I recently picked up Planet Zoo, and I’m enjoying it. It’s a great spiritual successor to the Zoo Tycoon series, and it has an incredibly in-depth level of customization that I’ve barely scratched the surface of (working through the campaign, relying heavily on the prefab stuff at present). It’s also got absolutely beautiful vistas and lovely depictions of lifelike animals, plus a good combination of animal and visitor AIs with a robust in-game economy.
Since childhood, I’ve always been fond of zoological park sims in particular. That includes Frontier Developments’ Planet Zoo and Jurassic World: Evolution, but I can trace the fascination back to Blue Tongue Entertainment’s Jurassic Park: Operation Genesis; the original Zoo Tycoon and Zoo Tycoon 2 from Blue Fang Games, including their expansion packs, which of course added dinosaurs; and the game that started it all, the 1993 Manley & Associates educational game title, DinoPark Tycoon. I’ve always loved zoos and animals, and dinosaurs in particular, so it’s no surprise that I’d continue to be drawn to these games, even though the broader genre of management sims hasn’t kept me as engaged.
Something I’ve been thinking about with Planet Zoo is how it contrasts with the themes and goals of Jurassic World: Evolution. Given that they’re both games by Frontier Developments, released just a year apart from each other, I find the contrast rather interesting, and I think it reflects conscious choices on the part of the developer to characterize both games quite distinctly.
Jurassic World: Evolution, released in 2018, has a profit-focused, exploitative character to it. You play as a nameless corporate executive brought in to run the Jurassic World parks while balancing the needs of the Science, Security, and Entertainment divisions. All of these divisions are fundamentally guided by corporate greed, and to keep them pacified you need to do things like increase the quality and availability of guest services; raise park revenues; research, modify, and release new dinosaurs; and even engage in rather ethically dubious pursuits that include pitting dinosaurs against each other to attract more guests or even to sell off dinosaurs to who-knows-what other corporations to make a little extra profit. All of the divisions have a darker side. Science is perfectly willing to exploit the animals and endanger lives in the pursuit of more knowledge. Security is interested in weaponizing the dinosaurs for other parties. And Entertainment wants more than anything else to ensure that guest satisfaction, and the resultant stream of dollars, stays high, regardless of what that means for the welfare of the dinosaurs. The Secrets of Dr. Wu DLC expands on this dark side, as you get further caught up in the twisted experimentations of the megalomaniacal Dr. Wu. Claire’s Sanctuary initially pushes back on this, as dinosaurs are saved from certain re-extinction on Isla Nublar, but the “Sanctuary” quickly becomes another money-making machine for the Hammond Foundation and Ingen, with guest revenues fueling profit quotas from the corporate backers. Only Return to Jurassic Park truly bucks the trend by returning to the immediate aftermath of Jurassic Park in an alternate timeline in which Grant, Sattler, and Malcolm commit to makingthe park a safe way for guests to observe real dinosaurs; their priorities are genuine guest safety and a greater understanding of these restored creatures. Even so, Hammond and his assistant are there to push you to keep making the park bigger, better, and more fabulous to drive profits.
Planet Zoo, released in 2019, can’t ditch the profit motivation essential to management sims, but that wouldn’t make sense to do away with it entirely–after all, without funds, you can’t care for the animals or retain the staff needed to keep the park running. But the emphasis is different, instead focused on conservation and education, themes emphasized as soon as the initial tutorial missions in the campaign. In this game’s narrative, you actually design a friendly avatar for yourself, and you’re introduced to a couple of warm, caring people who manage these parks because they want to help preserve Earth’s biodiversity by spearheading breeding initiatives for endangered and threatened species and by raising public awareness. Rather than selling animals, you can release animals into the wild to gain “conservation credits,” which can sometimes be used to obtain new animals for the zoo in lieu of cash. And you can’t just send off undesirable animals to benefit. The animals to be released are those born in the zoo; they must have reached maturity; and their value for release is determined by factors like their health, age, and conservation status of the species. Poor animal welfare, or allowing inbreeding of animals, results in negative consequences for your park. An inspector reviews your zoo at regular intervals, ensuring that the animals have a good quality of life, the campus is cleanly, and guests are actually being educated about the animals. Profit margins and guest accommodations don’t factor into that rating (although, of course, to keep the park going, you need happy guests to buy tickets and merch and donate extra money so that you can pay the staff to care for the animals to provide the education and conservation benefits that your zoo can offer).
At the end of the day, you’re still doing many of the same things in Planet Zoo as in Jurassic World: Evolution, plotting out exhibits and guest facilities and staff buildings, monitoring income and expense trends, and ensuring a gradually improving quality rating, but the narrative and mechanic differences are part of the reason why these two game experiences ultimately feel so very different.
The dialogue is bad, the plot feels more like an arbitrary series of events, the characters are alternately cruel or cold regardless of whether on the side of good or villainy, and motivations and personalities shift without any clear character arcs to explain them. Jedi and Sith are just buzzwords without any clear philosophy. There’s a rebel kingdom, but it seems that the issue is less with the Empire and more that it conducts itself differently than the Empire that preceded it. And yet, this is a fascinating artifact, a fully illustrated chance to see what The Star Wars was at first, before George Lucas refined it and improved it with a collaborative team of fellow creatives. (Turns out it feels a lot more derivative, wearing the influences of Flash Gordon and Foundation and Dune on its sleeves without really synthesizing them into something truly new and fresh just yet.) How much of this miniseries is representative of that original draft, though, versus what writer Jonathan Rinzler did to adapt the story for a comic book narrative? Either way, while I found the resultant comic art to often be rather cold and sterile, I am still impressed with how illustrator Mike Mayhew managed to make the story feel familiar yet distinct, a combination of new forms and old concept art and familiar images from the films.
This isn’t a vital Star Wars story, but it’s interesting–charming, even, if you look at it in just the right way.
I adored this book as a child. Returning to the fascinating world of Dinotopia as an adult, I’m just as delighted and eager to escape to this hidden realm. Gurney’s beautiful fantasy art is the star, but his story of a father and son surviving a shipwreck and finding themselves now part of this land where the descendants of castaway humans have come to live with prehistoric creatures in harmony is quite delightful in its own right. The narrative device that this is the explorers’ lost journal recounting their adventures, with abundant sketches and calligraphic notes, serves the story and art well. And there are so many fascinating details about everyday life in this fantasy setting that Gurney manages to incorporate throughout.
The smallest of nagging thoughts crossed my mind at times while rereading this as an adult: how do the characters know, in the 1860s, the scientific names of dinosaurs that had not yet even been discovered at the time? Turns out, Gurney had the same thought when creating the book, and his explanation is contained in the insightful behind-the-scenes afterword he’s provided for the 20th anniversary edition: “After giving these concerns serious consideration, I had to sweep them away, because adhering to them would muddy the waters.” Given that we’re already dealing with a story on a nonexistent colossal island where dinosaurs, extinct mammals, humans, and more all dwell together and can communicate intelligently with each other, this is a pretty valid way to address it. We’re in another world anyway; surely in this alternate reality, they just happen to be a bit further along in paleontology than we were in our own reality. It’s delightful fantasy, is what I’m saying, and worth suspending your belief for–which is easy enough to do when looking at the beautifully conceived double-page spreads. And it helps to know that Gurney already thought through all the concerns one might want to raise (yes, he thought through quite a lot, and his process as remembered in the afterword makes this edition worthwhile). But it’s really beside the point.
The point is that Dinotopia is fantastical, delightful, inspiring, memorable, and worth your time.
I’ll admit in advance that this is sort of a bizarre post.
In the original Godzilla, the “paleontologist” character refers to the transition from the Jurassic to the Cretaceous as occurring 2 million years ago. Why is that? We would actually be looking at more like 150 million years ago. Obviously, paleontology and geology have evolved a lot over the past century, but I guess I’d assumed that there was a better understanding of geologic time by the 1950s. The “2 million years” reference happens more than once even; you’d think someone involved in production might have bothered to check that fact, even when they have such a fantastic imaginary monster as Godzilla, a creature so big that it defies reality on its face.
I love the original movie. This one little thing doesn’t make the movie worse. It’s just confusing. From what I could find, it seems like we were able to start producing relatively reliable time scales through the use of radiometric dating by the first half of the twentieth century. That would suggest that by the mid-twentieth century, we’d have a good enough understanding of geologic time for this line to be wildly inaccurate to anyone with a passing familiarity with geology or paleontology. Is this then a translation error in the subtitles? Is it an example of inattentiveness on the part of Takeo Murata and Ishiro Honda? Does anyone know what’s going on here? Responses appreciated!
I watched the eight episodes of season two over their release weekend, but I didn’t feel particularly compelled to put my thoughts down right after. I think that impulse reflects what season two turned out to be: a pleasant but forgettable bit of television comfort food. I suppose that this puts it rather in line with my impression of the first season, but the first improved over the course of its run and set up exciting possibilities for the second, and I just don’t feel like the follow-up season really ran with anything or even attempted anything new. It did, at least, have several exciting action sequences!
As I mentioned in my first review, this show is rather character-focused over anything else. So, after having grown fond of the kids in the first season, I was simultaneously pleased with and disappointed by their portrayals in this season. This time around, there were more moments where the kids could almost relax, where they tried to just act like kids, but there’d always be some harsh new reality to force them back into survival mode. They’ve grown as characters, and they all get opportunities to shine. They’re also a rather tightly knit found family, although the constant stress does lead to inevitable infighting at times. All that said, sometimes the show forced an arbitrary regression of a character to suit the plot of a particular episode. In finding a situation for the star athlete Yaz to truly learn that sometimes she couldn’t help, sometimes even her best wasn’t enough, and sometimes she had to rest, the writers forced spoiled rich kid Kenji back into his obnoxiously lazy and selfish role to act as a foil. Sure, Kenji’s dumb and self-centered, but he’d come a tremendous way in the first season, and this felt like an unnecessary step back for him. At the same time, the show does appear to want to show what trauma looks like for these children, and having moments of regression does seem natural. Clearly, the show didn’t always convince me that that’s what was going on, though.
The best character development this season goes to Ben, presumed dead by the other campers (though the show made clear enough he’d survived at the very end of season one). Once he’s reintroduced as a wannabe-commando figure to a couple of his friends, the show focuses a whole episode on his arc of surviving on the island alone for however many days (or weeks) have elapsed. He was forced to find his own inner strength and courage, he prevailed over a series of hazards, and he eventually reached a point of power and competence. Yet he’s still Ben, the skinny, dweebish little kid, and so he’s also developed the amusing quirk in which he believes that he’s tougher than anyone else, all evidence to the contrary. With a whole episode devoted just to his survival story, however, it was still a little goofy that it conveniently skips over the point at which he’d made some serious outfit adjustments, and it just as conveniently has a brief falling out between Ben and Bumpy that allows Bumpy to mature into a full-size Ankylosaurus off-screen. (Bumpy remains as adorable as ever, even fully grown, and I still cheered for Bumpy whenever she did anything at all.)
The plot is more disappointing. The first season focused on the attempt to reach the evacuation point in time; the group failed, of course. This season again finds the kids attempting to reach a target for rescue–actually, two targets. The first one is an emergency beacon that can call for help. That objective is accomplished rather handily with the group’s new survival skills and teamwork. However, typical chaos ensues involving a Tyrannosaurus, and the kids aren’t sure if their message got through. They soon after stumble upon a small party of “ecotourists” who have made their way to the island in the days since the park shutdown. These yuppie adventurers promise the kids access to their yacht in a few days when it returns from refueling. They’re lying, and how the kids react to their alleged rescuers–and how the rescuers respond–becomes the major point of conflict for the remainder of the season. It’s all for naught because (spoiler alert) the kids find themselves stranded on the island once more, yet again barely missing a boat off the island.
The stakes felt lower this season. The adults could serve as dino food, but the show largely stepped back from any real sense that any of the kids would ever actually die. This made many of the dinosaur attacks (so, so many dinosaur attacks) thrilling rather than horrifying, but if the action-adventure show about killer dinosaurs doesn’t really have killer dinosaurs, it loses its edge fast. Likewise, there weren’t really any great moments of wonder this season. The closest would be the discovery of a watering hole shared by several dinosaur species, but it’s populated with dinosaurs we’re already familiar with, and something about the lighting or dinosaur models or design just made it feel like a bunch of CG dinosaur assets positioned around a flat surface. (Yes, of course, they’re always CGI effects, but the quality did not support the emotional effect needed from the scene.) On the other hand, many of the dinosaur attack sequences looked very real, as though the dinosaurs occupied physical sets, although in a somewhat jarring manner, as though they were claymation.
We get some new dinosaurs, but mostly it’s reused assets from before. That means that at some point, it begins to feel like the park is dominated by Parasaurolophus, Brachiosaurus, Stegosaurus, and Sinoceratops (especially unusual given that the ceratopsian is supposed to be a recent addition to the park, yet we don’t really see Triceratops or Styracosaurus). Where are the herds of diverse dinosaurs present in the films? I recognize the answer to that is that the show has a limited budget compared to a movie, but I can’t help but think how diverse and lifelike the dinosaurs look in Jurassic World: Evolution, a video game that also simulates animal and tourist behaviors, weather effects, and a park economy. There are some new dinosaurs, carnivores pulled from the films: Ceratosaurus and Baryonyx. However, the former only has a couple appearances. Meanwhile, the Baryonyx has been reimagined as a very social pack hunter and terrestrial pursuit predator, which raises the question: why did they use Baryonyx at all? It felt more than a little like the showrunners really wanted a predator to fill the gap left by the Velociraptors, so they just forced an animal into the role. Fallen Kingdom‘s introduction of Baryonyx was already far enough from the real animal, but the creatures in Camp Cretaceous seem rather out of step with the semiaquatic, piscivorous but opportunistic spinosaurid that the real animal appears to have been. (And why do you pick Baryonyx for this role when Allosaurus is also in the park, similarly sized, and an actual big game predator that might have actually coordinated in social groups?! Or why not Ceratosaurus, already an asset in the show??)
All that said, it might seem foolish to once again be hopeful about the next season. But there are several elements in play here that should finally push the story in new directions:
The kids have decided to try to find their own way off the island, rather than being dependent on rescue, and they all now have the survival skills to potentially achieve that without always being on the run.
The kids do not know if the emergency beacon worked, but the audience knows that a successful transmission was sent–to whom remains the big question.
The kids accidentally unleashed some new experimental creature on the island, which will almost surely be a focus for the third season. (Is it a prototype Indoraptor or something else entirely?)
We have the pieces but I can’t see what this jigsaw puzzle is supposed to form. I’ll be interested to see what answers the show arrives at.
I decided to change the site header a bit. When I first started the blog, I’d run through some jokey names with my wife, including the one we settled on, “Overthinking Things Going Pew-Pew.” I liked the implication that everything I was writing was a little overblown and self-important. I liked what I perceived as somewhat self-aware winking at the idea that I knew I was spending way too much time thinking about pop culture interests.
The thing is that plenty of people are thinking and writing and podcasting and recording video series about many of these same topics! I’m hardly overthinking these things, I’m just part of a vast sea of people obsessing over the pop culture topics they’ve become invested in. At some point, I began to see “overthinking” as something of a humble-brag, though I’d never intended it that way, as though I was indicating I had some special level of insight or devotion. It also seemed more and more dissonant with the types of blog posts I tend to produce, which are often rather light and airy, not over-detailed analyses. There was a time in my life when I did lean toward the latter, mostly before I’d considered blogging at all. I find I don’t have the time or energy (or even the smarts) anymore for those sorts of posts ordinarily, and this blog long settled into me just writing about things I like (or happened to dislike, from time to time).
It also appeared to me that I wasn’t really limited to a narrow focus anymore–if I ever really had been, that is. I write about sci-fi and fantasy sometimes (all too often big IPs like Star Wars or Jurassic Park), but I found over time that my focus was broadening, volatile, hopefully eclectic. I wasn’t “overthinking” any one thing, just mulling over a lot of different subjects. Anything of interest to me eventually gets folded into the site in some form, whether that subject of interest is crime dramas or ufology and cryptozoology or paleontology or Filipino film or whatever else I might be spending time with in a given week. While I’d always intended this to very much so be a personal blog, I’d tried at first to keep somewhat of a narrow topical lens, but over time, I couldn’t help but have the site reflect who I am as a person: someone with a breadth of interests, rather than someone with particular depths of unique focus. As I’ve come to recognize that shift, I’ve allowed more and more of my interests to leak in, and I expect that the site will become even more varied as I continue this process of relaxation into self here. (If there’s something I want to try to incorporate more than anything else in 2021, it’d be dabbling in some of the fiction I’ve suggested on this site for a while now.)
Another thing that bugged me about the name of the blog was that it was just a bit too long. There was a reason I’d settled on goingpewpew.com as the site URL. It would be nice to have a punchier name. To say “pew pew” is common onomatopoeia. Kids might use it when playing make-believe with their toys. Adults might use the same phrase in an attempt to do the same thing, if with a bit of acknowledgement of their childishness. My wife’s always been a fan of that component of the title. When I considered changing things up, she took the opportunity to point out that the common core phrase worked just fine.
So here I am: “Going Pew-Pew.” It’s enough. It reflects what I hope is often a whimsical, childlike (or childish) engagement with the stories and ideas that I’m most interested in. That’s what I think the site’s become, and it’s how I hope it will stay.
With the change of the title, I felt the subtitle needed a refresh. “Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Video Games, and Other Miscellany” felt a bit clunky, simultaneously too much and too little. I figured I’d instead grab two of the things that draw me most: spaceships and dinosaurs. The rest could all get swept up in that miscellaneous category.
All that said, welcome to the newly renamed “Going Pew-Pew: Spaceships, Dinosaurs, and Other Miscellany.”
Every now and then, I think to myself that it would be nice to see Terra Nova returned or rebooted. You might not remember, or even heard of, Terra Nova. It existed for a brief while in 2011. I remember quite a lot of buzz for the expensive production, time-traveling shenanigans in the plot, dinosaurs, and involvement of Steven Spielberg as executive producer and Stephen Lang in a role that was basically a more mysterious, less evil version of his character in Avatar. Despite that, it became a convoluted mess that was cancelled after a single season, after a total of 13 episodes.
The basic premise was cool: humanity now lives in a worsening environmental apocalypse of its own making, but a new hope arises when scientists discover a way to travel into an alternative past corresponding to the Cretaceous Period. As far as anyone knows, you can go back, but you’re stuck there. They’ve been able to verify that activity in this other time stream does not affect the present, so there are no A Sound of Thunder ramifications to worry about. Humanity has a second chance at a future by going to a past that preexisted us. There are a variety of ecological threats to worry about from the native flora and fauna, but there’s just as much tension in the conflict between the cult-like loyalists to Lang’s militaristic compound leader and the rebel cell that splintered off from the main group and disappeared into the jungles.
What great potential! (And one utilized elsewhere since as an RPG setting.) Unfortunately, the show tried to be something for everyone. While the above would have been more than enough for several seasons of television, elements of different genres were cobbled together to try to catch as many eyes as possible from the start. The central viewpoint characters are a family escaping from the future to live a life free from its population-control laws (mom and dad had a third child). The hot-head father becomes top lawman to the colony leader. The mother is a doctor much needed by the community. The three kids, ranging from teens to a plucky young child, have their own assorted adventures. Focus could shift episode to episode, and even within a single episode you might have teen relationship angst intermingled with a prehistoric murder investigation. The two-parter first episode jumps between the complicated politics of the future and the past, the awe-inspiring nature of the prehistoric world, and some bizarrely low-budget teen slasher horror (literally, the dromaeosaurs in the show are called “slashers”). Within this oh-so-short first season, we even have a former love interest to come between the mother and father (never mind that they love each other so much, they staged an elaborate escape into the past just to preserve their nuclear family). On top of this, the conflict between the colony and its rogue faction is played up for maximum mystery, creating a more convoluted and opaque interrelationship than necessary and setting up a bizarre situation in which the officially sanctioned colony represents more of an isolationist, eco-friendly group while the rebels are actually working for the corporate interests controlling access to the time stream.
I haven’t watched the show in years because I know its flaws too well. Jumbled plot and mismanaged tones aside, it manages to look like over-produced yet still unconvincing television. The dinosaurs in particular look like obvious digital inserts, easily topped by the computer graphics, animatronics, and puppets used to bring Jurassic Park to life 18 years before this show. The dialogue and some of the performances could be just as unbelievable. Even if you can sit through it, you’ll be disappointed with an ending that sets up even more mysteries and leaves plenty of loose ends to never be resolved.
But, again, that premise is incredible! I’d love to see a show that doubles down on the premise, that focuses on a colony eking out a frontier existence in a world it should never have been a part of. The combination of post-apocalyptic politicking, prehistoric creatures, and environmental themes provides storytelling favorably comparable to Xenozoic. And the parallel-time-stream-traveling offers a unique explanation for how humans and dinosaurs could coexist, outside of the cloning route of Jurassic Park or the techno-magic implications of Xenozoic or The Dinosaur Lords.
If I were given the choice to continue or reboot Terra Nova, I think I’d do a prequel-as-reboot by focusing on the second generation of colonists to arrive. The colony is barely established, so there’s plenty of work still to be done in getting things running smoothly, but we have an outsider’s perspective to follow among the new arrivals, an outsider who finds this functioning community so devoted to the mythic figure of a former military man who managed to survive by himself for months before anyone else arrived. I wouldn’t mind a family focus at the center, but no bloated backstory. And if you go the family route, I’d rather the family actually be bonded so that they want to support each other and we have people to clearly root for. Teens will be teens, but the level of unnecessary drama combined with bad dialogue made it difficult to care about the cast of characters. By having the story start in the early days of the colony, we don’t have any rebel cell or mystery corporate interests; the central drama would simply be dealing with this totally alien world. You could bring in tension as later arrivers gradually grow resentful of the iron fist of the compound leader. That in and of itself is enough of a reason for a faction to revolt, without shady corporate tactics involved. I think a more interesting divide would be between those who believe they have the right to continue this colony and others who come to believe that this is still unnecessarily exploitative, with humanity following a path that will eventually doom this world too; perhaps they want to destroy any presence of a colony at all, or perhaps they want a way to teleport everyone back to the future and to shut down the time stream for good. Terra Nova dabbled with the idea that maybe our protagonists were working for the bad guy, but it eventually backed away from this, doubling down on the idea that the rebels were dishonest and basically evil. I’d push the cast-aside idea further; it’s not that the leader is evil, but he enjoys the control he has, and he has a settler mentality, intent on exploiting this world even without a clear corporate beneficiary.
Sure, if you could get past the rebooted season, you could layer on additional plot points. You could tell adventure and exploration stories, war stories, time travel stories, stories of corporate greed. You could have plenty of interesting real and speculative prehistoric plants and animals. You could run in a variety of directions, even time jump to set up a society that is more entrenched, to follow different characters. Heck, you could evolve from a rough-and-tumble frontier to a sprawling metropolis at the center of linked communities, complete with Dinotopia-style human-dinosaur symbiosis. But if you try to do too much too early, you don’t have likeable characters, and you keep throwing on more elaborate and unnecessary mysteries, you’re going to tank any show. Terra Nova already proved that. I wish that the premise had another chance, though.
If I could say only one thing about the expansions for Jurassic World: Evolution, I would say, “Buy Return to Jurassic Park; it’s worth it.” That one expansion was a stand-out, balancing nostalgia with new features, building on the solid foundation of the base game, and focusing on story to a greater degree than any other campaign mode in the game.
There’s a lot more to say about Return to Jurassic Park, but I want to discuss the other expansions first. I’ve now had some experience with all the existing DLC for JWE, which includes three added campaigns (Secrets of Dr. Wu, Claire’s Sanctuary, and Return to Jurassic Park), four expansion packs of additional dinosaurs (the Deluxe Dinosaur Pack, the Cretaceous Dinosaur Pack, the Carnivore Dinosaur Pack, and the Herbivore Dinosaur Pack), and one purely cosmetic addition (the Raptor Squad Skin Collection). Nothing really disappointed me, although some were better than others.
There’s nothing remarkable in the dinosaur content packs, but I liked having even more dinosaur options to add to the park, even though there’s largely a focus on existing clades, such that, at least with some of the new additions, they’ll feel more like new skins rather than truly new animals. Frequent additions to my parks have included the Styracosaurus from Deluxe (a ceratopsian I love about as much as Triceratops, given its appearance in Crichton’s sequel novel and its charismatic and dangerous role in “Last Link in the Chain” of Xenozoic Tales, not to mention the genus’s metal-as-hell skulls), the colossal Dreadnoughtus from the Cretaceous pack, the Proceratosaurus from the Carnivore pack (a small carnivore whose comfort in packs and ability to coexist with larger predators makes a helpful addition to boost ratings, especially in a certain carnivore-only challenge!), and the wide-jawed and small-for-a-sauropod Nigersaurus from the Herbivore pack (she’s too goofy-looking not to love). Dinosaurs in these packs, the campaign expansions, and some of the free content updates further round out the prehistoric life from the Jurassic Park novels, movies, and games that had previously been missing from JWE, although any marine life is still absent entirely. All that said, I liked adding more dinosaurs to the park, but you’re not missing anything vital if you don’t get these content packs. Furthermore, none of the dinosaurs break the balance of building a park, as they are unlocked over the campaign by building up favor with the different park directors, same as many of the already existing features in the base game.
The only thing that feels truly frivolous is the Raptor Squad Skin Collection. It’s only a couple bucks by itself, or less if bought discounted, but it only provides Velociraptor skins so that your raptors can look like Blue, Delta, Echo, and Charlie from Jurassic World. Since I have the pack, I’ve used the skins frequently; it adds a little more variety, and those skins are more dynamic than many of the other options available in the base game. But it’s a purely cosmetic choice. I can take it or leave it.
That gets us back to those campaign expansions. Unlike Return to Jurassic Park, the first two expansions, Secrets of Dr. Wu and Claire’s Sanctuary, are overall enjoyable, though largely forgettable.
Secrets of Dr. Wu serves as something of a conclusion to the base game’s campaign. All the secrets, plotting, and inter-division politics that never really went anywhere in the base game provide the platform for what happens next: Dr. Wu enlists your character to help him further his research into genetic modifications, taking you to new locations on the islands, including a top-secret research site. At first, you’re still juggling the interests of the Security, Entertainment, and Science divisions along with Wu’s requests, but the chief geneticist’s interests eventually become paramount. Wu’s research initially produces access to some new dinosaurs in a new park dubbed Muerta East. When you’ve met his initial objectives, though, he requests that you join him at his private lab, the Tacaño Research Facility. Here, you’re blessedly free of competing division contracts, but the scope is also fairly narrow. You help cultivate a new line of hybrid dinosaurs, culminating in a break-out and dino-to-dino battle before settling into a bland grind to increase the ratings of dinosaurs for export in the final mission. The base campaign’s story now feels more “complete,” but it still never really goes anywhere, and you’re still involved in deeply unethical activities without any real consequences.
Jurassic World: Evolution and Secrets of Dr. Wu are functionally alternative sequels to Jurassic World. While Claire’s Sanctuary is another alternative sequel, it also acts as a happier timeline in which Lockwood’s promise of Sanctuary was real and Claire is successful in relocating several dinosaurs. No Gothic horror shenanigans, no final dino release onto the mainland. Its narrative is rather subdued as a result, and the main challenge is dealing with the use of an ever-increasing Hammond Foundation fee while making sure your Sanctuary can both house happy dinosaurs (with an interesting new Paleobotany element requiring you to have the correct mix of plant life for different dinosaur types) and draw in a profit from tourists. (Yes, that means that it’s not so much a nature preserve as it is yet another island zoo, and yes, that’s a tragic compromise, but the game spends little time on this theme.) The standout mission is before you start your Sanctuary, however. You lead a team to set up a small research outpost on Isla Nublar. The map chosen winds from a valley up onto the slopes of the volcanic Mount Sibo. It’s a truly massive map, and dinosaurs roam freely in their own social groups. It captures the adventure-safari spirit of The Lost World and the first act of Fallen Kingdom quite well. I enjoyed driving across the island, photographing and observing the dinosaurs and providing medications to treat a new disease. The mission is very story-focused, so I concentrated on the story objectives and the setting, free from contracts or the demands of tourists. It was a delight, and I would have loved a whole game about exploring and researching this prehistoric preserve while attempting to prepare for, or even undo, a predicted tragedy. Some of my fondest memories of this level are of dealing with an ornery stegosaur herd near my base camp, which often attacked my perimeter fencing and sowed chaos among the researchers on the ground. It was an interesting experience, trying to find a way to coexist with these animals. The final moments of the mission also stood out as tense and horrific, as I had to choose which dinosaurs we’d be able to transport off the island in time, and dinosaurs began dying off in the chaos of the volcano’s imminent eruption. Sacrifices must be made.
Finally, there’s Return to Jurassic Park, yet another alternative sequel but this time to the original film, picking up shortly after the evacuation of Hammond and the other survivors from Isla Nublar. In this alternate universe, Hammond has convinced Grant, Sattler, and Malcolm to return to Jurassic Park, to start over and try to do things right. Hammond walks a line between his friendly tycoon persona and the born-again naturalist of The Lost World, as he is eager to build a park that is safe yet profitable, with dinosaurs who are well-cared-for, although sometimes his contracts darkly indicate that he’s still a little bit short-sighted and too profit-motivated. Hammond is aided by a young version of Cabot Finch, the PR manager from the base game. This Finch proves himself to be loyal to Hammond, even though he’s still ambitious and self-serving. He is the only central character not from the films, and the story largely focuses on Hammond, Grant, Sattler, and Malcolm (while Sam Neill, Laura Dern, and Jeff Goldblum returned to voice their roles, Richard Attenborough of course passed away a few years ago, and his voice actor delivers at best a decent imitation, at worst a whinier and more nasally knockoff).
Contracts became far more tolerable to me in Return; instead of competing against everyone, the divisions are headed by people possessing more or less mutual respect, all with the goal of presenting as-accurate-as-possible dinosaurs in humane enclosures with safe exhibits and facilities for park guests. You still have to complete contracts to raise your reputation with a division and to unlock more features, but you’re not risking reputation decreases or sabotage by focusing on one division’s contracts over the others (after all, petty infighting and anything intentionally done to risk the safety of the guests and dinosaurs would be intensely antithetical to these characters). Contracts are also in line with the ethical, reasonable personas you’re working with, so don’t expect contracts to have dinosaurs fight each other or to sell off certain dinosaurs. The contracts also have more interesting overlap in interests: Grant’s are focused on expeditions and the creation of more authentic dinosaurs; Sattler’s are focused on the wellbeing of the animals and observation of them in their natural habitats; Malcolm’s are very focused on security, and rather than independently increasing a separate division score for himself, completion of his contracts improves your reputation with Grant and Sattler; and Hammond’s and Finch’s are focused on expansion of the park, improvement of guest facilities, and profit growth.
The story is simple and derivative but entertaining. We first have to get the dinosaurs on Isla Nublar contained again. We then have to address what went wrong and work out a solution to the breeding problem (sadly, as far as I could tell, dinosaurs are not self-reproducing in the game even before the fix, and they’re still reliant on concealed feeders even in natural habitats). This involves a side trip to Isla Sorna, where we get the production facilities back online; in the campaign mode only, all your dinosaurs are shipped to Isla Nublar from Isla Sorna, creating a fun variation in how you stock the park with new attractions that unfortunately is not carried over into the Challenge modes. Finally, back on Isla Nublar, you work to grow the newly opened Jurassic Park, attempt to stop a bit of corporate espionage, and use your Tyrannosaurus to end yet another Velociraptor outbreak. The returning characters voice their concerns with attempting this reopening, but the game doesn’t try very hard to explain why they’d agree to come back to this site of death or why they believe in Hammond’s mission; if you can accept that Hammond intends to try again and has convinced the others that working with him from the beginning could keep dinosaurs and people safer, then you don’t need a deeper explanation. The story doesn’t really offer anything new, either; it just ties up loose ends (mostly loose ends that didn’t really need tying) and provides enough of a narrative structure to explain how exactly we’re all back at Jurassic Park. As a huge fan of the movies, I had more than enough to satisfy me.
In addition to the new story, we get a couple new creatures, as well: Compsognathus and Pteranodon, which have both had significant roles in the first two sequels. On top of that, many of the dinosaurs present in the Jurassic Park trilogy now have specific skins modeled after their appearances in these films. Once you unlock the new creatures and skins in the expansion, you can use them in any other mode; same goes for the Jurassic Park aesthetic and park economy.
I found the gameplay to be the best in this mode, and it’s not just nostalgia speaking. Certainly, nostalgia plays a role: park staff are dressed like their counterparts in the first film, the visitor center is more or less a duplicate of the original, visitors arrive to the island by helicopter, you have the classic cable fences and electric Explorers, the dinosaurs are movie-accurate, the guests are dressed like nineties tourists, and the additional park facilities feel like natural extensions of the design aesthetic of the first park. But management just feels simpler, more straightforward, more focused on providing lovely enclosures for the dinosaurs. For starters, the needed infrastructure is greatly streamlined: helipad to arrive at (placed by you, instead of the default monorail locations), visitor center that houses all the R&D departments as hub add-ons, geothermal power plant to provide electricity, only two types of visitor attractions (the car tour and a self-contained Pteranodon aviary), and only five types of visitor-needs buildings (restaurant, restroom, gift shop, emergency bunker, and hotel) that can all be clustered around a single attraction entrance point. It’s easy to chain along the ride through multiple enclosures (or around them, in the case of carnivore pens). Even the dinosaurs are simplified, in a way: while the expansion does add more animals to all game modes, any Jurassic Park-themed park has a reduced roster of era-appropriate dinosaurs. It’s a more focused experience, though there’s still plenty to manage properly to get your park to five stars (especially when playing in challenge modes).
My Challenge mode attempts tend to use the Jurassic Park setting. The combination of tight park-building gameplay and heavy doses of nostalgia makes this my preferred Jurassic World: Evolution experience. Over two years ago, I described the base game as flawed, fun, and slightly disappointing. Frontier Developments has added so much to it since, so it was already an improved experience, but Return to Jurassic Park has transformed the game into something truly special.
I hadn’t played Jurassic World: Evolution much since I was last writing about it in July of this year. But I’m a sucker for this franchise, and it doesn’t take much of a promotion to draw me back in. This time around, it was simply the build-up to the release of the Switch version of the game–and no, I did not purchase the Switch version after I’d already bought all the content on PC; I have some restraint. I did, however, decide to get back to the Challenge mode a bit.
This Saturday, I loaded the Challenge mode save I’d last seriously pursued in July, before I dropped out and moved on to other things in my spare time. I found myself picking up the controls as though I’d never left the game, and I remembered some of the more advanced management tactics I had finally gotten a firm grasp on in almost as little time. My particular challenge was to get to five stars in medium difficulty on Isla Pena while releasing only carnivores. I therefore hoped to get two achievements for a single five-star run (beating any Challenge for one, beating Isla Pena on medium or higher with only carnivores for the other). Back in July, I’d named my save file for this unique challenge “MORE TEETH,” which I thought was sort of cute because, you know…
I didn’t manage to get to five stars within the level’s suggested par time, but I did get to five stars in just under four and a half hours total time, dealing with a variety of crises big and small that climaxed with a thrillingly destructive storm complete with twister and the resultant chaos of various carnivores rampaging across the island, and I secured the two achievements.
I had fun, as usual. I think this is a game I’ll keep finding reasons to come back to over the months–maybe even the years. I have no idea whether I’ll ever get the final four achievements on Steam, though, especially given that three require timed Challenge-mode completions. And I strongly doubt that I’ll ever unlock all the dinosaur skins that would require completing every island on the highest difficulty at least once. There’s still a lot left to check off in the game, then, but it’s rather repetitive in nature. Get to five stars on islands I’ve already played through, dealing with a slightly different contract assignment system and the extra costs of the steadily increasing Hammond Foundation fee, again and again and again.
The reason I have returned yet again to the game, then, has very little to do with completionism at this point. Instead, I genuinely end up having fun, sometimes for hours at a time. I still manage to experience moments of awe, curiosity, and excitement with this game. I picked the featured image for this post not because it was a moment of great excitement but because the moment of rolling through a jungle canopy in a ranger Jeep and coming out at the edge of a small pond, seeing my pack of Velociraptors settling down to sleep for the night on the other end, and snapping a picture with the ranger’s camera just felt special and peaceful and unique; the more I play the game, the more these little moments of simulated animal behavior and dynamic interactions with them at ground level are what really stand out to me, although I’ll never get over the explosive excitement of a park in the midst of a tropical storm. There’s always going to be something to continue to engage me with this game. Perhaps the only thing to draw me away for good would be a bigger, better sequel…
On a slightly different note, writing this post made me realize that I apparently never wrote anything about my experiences with all the DLC. It looks like I last seriously wrote about JW:E when playing through the base game again earlier this year with some of the new updates that had been made available over time. By the end of July, I’d played through everything. I should probably fix that oversight at some point, huh?