TECC

Welcome to my blog! I delve into gaming, the tech behind it, and other technology topics and GNU/Linux. Follow me on: https://social.tchncs.de/@73cc

The Eternal Player: Moral Dissonance in the Worlds We Choose

It’s an odd sensation: I avoid prison simulators because I believe incarceration without healing is inherently wrong. I skip farming games that rely on animal exploitation because I reject the normalization of that industry. And yet—paradoxically—I have no qualms diving into a game where I wreak chaos, burn villages, or fight my way through waves of enemies.

Is that hypocritical? Possibly. But more importantly—it’s deeply human.

Fiction is Not a Moral Vacuum

The choices we make in games are not made in a vacuum. When I shun games that depict prison management, I’m reacting not just to gameplay mechanics but to the real-world systems they echo. Prison simulators often present incarceration as neutral or profitable, omitting the structural violence behind real-life prison systems. Likewise, farm sims that rely on raising animals for profit can feel like they're romanticizing or sanitizing industries built on suffering.

In those cases, it’s not just about content—it's about framing. If a game builds its entire loop around a system I oppose, and expects me to perpetuate it, it becomes uncomfortable. Not because I can’t separate fiction from reality, but because the fiction mirrors a real ethical failure that the game refuses to interrogate.

Ironically, in games where I play a sword-swinging maniac or a chaos agent, the violence is so absurd, exaggerated, or symbolic that it doesn’t trigger the same discomfort. There's no systemic glorification—just fiction wearing its mask plainly.

Structural vs. Personal Violence

There’s a difference between games that ask me to role-play within a violent system, and those that let me play a violent character. The former bothers me when the game endorses or rewards that system without reflection. The latter is often just a sandbox, a cathartic experience, or a way to explore emotional intensity safely.

In other words: I don’t mind “killing” fake enemies in a world that knows it’s fake. But I struggle when a game mimics real-world harm while pretending it's wholesome or innocent.

Moral Dissonance Is Not Hypocrisy

What looks like inconsistency is often moral nuance. It’s easy to say, “Games aren’t real, so nothing matters.” But for people who think deeply—about animal rights, justice systems, social power—that’s not enough.

We don’t reject games because they’re fictional. We sometimes reject them because they’re fictional but still normalize real-world harm as a feature, not a flaw. And at the same time, we embrace chaotic fantasy violence because it's clearly unmoored from the real world.

Call it moral compartmentalization, call it ethical immersion, or just call it being a sensitive player in a messy world.

The Value of Being a Conscious Player

None of this is meant to say there’s a “right” way to play. What matters is awareness.

If I can stop and ask myself:

  • Why does this game feel wrong to me?
  • Am I okay with what this game is asking me to do?
  • Is this mechanic making me complicit in something I wouldn’t support in real life?

Then I’m not being a killjoy. I’m being an ethical participant in a medium that increasingly shapes how we think and feel.

And if I still enjoy throwing fireballs at cartoon villains—so be it. Fiction gives us space to act out the impossible, even the monstrous, in ways that don’t hurt anyone. As long as we know where the line is, and why it matters, we don’t have to be saints. We just have to be awake.

Being the eternal player doesn't mean being perfect. It means asking the right questions, even when the answers are messy.

I’m not just a consumer, but someone who engages with the world through play – again and again, always critically.

Thanks for reading, TECC

Follow me on: https://social.tchncs.de/@73cc

You might know the situation: You pick up a JRPG that boasts a seemingly complex combat system and deep character progression. You look forward to mastering its mechanics, discovering synergies, and making truly tactical decisions. Yet, too often, this hope bursts faster than a goblin's slime in the tutorial. The reason? Most JRPGs, even with their elaborate systems, are designed so you can get through them with brainless grinding and simplistic strategies. Mindless button-mashing, repeating your strongest attacks, and simply over-leveling the enemy become the “recipe for success”—and that strips away any appeal of the supposed complexity. I feel absolutely no desire to play such games, as they don't challenge me. If I don't have to think, there's no added value for me. I miss the satisfaction of defeating a boss or regular enemies and knowing that I achieved it because I acted intelligently and understood the game's systems. This phenomenon, unfortunately, plagues many titles.

The Dilemma of Brainless Grinding

The core problem with many modern JRPGs is that tactics in combat often become irrelevant if you've perfected the strategy of grinding. You might build a party with interesting characters and seemingly diverse abilities (strategic level), but if you spend a few extra hours mindlessly repeating random encounters to gain a few more levels, even the biggest boss fights dissolve into nothingness.

If the game allows you to simply overwhelm the enemy numerically, then the careful selection of abilities, the exploitation of weaknesses, or the precise timing of buffs and debuffs lose all meaning. You just press the attack button or your strongest special ability, and the enemy's health bar drops. Even the so-called “tactical” decisions in combat reduce themselves to the same old pattern. Why bother with a complex “Break System” or an intricate positioning mechanic when you can just inflate your stats? This design devalues the work of developers who try to create depth and frustrates players who actually want to use that depth. It's the epitome of “brainless grinding,” where the joy of discovering systems is replaced by monotonous repetition.

SaGa: A Beacon of True Challenge

This is precisely where the SaGa series comes in—a true gem from Square Enix that vehemently resists this trend and offers an experience that stands out from the crowd. While other JRPGs often aim to appeal to the broadest possible audience, accepting a lower difficulty in exchange, SaGa embraces a radically different philosophy. It's the series for players who seek more than just a pre-written story and a linear power trip.

Akitoshi Kawazu, the brilliant creator of the SaGa series, profoundly shapes this design philosophy. Having grown up with tabletop games, he emphasizes a precise examination of game mechanics. His approach, which involves analyzing games more deeply than the average gamer, explains the often polarizing reception of the series. Kawazu himself views Final Fantasy 2 as a kind of precursor to SaGa, as it laid the groundwork for the experimental approach. He is apparently content with SaGa preserving its identity and appreciates fans who enjoy the games on their own merits. The influence of games like Ultima 4 on Kawazu, particularly the free exploration of ever-changing worlds, is a “secret sauce” of the SaGa formula. Despite less focus on a grand narrative, it's often the small, emotional, or inspiring moments within these freely designed worlds that truly count.

The SaGa games are famous—or infamous—for their complicated gameplay and unconventional format. They deliberately deviate from traditional JRPG norms by, for example, not featuring a traditional experience point grind in the classic sense. Characters often improve by “glimmering” new abilities mid-combat or through specific actions. Progress here isn't tied to mindless level grinding but to strategic combat and a deep understanding of their often opaque but incredibly rewarding systems.

In SaGa, bosses are typically puzzles that require specific team compositions, spell or skill combinations, and a keen eye for weaknesses. Trying to brute-force a SaGa boss usually leads to swift, humiliating defeat. The series thrives on experimentation and learning from failure, making every victory feel truly earned. Here, it's not about how many hours you've invested in tedious leveling, but how well you understand and apply the game's mechanics. That's the big difference: SaGa forces you to use your brain, rather than checking it at the door.

Why More Games Should Be Like SaGa

The design philosophy that characterizes SaGa and a few other outstanding titles, such as those in the Shin Megami Tensei series or certain complex CRPGs, is one we should see more often across the entire JRPG genre. It's a philosophy that prioritizes meaningful choices and strategic consequences.

Such games are distinguished by:

  • Limited Grind Efficacy: Simply out-leveling content provides diminishing returns, if any. The game scales or designs encounters in a way that sheer stats aren't enough. Players are forced to think beyond merely inflating numbers.

  • Intricate Systems with Purpose: Every mechanic, from status effects to elemental weaknesses, from character positioning to resource management, has a significant impact on combat outcomes. Ignoring these systems is a recipe for failure, not victory.

  • Puzzle-Like Encounters: Bosses and even tougher regular encounters are often designed as tactical puzzles that require specific strategies, careful resource allocation, and a deep understanding of enemy patterns.

  • Punishment for Careless Play: Mistakes are costly. Mismanaged resources, poor positioning, or ignoring weaknesses can quickly lead to a party wipe. Failure forces you to rethink your strategy, not to catch up on grinding.

For players seeking more than just a power fantasy through numbers, games like SaGa offer a refreshing challenge. They demand patience, critical thinking, and a willingness to learn and adapt. The satisfaction derived from overcoming a truly difficult encounter through strategy, rather than just grinding, is a unique reward that makes these deep, turn-based RPGs so compelling.

It's a shame that many JRPGs don't follow this path. The urge to appeal to the broadest possible audience often leads to the underutilization of the creative systems implemented by developers. Yet, SaGa proves that there is another way—a way that respects the player's intelligence and encourages them to truly explore the depths of the gameplay. May more developers follow Kawazu's example and give us JRPGs that force us to think again.

Thanks for reading, TECC

Follow me on: https://social.tchncs.de/@73cc

For many of us who grew up with video games, the announcement of a remake or a remastered version of a beloved classic often sparks a mix of excitement and trepidation. On the surface, the idea is appealing: our cherished games, brought into the modern era with enhanced graphics, smoother performance, and perhaps even new content. Yet, for a significant number of players, these re-releases consistently fail to deliver on the promise of rekindled nostalgia. They don't bring back that specific feeling we had, nor do they allow us to relive the original experience. No matter how visually stunning or technically polished they are, it's just not the same. Even playing the original game on an old PC or console with a vintage TV or monitor feels different now. The truth is, the only thing we truly have are the wonderful memories from back then – these are the real nostalgia.

The Elusive Nature of Nostalgia: More Than Just Graphics

Nostalgia is a powerful, complex emotion. It’s not merely about recalling a past event; it’s about reliving the feeling associated with that event. When it comes to video games, this feeling is deeply intertwined with a myriad of factors that modern re-releases simply cannot replicate.

1. The Context of Our Lives and the Era

When we first played these games, we were at a different stage in our lives. Our age, our daily routines, our responsibilities (or lack thereof), and even our social circles all contributed to the unique context in which we experienced these virtual worlds. A game played as a carefree teenager after school feels fundamentally different when revisited as an adult juggling work and family commitments. The innocence, the sense of boundless time, and the pure wonder of discovery are incredibly difficult to recapture.

Beyond personal context, the technological landscape and cultural zeitgeist of the time played an enormous role. Games were often groundbreaking in their own right, pushing boundaries with graphics or gameplay mechanics that felt revolutionary then. What might seem rudimentary by today's standards was cutting-edge in its era. The limitations of the hardware and software often forced developers to be incredibly creative, leading to unique design choices that are now an inherent part of a game's identity. Remakes, by stripping away these “limitations” and updating them to modern standards, inadvertently erase a significant part of the original charm and the context that made them special.

2. The Tangible Experience of Physical Ownership

One of the most profound differences lies in the shift from physical to digital ownership. There was a unique ritual involved in buying a new game: the anticipation of going to the store, Browse the shelves, picking out the box, and carrying it home. Unwrapping the plastic, carefully opening the case, reading the manual from cover to cover – often before even inserting the disc or cartridge – was an integral part of the experience. The artwork on the box, the feel of the manual, even the distinct smell of a new game case contributed to the excitement and the perceived value of the product.

Today, the experience is largely reduced to a click and a download. While undeniably convenient, this digital transaction lacks the sensory engagement and the sense of true ownership that physical media provided. There’s no physical object to hold, no manual to peruse, no shelf space to dedicate. This seemingly minor change in consumption method has a surprisingly significant impact on how we perceive and connect with the game itself. The lack of a tangible artifact weakens the emotional link we form with the product, making it harder to evoke the same nostalgic warmth.

3. The Uniqueness of Imperfection and Discovery

Many beloved classics are fondly remembered not just for their strengths, but often for their quirks, their jankiness, or even their bugs. These imperfections were part of their character and often led to memorable, sometimes hilarious, experiences. Think of a glitch that became a widely known shortcut, or a bizarre animation that added an unexpected layer of charm. Remakes typically iron out these “flaws” in pursuit of a polished, modern product. While this makes the game technically superior, it strips away some of its unique personality and the very elements that made it distinct and memorable to its original audience.

Furthermore, the sense of discovery was different. Without widespread internet access and instant guides, much of a game's content was discovered through personal exploration, word-of-mouth among friends, or trial and error. Secrets felt genuinely hidden, and breakthroughs were hard-earned. Modern re-releases often come into a world saturated with walkthroughs, YouTube videos, and wikis, immediately dispelling the mystery and sense of uncharted territory that defined initial playthroughs.

4. The Irreplaceable Social and Community Fabric

Our gaming experiences weren't always solitary. Many fond memories are tied to playing with siblings, friends, or even online communities that existed in a nascent form. Couch co-op sessions, trading tips in the schoolyard, or engaging in early online forums to discuss strategies – these social interactions were deeply intertwined with the game itself. You can remaster a game, but you can't truly remaster the specific friendships, rivalries, or shared moments that defined those past experiences.

Even the way games were discussed and shared has changed. Information wasn't as instant or pervasive. Word of mouth and local gaming magazines were primary sources. This created a slower, more deliberate consumption of information and a different kind of shared experience that is difficult to replicate in today's hyper-connected, fast-paced digital world.

The Unattainable Ideal: Our Memories Are the True Nostalgia

Ultimately, the core of this disconnect lies in the fundamental misunderstanding of what nostalgia truly is. It's not about the game itself, but about the feeling the game evoked within us at a specific point in time, under specific circumstances. You can render a game in stunning 4K, rebuild its assets from the ground up, and add quality-of-life improvements, but you cannot rebuild the player's past self, their personal context, or the unique cultural moment in which the original experience occurred.

This is why, as you rightly point out, even putting an original game into an original console and connecting it to an old TV often feels different now. We, as individuals, have changed. Our perceptions have matured, our expectations have evolved, and the world around us is no longer the same. The magic wasn't solely in the pixels on the screen, but in the confluence of those pixels with our youthful wonder, our limited understanding of technology, and the specific personal and cultural environment of the time.

Remakes and remasters can be excellent products in their own right, introducing classic games to a new generation or offering a polished way for veterans to revisit the gameplay. But they seldom, if ever, succeed in transporting us back to that precise emotional state of pure, unadulterated nostalgia. That feeling resides exclusively in our personal memories – intangible, invaluable, and utterly resistant to any form of digital reconstruction.

They are the true definitive editions of our gaming past.

Thanks for reading, TECC

Follow me on: https://social.tchncs.de/@73cc

In the modern gaming world, technologies like DLSS (Deep Learning Super Sampling) from Nvidia and FSR (FidelityFX Super Resolution) from AMD have become headline features. They're the new magic bullets in the battle for higher frame rates and smoother gameplay. The principle is ingenious: games are rendered internally at a lower resolution and then, using sophisticated algorithms – with AI and machine learning in the case of DLSS – upscaled to a higher resolution. The promise is clear: top performance with virtually the same, if not improved, visual quality.

However, this promise sometimes clashes with my subjective perception, which can lead to a “blurred image” for me. While the technical advantages are undeniable and benchmarks deliver impressive figures, I don't always find the visual execution of these upscaled images to be perfect. For me, despite all optimizations, the visuals simply appear blurry or less clear than a natively rendered image.

The Technology: A Brilliant Compromise

The core idea behind DLSS and FSR is to lighten the load on graphics cards. Rendering a scene in 1080p and then upscaling it to 4K is significantly less computationally intensive than rendering it directly in 4K. The result is noticeably higher FPS (Frames Per Second), which is a blessing, especially for demanding games or for users with less powerful graphics cards.

DLSS utilizes neural networks trained on millions of high-resolution images to intelligently “guess” missing pixels and reconstruct the image. This often allows for impressive anti-aliasing and detail retention.

FSR uses a spatial upscaling method based on an algorithm that works across the entire image and doesn't require specific hardware, explaining its broad compatibility.

From a technical standpoint, both approaches are masterpieces of engineering, pushing the boundaries of graphics processing.

My “Blurred Image”: Subjective Perception Meets Technical Compromises

But this is where my “blurred image” comes into play. For me, as someone who values absolute image sharpness and detail, the upscaled images, despite all technical finesse, can exhibit a noticeable discrepancy:

  • Lack of Native Sharpness: The natively rendered image at full resolution often provides unmatched sharpness because every pixel was precisely calculated. With upscaling, information is interpolated or “invented,” which – even with AI – can lead to fine details or textures appearing slightly soft or having a slight “graininess.”

  • Artifacts and Ghosting: Depending on the game, implementation, and chosen quality mode, slight artifacts (e.g., “ghosting” behind moving objects, shimmering edges) can appear during fast movements or in certain scenes, which make the overall picture seem “blurred.” Even if these are often minimal, they can be distracting for me with sensitive eyes.

  • Subjective Preference: I personally simply prefer the raw, unfiltered sharpness of a native resolution, even if it means compromising on frame rate. The perception of “sharpness” or “clarity” is subjective and varies greatly from person to person.

  • The “Uncanny Valley” Effect of Graphics: Similar to faces that appear almost human, but only almost, graphics can also reach a point where the upscaling technology is almost perfect, but the small deviation from the truly native image creates an irritation that is perceived as “blurriness.” It's the feeling that something doesn't look quite “right,” even if it's objectively impressive.

I often find the upscaled image to be softer, less precise, or simply not as “crisp” as the image my graphics card would render natively at the highest resolution. For me, the performance gain isn't always worth the perceived loss in visual purity. It's a compromise I'm not always willing to make.

Conclusion: Revolutionary, But Not Perfect for Everyone

DLSS and FSR are revolutionary technologies that enable a new era of performance in games. They are a crucial step in making modern, graphically demanding titles playable for a broader hardware base and achieving higher frame rates on high-end systems. Their existence is a boon for the gaming industry and many players.

However, like any technology that involves a compromise, there's a flip side – the potential “blurred image” for the discerning viewer like me. It shows that even the most sophisticated algorithms sometimes cannot fully replace the purely physical calculation of every pixel at native resolution, at least not for all eyes.

The good news is that these technologies are constantly evolving and getting better. Many developers now implement them as an optional feature, allowing me and other players to decide whether we want to accept the performance boost with potentially minimal visual compromise or prefer absolute native sharpness. This freedom of choice is crucial and shows that the developer community recognizes the different preferences of players. The “blurred image” may be a personal perception, but the ability to choose between performance and sharpness is a win for everyone.

Thanks for reading, TECC

Follow me on: https://social.tchncs.de/@73cc

In the ever-evolving landscape of video game development, graphics have made leaps and bounds, pushing boundaries of realism once thought impossible. From ray-traced reflections to hyper-detailed textures, the visual fidelity in modern games can be breathtaking. However, amidst this relentless pursuit of photorealism, one humble visual element, the drop shadow, seems to have faded into the background for many developers, often overlooked or deemed obsolete, supposedly replaced by more “realistic” light and shadow systems. This oversight is a critical misstep, particularly when it comes to player orientation and interaction. While realistic shadows are impressive, they frequently fail to provide the immediate, crucial spatial cues that simple drop shadows offer, leading to a diminished player experience, especially in dynamic 3D environments like jump-and-run Drop Shadow

The Historical Significance: A Necessity Born of Limitation

In the early days of 3D gaming, when polygons were chunky and textures blurry, lighting engines were rudimentary, and the concept of global illumination was a distant dream. Developers faced a fundamental challenge: how to convey depth and position when environments were flat and unconvincing. This is where the drop shadow, or often, a simple, non-dynamic blob shadow, became not just important, but absolutely essential.

Consider classic 3D platformers or action games from the Nintendo 64 or PlayStation era. Games like Super Mario 64, Banjo-Kazooie, or Crash Bandicoot relied heavily on these simple shadows cast directly beneath the player character. Why? Because without them, accurately judging the distance to a platform, the height of a jump, or the precise landing spot was incredibly difficult, if not impossible. A character hovering a few pixels above a platform without a shadow looked completely disconnected from the environment. The blob shadow, though primitive and often just a flat, dark circle or oval, served as a crucial visual anchor. It provided immediate, unambiguous feedback about the character's vertical position relative to the ground. If the shadow was small and directly underneath, you were close to the surface. If it was larger and distant, you were high up. This simple cue allowed players to accurately gauge their jumps, avoiding frustrating miscalculations that would otherwise plague gameplay.

Beyond player characters, these simple shadows were also vital for environmental elements and enemies. Knowing exactly where an enemy was positioned on a surface, or how high an incoming projectile was, was conveyed by its shadow. This low-cost, high-impact visual solution was a testament to clever design, turning technical limitations into intuitive gameplay aids. They weren't striving for realism; they were striving for readability and playability. Drop Shadow

The Modern Misconception: Realism vs. Usability

Fast forward to today, and many modern game engines boast advanced real-time lighting, physically based rendering (PBR), and complex global illumination systems. Developers often assume that these sophisticated technologies naturally handle all shadow-related needs. The thinking seems to be: “We have realistic shadows now, so the artificial drop shadow is no longer needed.” This assumption, however, is deeply flawed.

The problem with many realistic shadow systems, while visually impressive, is that they are designed to simulate light behavior, not necessarily to provide optimal gameplay cues. Realistic shadows can be:

  • Too diffuse or soft: Depending on the light source and environment, realistic shadows can be very soft, blurred, or spread out, making it hard to pinpoint the exact center or edge.
  • Too faint or occluded: In brightly lit areas, shadows might be very subtle. In complex environments, an object's shadow might be obscured by other objects, or blend into environmental textures, making it invisible when needed most.
  • Dynamic and distorting: As light sources move or change, realistic shadows stretch, warp, and fade. While accurate, this dynamic nature can make them less reliable as a consistent point of reference, especially in fast-paced action.
  • Affected by other light sources: Multiple light sources can create overlapping or conflicting shadows, further obscuring the crucial information a player needs for precise platforming or combat.

In a fast-paced 3D platformer, for instance, a player needs to know precisely where their character will land before they commit to a jump. A realistic shadow, influenced by multiple light sources and complex geometry, might be too ambiguous. Is that a shadow from my character, or from that nearby tree? Is it telling me I'm exactly above the platform edge, or slightly off? The immediacy and clarity that a simple, direct drop shadow provides are often lost.

The Enduring Necessity: Spatial Awareness and Player Feedback

The reality is that Drop Shadows are still indispensable for spatial orientation in many game genres, regardless of graphical fidelity. They are not about realism; they are about usability and intuitive feedback.

Here’s why they remain crucial:

  • Pinpointing Landing Zones: In 3D jump-and-run games, the single most critical piece of information for a player making a jump is their exact vertical alignment with the target platform. A dedicated drop shadow (often a flat, circular, or projected shadow that remains directly beneath the character regardless of complex lighting) acts as a reliable targeting reticle. It instantly tells the player, “Your character is precisely here relative to the ground.” Without it, players are left guessing, leading to frustrating falls and a sense of unfairness. Think of how many times you've misjudged a jump in a game because you couldn't tell where your character's feet would land. This is often the culprit.

  • Judging Heights and Distances: A drop shadow's size and clarity can indirectly communicate height. The higher the character, the larger or more diffused a simple projected shadow might become, indicating vertical distance from the ground. This provides an intuitive sense of scale.

  • Environmental Interaction: Beyond the player character, drop shadows help in understanding the relationship between dynamic objects and the static environment. Is that falling boulder going to hit me? Where will that enemy land after its jump? Shadows provide the answer.

  • Clarity in Complex Scenes: When a screen is filled with visual effects, particles, and intricate geometry, a clear, consistent drop shadow cuts through the clutter, offering a steady visual anchor.

  • Accessibility: For players with certain visual impairments or those playing in less-than-ideal lighting conditions, a strong, distinct drop shadow can be far more helpful than subtle, realistic ambient occlusion shadows.

Conclusion: A Call for Mindful Design and Preserved Hope

The evolution of game graphics is a wonderful thing, but it should not come at the cost of fundamental gameplay clarity. Developers, particularly those working on games requiring precise movement and spatial judgment, must recognize that realistic shadows are not a substitute for functional Drop Shadows. They serve different purposes. Realistic shadows enhance immersion and visual appeal; Drop Shadows enhance playability and user guidance.

It's not about choosing one over the other. It's about intelligent integration. Modern games can and should leverage both. A sophisticated lighting engine can create beautiful, realistic environmental shadows, while a dedicated, often simplified, drop shadow for the player character and key interactive elements ensures that players always have the crucial visual feedback they need to navigate the world effectively.

Encouragingly, there are already some observant developers who have recognized this necessity and, despite more advanced, realistic shadows, additionally integrate dedicated Drop Shadows into their games. This shows that hope is not lost and awareness of the importance of these small but effective visual aids is growing.

By re-embracing and consciously implementing Drop Shadows as essential gameplay tools, rather than dismissing them as an antiquated visual trick, developers can significantly improve the player experience, reduce frustration, and allow players to focus on the fun and challenge of the game, rather than wrestling with basic spatial orientation. The humble Drop Shadow is not dead; it's an unsung hero that remains as vital as ever.

Thanks for reading, TECC

Follow me on: https://social.tchncs.de/@73cc