previous generation to the bare minimum, spitting out a game here and there while they and the rest of the development world threw the bulk of their weight behind newer, faster, prettier hardware. Microsoft followed that trend when they promptly wrote the Xbox (as in the first one, which I can no longer refer to as "Xbox 1") out of their will when the 360 hit store shelves.
This generation will be different. It lasted eight years, an unprecedented amount of time for consoles to stick around our living rooms. All summed up, Sony and Microsoft sold over 150 million PS3s and 360s. You don't just leave over 150 million consumers to fend for themselves so you can focus your efforts on the few million who will adopt your new platform right out of the gate.
And I might be wrong about that figure. Maybe Sony and Microsoft will sell through 10 million consoles each by the time the sun sets on Christmas Day. Still, that number won't come close to touching 150 million for several years, let alone more. Both companies have pledged to support the current generation (soon to be last generation) for 2-3 more years at least, which means there will be more games coming. This writer is more excited for Dark Souls 2, a current-gen game releasing next March, than he is anything coming out on PS4 or Xb1.
Even so, we need to read between the lines. When Microsoft and Sony promise to support the current-gen for a few more years, that doesn't mean the 360 and PS3 will get all the shiny new stuff. It means that within a year, maybe two, they'll get yearly sports releases and not much else. EA still releases Madden and FIFA games on PS2. And I think the PS2 still gets the occasional JRPG.
As more consumers migrate to shinier boxes, and as developers learn how to squeeze more power out of those more powerful boxes, the 360 and PS3 will fade. That makes this the perfect time to reflect on the treasure trove of great games gen-7 gave us. To start off, let's look back at the game everyone (even you!) suspected would sink like a boulder--Batman: Arkham Asylum.
Superhero games fluctuate from god-awful (see: Batman Forever on SNES/Genesis) to mindless beat-em-ups. Many of those beat-em-ups are well-made. Keeping with our Dark Knight theme, Batman Returns on SNES featured beautiful graphics, responsive controls, a stunning rendition of Danny Elfman's soundtrack from the film, and so many ways to put the hurtin' on crazed clowns and happy homemakers dressed as cat-women. (To quote Denny DeVito's Penguin.) Still, it didn't use the Batman mythos to full effect. Stripped down to its core, Batman Returns gave players control of one of the most complex figures in fiction, and had them punch bad guys in the face. Over, and over, and over.
Batman: Arkham Asylum, released in 2009, proved that the confluence of technology, tight controls, respect for the source material, and the right creative visionaries behind the wheel can result in something beautiful. The premise of the game was, like so many elements of "AA"," simple. Joker escapes the asylum. Batman apprehends him easily... too easily. Sure enough, waits until he's back in the heart of asylum and then breaks free, releasing several members of Batman's rogue's gallery and challenging the player to comb through the asylum's corridors and round them up.
Rocksteady Studios was given the Batman IP on loan and undoubtedly commanded by DC and Warner Bros. to treat it with care. Keep in mind that Batman was undergoing a well-received resurgence around this time. Batman Begins, released in theaters in 2005, had washed the awful taste of 1997's Batman & Robin from our mouths, and the Bat squad over at DC regaled comic-book readers with fun stories such as Hush. There hadn't been a great Batman game since Batman Returns on SNES, however, and many doubted if Rocksteady, an unproven team of driven developers based in London, could pull off such a feat.
Just a few minutes into my first play-through, I felt a spark of hope. An introduction cinematic shows players speeding back to Arkham in the batmobile with Joker in tow. After carting him inside, Batman smells something fishy (other than the remains of Penguin's dinner) and decides to escort Joker back to his cell in the company of an armed escort.
While the escort walks ahead with Joker, players walk behind them and have full control over Batman's movement. Looking around, we can see the love and detail Rocksteady has put into every floor tile and padded cell. It's an opening that echoes the first few minutes of Half-Life, during which players ride a tram into the underground Black Mesa facility and get a chance to watch computer-controlled inhabitants scurry around the environments, just going about their daily routines.
This is the calm before the storm, and AA takes every opportunity to establish a dark mood. We see Killer Croc, a half-man, half-crocodile, whose shackles rattle as he takes thunderous steps over to Batman and announces ominously that he has Batman's scent and swears he will "eat your bones." Stepping into the elevator, the power goes out, and Joker breaks out in maniacal laughter. When the power comes back on, we see Batman with one gloved fist around the clown's throat. He doesn't say anything. Not Joker. He can't talk. I mean Batman. Batman appears to barely move, barely breathe. He's just holding his prey. He is in command of the situation. He knows it. The Arkham guards know it. And, for the moment, Joker knows it, too.
A few minutes later, the tables turn. Joker has broken free of his captors and scurried off to take his position as the puppet master of the asylum, and a night of murder and mayhem. Batman has lost control, but only for the moment. Joker sics a pack of thugs on his nemesis. It's five on one, but Batman's not worried, and Rocksteady conveys that beautifully in the character's stance.
Batman is a master of countless martial arts, yet his fans know he rarely bothers with a "come get some" fighting stance. He just stands, arms at his sides, his cape draped over his arms. He's waiting for one of the boneheads to make the first move. As a player, I felt that connection to Batman. I felt like a bad, bad man, and I hadn't even broken any bones yet.
That connection to the character carries over to the Freeflow Combat (FFC) system. Easy to use yet difficult to master, the FFC system requires players to use two buttons: attack, and counter. Mash the attack button and Batman performs a devastating combo. Press the counter button when a thug cocks back his fist or readies to swing a blunt instrument, and Batman catches it in midair and shoves the do-badder away. Tilt the analog stick in the direction of the thug you want to face and Batman sets his sights on the villain in that direction.
The two-button system was designed to let players get their feet wet. This allows players who often become frustrated with combat in games to muscle their way through even the hardest of encounters while still feeling powerful. In other words, FFC is easy to use, difficult to master. For players who want to dig deeper into Batman's utility belt, earning experience points over the course of the game allows players to purchase more attacks and gadgets.
There's nothing more satisfying than dropping into the center of a group of two dozen thugs and listening to their cries of "It's Batman!" and "He's here!" as they shrink back. All the while, I, THE BATMAN, am standing still as a statue, waiting to see which of them will rush in first. Finally they muster their courage and charge, and I unleash a flurry of fists, instant takedowns, throws, batarangs, and other gizmos. When the dust settles, I stand in the middle of a pack of broken, bruised, groaning thugs, idly cracking my knuckles or working a kink out of my neck, deliberating over what I'd like to do next.
Earlier, I seemed to denounce superhero games that gave players nothing to do but bludgeon everything that moves while walking from left to right. AA gives players plenty to do besides dent spinal cords, and all of it helps players buy into the fantasy of being THE BATMAN. Batman can walk and run through corridors, or he can grapple from ledge to ledge, swinging through the asylum and its grounds like an armed-to-the-teeth Tarzan. That freedom of movement plays into stealth sequences, the counterpart to FFC encounters.
At certain intervals, Batman emerges (via door or ventilation shaft, usually) in a room filled with thugs ordered to patrol the area. Many of these thugs carry assault rifles. True to the source material, Batman is a glass cannon. A few bullets are all it takes to end you, elevating these common purse-snatchers to the superstar status of The Man Who Killed the Batman. Rather than front them head on, Rocksteady litters these rooms with floor vents to crawl through and gargoyle statues around the ceiling on which to lie in wait.
Perching on statues and waiting for thugs to wander by captures the essence of Batman as a predator. And in fact, Rocksteady dubbed these scenarios Predator encounters. Your options during Predator encounters are as varied as they are during FFC battles. You can drop down behind a thug and choke him out; hang from a ledge and pull him over when he draws near; string him up from a gargoyle statue and leave him for his buddies to find, drop through glass and pounce on him for an instant KO; swing across the room and plant your boot in his face; or spray explosive gel on a weak wall and detonate it when a thug walks by, showering him with debris that knocks him out cold.
My only complaint, and it's a subjective one, is that Batman cannot stash unconscious thugs in dark alcoves. If the others come across a downed buddy, they call out an alert and pair off to hunt you down. I love stealth games such as Splinter Cell, Metal Gear, and Hitman, all of which grant you the ability to clean up after yourself and keep the other bad guys unawares. But, again, this is subjective. Rocksteady had to satisfy many masters with AA, casual gamers among them. A casual gamer might not think about, or might not want to think about, dragging bodies around.
The crime scenes were also made to appeal to casual gamers. A handful or so of times over the course of his adventure, Batman must switch on Detective Mode (kind of like Superman's X-RAY vision) and analyze a scene for evidence. Once he locks on to that evidence, such as a set of fingerprints or particular brand of cigar smoke, players can follow a trail that leads to the next area of the game. Honestly, I didn't mind Rocksteady lathering on fluffy frosting in this regard. Batman: AA isn't a CSI game. Analyzing crime scenes should not be the main focus, and it isn't. The developers fleshed out the mechanic just enough to capture the essence of playing as the World's Greatest Detective before moving on to more FFC, Predator encounters, and exploration.
It is the game's exploration, which takes place over a handful of buildings and the sprawling Arkham Asylum grounds, that is the true star of the show. Like Hill House, the Overlook Hotel, and other famous haunted houses in fiction, Arkham Asylum oozes personality and character. It is a character.
To put it another way, playing AA is like touring a virtual museum dedicated to Batman lore. The Riddler's cell is covered in question marks. Mr. Freeze's sub-zero cell is coated in ice. Display cases house the Penguin's umbrellas. Tombstone-like monuments relay the backstory of how the asylum came to be. In each area, players can hunt down recordings that flesh out the backgrounds of villains. Those recordings, five per villain, amount to short stories, and many rival the main tale being told. In his interviews, Mr. Zsasz stalks his psychiatrist, intent on carving his flesh with one of the marks that signifies another life taken.
Riddler, always keen to match wits with Batman, challenges players to solve riddles that lead them to those and other artifacts, such as a dark and dank hole where Mr. Zsasz hid the bodies of three security guards whose throat he cut when Joker threw open his cell, or the teddy bear that was Bane's only companion during his formative years spent being poked, prodded, and experimented on by mad scientists. The developers also stashed green question-mark trophies just in sight yet just out of reach, making for a series of fun extracurricular challenges players can take on during or after finishing the main story.
The mad geniuses at Rocksteady went to great pains to parcel out such extracurricular activities over the course of the game. Batman: AA is what I refer to as a gear-check game. As you play, you'll come across areas you cannot enter until you inherit the necessary gadget required to blow open walls, pull down grates, hack electrified gates. Being able to see these areas and prizes, but lacking the tools to explore them, plays a big part in keeping the player invested in the experience. You want to keep playing, you must keep playing--to finish the story, and to find out what lies behind the door located on the far side of a vast chasm.
Critical to the experience of exploration and forward momentum is the size of the asylum. It's big--not so big that you grow weary running and swinging through its halls and grounds, yet large enough to keep you solving riddles, searching for trophies, and just walking around, soaking up all TLC that Rocksteady etched into every room. AA's follow-up, Arkham City, stumbled in this area, but we'll save that discussion, as well as discussion concerning the excellent story and voice-acting.
In a game filled with jaw-dropping moments, three stand out. At certain junctures, Batman encounters the Scarecrow. Observant players can detect Scarecrow's presence by noting a green tint to the screen and Batman's light coughs, indications that Scarecrow has pumped his patented fear gas into the area. Any who inhale the fumes suffer hallucinations that bring their worst fears to life, and Batman's grow more vivid and terrifying with each encounter. I don't want to spoil them for the five people alive who have yet to play AA. I will just say that they alone are worth the price of admission (which is virtually nothing nowadays).
Every critic and gamer who enjoyed AA praised it for being a great superhero game. And it is that, but to limit that praise to the superhero genre of video games--which, as we've established, wasn't exactly brimming with bold ideas--does it a disservice. Batman: Arkham Asylum is more than a great superhero game. It is a great game, one of the best of this or any generation.
Next week, I look back on Arkham City and compare and contrast its DNA to Arkham Asylum to decide what worked and what didn't in each game.