(For example, see such retorts to the magazine’s claims as user ch3burashka ’s “It seems Next’s April Fools issue came out 2 months late” and user Scooper ’s Oscar Wilde-esque bon mot “fake and ur a bitch.”) As evidenced by a comment thread about the Next Generation cover on Giant Bomb ’s forum, the general consensus is that the low-poly graphics of the Unreal era look painfully dated today. ![]() And the number of operatives volunteering to join the rescue only seems to be growing.Īny outsider looking strictly at the chronology could be forgiven for thinking these artists are volunteering for a suicide mission. We now know the general style they’re airlifting out-the same basic one as Unreal ’s-as the low-poly aesthetic (or just “low-poly,” if you’re in game-familiar company). However, Burke is among a new wave of developers and digital artists parachuting back onto the beaches of the mid- ‘ 90s for graphics inspiration. ![]() No matter how realistic a computer-generated image appears in the moment, inevitably it will soon look both naive and obsolete. That fact makes attempting to replicate the natural world a boobytrapped mission for all digital artists concerned with their work’s longevity. More than 17 years later the honor seems as antiquated as an award for “Sturdiest thatch roof” or “Healthiest well water.” Avant-garde game designer Leo Burke summarized the problem as succinctly as possible when I spoke to him over Skype: “With Moore’s Law ”-the generally accepted notion that computer processing capabilities double every two years-” and graphics getting better every year, fidelity has a shelf life with games.” An artist can only ever get as close to the bullseye as the current technology will allow. When it comes to digital artwork, realism is a target in perpetual motion. Instead, the Next Generation cover represents a more vexing problem for any digital artist: the dysfunctional relationship between time, technology, and our own visual standards. Their work was innovative, if not revolutionary, in its era. More than 17 years later, though, the honor and the artwork that earned it both seem as antiquated as an award for “Sturdiest thatch roof” or “Healthiest well water.”Įven so, none of this should be considered an indictment of Unreal ’s graphics team. No doubt other developers would have sacrificed their pinkie toes to win “Best looking PC game of 1997” over Unreal that February. ![]() Like many other frozen moments from the past-especially in the realm of technology-this cover image registers as considerably less awe-inspiring in hindsight. Yet a one-word headline doubled as the featured game’s title and the editors’ breathless opinion about the image’s quality: “ Unreal! ” And lest its readers miss the point, Next Generation tagged on the gushing parenthetical “Yes, this is an actual PC game screenshot… Unreal could be the best looking PC game of 1997.” And it felt as though one could individually count every polygon on display. The textures on its mottled flesh and the castle’s craggy stones looked equally and obviously manufactured. The creature’s contours were all hard, straight edges rather than organic curves. The creature’s confrontational pose dominated the frame, leaving only enough space for an abbreviated view of a beige stone castle and a murky lime sky behind it. In February 1997, Next Generation magazine splashed its cover with an image of a red-eyed reptilian humanoid boasting an Olympian’s physique and a pair of Wolverine-esque knuckle-mounted claws. ![]() This is the first of a three-part series.
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