I’ve made a lot of
mistakes when it comes to gaming. I
chose Final Fantasy XIII -- a game where you run down hallways
and mash the A button to win battles -- over Resonance of Fate -- a game where you somersault through the air
and hammer enemies with gunfire while dashing about. I never got into PC gaming, and because of it
my experience with Half-Life and Team Fortress is incomplete at
best. I willingly rented Superman 64. But in the summer of 2010, hot off the heels
of a brutal spring semester, I knew I had to make the right decision. I had to make a stand. So I pooled my money together and headed to
GameStop with by brother.
I bought Trauma Team for the Wii. And I haven’t regretted that decision one
bit.
Until that point, I’d
only played one game in the Trauma Center
franchise -- that game being the original Trauma
Center for the DS. It had gotten
solid review scores across the board, and at the time I was starved for a DS
game that didn’t have Ping Pals in
its name. I got it one Christmas, and it
succeeded my expectations; I still remember how I almost shouted “What the
hell?!” when I first encountered the GUILT tearing through Linda Reid’s lungs,
and how I stopped time in order to exorcise Savato. The game wasn’t perfect, of course (I only
got the magnify tool to work 20% of the time), but I enjoyed it. Yet I never picked up any of the
sequels. Not Under the Knife 2, not Second
Opinion, not New Blood…why, I
can’t begin to wonder. They just slipped
off my radar, I guess.
But when I heard about Trauma Team, I knew I had to fix
that. A new cast, unhindered by the
canon I’d missed out on; realistic operations, and a refusal to get bogged down
by the silly trappings of GUILT (demon heart spiders!); Wii remote action,
offering me a chance to put those motion controls to good use. And multiplayer to boot? I was in, regardless of what reviewers said. (Though I did feel a bit of satisfaction when
the positive numbers started coming in.)
Imagine my surprise
when I find out that the realism that was so touted beforehand was, for lack of
a better word, BS. Sure, you weren’t
shooting parasites with a laser, but in exchange the playable characters were a
red-eyed genius doctor/criminal who starts in an iron mask, a ninja girl who
can teleport and swing a naginata like she’s a Last Blade mid-boss, and a super-strong, super-durable orthopedic
surgeon who can use his body as an electrical conduit and moonlights as a
superhero. One wonders if this is what House would be like if it was handled by
an anime studio.
But those were broken
promises I learned to deal with. The
gameplay brought me back to my days of virus-busting on the DS, and the sense
of satisfaction that came from knowing you were literally tearing it up in a
patient’s body with style and grace. And
the Wii’s boosted power only made the proceedings more potent. Hearing assistants gasp in awe as you
A-ranked a surgery; listening to the upgrading music as you built up a chain
bonus in Orthopedics; knowing that you could handle three, four, even five
bodies at once in First Response -- and do so without losing a single
life. You were four distinct, yet
equally skilled doctors all rolled into one.
And if that wasn’t good enough for you, there were still two other modes
that practically turned you into Phoenix Wright -- one for diagnostics, to find
out what ailed a patient before going under, and one for crime scene
investigation (which, in a total display
or realism, allowed you to listen to the dead). It was the most satisfying and substantial
game I’d played in a while. It would
have taken me about five back-to-back playthroughs of Gears of War 3 to match what Trauma
Team offered in terms of replay value (multiplayer aside), and even then it
would never match the style and substance.
Ignoring the fact that Trauma Team
was colorful, had a diverse soundtrack, a multitude of characters, a much
more palatable tone and more, it was just more substantial. More complete. More satisfying. Opinions may vary, of course, but if you
asked me to choose between a triple-A title and another Atlus budget release, I
think it’s obvious what I’d choose.
Hint: it’s the one without Marcus Fenix’s guttural screaming. I know that doesn’t narrow it down too much,
but I hope that pushes you in the right direction.
And then came the
game’s final scenario.
After much teasing
throughout the six characters’ scenarios (including ghosts -- realism!), the story comes to a head as
a deadly illness takes root. The
quarantine is formed, people die out in droves, and you see the frightened
townsfolk gathering outside your hospital HQ.
Memories are returned, threads are connected, breakthroughs in medical
science are made, and horrible secrets are revealed. Make no mistake, I’m not saying that the
final scenario is bad; it takes the elements of the other six scenarios --
uncovering the truth, finding one’s passion, serving justice Asklepios-style, connecting
with your patients -- and hyper-charges them.
The lessons learned in character arcs get put to the test; Maria’s
desire to be a hero puts her right in the middle of the action, trying to save
patients afflicted by the young epidemic in spite of not having a cure (and she
goes on to lend her aid -- a lesson she learned the hard way in her scenario --
to Naomi on a recon trip). The convicted
CR-S01 puts the pieces of his past together to find the clues they need, and
cast would-be villain Albert Sarte as a good man who merely opened Pandora’s
Box. But I have to give the highest
acclaim to Gabe Cunningham’s part of the scenario -- one of the most emotional
moments I’ve ever seen in a video game.
During the scenario,
Gabe gets taken to a government facility, where he’s allowed to take an
in-depth look at one of the latest victims: a young military officer named
Samuel Trumbull. As a doctor -- one who
helped a government bigwig earlier in the game -- he’s proven himself to have
the analytic mind needed to get to the bottom of the mystery. But at the same time, Gabe’s changed; once a
man prone to sarcasm and professionalism, he’s started to branch out thanks to
a grim diagnosis of his estranged son.
In other words, he starts to form an attachment to Samuel, most notably
because the young soldier just became a father.
But as fate is wont to do, disaster strikes; over the course of Gabe’s
testing (and your gameplay), Samuel gets worse and worse. One of his arms swell. He’s afflicted with jaundice. Gabe can move from one room to another, just
to run a few scans -- and when he comes back, he’s gotten even worse.
And then you get to a
certain point of the diagnosis -- a point when you realize that this illness,
and this game, is not messing around
anymore. He’s coughing up
blood. He’s struggling to breathe, and
even speak. His eyes are practically
bloodstained slabs of charcoal. Gabe is
frantic, and rendered speechless; the music shifts to one of the most
foreboding tracks in the game; reminiscent of my first encounter with GUILT all
those years ago, but far more chilling and mysterious. In fact, my response was the same as Gabe’s: “What
the hell?” It all culminates in one of
the most gut-wrenching moments I’ve ever had to play through: Samuel knows full
well that he won’t be making it out alive, and is resigned to his fate. But Gabe refuses to give up; with newfound
passion for his craft, he (or rather, the player) uses the dialogue on-screen
to give him a reason to live on.
Somehow, Gabe pulls it off, and gives him the strength he needs to
soldier on. Except he doesn’t. It’s implied that Samuel died in a later
conversation.
So what was the
point? A life might have been lost, but
the team gained something just as valuable.
Not just evidence. Not just
materials. Not just data, or lab scans, or
surgical tools. What Gabe gained -- what
the team gained -- what YOU gained -- is a reason to see the fight through to
the end. It’s not just to say “I beat
this game” or to add a few points to your Gamerscore, or to unlock a new skin
for multiplayer; by the time you reach Trauma
Team’s final levels, you’re in it for the long haul.
And what a haul. All six team members come together, lending
their skills to put a stop to the madness.
Operating on a cat to find a clue; taking on the virus as it affects the
people in town; heading to a remote retreat to find the missing piece of the
puzzle, and the reason for the virus’ spread (an answer that’s been in front of
you the whole time); creating a weapon that can fight against it, and administering
it en masse. These characters -- main
and victims alike -- may just be drawings with voices attached, but like any
good story they draw out more of an emotional response than half the games this
generation. And just when you think it’s
over, one of your won gets infected by the virus…only to have it mutate into a
super-virus. The surgery that ensues
puts your skills, patience, and steady hands to the test -- and when I say that
it has a heart-stopping finale, I mean it.
Now, you may be
wondering what this all has to do with the ending. Nothing more than gushing about one of my
favorite games, you chide; take your fanboyism somewhere else, you scold. Fair enough. But the ending brings all the game’s ideas and
themes together into one cohesive, satisfying package. When you see the good you’ve done…when you’ve
seen the tears of joy you’ve drawn out of souls that have lost all their hope…when
you’ve brought people together, knowing that they’ll live to see brighter days
together…you know that Gabe’s last words -- the game’s final, parting words -- ring
true.
“Your heroism places us
all in your debt. You truly are the 7th
member of the trauma team.”
We live in an
interesting time, us gamers. It’s easy
to grow jaded and cynical -- to think that games are just getting louder, and
dumber, and shorter. It’s easy to think
that there’s nothing special left; it’s all about money, or there’s no story
left to be told. But every once in a
while, there are games like Trauma Team that,
with a few choice words, reminds us of just what it means to be a gamer. To experience and live lives that we never
would have thought possible -- to know that
what we’ve done made some small difference.
To put a smile on someone’s face, be it a virtual one, or even our
own. To know that one way or another, we
have what it takes to be heroes.
If VGChartz is to be
believed, then Trauma Team sold about
a hundred thousand copies in the U.S.
There are times when I wish that its numbers were ten times that, so
that more people could have experienced the action, the comedy, and the drama
within. But as it stands, I can’t
complain. I’m happy, in fact; not everybody
played it, but those that did know that they, too, are members of the team. They got to play through something special,
all the way to that heartwarming ending.
"The road of life
twists and turns and no two directions are ever the same. Yet our lessons come
from the journey, not the destination.”
A quote from novelist Don Williams Jr.
Truer words have never been spoken.
…
You should probably go
play the game, is what I’m trying to say here. Go track it down. I'm not going anywhere.
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