Well Done, Good and Faithful Servant
Stan took his Xbox360 back today, so let me make this comment before I forget. We borrowed the platform so Eileene could try out the new Overlord game. I’d seen ads and comments on it, and expected something in the vein of Dungeon Keeper, the management sim that put you in the role of evil overlord creating a deadly underground maze of monsters and traps to do in the inevitable party of fantasy heroes who would come to kill you and take your treasure. At the time, playing a game from the evil perspective was a clever and entertaining twist.
Overlord borrows that same idea, but instead of a management sim, all we got was a bog-standard linear killing game, the kind that accounts for about 95% of the console market. Walk forward until you see an enemy. Batter it down by pushing your attack key as quickly as possible; for variety, you are occasionally allowed to use a superweapon. Then smash every crate/barrel/flowerpot/chest in sight, just in case there’s some stray loot in them. Lather, rinse, repeat. Sure, Overlord casts you as the conquering evil overlord instead of the teenage protector, and your own attacks are supplemented by a band of goblins, but it’s the same damn game: kill everything, smash the furniture, take the powerups. Apparently, evil kingdoms are best built personally, by hand, one cottage at a time.
What really caught my attention was the fact that you aren’t even the protagonist of the game! Seriously. Your army of evil consists of yourself, a band of goblins, an advisor who calls your attention to various game features, and a jester of no immediately apparent value, who remains in the tower where you save games. Nominally, you are the leader. But, if you pay attention, it’s the advisor who is calling the shots. “Look, master! A family having a picnic! Let’s go and knock over their potato salad!” So you go and knock over their potato salad. “Master, if you are in need of additional health, you can sacrifice your minions in this blood well.” Sure enough, you need some health, so you sacrifice some minions. “Master, this statue is a powerful artifact. If we take it to the castle, it will increase your evil power tenfold!” So you gather up your goblins and tell them to carry the statue back to the castle. “I wonder what this machinery operates?” So you gather up your goblins and tell them to operate this machinery. No matter how low your advisor grovels, it’s still he who calls the shots! You’re just his favored henchman, middle management for the evil kingdom you’ll build together. And if you stray too far, he’ll cut in and correct you: “Master, you could walk all the way home, but this shortcut will save your boot leather.”
Eileene has played farther into the game than I have, and swears that the game eventually gives you some free will. No doubt she’s right, but I couldn’t generate enough interest to keep going. It was pretty clear who was really calling the shots, similar to the way Dick Cheney lets Bush confirm whatever appointments the vice president vets for him, and lets him read the speeches as long as he doesn’t try answering questions directly. If you do a really good job as overlord, your goblin advisor might let you sit on the throne, but the power? Ah, the power lies behind the throne, where you’ll never see it.