It's a funny fact that most videogaming icons happen to be cute. Mario, Sonic, Donkey Kong, MegaMan. They may have a streetwise charm, but it is the charm of a sunny 2D street, one complete with generous dollops of sunshine and pastel colours. LittleBigPlanet's hero Sackboy is the next in line to this venerable tradition, and his game is destined for greatness befitting his winning smile and Churchillian V-for-Victory cheeriness.

Although I have only played the Beta, it is pretty obvious LBP is going to be special. Hype begets disappointment, and LBP hasd been hyped steadily over the last year or so. But great games live up to their hype by adding something new tio the mix. LBP is on the face of things a knockabout 2D platformer in the vein of Mario's finest 2D hour, "Super Mario World", a throwback to a simpler and, it has to be said, more colourful era in video gaming. However, LBP's heart and soul are the vast, and I mean vast, array of customisable items that become available in the Create Mode. The umbilical cord that ties the story version of the game to the edit mode is that the former has been built from the materials, motors and cogs of the latter. The "main" element of LittleBigPlanet is what you do with it.

The Beta offers four pretty short levels, but it's clear that the game is brimming with the kind of goodwill and not to mention good design choices redolent of the best of Mario. The game offers a depth of field, so Sackboy can move a little side-to-side, although this is restricted to three preset depths, which takes a little getting used to: you have to press and hold the left stick in order to move back or forward (in relation to the screen), which can seem a little sluggish at first sight, but you'll get used to it.

The immediately apparent thing is that the game world is richly tactile and textured: materials like corduroy, cardboard, felt and sponge stand out as objects that leap from the screen in glorious, vibrant colours. The section of the game I played has the winning look of a haberdashery box, seemingly carelessly thrown together but with the polish of an experienced and solicitous hand. But the brilliance of the game is that it lets you break out the needle and thread from the sewing box and create a world that is as rich and zany as the story mode.

Firstly, it is possible to add stickers and objects that you have collected in the game to any level. You can also take photographs in-game and decorate levels with them. Both the PlayStation 2 and 3 Eyes are supported (I used the EyeToy and it worked perfectly, although I'm not sure my ugly mug really added aesthetically to any of the levels.) Sackboy is fully customisable as well, with a stunning array of body colours, hats, glasses, eye shapes and clothes to adorn him with. The same human warmth felt in the rest of the game design permeates Sackboy's vast wardrobe.

Creation is a steep learning curve. The U.K. Official Playstation 3 Magazine is completely right when they say in their review that the edit mode is very much like infamous board game Buckaroo: creation is a fraught process of trial and error, in which hours of creation can lead to sudden catastrophe when the game world collapses because a single component has been paced slightly incorrectly. They are also right when they say that this element of the game may well dictate whether gamers stay with the game in the longer term.

The game engine seems pretty unforgiving in the experience I have had with it. The physics engine will often yield nasty surprises; for instance, a skateboard placed on a seemingly stable surface will slowly -very slowly- roll backwards and knock over objects in it s path without your knowledge, perhaps an hour after being placed down. It is not that the game engine is not good enough, it is just that, seeing it is the same engine the programmers have used to make the story mode for the game, it does not suffer fools gladly.

As the Beta does not seem to offer online modes, it is hard to tell how efficient the much-vaunted level sharing elements will be. But the prospect of being able to download a player-created level is very interesting, the more so given the insane levels of fandom that many players will surely go to in order to create parody levels from the favourite games.

LittleBigPlanet is going to be a very exciting game, especially when online is up and running. Although superficially an oldschool platformer, the ardent support this game will garner from the online community will ensure that it will take on a life of its own within a couple of days of its release. Its cuteness is winning, but the amazing detail, deep creation and tutorial modes and online support ensure that LBP is a game for the ages. LittleBigPlanet is not retro, but a game for the here-and-now world of the blog, of creative expression, and sharing. Sackboy, you're going to be a star.

It is always a retrograde halcyon dream to place the past in a privileged place just because it doesn't mimic the present's day-by-day persistent grind. But...there are always those "buts". I had downloaded the new announce trailer for Ubisoft's remained hi-def imagining of Prince Of Persia, only to be greeted with the same "a hero to save the world", dark-versus-light shtick the so often greets us in trailers for children's films nowadays.

Okay, so Mario and Link were the anointed and singular saviours of The Girl and The World respectively, but the sheer repetitiveness of the storylines from one version of the game to the next and their almost cursory enumeration at the outset of each new outing ("Princess Peach has been kidnapped, again") made an oddly reassuring impression on me. Then again, I was twelve at the time.

Now I am older, I have imagined I have changed (I figure I must have changed) in the past fifteen years or so. I expect...more. I expect games whose plots surpass the disappointing reality of the kidult Hollywood offerings that flood cinemas every time the sun threatens to crack a sunbeam: I expect games which approach the characterisation of great theatre and cinema, which challenge our ability to retain our adolescent and young-male propensity to remain dried-eyed. Hell, maybe Princess could actually fight back once in a while. Maybe just a Manolo to Bowser's groin, Peachy.

The great problem with games is that, when they dare to challenge the lone-saviour-against-wall-of-evil formula, they go frickin' crazy. Take Metal Gear Solid 4. Hideo Kojima tends to think that "complexity" in a plot means fifteen plot twists and a double salko thrown in for good measure during the pre-credits sequence. What is so disconcerting is that this kind of naked self-indulgence leaves me as hollow-feeling as the most dour army of one narrative that Ubisoft can imagine. At least the recent Ninja Gaiden 2 is so incoherent as to render any attempts at storytelling redundant and almost touchingly throwaway in the storytelling department. Like Miyamoto's creations before it, Tecmo's hack 'n slasher basically says "this is a game about gameplay, the lameness of the story reminds you a game should be played". It is everything Metal Gear Solid 4 is not, and, considering it is video game, for that I am thankful for its essential honesty.

All too often, modern games market themselves between the stools of throwaway storylines and interesting plot lines and complex characterisation(s). The stories are too serious to really be called "throwaway" and not developed enough to deserve any lasting scrutiny. The stories created and marketed in this hinterland all too often suck out my enjoyment from a game. In a nutshell, they remind me of what games are but should not be: they are a money-making exercise, a way of extending a "franchise" (one of the worst words in the English language), a way of appealing to the most people without really engaging any of them.

The black art of video games of the 2D era was the very lack of realism, the very lack of any claim to seriousness. Games of the 2D era were comic books, with stories to match their bright and breezy colour palette. Nobody asked why you were a giant pig called Michael in Parodius. You just were.

Console games were generally ports of arcade games, which were in turn designed to reel people in so they would put more coins into the hungry cabinet. Gamers often make the link between the decline of arcade gaming and the parallel lessening of difficulty in games (an obvious correlation). What is pointed out less often is that the death of the arcade coincided with the end of the "crude" 2D representations of games. In other words, 3D games were the point where games entered the same space as people's video and DVD collections. Tellingly, it was here that the holy pact between the formulaic drudgery of Hollywood cinema and the Hollywoodized video games representational system was cemented. This point is crucial.

Games like Grand Theft Auto 4 have triumphantly broken out of the mold of hero-worship so prevalent in gaming. Even the dualistic choice system in the game is a move ahead of the essentially linear man-versus-zombie/man-versus-soldiers/man-versus-aliens, etc. formula in gaming. However, the sheer amount of story in any game means that the costs of making games are pushed up. And when costs go up, risks are cut. A largely adolescent male market will be catered for, with the things that come readily to them: no emotional or awkward questions asked means there are rarely honest or embarrassing answers given.

This small essay is certainly not meant to give answers: I can't even give suggestions, really. Consider this more as a lament for times past. Video games are an increasingly slickly-marketed dream factory, where the images count more than the empty messages therein.