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my dream of assassin’s creed

when my a good friend of mine first got assassin’s creed, i was enchanted by its premise. as a serious lover of medieval history, particularly the crusades, the concept of gaming a 12th century jerusalem was immediately attractive to me. when i finally saw the game, i realized that the power of its art matched the ambition of its premise: here was a vividly cinematic rendering of the historical levant. i found out more: the game featured something called a “open map”- essentially, one could take the player anywhere in the game’s world. there were no fixed paths or specific platforms with ‘painted backgrounds’ suggesting the infinitude of the space, but rather a ‘true’ sense of space, and an allowment for movement. i also discovered that the introduction to the game suggested that the “player” was actually a relative of the game’s eponymous assassin. with the help of a dangerous technology (called something like the “animagus” machine) this descendant was allowed to “play” the life of his genetic origins. gaming your DNA so to speak. how cool! finally, i could not escape the thought that assassin’s creed had a fascinating reflection on contemporary society. at a time in which the west was again at war in the middle east, how provocative was it for a major game publisher (ubisoft) to make a game about the crusades? except of course, that this was not a game that glorified crusaders, but rather a game that lauded their most elite and elusive foes- foes that had more to do with suicide bombers than marines. in short, i found the choice of making a million or so western kids play assassins strikingly bizarre, but highly suggestive.

this is not the game i played

the game that i played was not nearly as profound and inspiring as the console version had been. in place of vivid graphics i found myself in a medieval flea circus, moving a tiny postage stamp character over goofy obstacle courses. instead of a “open map,” i moved along tedious “levels” journeying from left to right, and never straying far to the top or bottom of the screen. i was in an ant farm version of assassins creed.

produced by “gameloft” for ubisoft, this port of Assassin’s Creed could be considered an original game. it’s full title is “assassin’s creed: altair’s chronicles” and according to the game’s box, it is a “prequel” to the console version. whatever that means.

in fact, “altair’s chronicles” is really like assassin’s creed: the mini game. sure it is ostensibly in the same game world, and it aspires to the same premise (templars are evil, assassins are good) as the original, but in point of fact the game is really something like “the complete works of william shakespeare (abridged)” or the “1-minute titanic,” a satire of reduction.

hoping that this game would allow me to dig into the glory of assassin’s creed on my new ds was completely idiotic. a friend correctly responded to my complaints: “zack, what did you expect? it was designed for xbox and ps3!” i should have thought about that more thoroughly, as it forces me to confront the meaning of the medium. though “game content” may be translated to any platform, playing a game like assassin’s creed on the ds would be like watching ben hur on an iPod, it simply misses the point. and so, while i must tip my hat to the game designers who enabled my assassin’s creed habit, i must berate them for not knowing better than i did. why would someone reduce titles that require immersion and graphic power and serious computation to sketches that fit in a smaller platform. playing this game makes me realize why professor layton & the curious village works so well. the ds is a platform of intimacy- it is for games that seek individuals, and challenge them. ds games must be designed to capitalize on this intimacy- to tell stories through simple, vivid animations, and keep gameplay visible not microscopic. ds games must be the short stories of game literature, which is not to say that they will be weaker, but instead more potent in their simplicity.