One

Every month, I pay Microsoft £5.99 so that I can play games online with my friends. More specifically, the friends that it’s too awkward or costly to try and physically reach as often as I would like. In an ideal world, I’d be able to play my Xbox 360 online for free like Sony does with the Playstation 3, but that isn’t the case and I really don’t mind; it’s not a lot of money they’re asking for after all. Why, then, do some developers insist on making games that do not make use of a console’s online services?

I discovered less than an hour before I wrote this exact sentence that Rayman: Origins doesn’t have online multiplayer. Amongst some of the other titles being released this year, such as Skyrim and Battlefield 3, Rayman: Origins was one that I was seriously looking forward to. Ubisoft were taking Rayman back to his 2D platforming roots and exploring the origins of his character — hence the “Origins” part of the name — and it was going to be made with this brand new ‘UbiArt’ framework that could effectively turn concept art into a living game world.

Rayman: Origins was also touted as having co-operative multiplayer; this was the selling point for me. I was going to be playing through these beautiful hand-drawn worlds as Rayman, and I was going to bring three of my friends along, with them playing as Globox and the Teensies. We were going to have great fun exploring, smashing stuff and finding sneaky secrets and it was going to be fucking magical.

But Rayman: Origins doesn’t have online co-operative multiplayer. Nope. It’s all offline. I’d be over-reacting to say that this revelation had shattered my co-op dreams, but it has severely limited them. I won’t be able to play the game with any of my friends who live more than a bus or train journey away — not unless ASDA sells dirt cheap system-link cables that are in excess of 400 miles long — that means you, English friends, Welsh friends and overseas friends.

Even taking a bus or train to go and meet some friends just to play a game is a pain in the arse. I mean, a train to Glasgow, where most of my gaming chums live, is about £10 for a return journey — almost twice what it costs just to sit on your arse and dish out some Xbox Live justice for a month. Maybe that’s not expensive for the odd journey every month or so, but it’ll quickly start to rack up the more frequently you want to play the game with friends. A £40 game soon becomes a £50 game. Then a £60 game. Then before long it’s become a £100 one. That’s half of what I earn every month! Not great when you’re saving for some new computer parts.

I can appreciate this notion that some developers get about wanting to “bring people together”, but I don’t see how that equates to forcing them to be in a single room and have them all stare in the same direction. This is the 21st century for crying out loud: physical proximity is no longer a prerequisite for enjoying someone’s company. I should be able to pick someone’s brains about something after having splattered them across the nearest wall, regardless of where in the world the two of us actually are.