What's Your Ideal RPG Setting?

I have a strange fascination with the idea of being lost. When I go to a new city, I tend to do very little planning beforehand, instead relying on my wits and impeccable knowledge of the constellations. That being said, I often find myself miles away from where I should be, and yet, completely content. There's no better feeling than taking a series of arbitrary turns and somehow stumbling upon an amazing site that you had no idea even existed. It's the closest I can get to pure exploration without burning my social security card and pulling an Into the Wild.

I search for this same sensation when I'm playing games, especially RPGs. I love to wander off into the wild blue yonder of the world and leave my map behind. Meandering through the urban sprawl of a capital city, or finding a lookout point that lets me gaze upon the breadth of a digital world is what keeps me going. Sure I enjoy a good battle system, and a handful of RPGs have made me genuinely feel some sort of emotion, but its the discovery of a world that has gripped me over my course of time as a gamer.

In preparation for an upcoming feature, I'd love to get the 1UP community's take on what their ideal RPG setting is. Not necessarily what specific game you like the best, but rather what type of a world you want to exist in. Is it rife with magic, technology, or neither? What spaces do you feel most at home in while exploring? Do you want your experiences to be confined to a single genre, or carve a new niche? Have you ever played or not played an RPG based solely on where it took place? Are their specific settings that you're completely and utterly sick of? I want to know!

Do you gravitate towards science fiction space operas like Mass Effect or Xenosaga? Do you prefer realized versions of already established worlds, such as Super Mario RPG or Knights of the Old Republic? Or maybe your setting dejour is a skewed version of our world's history and popular culture, such as EarthBound or Persona.

I'm sure that last paragraph didn't even begin to scratch the surface of where RPGs have been and where they could possibly go. So now it's up to you -- where do you like to adventure?

In Evoland, You Play the History of Action-RPGs

Of all the ways to experience the evolution of video games, very few of them are as interactive as the medium itself. Written and video retrospectives, no matter how thorough, are generally one-sided conversations. Same for podcasts, where we can learn the same way one does in college course where the professor doesn't accept any questions at the end of class. Even the very best in long-form video game nonfiction, such as Tom Bissell's Extra Lives, can't reflect the level of participation that exists in the topic at hand. Well, that void of interactive history looks to be filled by Evoland, a charming browser game that aims to grow via a Steam Greenlight campaign.

Heavily inspired by 8 and 16-bit Legend of Zelda titles, Evoland begins with your silent, monochromated avatar in a simplistic world. However, once you collect your first treasure chest, the game evolves, allotting you a more robust range of motion. Press on, and you'll find chests that allow the screen to scroll, gives you 16 colors to display, and eventually introduces the concept of sound. Once you've collected enough treasures to aesthetically move your game through time, you'll begin to unlock more robust mechanics and systems that entered games throughout the '80s and '90s. Think of it as an interactive timeline of the advances in the action-RPG genre.

While the browser version is certainly a charming way to kill a few minutes, the team is working on large-scale remake that continues to look at the genre all the way to the present and beyond. The trailer highlights large 3D towns and battles reminiscent of Final Fantasy VII. The idea of starting the game in a silent, monochrome world and evolving all the way to how a modern RPG looks and plays is a wildly compelling prospect. The small team aims to have a full release hit sometime in March. You can help them meet their goal of creating an interactive history lesson by playing the free version here, then showing your support on their Steam Greenlight page.

The Strange Associations Between Songs and Games

If I'm being perfectly honest, I'm not quite sure why any of these links exist. I mean, I guess I can grasp at some tangential straws, but they ultimately say little about the union between the two. What I'm referring to are specific songs that, for me personally, become linked to specific games despite the the two of them never coming into contact with one another.

If the songs were to exist in the games themselves, this would make a whole lot more sense. When people think of Vice City, there's a good chance that "I Ran" by Flock of A Seagulls starts playing in their heads. Same goes for the eclectic array of J-pop that emanates from every alley in Jet Set Radio's strange take on Tokyo. These I understand, because their uses in their respective games were a conscious creative decision used to evoke a very specific tone, and in both cases, worked perfectly. But while these unions make sense, there are those that exist within my own memory that aren't quite explainable. These specific bonds between music and game live in my head for one reason or another, and I'm going to try to figure out why by examining one in particular: Super Mario Sunshine and The Eagles' "Hotel California."

You might find it strange that I associate Nintendo's tropical adventure with a strange journey through life in Los Angeles, and honestly, you'd be right. But back in 2002, I reached a point in Mario's GameCube vacation that immediately became the interactive analogue of the '70s classic. Sirena Beach is a sun-drenched slice of paradise that resides in a perpetual state of dusk. The only structure of note in this stage is Hotel Delfino, a seaside resort that hides one hell of a nasty secret. Once you step foot inside the hotel, you'll be greeted by an infestation of Boos that haunt every corner of the building.

The strange juxtaposition between a peaceful, idyllic exterior and a rotten, nightmarish core is what I consider to be the theme of this both stage and "Hotel California." In the song, the opening instrumental lulls the listener into a moody haze of exotic calm. Much like the exterior of Sirena Beach, it seems like the kind of place a guy could set up shop until the end of time. But once the lyrics kick in, you begin to realize that something is very wrong. The words speak of a place that pulls you in with its promise of carefree luxury, only to lock the door behind you. While Mario had to worry about the minions of King Boo that haunted the abandoned resort, the narrator of "Hotel California" had to deal with the quagmire of an opulent LA existence. His ghosts are internal, and they don't cower in fear when he turns to face them.

Nintendo gave this specific stage in Super Mario Sunshine a decidedly Hawaiian vibe. The music within the game contains a strong yet calming baseline mixed with a soft ukulele melody, and it's honestly one hell of a song. But for me, and possibly only me, I'll always associate Sirena Beach with Don Henley's strange lamentation on the woes of hedonism. I'm willing to bet that Nintendo EAD didn't have that in mind during its development. With that being said, am I alone in creating strange, tangential links between songs and games? If I am, then I apologize for the previous 600 words.