Anyway, there are more pressing matters at hand - such as Starcraft II. Like thousands of others, the recent announcement had me firing up the original Starcraft for the first time in years. Starcraft is my default favourite RTS of all time and, depending on how the wind is blowing at any particular moment, usually my all-time overall favourite game as well. Starcraft was a game of firsts for me - first game I played online, first game that everyone I knew owned and the first game that could come up in conversation at non-geek parties. I can clearly remember being out for dinner with a large group of people I didn't know too well - and was therefore obliged to stop my geek from showing - and hearing the word "Protoss" drift into conversation. Within minutes, the entire party was consumed with strategy swapping and tales of defeat at the hands of Korean pre-schoolers.
The universal appeal of Starcraft is a given but, considering the growing number of top-shelf RTS games, why does it cling to my personal top spot? A cold plunge back into Starcraft after a number of years is like bumping into an old friend who's as much fun as they ever were, but still dresses like a university grade socialist - there's so much room for improvement. Nevertheless, Starcraft still dominates my own personal RTS chart. I've thought long and hard about this and decided that, as much as anything, it's the bunkers. More precisely, it's the way a Space Marine's muzzle flash blazes out through a bunker window. I just love that. Sure, the cut-scenes are amazing, the unit balance is impeccable, the races are diverse and interesting and it'll run on an old shoebox, but it's that tiny, almost insignificant detail that helps make it such a special game. Seriously.
Maybe I'm alone in this madness, but thinking back over the years, I can divide games into 'Like' and 'Don't Like' piles based solely on these kind of microscopic details. I loved the original Shogun: Total War because of the wooden clunk sound that units made when being set down on the strategic map. That sound survived in a slightly muffled form in Medieval: Total War, but was, if memory serves me well, completely gone from Rome: Total War. Thousands of units on screen at once? Incredibly deep strategy? Gameplay that'll last a lifetime? Whatever, if there's no clunk, it's just not the same.
I've spent a long time pretending to like Half-Life 2 more than I do. I respect it, sure. I can appreciate its high production standards and innovative gameplay, but do I like it? Nah, not really. The slidey-slidey movement makes it feel like an ice-skating sim (with guns) and, for some odd reason, makes me want to puke on my keyboard if I play it for more than ten minutes. This is not a problem I generally have with FPSs - there's just some indefinable something about HL2 that makes me feel like I've just stepped off the Vomitron with an empty tequila bottle in hand.
Games that are quite fundamentally flawed can be saved by a little splinter of gaming karma. I've been playing Disciples II: Rise of the Elves quite a bit this month. Objectively, it's a game I'd struggle to give anything more than average marks to, and yet I really like it. It's getting on a bit now, so it's not really fair to compare it to the latest and greatest, but I prefer its dark and moody stylings to the candy-coloured splendour of Heroes of Might and Magic V. The map of Disciples II is a busy and confusing mess most of the time, which is a problem for a game that's centred so heavily on the map. The combat is a static, humdrum affair. It's difficult, unforgiving and unfair. And yet I like it simply because it looks so damp and miserable. I don't love the game, I should point out, but I'll quite happily spend an afternoon clicking around DII's grumpy, emo-flavoured world. Go, as they say, figure.
Disciples II: Rise of the Sullen and Moody.
None of these details are accidents. Someone decided to put the clunk in Shogun. I'd love to know if it was a throwaway choice that nobody thought would really matter, or if it was the result of hours of agonising perfectionism. I can't say for sure, but I get the feeling it's more likely the latter option. If there's any profession that favours agonising perfectionism, it'd have to be game design. You'd hope so, anyway.
It's worth taking a moment to think about why these tiny elements of a game can have such a big influence. The clunk brilliantly reinforces the Shogun player's role as a warlord hovering over a map while moving around wooden pieces. There's a physicality to that sound that supports the imaginary world the game creates. You would be moving wooden pieces around, wouldn't you? And they'd go "clunk" when you put them down.
And there's something deeply resonant about those fragile Terrans in their bunkers, hurling hot pixel death at the Zerg rush bearing down on them. It taps into some almost subconcious, primal fear about being set upon by bigger, faster, pointier-toothed creatures. Give me shelter, however, and some fire and there's gonna be a rumble. In the constant life and death, pitched-battle atmosphere of Starcraft, those bunkers with their frantic muzzle flashes connect directly to the freaked out little monkey inside all of us - or, at least, inside of me.
The potency of these little details could, theoretically, put a humble reviewer in an awkward position. It hasn't happened to me yet, but I know the day will come when I have a basically awful game on my hands that I like because, say, the rabbits are wearing pink hats. On the other hand, it might be a universally acknowledged masterpiece that I hate because it doesn't make quite the right "ping" sound when I click on a unit. Hopefully, the fraction of the population who happen to be biochemically arranged just like I am at that particular moment will latch on to some overlooked gem that can satisfy all their pink-hatted bunny needs.
Gun-toting monkeys vs insects.
A lot of games that have been handed (justifiably) middling to poor reviews now have a second stab at life through the growing number of legal download sites, and this is a Very Good Thing. Sure, there's a lot of rubbish out there waiting for the unwary downloader, but it just might be the kind of rubbish you like. Cheap rubbish, too. You really do owe it to yourself to poke around the growing waste heap of unloved games and see if you can find some tarnished gem that fits you like a glove.
More and more classics are turning up online too, though I'm growing increasingly wary of delving too far back into the misty gaming past. Nostalgia is all well and good, but time and again I've fired up an ageing classic and had the warm glow that surrounds an old favourite vanish in place of the cold, hard truth of out-dated design and shonky graphics. I bravely plonked down the $3.00 needed to vacuum X-Com: Terror from the Deep off Steam this month, and it's fair to say that I got about $1.50's worth of entertainment. It's not a bad game, not by a long shot, but it did highlight the fact that the field of view provided by modern day hi-res graphics is now a vital gameplay element. I simply could not deal with the cramped, nose-pressed-against-the-screen feel of a 320x200 playing field.
The perfect solution, if you're looking for a nostalgic gaming fix, is to find a modern take on a classic. I was lucky enough to get my hands on Mr. Robot this month, a game that perfectly captures the feel of golden oldie gaming while avoiding the limitations of 8-bit technology. I've banged on about it far too much already but consider this another gentle shove in its direction. I've also got my eye on Etrian Odyssey, a JRPG that's just been released for the Nintendo DS. You have to draw your own map on the touchscreen as you explore! Cool or what? I spent countless hours with the original Bard's Tale, scratching out maps on graph paper and having a grand old time. I love that someone has taken that simple joy and transferred it to the DS. No need for graph paper, pencils or a desk - I can map on the move. Sure, it's a niche market, but it's a niche that's got me (or possibly "shameless super-nerd") written all over it.
Bunker-tastic!
Which brings us, in a shambling and circuitous fashion, back to Starcraft II and the whole point of this month's article. Starcraft II promises to be the ultimate update to an enduring classic. I'm as excited as anyone and cannot wait for it to hit the shelves. It's normally sensible to react to these kind of announcements with guarded optimism, but what the heck, I'm going all in with this one because, let's be honest, there's almost no chance that Starcraft II will suck.
So the question isn't whether or not Starcraft II will be a great game, but will it be a perfect fit? It'll be balanced to perfection and polished until it shines, but will it have that extra, indefinable lightning-in-a-bottle something that Starcraft has, and Warcraft III doesn't? If anyone can catch lightning, it's Blizzard - they have such a large bottle, after all, and an awful lot of patience. We'll see. Close observation of a Starcraft II screenshot (see above) reveals a pair of splendid new Terran bunkers with visible muzzle flash, so Blizzard are off to a good start. If they can fit a wooden clunk in there somewhere, they can have my money now.
In the meantime, I'm keen to hear what microscopic details have made you love - or hate - a particular game. The smaller and more nit-picky the better.
Your turn.
) than I did for the 'craft. I appreciate that the latter was more developed, but I had a thing for the sultry Atriedes computer voice... And for the way you could defend your entire base from computer opponents with a single missile turret. 
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