I recently got a (new) supercomputer… the kind we nerds will invest in for our mid-life crises instead of Ferraris.  More about that later.  I have all the time in the world to tease you with images of computerotica--hardware spread invitingly across satin sheets of a most indecent color.  For now I’ll restrain myself to telling you it’s quadcore.

Then I’ll move on.

With such an intense hunk of machinery sitting primly on my desk, I’ve recalled my heydays of PC gaming.  Even though I spend a lot of time on my consoles these days, there’s something that just feels right when I sit down at my PC and set my key bindings (EDSF! I don’t hold with this newfangled WASD nonsense).  I started playing PC shooters when I made friends with other gamers who also liked them.  It was a weekly tradition to haul our PCs to one house, set them up, and sling bullets and insults for two days with as little sleep as possible.  These little parties may be single-handedly responsible for the rich wealth of the caffeine industry.

I never got into playing online… at the time I derived much of my enjoyment from knowing exactly who I was shooting.  Hearing groans from the next room is infinitely more satisfying than absolute silence.  The faceless panorama of the online PC world didn’t hook me.  MMORPGs were an exception, but for reasons it would take a separate blog entry to outline.

The first time I played online with a console was Rainbow Six 3.  The voice support was both scandelous and inviting… and the first time anyone ever seemed shocked there might be a player of the feminine persuasion behind my mic.  As I joined up with the Frag Dolls and this online play became commonplace, my PC LAN days seemed to fade into the background.  Communicating instantly with other players still wasn’t the same as having them in the room and being able to watch their screen between respawns, but it was more convenient than hoping hardware didn’t shake itself apart while it rattled in the back seat of the car.  It did the job.

PC voice chat is considerably more common now, at least among clans.  Pubbers? Not so much.  The other night I decided to run my machine through its paces.  I got a PC copy of Rainbow Six Vegas and set all the video details as high as possible.  Ah, bliss.  The interface was comfortingly familiar, as the PC version is a pretty pure port of the 360 version of the game.  I hopped in an online server, cursed until I got my keyboard bindings nice and comfy, then settled in to play.  It was a surprisingly easy transition once I figured out the minor differences (take cover being controlled by the right mouse button instead of the left trigger, etc).  Maps were the same and, for the most part, so were the tactics.  I could hole up in my favorite window and feel pretty comfortable about someone running by often enough to keep things interesting.

The first thing I noticed was how pretty it was.  Console does HD well, but even the 360 can’t match the raw horsepower of high-end PCs.

The second thing I noticed was the silence.  Granted, I’m used to being in constant communication with my team, but even in comparison to random matches it seemed very quiet.  Peaceful, almost.  And a little lonely.  Communication was nearly non-existant.  When you have to take your finger off the trigger to type out an enemy location, you may as well wrap up in swaddling clothes because you’re as helpless as an infant… without the benefit of a smaller hit box.  I suspect clans have an easier time of it.  They load up ventrilo and have every advantage of built-in voice support.  But they’re also the gamers who have been at this for years.  New players come into the game with crickets chirping.  It’s not an immediately enticing experience.

It’s easy to see how casual gamers are becoming more and more attracted to consoles.  It’s a level playing field, it’s easier to feel connected with other players when communicating is as easy as opening your mouth, and it’s less expensive.  The world of PC shooters is not for the faint of heart.  Some PC players like to look down on us thumb jockeys.  I can understand why, since a certain amount of pride is required to invest in a real gaming rig, but I’ve since come to the decision that it just takes different kinds of gamers.  Or maybe it’s a reflection on me that I look at the platforms to fill different needs.  I feel like I’m part of a community when I play on Xbox Live.  I feel like a purist when I’m on my PC.  It certainly explains why I almost never play single-player games on my 360, and why that’s almost all I play on PC.

Why do you play on your platform?

- jinx

im feeling yummy head to toe