By the time I'd reached the end of my brief hands-on session with Tony Hawk Ride, I had only just begun to deconstruct the hardware's machinations, and started determining how to deftly manipulate it in order to do sweet tricks. I was making progress in this endeavor when the demo came to a halt, but I'm still not sure my mind had completely wrapped around how I was supposed to manipulate the device. Is that indicative of the peripheral's weakness? No, I think it can be entirely chalked up to the fact that skateboarders move in mysterious ways.
I'm not used to keeping my balance on an oval plane, constantly shifting my orientation while tilting the surface I'm standing on. Despite my lack of shredding expertise, I wouldn't call myself oafish -- but as I flailed about on the boardtroller, I couldn't help but think about how I'd never want to do this in front of mean-spirited onlookers.
The first game mode I got to try on the board was a simple speed run down a steep incline. The control scheme was set to automatic, limiting the amount of steering I would have to do -- a kindness bestowed upon me by the demo's coordinators that I shall not soon forget. Green power-ups placed throughout the map (usually in high arcing patterns at the ends of ramps) would extend the amount of time I had to complete the run. Red power-ups, which similarly required well-timed jumps to avoid, did the opposite.
My trajectory during this first run-through was interesting -- I spent the first minute of the run on the ground, occasionally managing an unimpressive bunny hop here and there, hitting nearly every time deduction on the track. However, the acclamation process began to set in, and my in-game dexterity improved. I even ended up making a difficult jump at the end of the run that the Robomodo rep who played before me failed to pull off -- though I still felt confident that I had done so in the least stylish way possible.
The other mode I tried out was a half-pipe freeplay mode, which required me to stand with the broad side of the board facing the television, changing my orientation based on the direction my on-screen skater was facing. It was confusing at first, but having picked up on the fundamentals during my last run, I figured out what I was doing fairly quickly. I tried to pepper my pendular movement with the occasional grab and lip trick, but failed to mimic the impressive feats I'd seen performed by the Activision rep who went before me.
Still, I beat the pants off a certain Joystiq writer, which was really all the satisfaction I needed from the experience.
I can confidently say it didn't feel like my lack of success during my first Ride was due to a poorly designed peripheral. The board worked perfectly. It was my own inability to hastily scale the game's steep learning curve which ultimately sunk me. If given time, I'm sure it's a hill I'll be able to climb, which could potentially push my enjoyment of the final product into the stratosphere.
Therein lies the rub: in order to know whether you'll enjoy playing Tony Hawk: Ride, you've really got to spend a significant amount of time trying it out. Not everyone will have this opportunity, however, making Ride a costly gamble for your average budget gamer.
Would I pick it up? I'm still straddling the fence. (I imagine I'd be grinding the fence if I possessed the faculties required to do so.)
