"I don't think the investors give a sh*t about our quality," says John Riccitiello, Electronic Arts’ CEO.

He’s right.

Oh, I know this is one of those quotes that will be dragged through the mud, locked in the stockades and have lettuce thrown at it from torch wielding villagers, but as is often the case we least want to hear that which is most true. Despite the tone and the brazenness of the quote, he’s dead freaking right.

So, let’s parse a bit here, because taken out of context from the absolutely fascinating interview at VentureBeat, the quote is pretty easy to read in a completely inaccurate way. But, lest one think EA's CEO is setting the stage for equivocating on the uncertain quality of EA’s games, this is in many ways the opposite: an affirmation of the effort tempered by the realism that EA is a business, and investors only care so much about quality in the company’s games as far as that quality makes them money.

Beyond that, they don’t give a sh*t.

This week, we reminisce about the wonder that was Dr. Horrible with geek-heartthrob Felicia Day. She does a little dance with Rabbit about why humor is so freaking hard, and what she's really looking for in a ... game.

This week we – the geekospheroid, blogging cognoscenti of the digital age -- were witness to something unique and wonderful. Joss Whedon's Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog was a rare gem. A musical morality tale wrapped under a meniscus of a superhero tropes. It was a great story, brilliantly realized, completely unique.

But that doesn’t really matter. That's not the point. The reason Dr. Horrible was so good has little to do with the easily reviewable components: the singing, the writing, the acting, the staging, the camp. The reason Dr. Horrible stands out as having been so good is that it’s already gone.

If, like me, you spent countless childhood hours pining for expensive motorized Lego, Capsela, and Erector sets, the aptly named Fantastic Contraption will be right up your alley. You begin each short, two-dimensional level of this impressive physics-based puzzle game with an unlimited amount of five basic components: three wheels and two connectors, each with different properties, that you may assemble any way you choose. Your goal is to build a small machine that will drag, push, drive, or otherwise propel a single object into an end zone.

The first few levels don't require much creativity, and some basic physics know-how will get you through them in no time. It won't be long, though, before you're forced to think way outside the box. You'll be building what look like tiny robot vehicles, with specialized parts that allow them to climb steps, catapult over gaps, and negotiate piles of rubble. The inevitable "Eureka!" moments are immensely satisfying, and you may find it hard to resist the urge to refine successful machines into more efficient and aesthetically pleasing contraptions.

Sign up for an account, and you can save and share your machines online for free. You could easily while away an hour just browsing other users' mind-boggling creations. If you're willing to drop $10 for the full version you can also build, share, and play user-created levels.

Fantastic Contraption is a great example of how rewarding in-game construction can be, especially in a community setting. It's the same principle employed by upcoming titles like Little Big Planet and Spore, just on a much smaller, much simpler scale.

If you'd like to suggest a free browser-based game for Act Casual, send a link and description via our contact form.

I hope you've got some reading you've been meaning to catch up on, because this is not the week to be breaking the bank on your gaming addiction. Without so much as a middling movie tie-in release on the slumbering 360 and PS3, apparently worn out from a long week of announcing not much interesting at E3, only the DS offers up anything of interest.

But fear not, for August brings with it the beginning of the game buying season, and with it week after week of budget stretching releases. This, my friends, is the proverbial quiet before the storm. Breathe deep, save some money, because this will be among the last of the desolate The Week Ahead of 2008.

Oh, and as for Game of the Week? Uh, Final Fantasy IV. Sure, that's sounds good.

Tycho's trenchant comment from 2005 about what was then dubbed the Nintendo Revolution has a truth that is still ringing through the industry. Last year, Lost Odyssey and Blue Dragon hit our shores. They were billed as classic or traditional Japanese RPGs.

To someone who knows the genre, that says a lot. It means you're dealing with some variant of moving through a world, running into ugly things which you then have to fight as a group. On your journey, your androgynous Rogue's Gallery of characters are shuffled through a turgid story; angst and cut scenes will be involved. As you progress, the string of ugly things is punctuated with the occasional bigger ugly thing. This pattern builds up to a culminating fight with the biggest ugly thing of all. Estimated playing time starts at 20 hours but can go up into triple digits if you are one of those people who have to earn everything so you crawl through the whole place again to chase down the Iridescent Spaghetti-Strainer of Smiting that causes the bad guy to actually wet himself when you equip it in battle before going off to face that biggest ugly.

Fans of the genre saw the keyword "classic" in the marketing materials for these games, gave a cautious "w00t!" and then made the solemn decision whether or not they wanted to play them based on their taste for that sort of thing. The gaming press had another viewpoint. Even with solid review scores across the board, over and over the text of the reviews complained that the gameplay was too traditional. Gamespot called Lost Odyssey a relic.

Ouch. We've all seen this before, though. If a game isn't considered new and different enough by the reviewer it counts as a downcheck. But I, like many other gamers, don't necessarily classify traditional gameplay as a bad thing. Sometimes, you want something that plays just like something else.

Like most people, I fear change.

I recently heard an adorable and completely true tale from some forgotten corner of the world of a village that elected their long-time mayor back for another term despite his all-too-common condition of being dead. Soft pitch jokes about politicians aside, I was particularly amused by one of the interviewed voters who defended his necrotic choice for elected official by stating that he didn’t like change.

How powerful our basic nature to resist change despite its immutable certainty. We hold fast to the familiar, indulge in our own personal traditions long after their usefulness and relevance has passed. And so, I am reminded of this as I invest myself in the middling irrelevance of another E3.

If you had wondered if E3 was now truly a relic of bygone days, hobbled permanently by the slapstick bunglings of the ESA, then this year’s Electronic Entertainment Expo ought to just about wrap things up for you, which will make it easy to tie on a block of cement and toss the whole mess into the East River.

This week I completely forget to mention that our Games You Can Play Now sponsor was submitted by Higgledy. Sorry dude. For those of you who wanted a longer cast, we've got you covered thanks to a metric ton of great emails!

I grew up listening to radio stations that said things like: “The HOME *sound of explosions* of classic rock and roll” or “From AC/DC to Zeppelin *sound of freaking laserbeams* all rock, all the time.” So, when Neversoft decided to print more money by making another Guitar Hero game, thus solidifying their strategy of riding the franchise until the wheels fly off and then skidding along on shredded axles that much farther, they may have had a picture of me at sixteen with my sullen expression peeking through moppy brown hair while sporting a Permanent Vacation t-shirt hanging all the wrong ways right on their desks when they pegged Aerosmith as a partner.

It comes as no surprise that the most overexposed gaming franchise of the past few years has teamed up with a group like Aerosmith, a quintet that is more brand than band. I imagine that someone from Activision called Aerosmith’s manager, said “hey, do your guys like money?” and moments later the manager pulled the pre-signed forms from the Sell-Out file to fax right over, thus preserving a legacy of mediocrity.

Honestly, I can think of no better band to be associated with the absolute pabulum that has become Guitar Hero than Aerosmith, a band once edgy and great, awash in all that was beautiful about rock and roll, and which has become a self-absorbed shadow of itself. Except maybe those whores in Metallica.

Ongaku is a rhythm-based game for people who lack rhythm but love music and painting. You can go the regular route of timing your actions just right, or you can press the corresponding arrow key long before that crucial point of no return. Your little musical note avatar will then "scoop" the keys into itself. Now that you're not too worried about mashing buttons, you can take in the game's brilliant art stylings. The background starts out as a blank canvas. Literally! As you progress through the stage an image will slowly come to life - from a black and white Seussian sketch to a tie-dyed extravaganza of colors.

For those of you that are slaves to habit, Ongaku rewards your excellent timing with points to open up more levels and cash to spend in the game's shop. Save up enough music dollars and you'll be able to upload an image of your own to play through. For the award-minded gamer, there are achievement stars to unlock as well as a valued spot on the game's leaderboards.

Unfortunately there are a few minor timing issues, and long strings of arrows may bog down your computer (causing you to miss or forcing you to scoop). But the musical tracks are blissfully short and there's a lot of joy in watching the paint blobs fly. Sure it's yet another in a long line of music-meets-reflexes games, but Ongaku reminds you to consider the poor, neglected backdrop that faithfully supports the scrolling foreground we so often tread.

If you'd like to suggest a game for Act Casual, send a link and description through our Gamers with Jobs contact form.