Fellow unwashed denizens of the Interwebs, I find myself severely conflicted.  A sea change is happening in our favorite pastime and I quite honestly can’t decide how I feel about it.  Typically I’m quick to jump one way or the other.  I rarely face a choice this difficult that doesn’t involve lunch.  My life is so hard. My distress revolves around one of gaming’s most ancient rites, a slice of gameplay so pervasive throughout the medium that some might consider it holy–or, perhaps more aptly, hole-y.  Entire games have been built around it, and most modern games at least pay it lip service with a half-assed, half-hearted implementation.  Dear friends, I’m talking about the jump. While playing Enslaved: Odyssey to the West the other day, I was struck by an epiphany: the jump ain’t what it used to be.  Here’s a game where the main...

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