Review: Seaman
Ever wonder what you'd get if you filled a balloon full of chum and animated it with fairy dust? Well, it might be something like Seaman, Vivarium's ambitious dive into uncharted Dreamcast depths.
Mom, That Man Smells Funny
Ever wonder what you'd get if you filled a balloon full of chum and animated it with fairy dust? Well, it might be something like Seaman, Vivarium's ambitious dive into uncharted Dreamcast depths. This odd virtual pet experience isn't a game, but growing and evolving your fishy friend can be fun. First off, you'll want to buy another TV, or commandeer one from your Grandmother, because you'll be dedicating a lot of airtime to the newest member of the family. While Seaman isn't a game per se, you'll manage to kill off quite a few fish before you succeed, so if you're looking for death, you'll find it here. But if you're looking for 3-D battles, capture the flag roust-abouts, or anything that wouldn't normally take place within the confines of a Seaman's sparsely furnished aquarium, you're looking in the wrong place.
What you begin with is essentially a zygote (a fertilized egg), which you drop into an aquarium that's been prepped to an optimal temperature and oxygen mixture. Before your very eyes, the zygote begins an accelerated division and if conditions are prime, in about 5 to 10 minutes, it will burst, spewing forth a number of "mushrooms." From that point on, it's you, your mushrooms, and a corporeal Leonard Nimoy who'll ride you like mites on a monkey while imparting bits of wisdom to help you turn those mushrooms into men.
Seaman looks like a neo-Greek demigod. He's a chimeric aquanaut bent on monopolizing your time purely through the enigma of his virtual existence. It works for a while, and the longer and more deeply you submerge yourself in Seaman's world, the more he evolves; the more time you spend with him, the more articulate and potentially interesting he becomes. But is he endowed with a discerning AI, or is he a trick pony? While Sega boasts "advanced voice recognition," you may find yourself talking into the mic and wondering if the creature on the screen is listening, or if it's really the men in the white van across the street.
Fish and Chips for Everyone!
There are many points where the game shines. Graphically, Seaman is solid, with instances that border on mad genius torn, perhaps, from a Darwinian nightmare. Of course, there are quirks -- flicker and slowdown specifically -- that beg explanation, since Seaman's aquarium is pretty bare, and there's relatively little action. Still, these hardly detract from the initial novelty of Seaman.
Seaman's sound is primarily ambient, save the throaty calls of the mewling babe, the prepubescent ramblings of the adolescent gillman, and the haughty, slightly effeminate vocals of the mature Seaman. How annoying the voices get seems to be related to how well you care for your pet(s); if they're hungry, cold, hot, low on oxygen, or just generally in need of an attitude adjustment, the originality of their complaints will soon be shattered by constant recycling. On the other hand, Seaman will surprise you with cognizant reactions and responses. There's no music whatsoever, and musical score of some sort, even the soothing sounds of quality elevator jazz, would be welcome when you've just got nothing left to say.
I Believe the Children are Our Future
The key to making the most of your burgeoning relationship with Seaman is time. There are lulls when it seems the entertainment level has plateaued, but for those determined to make a man out of Seaman, dry land's the limit.
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