I left off the last post after the Chicago series. It was time to play against Colin and the Heat in the Eastern Conference Finals. I was clearly superior all throughout the regular season, but head-to-head is different than playing against the computer.
I lost the series in 6 games, and Game 6 wasn't particularly close. Despite my dominance against the computer, I could not properly adjust for a human opponent. Several eulogies for me and the season were written by friends, but again I had them saved in an old AIM away message that is now lost forever. Colin himself added a line down in the bottom of his profile that stated something along the lines of "I may not be [great? the best?], but I'm competent."
The Heat went on to win in the Finals. Allan Houston was named MVP, and Colin's own Alonzo Mourning was Defensive Player of the Year. The post-Knicks history of that season was narrated to me by Steve over AIM as I sat in my room 150 yards away in another building.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
The Live 98 Seasons (continued)
In the spring of 2002 I made another attempt at a multiplayer Live 98 season, this time with my suitemate Colin in Colonial Tower up at Albany. I was of course the Knicks, and I'm actually not sure who he played as. This was again the shortest season possible - 20-something games, 2 minute quarters.
The season went as expected, and as always I met Jordan's Bulls in the playoffs. It was a tough 7 game series that I don't have details of. However, once again, before actually getting to play against each other in the playoffs our efforts were stifled. My PlayStation memory card was corrupted, which I think was a common problem with NBA Live 98.
Fast-forward to a year later when we started over in a new venue - our friend's room (his bed in fact) at Empire Commons, which was SUNY Albany's new classy upperclassmen housing. This time Colin played as the Heat.
Again, the season went as expected. I won our regular season match-up and was the top seed. Colin and I were on an Eastern Conference Finals collision course. Then I ran into the brick wall of the mighty Chicago Bulls in round 2 and fell behind 3 games to 1.
The thing with these 2 minute quarters is that it makes for much closer games. If I'm playing a 48 minute game against the computer I might languish at points, get outscored one quarter, go scoreless for 5 minutes, etc. However, over the course of 48 minutes I'm eventually going to pull away definitively, most of the time. The shorter the time, the greater the variance. In an 8 minute game, if I go scoreless for 5 minutes I'm screwed. If I get outscored over what would have been just 2/3rds of a quarter, I've lost the game. This makes things more exciting and is generally desirable.
So in those first 4 games against Chicago, every single game came down to the wire. I had an old AIM away message that detailed each game, but you know how you hear about moms in the 1960s finally throwing out their grown-up son's huge valuable comic book collection? Well, my mom thought it was okay to throw out my old computers, so the detailed history is now lost forever.
Being down 3-1 is tough even when you're clearly better than the other team. Even if you're as high as a 79% favorite in every game, you're still probably going to lose the series (you have to be on the good side of 79% three times in a row, which only happens 49.3% of the time). There's no way I was a 79% favorite against the Bulls, so I was in quite a bad spot.
Those games were something else. We're talking buzzer beaters, overtime, shots with .2 left, etc. - and this continued past the first 4 games. In Game 5 I was nearly finished. Colin was watching, and I was down 3 with just seconds to go. When I hit the 3 to tie, the gravity of the moment made Colin literally cry out and fall backwards. Even though I was an opposing team, at that moment we were teammates.
I won Game 6 and then did, indeed, win Game 7 - both close. Overall an incredible, brutal series and probably the best I will ever be a part of.
The season went as expected, and as always I met Jordan's Bulls in the playoffs. It was a tough 7 game series that I don't have details of. However, once again, before actually getting to play against each other in the playoffs our efforts were stifled. My PlayStation memory card was corrupted, which I think was a common problem with NBA Live 98.
Fast-forward to a year later when we started over in a new venue - our friend's room (his bed in fact) at Empire Commons, which was SUNY Albany's new classy upperclassmen housing. This time Colin played as the Heat.
Again, the season went as expected. I won our regular season match-up and was the top seed. Colin and I were on an Eastern Conference Finals collision course. Then I ran into the brick wall of the mighty Chicago Bulls in round 2 and fell behind 3 games to 1.
The thing with these 2 minute quarters is that it makes for much closer games. If I'm playing a 48 minute game against the computer I might languish at points, get outscored one quarter, go scoreless for 5 minutes, etc. However, over the course of 48 minutes I'm eventually going to pull away definitively, most of the time. The shorter the time, the greater the variance. In an 8 minute game, if I go scoreless for 5 minutes I'm screwed. If I get outscored over what would have been just 2/3rds of a quarter, I've lost the game. This makes things more exciting and is generally desirable.
So in those first 4 games against Chicago, every single game came down to the wire. I had an old AIM away message that detailed each game, but you know how you hear about moms in the 1960s finally throwing out their grown-up son's huge valuable comic book collection? Well, my mom thought it was okay to throw out my old computers, so the detailed history is now lost forever.
Being down 3-1 is tough even when you're clearly better than the other team. Even if you're as high as a 79% favorite in every game, you're still probably going to lose the series (you have to be on the good side of 79% three times in a row, which only happens 49.3% of the time). There's no way I was a 79% favorite against the Bulls, so I was in quite a bad spot.
Those games were something else. We're talking buzzer beaters, overtime, shots with .2 left, etc. - and this continued past the first 4 games. In Game 5 I was nearly finished. Colin was watching, and I was down 3 with just seconds to go. When I hit the 3 to tie, the gravity of the moment made Colin literally cry out and fall backwards. Even though I was an opposing team, at that moment we were teammates.
I won Game 6 and then did, indeed, win Game 7 - both close. Overall an incredible, brutal series and probably the best I will ever be a part of.
Monday, April 9, 2012
The NBA 2K Season
This is my most treasured of all NBA video game memories. I played the original NBA 2K on my suitemate's Dreamcast in May of 2001 with the spring breeze blowing and not a care in the world. My suitemates were usually gone during the day, so I had that time on the Dreamcast.
Since this wasn't going to be a "canonical" season and since I didn't have time for a full season, I played a short season (probably 20-something games with 3 minute quarters, hardest difficulty). I have this weird obsessive-compulsive thing where I feel it's necessary to either grind out a true full-length season in sports games, or to just play the shortest possible season. There's no in-between.
This was the most difficult NBA game I'd yet played. I made it to the playoffs and through the Eastern Conference without anything happening that I can remember 11 years later. Then came the Finals against the formidable Los Angeles Lakers. In real life, this was the first year of their three-peat.
My Knicks were in serious trouble this series. I was probably down 2-1 or something like that, and knew that there was no realistic way that I could win this thing.
In a number of NBA games, when you commit a flagrant foul the opposing player gets injured 100% of the time, sometimes for a quarter and sometimes for multiple games. It is way too easy to commit flagrant fouls, as there is basically a button used to shove other players.
Shaq was obviously an unstoppable beast in NBA 2K...
At some point in the series, around Game 3 or 4, I flagrantly fouled Shaquille O'Neal. He was injured for the remainder of the Finals. I won the Championship, but even without their best player it was still a tough series that went 7 games.
Did I "hack" Shaq on purpose with the intention of hurting him? I don't remember. Perhaps some of the darker portions of our memory are best left unexplored. Needless to say, this has always felt like a hollow victory.
Someday, somehow, I will seek redemption.
Since this wasn't going to be a "canonical" season and since I didn't have time for a full season, I played a short season (probably 20-something games with 3 minute quarters, hardest difficulty). I have this weird obsessive-compulsive thing where I feel it's necessary to either grind out a true full-length season in sports games, or to just play the shortest possible season. There's no in-between.
This was the most difficult NBA game I'd yet played. I made it to the playoffs and through the Eastern Conference without anything happening that I can remember 11 years later. Then came the Finals against the formidable Los Angeles Lakers. In real life, this was the first year of their three-peat.
My Knicks were in serious trouble this series. I was probably down 2-1 or something like that, and knew that there was no realistic way that I could win this thing.
In a number of NBA games, when you commit a flagrant foul the opposing player gets injured 100% of the time, sometimes for a quarter and sometimes for multiple games. It is way too easy to commit flagrant fouls, as there is basically a button used to shove other players.
Shaq was obviously an unstoppable beast in NBA 2K...
At some point in the series, around Game 3 or 4, I flagrantly fouled Shaquille O'Neal. He was injured for the remainder of the Finals. I won the Championship, but even without their best player it was still a tough series that went 7 games.
Did I "hack" Shaq on purpose with the intention of hurting him? I don't remember. Perhaps some of the darker portions of our memory are best left unexplored. Needless to say, this has always felt like a hollow victory.
Someday, somehow, I will seek redemption.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
The Non-Canonical Seasons
This is one of my favorite topics. It deals with seasons of NBA games I played that are "unofficial". From Wikipedia, here is what I mean by "canon":
"[T]he term canon denotes the material accepted as 'official' in a fictional universe..." (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canon_%28fiction%29)
The official canon of my NBA fictional universe are the full seasons of NBA Live '95, '96, '97, '98 and '99 that I have played. If I have played additional shortened seasons of any of these games (which I have) or seasons of other NBA games (which I have), those are not "official". They can still be amazing, dramatic and memorable, just not "real".
Please note that I will not be discussing my full season of Madden '95 with 15 minute quarters for the Super Nintendo in which I went undefeated.
After finishing the official NBA Live '97 season in late 1999 I got my hands on NBA Live '98, again for the original PlayStation. I did not start the official '98 season right away, and in fact did not start that season for a number of years. But we'll get to that later.
At some point I discovered that you could play through a season with more than one player controlling more than one team. So, at the beginning of the season I could select the Knicks, and a friend could select another team (more than two could do this). We would each play our games on the same system when they were scheduled, alternating between us as necessary. If our teams met in the regular season or playoffs, we would of course play against each other using two controllers. That was the hope - that we would play a season mostly independently, and eventually meet for a winner-takes-all playoff series. It would be a disappointment if one of us were to be knocked out before that point.
My first attempt at a multiplayer season was with my suitemate Anish in May of 2000, and we were probably already into school finals at that time. We played the shortest season possible, 26-ish games, with the shortest quarters possible, 2 minutes. He was the Heat, I was the Knicks. The regular season went by uneventfully. For the All-Star game, since we were both Eastern Conference teams we played together with 2 controllers as teammates.
As the semester was coming to a close and move-out day was approaching, we got to the playoffs. I won a tough series against the Bulls (this becomes a theme). He finished his series or two as well and it was time for us to play against each other in a playoff series. However, at that point I guess I burned out on playing so many games in a very short period of time and lost interest in finishing. We never did. Those two teams and that particular iteration of the 1998 NBA season will now hang in limbo for the rest of eternity.
"[T]he term canon denotes the material accepted as 'official' in a fictional universe..." (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canon_%28fiction%29)
The official canon of my NBA fictional universe are the full seasons of NBA Live '95, '96, '97, '98 and '99 that I have played. If I have played additional shortened seasons of any of these games (which I have) or seasons of other NBA games (which I have), those are not "official". They can still be amazing, dramatic and memorable, just not "real".
Please note that I will not be discussing my full season of Madden '95 with 15 minute quarters for the Super Nintendo in which I went undefeated.
After finishing the official NBA Live '97 season in late 1999 I got my hands on NBA Live '98, again for the original PlayStation. I did not start the official '98 season right away, and in fact did not start that season for a number of years. But we'll get to that later.
At some point I discovered that you could play through a season with more than one player controlling more than one team. So, at the beginning of the season I could select the Knicks, and a friend could select another team (more than two could do this). We would each play our games on the same system when they were scheduled, alternating between us as necessary. If our teams met in the regular season or playoffs, we would of course play against each other using two controllers. That was the hope - that we would play a season mostly independently, and eventually meet for a winner-takes-all playoff series. It would be a disappointment if one of us were to be knocked out before that point.
My first attempt at a multiplayer season was with my suitemate Anish in May of 2000, and we were probably already into school finals at that time. We played the shortest season possible, 26-ish games, with the shortest quarters possible, 2 minutes. He was the Heat, I was the Knicks. The regular season went by uneventfully. For the All-Star game, since we were both Eastern Conference teams we played together with 2 controllers as teammates.
As the semester was coming to a close and move-out day was approaching, we got to the playoffs. I won a tough series against the Bulls (this becomes a theme). He finished his series or two as well and it was time for us to play against each other in a playoff series. However, at that point I guess I burned out on playing so many games in a very short period of time and lost interest in finishing. We never did. Those two teams and that particular iteration of the 1998 NBA season will now hang in limbo for the rest of eternity.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
The Response to "Look, Single-Player People are Just Better"
I started writing this post up in the comments section of this Kotaku article (originally posted elsewhere I believe) by John Walker, and it got long enough that I decided to just post it here. This is my first "real" blog post that isn't merely an inane chronicle of my NBA Live career.
Walker writes a long lamentation on the decline of single-player games. He strongly prefers single-player, and until a few months ago (when I started playing LittleBigPlanet online) I would have agreed with him wholeheartedly. I still do agree to an extent although I am more open-minded than he is.
Where he goes off the rails is with crap like this:
"The worth of single-player comes in the form of narrative. As with any good novel, or a finely crafted film. It is the equivalent to literature. While multiplayer is an ill-informed argument. It has no direction, no beginning nor end, no meaning." [weird sentence structure errors are his of course]
When film was first starting out, movies often amounted to not much more than filmed stage plays. As the cinema developed, filmmakers realized that there were tools available to them with film that cannot exist in the written word or on stage. The camera, editing, close-ups, montage, special effects, etc. Film developed its own language and in most cases it no longer resembles stage plays.
Video games are now at the same stage that early film was at. The end-all be-all, say Walker and his ilk, is to make games that are "cinematic" (or "literary") experiences, experiences that have a beginning and an end, experiences that have "meaning". But games are not movies, nor are they books. Suggesting that multiplayer games have "no meaning" is stuck in the mindset of those older media. Games can do things that those media cannot. What are those things exactly? Hell, I don't know - in terms of realizing their full potential, games are just getting started. But I can provide some ideas.
Tom Bissell, in his book "Extra Lives: Why Video Games Matter" (which anybody who is interested enough to engage in serious debates like this should read), writes about an experience playing Left 4 Dead in which he displayed cowardice that he eventually turned around into a triumphal sacrifice. Was that authored by the game developers? No. Does the fact that his powerful and memorable experience was not specifically intended by the developers make any difference? No. Walker (along with numerous RPG and adventure game players) apparently thinks it does matter, and that's incorrect.
Walker enjoys his tongue-in-cheek snobbery and superiority complex to those brainless morons who sit around picking their noses playing multiplayer all day, but in a sense they are more advanced than Walker is in terms of experiencing games in meaningful ways that aren't trying to ape the conventions of other media. Walker wants to guide a character through a pre-set routine with a beginning and an end that the developer has plastered "meaning" onto (generally in a clumsy manner), where character deaths and intended "emotional experiences" are pre-determined and The Hero's Journey is neatly laid out. But those multiplayer imbeciles are creating their own heartbreaks and triumphs, and those triumphs feel far more "real" and meaningful than most games with rigid stories could ever hope to feel.
My criticisms by no means apply to all single-player games, nor does my praise apply only to multiplayer games. I am speaking more to the core of Walker's argument, which is that meaningful gaming experiences come from single-player narratives.
Walker, and those of you who agree with him, should read "Extra Lives", read the following discussion between Bissell and Simon Ferrari, and especially read this excellent blog post by the Brainy Gamer, in which Michael Abbott explains why the heavily authored Kingdom Hearts: Birth by Sleep was far less meaningful to him than another RPG he played at the same time which was "old school" and provided very little story structure.
You should also keep an eye on this blog, as I've been planning on writing a simple introduction to thinking about video games more intelligently.
Walker writes a long lamentation on the decline of single-player games. He strongly prefers single-player, and until a few months ago (when I started playing LittleBigPlanet online) I would have agreed with him wholeheartedly. I still do agree to an extent although I am more open-minded than he is.
Where he goes off the rails is with crap like this:
"The worth of single-player comes in the form of narrative. As with any good novel, or a finely crafted film. It is the equivalent to literature. While multiplayer is an ill-informed argument. It has no direction, no beginning nor end, no meaning." [weird sentence structure errors are his of course]
When film was first starting out, movies often amounted to not much more than filmed stage plays. As the cinema developed, filmmakers realized that there were tools available to them with film that cannot exist in the written word or on stage. The camera, editing, close-ups, montage, special effects, etc. Film developed its own language and in most cases it no longer resembles stage plays.
Video games are now at the same stage that early film was at. The end-all be-all, say Walker and his ilk, is to make games that are "cinematic" (or "literary") experiences, experiences that have a beginning and an end, experiences that have "meaning". But games are not movies, nor are they books. Suggesting that multiplayer games have "no meaning" is stuck in the mindset of those older media. Games can do things that those media cannot. What are those things exactly? Hell, I don't know - in terms of realizing their full potential, games are just getting started. But I can provide some ideas.
Tom Bissell, in his book "Extra Lives: Why Video Games Matter" (which anybody who is interested enough to engage in serious debates like this should read), writes about an experience playing Left 4 Dead in which he displayed cowardice that he eventually turned around into a triumphal sacrifice. Was that authored by the game developers? No. Does the fact that his powerful and memorable experience was not specifically intended by the developers make any difference? No. Walker (along with numerous RPG and adventure game players) apparently thinks it does matter, and that's incorrect.
Walker enjoys his tongue-in-cheek snobbery and superiority complex to those brainless morons who sit around picking their noses playing multiplayer all day, but in a sense they are more advanced than Walker is in terms of experiencing games in meaningful ways that aren't trying to ape the conventions of other media. Walker wants to guide a character through a pre-set routine with a beginning and an end that the developer has plastered "meaning" onto (generally in a clumsy manner), where character deaths and intended "emotional experiences" are pre-determined and The Hero's Journey is neatly laid out. But those multiplayer imbeciles are creating their own heartbreaks and triumphs, and those triumphs feel far more "real" and meaningful than most games with rigid stories could ever hope to feel.
My criticisms by no means apply to all single-player games, nor does my praise apply only to multiplayer games. I am speaking more to the core of Walker's argument, which is that meaningful gaming experiences come from single-player narratives.
Walker, and those of you who agree with him, should read "Extra Lives", read the following discussion between Bissell and Simon Ferrari, and especially read this excellent blog post by the Brainy Gamer, in which Michael Abbott explains why the heavily authored Kingdom Hearts: Birth by Sleep was far less meaningful to him than another RPG he played at the same time which was "old school" and provided very little story structure.
You should also keep an eye on this blog, as I've been planning on writing a simple introduction to thinking about video games more intelligently.
Friday, June 17, 2011
The Live '97
I likely bought NBA Live '97 at FuncoLand (now GameStop) at some point in 1998 or early 1999. I got the version for the original Playstation. I did not start right in on a season with this one like I did with '96, choosing to dawdle around with the game quite a bit first.
This season, I really began to think about the fascinating philosophical question of where your skill level should be at when you start a sports game season. One should not just jump right into a season without becoming familiar with the controls and gameplay, because then one would be horrible in the beginning. On the other hand, one should not practice so much that one is already blowing out the computer in every game from the start. Where is that happy medium?
At first I thought that your skill level should be such that you are capable of beating the best ranked team in the game, playing as the team you are going to play as for the game length that you are going to play. So in other words, I would have to beat the Chicago Bulls (the number 1 team) using the Knicks in a 48 minute exhibition game. I soon realized that this wasn't optimal, because theoretically it might not be possible to beat a team better than you. I remembered reading in video game magazines that with some football games it was no longer possible to beat "any team with any team", and I took the lesson to heart.
So my theory was modified. I decided that you merely needed to be able to beat your own team in an exhibition game. Knicks vs. Knicks - the game allowed you to do this. I started a tradition of the annual "Knicks vs. Knicks Exhibition Game". How such a game can happen in the continuity of my dynasty in what is supposed to be the real world, I have no idea, but I still imagine Mike Breen or Marv Albert announcing it.
This solution was later modified further in future seasons, but that's the gist of it for now.
Live '97 was significantly harder than the prior two games. My hope (and fear) was that this would ensure a tough season with a legitimate possibility of failure, where I would possibly lose to the Bulls or another team in the playoffs when all was said and done.
As I wrote earlier, I putzed around a lot with this game before finally following through with a season. Some of this had to do with the first game. It was against the Raptors in Toronto. In real life, I remembered watching the game and it was some sort of NBA anniversary thing (perhaps the first NBA game ever was a Toronto team versus the Knicks or something like that), with the teams wearing classic jerseys. It was also the very first game of that NBA season. Because of how "special" it was, I had an OCD thing where I wanted to score the first bucket of the season and also win the game. I had to restart when I didn't, and even restarted the entire season several times once I got deeper, perhaps after as many as 10+ games. I don't know what my thought process was there.
The opening game that finally "counted" was one where I was up by 1 at the closing seconds, and Patrick Ewing blocked the potential game-winning Toronto buzzer shot from the free throw line.
The real life time frame for the early part of the season is hazy, but it was probably the fall of '98 or winter of '99. There was one game that I was playing in my living room. My sister had a friend over, and the friend's brother had arrived to take her home. To get to the side door, she had to pass in front of the TV where I was deep into a game. She attempted an acrobatic leap over the controller cord, caught her foot on it, and pulled the entire system off of the chair it was resting on in a devastating crash. The girl was probably around 13 and was in shock at what she had just done, having possibly destroyed some stranger's Playstation. A long stream of drool came out of her mouth as she stood agape, and it was a fairly disturbing sight. I don't know if I've ever mentioned it before now, and I don't know if anybody else saw the drool (there is also a slight chance I was seeing things, but I doubt it). I hurriedly tried to reassure her, saying "it's okay, it's okay..." several times while picking up the system.
The Playstation was none the worse for wear.
The season went on, but unlike '95 and '96 I did not have much dedication. I took long breaks between games, going in spurts and then not playing for months at a time. My record was probably always just about tops in the league, but I lost my fair share of games. During the summer of 1999, I had a small stretch of games that were all very close and exciting, alternating between wins and losses. One was the game that, according to the real NBA schedule for that year (http://www.databasebasketball.com/teams/teamscores.htm?tm=NYK&yr=1996&lg=N), took place on January 23, 1997 in Indiana. My Knicks were up by 1, but Reggie Miller the Knick Killer himself hit a well-contested 18 footer at the buzzer to sink us. This aggravated me enough that I put the game away again for months.
Fall of '99 was my first semester away at college. Towards the end of September on a lazy weekday afternoon in the dorm room, I decided it was time to continue the season. The game was at the Charlotte Hornets (who had the prettiest court, with the honeycomb lane) on January 24, 1997. As the game drew to a close, I was once again pissed off - I was down by 6, headed for another frustrating loss, and ready to shelve the game again for a month. With less than 10 seconds to go, Allan Houston hits a three pointer from the right elbow. Down 3 now, but still a long shot. Houston goes for the foul on the inbounds pass...and manages to steal the ball. I nearly panic and shoot the open lay-up, but quickly catch myself since I need a 3. There are now only 2-3 seconds left on the clock, not even enough time for Houston to run behind the line and throw up a prayer. As is the norm with the AI, my teammates were all back on the other end of the floor.
But then, of all people, none other than Patrick Ewing himself comes barreling down the court. He's headed for the far corner. I throw it to him before he even gets to the spot. He plants behind the three-point line, turns, jumps, catches, and shoots all in one motion, the buzzer sounds, and...BANG! Patrick Ewing ties the game at the buzzer, in one of the most improbable endings in NBA history. Replays confirm that Ewing shot at the last possible tenth of a second - the ball was still in his hand at 0.1. We win easily in overtime, and this blows my season wide open, sparking something like a 27 game winning streak.
After that I got my suitemates rooting for me, and they would often sit to watch games or listen to recaps. It was a shame that I hadn't told them about it before the Charlotte game so that I could celebrate publically. There was a game late in the season against Orlando where I was down by 3. I invited my suitemates Roger and Casey into the room to watch the closing moments, despite it being midnight with my roommate John trying to sleep. I brought the ball up with Chris Childs and took the potential game-tying 3, missing it. Roger criticized my play, telling me that you're not supposed to shoot in that situation with the person who brings the ball up court. Not sure if that makes any sense, but certainly I should have had Houston take the shot at the very least.
At some point I caught wind of the fact that my roommate (the suite was made up of 3 rooms of 2) was annoyed by my late-night playing.
At the end of the regular season my record was probably in the ballpark of 67-15, similar to Live '95. I ran into the dreaded Chicago in the 2nd or 3rd round. I lost one game to them, and when I told my friend Casey about this he said "son" in a disapproving tone and shook his head in disgust, walking away. He knew as well as I did that towards the end of the season I had become unstoppable, and would probably not have lost a game in the playoffs unless I was basically trying to lose. He was probably right.
On being unstoppable - after playing dozens of regular season games for 48 minutes a piece, you begin to pick up on certain tendencies of the computer and learn to exploit them. In this game, an easy way to score was to get yourself isolated in the post. You would fake away from the basket, and the opposing player would go flying for the fake. Then you would spin back towards the basket and generally get an easy lay-up or dunk. I wish it didn't always become that easy in NBA games (but as you'll see in future seasons, it doesn't always).
I repeated and won the NBA Championship easily, losing only the one game, to the Bulls, throughout the playoffs.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
The Live '96
I bought NBA Live '96 for the Super Nintendo at a Blockbuster (I think my dad paid for it), in I believe the summer of 1997. There is a slim chance it was '98 or '96, but '97 makes the most sense. I played an exhibition game and won it pretty easily, so I started up a season almost right away. No dawdling for months like with Live '95 - I was hungry to get back on the court.
This SNES version was a lot easier than the PC version of '95, because of controls if nothing else. Also, I now knew that I should be getting into the paint rather than popping 3s. You could get into the paint with reckless abandon in that game, and I did. Derek Harper was the point guard. I would have him bring the ball up and then try to penetrate. He usually could and then score an easy dunk/lay-up at the rim. If not, I passed around and tried something else. In general though you could score at will. Harper was my scoring leader and I am fairly certain he scored over 100 points at least once. I think it goes without saying that I play these games on the hardest difficulty level by the way.
For much of the season, I was playing with a broken controller. It wouldn't allow you to move around freely, so it was a slight handicap although it didn't matter much. For one game against the Seattle Supersonics, it did matter. Looking at the real NBA schedule from that season, it appears that this would be the game from January 19th, 1996 in Seattle. I lost the game - I think it was close, but do not remember the final margin of loss. That was my first loss, and if it is that game then I would have been 36-0 going into it. 36-1.
During the March 8th game (remember these are game dates, not real - it was all played in the summer of '97 in my room) against Philadelphia, I got frustrated when a computer opponent knocked me down without a foul call, even though I was winning big. I purposely knocked down and fouled one of their guys, which I sometimes did when frustrated. I started doing it every play, and some of my guys started fouling out. Soon I was interested to see what would happen if there were only 5 guys left and one fouled out. I kept fouling until only 5 of us were left...when one of the last 5 fouled out, nothing happened - they left them in the game with 6+ fouls. Mystery solved.
By that point I had let the Sixers back into the game with all of the free throws, after having been up by a comfortable margin. I wound up down 3 with time winding down. I inbounded and took a 3...no good but I managed to grab the rebound. I would have one last chance - I kicked it back out...and the ball went to Charles Smith in the backcourt. The genius had already run down the floor to get back on defense. Turnover, game over.
In real life, the Knicks' head coach Don Nelson had been fired right before this game. Now there was a reason in my personal narrative for the Knicks to be firing their coach who had a 58-1 record. He disgraced the team and caused a big scandal with the intentional foul-outs. Enter Jeff Van Gundy.
The final game of the regular season was against Boston. I noticed that I had never scored over 200+ points in a game, and had never held a team below 100 (defense is hard). I really made an effort to go for that, and I hit both goals in the final game.
The playoffs were a breeze; we swept them all. Along the way, some revenge was had. We defeated the Magic, and I believe even played Houston in the finals, who the real Knicks (and the fake Knicks since there was no history before '95) lost to in '94. One note about the playoffs is that for some reason they were shortened - the first round was I think a best of 3, with the remaining rounds best of 5 (it's supposed to be 5-7-7-7). I'm not sure if that was the game's fault or mine.
This SNES version was a lot easier than the PC version of '95, because of controls if nothing else. Also, I now knew that I should be getting into the paint rather than popping 3s. You could get into the paint with reckless abandon in that game, and I did. Derek Harper was the point guard. I would have him bring the ball up and then try to penetrate. He usually could and then score an easy dunk/lay-up at the rim. If not, I passed around and tried something else. In general though you could score at will. Harper was my scoring leader and I am fairly certain he scored over 100 points at least once. I think it goes without saying that I play these games on the hardest difficulty level by the way.
For much of the season, I was playing with a broken controller. It wouldn't allow you to move around freely, so it was a slight handicap although it didn't matter much. For one game against the Seattle Supersonics, it did matter. Looking at the real NBA schedule from that season, it appears that this would be the game from January 19th, 1996 in Seattle. I lost the game - I think it was close, but do not remember the final margin of loss. That was my first loss, and if it is that game then I would have been 36-0 going into it. 36-1.
During the March 8th game (remember these are game dates, not real - it was all played in the summer of '97 in my room) against Philadelphia, I got frustrated when a computer opponent knocked me down without a foul call, even though I was winning big. I purposely knocked down and fouled one of their guys, which I sometimes did when frustrated. I started doing it every play, and some of my guys started fouling out. Soon I was interested to see what would happen if there were only 5 guys left and one fouled out. I kept fouling until only 5 of us were left...when one of the last 5 fouled out, nothing happened - they left them in the game with 6+ fouls. Mystery solved.
By that point I had let the Sixers back into the game with all of the free throws, after having been up by a comfortable margin. I wound up down 3 with time winding down. I inbounded and took a 3...no good but I managed to grab the rebound. I would have one last chance - I kicked it back out...and the ball went to Charles Smith in the backcourt. The genius had already run down the floor to get back on defense. Turnover, game over.
In real life, the Knicks' head coach Don Nelson had been fired right before this game. Now there was a reason in my personal narrative for the Knicks to be firing their coach who had a 58-1 record. He disgraced the team and caused a big scandal with the intentional foul-outs. Enter Jeff Van Gundy.
The final game of the regular season was against Boston. I noticed that I had never scored over 200+ points in a game, and had never held a team below 100 (defense is hard). I really made an effort to go for that, and I hit both goals in the final game.
The playoffs were a breeze; we swept them all. Along the way, some revenge was had. We defeated the Magic, and I believe even played Houston in the finals, who the real Knicks (and the fake Knicks since there was no history before '95) lost to in '94. One note about the playoffs is that for some reason they were shortened - the first round was I think a best of 3, with the remaining rounds best of 5 (it's supposed to be 5-7-7-7). I'm not sure if that was the game's fault or mine.
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