The existence of the console war is well known: it is an Orwellian struggle, everlasting with key, though not by any means constant, sides. The United Sega Emirates has already fallen, and it seemed like the People’s Democratic Republic of Nintendo would be next until they revealed that the Revolution is indeed not over. And while ground troops do fight the day to day skirmishes on the battlefields of forums, brandishing bullets that do no actual physical damage but can transform their opponents’ names into words containing ‘gay,’ it almost seems like the da mned United Nations of our world, the concept of console inexclusivity, has removed much of the teeth of this fight. Our hearts just aren’t in it anymore.
But brooding underneath all of this, growing ever more powerful while our eyes were elsewhere, is a sinister force more dangerous than we ever could have imagined. Because, dear citizens, there is another war approaching, and this one will see no compromise. Crossing boundary lines, pitting brother against brother, we are in the middle of the Music Civil War.
After the initial Fort Sumpter during 2007’s holiday season, where Red Octane and Harmonix — former lovers, now with richer, more glamorous companions — publicly feuded over the compatability of their competitor’s peripherals with their game, it seemed as though the war was over before it started. Secession occurred, and now the Confederate States of Guitar Hero can sneer at the United States of Rock Band’s easy tracks while the USRB can ask where the downloadable content is for their southern former bedfellows before chuckling and saying oh, that’s right, you don’t have any.
Yes, I made Guitar Hero the South. This author makes no claims to objectivity and wears his allegiance on his sleeve, or would if Harmonix would send him a patch to sew on.
You see, the metaphor of consoles-as-countries breaks down when you realize that dual, or triple, citizenship is easy: like many things in life, you just need enough money. I own every major gaming console of this generation with the exception of the PSP. Exclusivity doesn’t mean anything to me: Killzone, you say? Sure, I accept Blu Ray as currency. XBLA only? I’ve got points to spare. I have my preferred console, surely (hint: it gives me achievement points), but that doesn’t mean I don’t ever want to hear that orchestra tuning itself before I play a game. My TV stand is packed to capacity with my gaming apparatuses, but it’s still a relatively small footprint on my house.
Not so with music games. I latched onto Rock Band from the moment it was announced, bartering with my wife for its purchase at Christmas and then, as though I were seven again, to allow me to open it early. Its sequel came out and I was initially able to resist its siren call before ultimately breaking down and heading to Target one day. I’ve told my brother in law that I really don’t want to estimate how much I’ve spent on downloaded songs (especially the infuriatingly un-awesome Clash selections. Train in Vain is your London Calling offering? Seriously?). In this fight I am firmly and unapologetically Harmonix’s bitch.
But like in the console war, there are certain itches I can’t scratch with one side alone. Guitar Hero has, or will have with their next release, Jimi Hendrix and Tom Petty. The 12 song Who pack I bought that no one wants to play with me goes a long way towards scratching that ‘classic’ rock itch, but… Hendrix, man! Petty! Ah!
It’s obvious that buying more ‘band kits’ is out of the question. I’m still using the hopelessly outdated Rock Band 1 instruments, with no detached cymbals or double bass support and a guitar that only goes into Overdrive occasionally. But I’m already faced with the question of where the hell to put the faux instruments I have now, as in slightly over four months the room which currently houses my fake rock utensils, random bits of clothing and disused exercise equipment will be playing host to an infant. I don’t know where to put what I have now, and so more would be electronic hubris, plain and simple.
It goes beyond just the instruments, though. I’ve almost purchased Guitar Hero 3, and thought that having access to the Tool found in World Tour would be nice, but here we come to the irreconcilable schism at the heart of this matter: no matter how interchangeable the instruments, no matter how comparable or superior the features, one game’s songs will never, under any circumstances, be able to play the other’s.
Rock Band has spoiled me, ruined me for all other games. The ability to import the original’s songs into the sequel seems so simple now, but I contend that it forever and irrevocably changed the way we handle music games. I played DDR, man. I went through the agony of ‘well Break Down is in Max 2, yeah, but Max 300 is awesome.’ DDR nights (laugh all you want, but they were a staple in my house for months) were filled with playing one game for a sufficient period before disc swapping. Now that I’m living in the future, well, I can’t go back. I won’t.
I know that Harmonix understands this troubling issue. They were the scientists that found its cure, after all. And yet they have made their Faustian pact and are damning us all anyway. As long as digital music has been around, The Beatles have looked down their noses (no small feat in Ringo’s case) from up high, sitting atop thrones fashioned from teenage panties collected in the 1960s, and said ‘Nuh uh.’ Except probably the British version of the phrase. They are such a BFD (the first and third words are ‘big’ and ‘deal’ and I’ll leave you to fill in the rest) that when they play ball, it’s by their rules. After all, they’re The Goddamned Beatles.
AC/DC was able to negotiate a physical package for their album download, but being ‘the guys who did Back in Black’ suddenly pales when Sargeant Pepper walks into the room. Getting The Beatles to finally realize that people don’t buy albums on vinyl anymore was a huge win for Harmonix, and I’m happy for them, but they had to sell their soul to do it. I’m sure many teeth were gnashed as the compromises were made. I never expected to be able to import Beatles songs into my Rock Band game, but as far as I know the uninteroperability goes both ways. The Beatles: Rock Band may as well be developed by a third contender (let’s give it to Konami, since they essentially created this game before finding themselves obsolete, the Portugal of the music game business).
This is the crossroads we find ourselves at: Dave involuntarily spits at the name of The Beatles, but I don’t mind them, at least not once they started doing drugs. I think playing their songs would be a lot of fun, but I’ve become spoiled; having been given a taste of the good life I now sit fat and aloof, unwilling to meet anyone halfway. I have amassed a collection of songs through lots of time and money, and when faced with being able to play Sgt Pepper against not being able to play Carry On Wayward Son (look, I chose a song that wasn’t by Coheed and Cambria), well, I don’t think I like The Beatles that much.
And the sad fact is that there will never be an 1865 in this war. No Lee and Grant sitting down in a cabin and signing a paper declaring peace. Harry Turtledove’s world is our own in this respect, and while it’s a damn shame, it’s also the truth and we have to accept it. I don’t hate you, Guitar Hero players. But our sons will never be able to marry your daughters.
