HIGH I managed to keep a crewmember alive for two consecutive missions. A personal best!

LOW Kinect-based quicktime events in a timed mission against a boss that can one-shot me.

WTF Twenty of my thirty crew members died by the halfway point of the game due to my incompetency. Why am I in charge of the platoon again?

Steel Battalion: Heavy Armor is the fourth From Software title I've played in a year, and I'm starting to notice a pattern. Built on the same engine as Dark Souls and Armored Core V, some issues carry over that I couldn't ignore in Heavy Armor. First and foremost? Heavy Armor has an almost unrealistic expectation of its player's competency level. It's as though "easy" doesn't exist in From Software's vocabulary (it certainly doesn't exist as a selectable difficulty in this game), and the learning curve is made more brutal by the exacting gesture requirements of the Kinect.

Heavy Armor takes place in the year 2085. Apparently bacteria ate the Internet and all other modern tech, plunging the world back into the 1940s in terms of technology; communications have returned to a reliance on rare vacuum tubes, and the most sophisticated piece of equipment (apart from the walking mechs the player pilots) is a black and white television that displays static images. World War III ended with the Asian empire forming a new United Nations, conquering Europe, and invading the United States. As the mute vertical tank pilot Winfield Powers, players travel the globe, blowing up everything between him and the Asian empire's mysterious and deadly secret weapon.

Missions are presented in a standard war game style: a briefing goes over a general layout of the land, followed by deployment. Since a vertical tank (VT) is manned by a team of four, players are accompanied by three AI squadmates from a platoon of thirty that provide various functions. Powers drives, one soldier mans the radio and relays orders, and two ammo reloaders handle the left and right sides of the VT. The squadmates all have their own personalities, and the fact that they can die during a mission is supposed to foster camaraderie and a protective instinct. It's a great idea, but every time I failed to pull the ventilator switch and died of smoke inhalation while my right gunner stared at me with his empty, soulless eyes… Well, I'll admit that I may have been a bit vindictive when the game let me punch a squadmate in the face for his attempted desertion.

In terms of control, the VT itself is maneuvered by the Xbox controller, and all other actions such as looking around the cockpit and interacting with buttons and levers done via Kinect motions. It's an example of how much motion-based gaming has yet to achieve; where dictation and transcription can gradually learn the enunciation and handwriting of its user, the Kinect requires stubbornly robotic movements to detect a player's action with any precision. When the Kinect works, it performs well enough, but I never reached the point of physical fluency where I was able to perform an action without thinking about it like I would in a controller-only game. Many, many of my deaths occurred through the failing of the Kinect, or when it "creatively" interpreted my attempts to activate one function or another.

Perhaps my inability to achieve competency with the controls is part of why I quit Heavy Armor after only thirty hours. Certainly, my lack of skill didn't help with the surprisingly cheap gameplay I encountered. I'm used to From Software adding in bosses that can one-shot me before I even know what's going on, and Heavy Armor is no different in this regard. What I'm not used to is that there is so little ability to learn from my mistakes.

If I die in something like Dark Souls, it's because I mistimed a roll, attacked when I should have parried, or otherwise did something wrong. When I died in Heavy Armor, I was constantly at a loss as to what was happening. Was it the enemies that targeted me from across the map? Was it due to failing one of the many, many motion-based quick-time events that require a gesture and don't tell the player what that gesture is? Was there some mysterious method to successfully evade incoming fire that I hadn't discerned? Trial-and-error gameplay mixed with the eye-fatiguing brown sameness of the environments to form a medley of confusion that turned what could have been tense action into bitter sighs. The game's unhelpful death messages only topped off my growing ennui. Yes, Heavy Armor, I know I was killed by an armor-piercing shell to my left side. I was there. Could I be told instead where the shell originated from?

When not falling prey to mystery defeats, timed missions added another layer of frustration to my playthrough. Six minutes to achieve a specific percentage of a stage's goal is not a lot of time, especially with my VT constantly being shredded by the enemy and having to restart over and over. In theory, these missions are meant to be played co-op, but sitting around waiting for someone to show up and assist me just made me want to ditch my VT and play something other than this literal waiting game. The irony is that the timed missions are also ranked, and getting better ranks means earning new gear for the VT. My lack of skill meant I did poorly on the timed missions, which meant I earned no new gear, which meant I was constantly unprepared for later missions. It's a nasty effect that can quickly snowball to the point of halting progress outright.

My personal breaking point came when I ran up against an invincible boss who repeatedly killed me with one shot, no matter what I did, for three hours. That's right—three hours. Performing the same repetitive actions and sitting through unskippable comments from the other crewmembers turned my life into a five minute long Groundhog's Day loop, and out of weariness, I just set the game aside and moved on with my life. I don't play games to be griefed constantly by an opponent that I can't damage, and I don't appreciate success being determined not by my skill, but by how often said opponent decides to not target me with its instant death attack first.

YouTube provides evidence that some people are able to play the game and play it well, but I ended up deciding that Steel Battalion: Heavy Armor was not the game for me. For what it's worth, if I wanted a simulation of being crammed into a tiny, metal, low-tech claustrophobic coffin while people yell and attempt to kill me repeatedly while I struggle with basic controls, then Heavy Armor offers up quite the war experience. However, that's not what I was looking for, and I suspect that it's not something anyone else is after, either. Rating: 6.0 out of 10.

Disclosures: This game was obtained via publisher and reviewed on the Xbox 360. Approximately 28 hours of play were devoted to the single-player mode, and the game was not completed. No time was spent in multiplayer modes.

Parents: According to the ESRB, this game contains blood and gore, intense violence, sexual themes,and strong language. This is a war game. The very first line of spoken dialogue is an f-bomb, and the profanity never dies down. Corpses, some horribly mutilated, are shown constantly, and some of the gear that can be earned is pinups of scantily clad women. This is not a game for children.

Deaf & Hard of Hearing: Subtitles for dialogue are enabled by default, and there is an onscreen indicator for the direction of damage. In addition, crewmembers that are alive will call out directions of incoming attack, when ammo has been successfully changed, and when a quicktime event needs to occur. The two points of possible difficulty are when using the periscope- the on-screen indicator for weapon readiness is no longer visible, and the only sign that a shell has been reloaded is through an audio cue. I found spamming the fire trigger to be an easy way to compensate- and the mine detector is sound-based. Crew members will not always call out that a mine is nearby until it has been stepped on.

Being a 3DS and Kinect owner as well as a fan of Japanese robots/mechs, two neighboring games on the main exhibition hall of PAX East immediately caught my attention: Steel Battalion: Heavy Armor for the Xbox 360 and Spirit Camera: The Cursed Memoir for the 3DS. Both games are updates to game franchises that were once considered innovative back when they were first released.

The original Steel Battalion was a severely flawed mech simulator most noted for its outrageously priced over-sized controller that featured two control sticks, foot pedals and dozens of buttons and knobs.

Spirit Camera is a spin-off to the Fatal Frame survival horror series that incorporated a unique gameplay convention of being able to only see and combat ghosts through the lens of mystical in-game camera.

In attempting to modernize the gameplay for both game series, the developers choose to incorporate some of the latest and most popular hardware gimmicks that video games today have to offer.

In the case of Steel Battalion: Heavy Armor, rather than ask gamers to open their wallets for another ridiculous controller, the game controls are comprised of a standard 360 gamepad for movement/firing supplemented with Kinect motion gesturing used to simulate the complexities of commanding a VT (Vertical Tank), which is essentially a tank with legs.

In principle, this is a smart idea. The original Steel Battalion game took a cinéma-vérité approach to its gameplay and the Heavy Armor update follows that reality-based style.

During the 25 minute demo that I played (half training, half actual combat mission), I was motioning my arms to physically shake the hands of one of my co-pilots upon meeting him, standing up to peek outside of canopy of the VT, raising imaginary binoculars to my eyes to get a closer view of my targets and giving another squad-mate a fist bump upon completing training.

In piloting the actual VT, there were panels that need to be opened and closed, buttons that need to be pressed and levers that need to be push or pulled in order to perform functions like activating different weapons payloads, ventilate smoke in the claustrophobic cabin or bring up guard panels to protect the limited targeting window.

My sense of in-game immersion and depth perception was helped by the visual representation of my arms on screen as I moved my hands to complete various actions.

Throughout the casually paced training portion of the demo, the hybrid control scheme felt fairly intuitive and performed accurately. However, once the actual mission began and I mistakenly removed the visual hint aids, things became more of a struggle.

To peer into the tiny crosshair window to view the exterior and target enemies, required that I push both my hands forward in a downward motion.

Every time my VT was hit with heavy artillery, my view would get knocked back and require that I repeat the same two-handed downward motion to regain the crosshair view. This got old quick as I was hammered several times during the hectic combat mission.

It didn't help that the longer the demo went, the harder it seemed for the Kinect to keep sync with my body and pretty soon, it felt rather unresponsive and frustrating at times to perform the simplest of actions. I couldn't help, but wonder how easy it would have been to change views with a mere button press or thumbstick motion.

That's not to say there isn't value to the supplemental motion controls. As I said earlier, it does add a level of immersion with basic character interactions, but it can also harm the experience if it doesn't perform consistently and its over utilized for functions that could be handled more reliably through the gamepad.

So keeping in mind that I only played the demo once, I walked away with a mixed reaction to the overall experience to Heavy Armor.

While I appreciate the level of detail to the gameplay and commitment to the simulator experience, I was also worried that Heavy Armor would suffer a similar downfall of its predecessor: soul crushing difficulty.

There's unquestionable potential for new avenues of gameplay and player interaction by incorporating the Kinect sensor with a mech sim. Hopefully the final release will prove to be more consistent with its controls and perhaps there were more alternative control options I wasn't aware of that would make the game more accessible and entertaining.

The gameplay in Spirit Camera: The Cursed Memoir, thankfully proved to be less problematic with the use of its gimmicks: the 3DS camera and gyro sensor.

Since the gameplay from the original Fatal Frame revolved around using an in-game camera for hunting ghosts, the concept of using the 3DS camera within an augmented reality framework is actually a fourth-wall breaking stroke of genius.

In the rather long demo I played at PAX East, Spirit Camera shifted between exploring an in-game world, conversing with a attractive female spirit and combating another ghastly figure in the augmented reality of the Boston Convention Center.

The first-person perspective of the game was handled by pointing the 3DS camera in the direction of where the player wants to view.

The demo also emphasized a unique gameplay method of scanning pages from a booklet that produced some haunting on-screen imagery and progressed the game forward.

In the short time that I spent with Steel Battalion: Heavy Armor and Spirit Camera: The Cursed Memoir I was pleasantly surprised to find two games that have strong roots in traditional gameplay that were also able to incorporate some of the newer gimmicks of modern gaming in intelligent and forward thinking ways appropriate to the subject matter of the game.

Whether these games can surpass the gimmick level of gameplay of games that utilized similar technologies before it, will be determined once these games are released. Spirit Camera is due out on April 13 and Heavy Armor is scheduled for release in early June.

As someone who's been gaming for well over three decades, I've accumulated more than my fair share of clutter. For example, my "shrine of cellophane" (aka the mountainous stacks of unopened games I have in my collection) has become the stuff of legend. I own enough plastic musical instruments to start several bands. I have so many light guns that the Federal Government should have me on a watch list. I still have in my possession a fully functional R.O.B. the Robot, and a Magnavox Odyssey II for crying out loud.

I'm not ashamed of most of the peripherals I've collected over the years, not the unopened Taiko Drum Master kit or the still-in-the-box Donkey Konga bongos, nor the barely used Dreamcast keyboard or the imported GameCube Keyboard/Controller hybrid (that thing made playing Phantasy Star Online so much better…). I've made my peace with the collection of plastic guitars I have to cart around every time I move, and while I never use it, the idea of parting with my Nuby universal Soul Calibur II fighting stick makes me sad beyond words. That being said, there is one peripheral that I own that fills me with embarrassment every time I see the box or hear it come up in conversation. It's the one thing I've bought in over thirty years of video gaming that I still look at and ask myself "what were you thinking?" That peripheral is my Steel Battalion controller.

The Steel Battalion controller is the Hummer of video game peripherals—overpriced, ostentatious, and, well, kind of pointless. At least the Hummer is sort of useful for driving around town, which puts it one point ahead of this monstrous mechanism—which has no use at all outside of two games.

It's easy to figure out why gamers lusted after this thing when developer Capcom released it back in late 2002: It's the mech equivalent of a racing game's steering wheel—on steroids—complete with the foot pedals and about a bazillion other useless doodads. If there's one things gamers seem to love, it's mechs—and the thought of piloting a giant steel engine of destruction with a gas pedal, gear shift, and two joysticks inspired many a nerdgasm back in the early part of the decade.

My own initial reaction to Steel Battalion was mild interest. The controller was cool, and the game that came with it sounded like the kind of "hardcore" mech simulation that could make for a compelling experience. The problem was the price—Steel Battalion's retail cost was $200. For that you got the controller and the game, but it certainly created a daunting barrier to entry for the casual and curious masses. I wound up passing on the experience—mainly because I'm the rare breed of gamer who isn't all that interested in mechs.

I was okay with that decision. Sure, occasionally my pride would speak up and say "you have a really nice game collection—but it's too bad you don't have Steel Battalion to take it to the next level," but like all the voices in my head, I'd simply push it aside and go about my day. Besides, the thing sold out and it wasn't like Capcom was filling the supply chain with more units. Then, the unthinkable happened…

Capcom decided to re-release the game and the controller (albeit with some cheaper parts) a few years later. I took this as a sign—a grand, shining beacon all but screaming that I was really meant to own Steel Battalion and this was my second chance at righting one of the great wrongs of my life. I rushed out to plunk down the cash on a pre-order (with my wife's blessing, no less!) and then settled back to wait, secure in the knowledge that my game collection would no longer be good—it would be great. Soon I would be the envy of all my friends and colleagues, who would come to marvel at the magnificence of this game and its gargantuan controller. There would be mech slaughter at Casa de Bracken, and it would be glorious.

And then I got it.

The first thing one notices about Steel Battalion is that the controller is huge. It comes in pieces and requires some relatively simple assembly, but no one really understands how massive this thing is until they see it in person. That's awesome—except that it gives rise to the first problem all new Steel Battalion owners must confront—where the hell am I going to put this thing? If the marketing guys at Capcom were really clever (and a little bit devious), they'd have not only sold this controller, but a custom designed table to put it on. I know I would have immediately trekked back to my local GameStop and bought one if such a thing existed.

Since that wasn't an option, I was left to finagle a temporary solution. I grabbed a standing TV tray—only to discover that the controller's base was really too big to sit there safely. I had to grab a second one—and side by side, they managed to contain this monstrosity. Of course, this solution created two other problems—with the trays and their legs next to each other, there was no good place to put the gas and brake pedals. That was a big one. Even bigger was that the trays were too tall to use while sitting on the couch. They were a good height for the simple feat of eating, but for piloting a mech? Not so much.

After some creative juggling, I finally had the thing set up in a way where I could at least play (hurray for adjustable height computer chairs). I fired up the Xbox and prepared for my first mission of the game.

If the first thing one notices about the controller is how huge it is, the first thing they notice about the actual game is the difficulty. Yes, the idea of a full mech control panel sounds fantastic on paper. Give me flashing buttons! Give me foot pedals! Let me move with one joystick and aim with another! The reality is that playing Steel Battalion was arguably not unlike piloting a genuine war mech—and anyone given that honor by some futuristic sci-fi military would have to go through extensive training before they were turned loose with a multi-million dollar piece of heavy weaponry. Steel Battalion offers players a half-hearted tutorial before unleashing them into battle.

I'm all for learning by doing, but Steel Battalion wasn't a game where failure resulted in a game over screen followed by an option to retry the mission. Failing to eject when prompted resulted in permanent death—and a wiping of the saved game file. In the era of constant checkpoints and games that held players' hands through the tough bits, this was brutal. So brutal that I tried the first few missions, died, and then promptly quit playing.

"I'll definitely master this once I get a better set-up for this controller," I told everyone who'd listen. I don't know if they believed me or not, but several months later Steel Battalion's mech cockpit finished its slow migration from the center of the living room to an out of sight closet. It resided there until I moved back to Florida three years ago. It now lives in another closet—or at least it did until today.

Revisiting Steel Battalion hasn't changed my opinion of it one bit. It's still the coolest—in theory—peripheral I've ever owned, but it can't overcome its myriad problems. The simple act of starting the mech is far more complicated than turning on my car. The controller has roughly 40 buttons, switches and gizmos and requires genuine coordination on the player's part. In some ways, I think of it like playing the piano—players have to be able to work both hands and their feet all at the same time. I'm almost 40 years old—I'm lucky if I can walk and carry a conversation at this stage of my life.

The controller is every bit as huge as I remembered, and it doesn't feel as though it was really designed for being assembled and disassembled multiple times. Today marks the third time I've put the thing together and it's certainly showing signs of wear. Even more troubling is that "Buffer Material" toggle switch has broken off somewhere along the line. Fortunately, it doesn't appear to be one of the really important ones, but for a $200 controller that was treated with care by an adult and used for a grand total of four hours in its entire lifespan, it probably shouldn't have pieces breaking off.

As for the game itself, it's aged well enough. It's still hard, and I have no real clue what I'm doing. Most missions end with me either toppling my own mech or flailing around like a madman trying to figure out what gear the mech should be in and what buttons I should be using while getting blasted by enemies. It deserves a lot of respect for creating what appears to be a reasonable facsimile of what piloting a mech in combat would be like (right down to the stress of battle). It's just not particularly fun because it's so complicated and the learning curve feels very steep.

Looking back, I can say I've learned some important lessons from my time with Steel Battalion. The first is don't plunk down $200 for a peripheral that can only be used for one game. Yes, there was a sequel (that I never bought), but even two games doesn't justify the price tag. The second is to trust my instincts—I passed on this thing the first time around and should have known better when it was re-released. Sure, it looks awesome—but looks aren't everything. I also learned that if a company releases an expensive peripheral, sells out of them, then waits two years before releasing more that means they're probably not really interested in supporting it for the long haul.

All that being said, the single most important lesson is this: if you don't really like mechs, don't buy a gigantic controller for a video game about driving mechs. Seems like sage advice to live by for sure. I only wish the younger me had realized it.