Contest Time!

Posted in announcement, contest with tags , on June 9, 2009 by nickhalme

I’ve been meaning to get around to this for a while, and it seems ripe to begin now.  Our previous contests have been design challenges with no prize; this week I’ll be holding a contest that doesn’t require game design knowledge, but you can win a slick gaming chair.

I was contacted by a company that sells TV mounts and other entertainment paraphernalia, and we’ll be giving away this gamer chair to the lucky winner.  It should be noted that I am a bit jealous; I’ve seen these things at conventions and they look to be pretty comfy.

Now, down to contest business.

For an upcoming Escapist column I asked game developers and journos what their favourite gaming moments were.  Now it’s your turn.  Send me an email and tell me what your proudest, worst, or most brag-worthy gaming moment is. You’ll also need to include your phone number and address, which is why I ask you email your submissions rather than posting that sort of information here in the comments.  Be sure to use your primary email address as well, you’ll be sent tracking information for the shipment should you win.

The cut-off time will be one week from now on Tuesday the 16th.

Good luck, and may the best gaming story win a comfy chair.

GDC Notes: The Six Layers of a Great Game Character

Posted in Game Theory with tags , , on May 29, 2009 by nickhalme

I’m almost afraid to post this; this talk was given by David Freeman, a man who is apparently one of those Robert McKee types from Hollywood who has had a hand in coaching an obscene amount of script writers.  As per usual the videogame industry gets sloppy seconds (but we’re not complaining).  His sessions have been attended by people like David Jaffe, Lorne Lanning, Chris Metzen, Mike Morhaime, and Scott Miller.

During the talk he wanted to make sure nobody was recording, which leads me to believe that reproducing his gospel in any way will result in my throat being slit while I sleep.

But really, he seemed like a nice guy, so I’ll take the chance.

His talk at GDC Canada seems to have skimmed the surface of what would normally be a several day long workshop, but the fundamentals he touched on were still interesting, and I think I learned a few tricks.

As is the case with all these GDC notes, they are in point form — I’ll do my best to stretch it out, but what you’re getting here are the little bits I thought deserved some ink, and not much more:

To start off he explained his techniques create “emotional depth” and “scene deepening”.  This as opposed to other methods of attack that don’t focus enough on the right spot — that spot is characterization.

These are the aforementioned “Six Layers”

6. Character deepening

5. Empathy techniques

4. Character arc

3. Quirks and eccentricities

2. Character diamond (a character trait graph)

1. Truthfulness (accuracy, profession research, etc)

———————————————————————–

The character diamond is a four pointed graph in the shape of a diamond that simply helps visualize the rough number of necessary character traits needed for a character and how they jive (and to clarify, these are not for player characters but for NPCs.)  He notes an NPC should have a minimum of three traits and a maximum of five.

Traits are clarified as character-defining descriptors; for example a character’s favourite beer tells us nothing about his character, so it is not a trait.

You don’t want cliche traits, you want unexpected traits that go together.

He cites the princess in Ico (Yorda) — she is a vessel for powerful magic, but she is also weak because she cannot control it.  Now you have an original character because she contains two traits that are seemingly at odds.

It is also possible to make a cliche character with one unique trait, thus making him or her familiar but original.

Traits can be manifested without dialogue such as with actions or through a fighting style.  My own observation of this is in the downloadable Watchmen game: Rorschach fights with a loose, rough-and-tumble (brutal) wrestling style, while Night Owl fights with a stiff karate style that seems to minimize damage done, like Batman.

———————————————————————–

His showcase example was of the Oracle from The Matrix film, which he classified as a Gandalf character, an example of taking a familiar cliche and tweaking it just a bit.

Here he used a pentagonal graph with these traits at the points: Serenely powerful, revolutionary, insightful/prescient, wry wit/ironic, motherly.  So she’s effectively a fortune-telling Gandalf disguised as the stereotypical wisecracking old black woman.

———————————————————————–

He notes a very comforting problem with developing non-cliche characters — it will always be hard to hear their voice in your head while you’re writing them.  That’s not because you’re a failure, it’s because the character is original and you have no basis for a voice.  While you’re writing the character the voice should eventually develop, and you’ll start naturally hearing this sub-vocalized voice that has developed along with the character.

For those unfamilair with this sort of writing quirk, often writers will sort of sanity-check their dialogue in their head by repeating the line mentally with the “right” voice.  If you’re writing a line for Gandalf you’ll try to make sure the line sounds like something a wizened old man would say.

———————————————————————–

Now, when he said you need to put uncommon traits together he did not mean to put opposites together.  That doesn’t fly.

The princess from Ico is not Timid/Brave.  She is Timid/Powerful.

What you want to achieve is “skewed opposites”.

Here is Batman:

Just/Good, Powerful/Frightening, Graceful/Weird

———————————————————————–

He calls all of this “emotioneering”.  Emotioneering adresses the subconcious.  

For instance Yorda cannot control her powers, but when she is led to a gate a crackling energy escapes and opens the gate.  Later on the player gets a weapon with the same crackling power running through it.  It just makes sense to the player.

The better your work is, the less people will notice it.  The more natural everything will seem.

———————————————————————–

On to Quirks.  These are little things that make the character interesting.  They are not traits, although they could be tied to them in some way, such as a character’s clothing reflecting their emotional state (ie. a goth girl).

This is unrelated to the character diamond, and they are not traits manifested in action.

———————————————————————–

Something called a “Slam” is a character’s confrontation with their own character flaw.

Indiana Jones in the snake pit, etc.

There are lots of different ways a character can respond to a slam.

Unless they are a tragic character, they can overcome the slam.

———————————————————————–

Empathy techniques.  Here he cites the obvious Wall-E references; how they surround this inhuman robot with human things and giving him human habits and needs, and human traits.  He’s lonely and he wants to hold hands, etc.

Everyman techniques are used to make you liken him to a person; he has normal human frustrations.

A standard up/down, good/bad plot graph shows how building a plot with consistent dips and spikes helps to build emotional attachment with Wall-E.

He talks about turning empathy upside down by making the audience/player empathize with the villain.

An example is the lovable killer, the hitman who loves kids, the environmentalist who wants to destroy everyone to save the world, etc.

———————————————————————–

Character deepening.  He didn’t go very far into this; I assume this is the bread and butter you would work with at one of his workshops where he has more time.  What you can take it to mean here is that these are some of the paths you can develop to attach people to a character, make them feel natural and involve the audience/player with the plight of the character.

1. Pain

2. Humiliation, shame, regret

3. Aesthetics

4. Understated or angled spirituality

5. Wisdom/insight

6. Responsibility

7. Self-sacrifice

8. Mystery

Visit David Freeman’s site here, so I don’t get my throat slit.

Warhammer 40K: Space Marine

Posted in announcement with tags , , on May 28, 2009 by nickhalme

Maybe a year ago a tech demo for a THQ hack and slash game surfaced and was faced with a resounding “eh, I guess that could be OK”.

Since then there have been rumours floating around that Relic would be helping out with the game.  Helping maybe isn’t quite the right word…overhauling is more like it.  Actually, it looks like this is entirely a Relic production now.  And wow, is it ever coming along.

(via Giantbomb)

Review: Zeno Clash

Posted in Game Review, Independent Games with tags , on May 20, 2009 by nickhalme

VGD_sideAn unfortunately named game.  One would suspect the “zenos” are clashing in Zeno Clash — I’m not sure what that would entail.  What there is is punching, kicking, shooting, and harder punching — what we have here is a fully functional and intuitive-feeling first-person brawler.  I wouldn’t say it’s innovative, but it’s original — and that’s what counts in my books.

The story that gives a hint of reason to all the faces you’ll be punching isn’t really worth mentioning — there are maybe some deep analogies, but I get the feeling the actual subject matter is supposed to be strange and nonsensical.  It’s relatable to Alice in Wonderland; a bunch of nonsense held together by a thin narrative structure and a nagging mystery.

While it’s hard to say anything about the content of the story other than “it’s weird”, the way it’s delivered and ingrained in gameplay deserves some hearty praise.  There is a present tense adventure underway in the form of a sort of getaway, and there are a series of flashbacks that explain exactly why you are running away.  It’s almost shaming to think that an independent game made in Chile plays with its narrative/gameplay structure more than any other game I’ve played and can remember.  I mean, it’s all very simple — we’ve all heard of flashbacks — but I think it’s the first time I’ve seen flashbacks used effectively (maybe at all outside of a cutscene).

But the meat on these narrative bones is first-person brawler combat.  Blows feel like they connect and thump flesh, and enemies ragdoll from your haymakers while managing to avoid looking silly.  All the while you feel like you’re cleaning up.  What in Condemned felt like stiff animation cycles here feels like a bare-knuckle boxing match between you and bizarre gangs of pig-men and crazy people.

Things don’t get too deep combat-wise, but the abilities at your disposal feel very wide-ranging.  You can perform a simple jab combo by left clicking twice then holding left mouse for a second.  When enemies are on the ground you can kick them.  You can grab weakened enemies Condemned-style and knee them in the face repeatedly and then throw them in a direction of your choosing.  Powerful punches are charged and delivered with the right mouse button, and E lets you lock on to specific enemies (so you can more easily circle-strafe them).  Block is spacebar, and if timed correctly allows you the chance to do a powerful counter-attack.  Performing some of these actions in different directions allows for things like dodging, running to deliver an elbow to the face, or delivering a haymaker while feinting backwards.  This, ladies and gentlemen, is how you construct a combat system.

The biggest problem with the game is when they give you guns.  There is a certain boss character you fight several times which should be neat, but because of the so-so gunplay portions of the fights, become tedious and almost boring.  There is a moment where the gunplay becomes interesting in an on-rails section, but it never really comes to a head.  Guns can be interesting when mixed into a fight (I found myself performing running-elbows to disable gunners and get them into melee, or to steal their gun), but at the end of the day having a gun in your hands means you’re not punching someone, and that’s what this game does best.

To top it all off, there is a small arena/time attack mode — exactly the sort of thing you’d want in a game where the core mechanics are so versatile.  Because (and maybe I’m not making this clear) wacky story and neat visual styling aside, Zeno Clash is all about punching faces.  So please, produce more henchmen for me to pulverize.

Did I mention this thing was made in Chile?  I don’t know if these guys are just special, but please — more games from Chile.  These people have the right idea.

GDC Canada Notes

Posted in announcement with tags on May 18, 2009 by nickhalme

From the 12-13 Vancouver held the first GDC Canada.  And, well, I’m back from it with lots of notes.  The Escapist overview I’ve written should be up soon, but I’ll be transcribing my notes in their entirety here on VGD in the next few days; keep an eye out.

It’s Good To Be The Saboteur?

Posted in Game Preview, Industry Comment, Opinion with tags , , on April 25, 2009 by nickhalme

No doubt you’ve seen the new screenshots for The Saboteur.  When I first heard about the game, where you play as an Irishman fighting with the Free French in Nazi occupied France in WWII, my interest was piqued.  With how it’s going about its marketing though, I’m not sure it’s what I thought it was.

See, in real life the saboteur was William Grover-Williams, an Irish racecar driver born in France who returned to work for the Special Operations Executive — a British espionage and sabotage network initiated by Winston Churchill himself.  Grover-Williams and men like him were responsible for organizing the French Resistance, maintaining spy networks and conducting sabotage and guerilla warfare.

Grover-Williams was captured and interrogated by the German Security Service and sent to a concentration camp where he was later executed along with another top SOE operative in 1945.

That would be some game.  I’ve read some similar stories about members of the SOE, and the stuff they did was truly heroic — it was also extremely dangerous and thankless.

In reality, while the French Resistance has received no small amount of praise, their struggle was paid in blood: it’s estimated the Resistance killed around 2,000 Germans while suffering somewhere around 5,000 casualties — as well 10,000 French civillians were killed in German reprisals along with 6,000 “collaborators” which is assumed to mean members of the networks men like Grover-Williams constructed.  While the picture painted of the French Resistance in the media is often of the militants slitting the throats of Germans and Nazi collaborators during the liberation of Paris, the real story is much more somber.  Which, speaking as someone familiar with creative development, is actually a gem of a chance — in this sort of story is the chance to create a meaningful experience with a basis in reality.  The punch to the gut that good drama and tragedy delivers is always that much stronger when the audience is aware that something similar actually occurred.

But the man running on rooftops with an STG-44 killing Germans in their houses, zip-lining all around the place, and enjoying the company of scandalous women is a gross misinterpretation which can’t claim to be based on the life of Grover-Williams any more than it can be said to be based on the actions of any man in WWII.

The sort of espionage these SOE men and the Free French went about were finding the locations of ammunition depots and launching raids on them, attacking supply routes, providing information to the Allies and eventually staging all-out attacks on German positions on D-Day.  There was a divide among capitalist and communist Free French (even going so far as to operate separately) — the majority of assassinations were performed by the communists.

But Pandemic is making an action game.  There is a mechanic where the player can raise the “Will to Fight” bar in different areas — a low will to fight means more German soldiers and no military assistance from the population.  A high will to fight means that soldiers will only congregate around military installations and the French population will…er, fight with you.

Sorry, but that’s incredibly incorrect.  Forgive the stick up my ass, but games like these are how many young people who are disinterested in reading up on history glean their historical accounts of the past.  I would be fine with it if it didn’t claim to be representing historical actions, but it is.  There is a reason for the American Special Forces mandate (inspired greatly by the actions of British operatives in France in WWII) “winning hearts and minds”.  The goal of setting up a resistance network is not to have a shootout, because the resistance will lose, and people will die.  The Free French were composed of volunteers from the population who were trained by soldiers.  People did not spring out of their houses and attack Germans who were for some reason patrolling their neighbourhood.

Even the supposed plot of the game has the main character exacting vengeance on the Nazis because of the murder of his friends.  As if murdering “high ranking German officers” is a way to cripple Germany — the real life Grover-Williams helped destroy Germany’s infrastructure in France, and not for some childish personal vendetta.

What I foolishly thought would turn out to be a thoughtful and chilling game of espionage is, I now find, actually “just another videogame”.  Shoot shoot, bang bang, kill the bad guys dead and you get the princess.  Really, enough of this already.

My Recipe For the Perfect DoW II Match

Posted in humour with tags , , on April 7, 2009 by nickhalme

vgd_hells

Gordon Ramsey can tell you how to concoct the most delectable scrambled egg breakfast your taste receptors will ever have the pleasure of touching, but he doesn’t know jack shit about online videogames.  Here’s where I come in — this is the recipe for the aneurysm-free multiplayer match.  This is specifically for Dawn of War II, but go ahead and apply it to whichever game you might be playing online and you’ll get similar results.

To start off get familiar with a thing called matchmaking.  Good.  Now never touch it again.  Think of matchmaking like one of those robot arms at the carnival that picks up stuffed animals, but instead of stuffed toys this matchmaking claw grasps at a fetid pit full of nuclear waste and mutated ghouls.  This is generally the sort of partners matchmaking will arrange for you.  

So, the best thing to do is to go and grab some friends.  OK.  So you don’t have any friends.  I thought as much.  Well then, you’re stuck with matchmaking — and you’re going to need some guidelines.

1. Realize your rank/skill meter isn’t worth your time.  If you enter a game and find yourself partnered with human detritus who can’t seem to figure out how to work the mouse, just quit.  It will save you a trip to the ER.

2. Find a book, or move your television closer to your computer.  You’re going to be jumping in and out of games more than you’ll be playing anything, so it’s best to just do something else while you wait.

Now, if you’ve been patient enough, you should find yourself in a game.  If one of your teammates hasn’t crashed the game because they’re connecting to the game from Beijing, you’re set.

The first thing you’ll want to do is use your troops.  Move them around.  Tell them to capture things.  If you’ve read that and you learned something, then I’m afraid you’re one of the inept peons that dwell within the matchmaking pit.

If you’ve made it this far you’re well on your way to a perfect match of DoW II.  Everyone should be capturing points with their starting troops.  Good, now while you’re capturing those points you should be making a new unit.  Now you might be saying “But Nick, where should I send the new unit?  Should I send it to die?”  While that’s a common mistake, no.  Place him somewhere safe.

You’re going to want to remember that there is a way to move around, using the mouse or the arrow keys.  With a little help from your hands your eyes will be able to look all over the place!  When you hear the dying screams of the infantry brigade you sent behind enemy lines and then forgot about, make sure to see where it is that they died — you’ll want to remember to stay away from there until a bit later.

Now, at some point someone is going to want to fight you.  It’s dirty work, but you’ll have to actually select your units individually and tell them what to do — it’s quite likely you’ll have to do this more than once as well.  It’s tough to wrap your head around, I know, and it sure requires a lot of seeing and clicking, but it’ll pay off in the long run, trust me.

Now if you’ve managed to control your units, and your commander hasn’t been killed on his knees while he captures a point in the middle of a laser battle, you’re going to want to upgrade him.  Yes, the little man advertised as the hero (who you’ve sent into the darkness to be eviscerated alone time and again) actually is a hero, but only after you’ve leveled him up a bit.  The way I usually go about this is having my commander kill the heretics, while having him avoid being hewn by an alien chainsaw axe.  You might find another strategy more comfortable, such as sending him on a wild deathcharge; use whatever works for you.

By now you’ll notice some of the little men onscreen aren’t trying to kill you; these are actually your teammates.  You’ll want to quickly assess whether they’re competent or not, so you can either help them or avoid them.  Here’s an easy checklist:

  • Are his troops clustered into a big bunch?
  • If his troops are clustered, are there plasma missiles being fired into their midst?
  • Are his troops fighting a tank with their bare hands?
  • If his troops are fighting a tank with their bare hands and they’re being torn to pieces, is he sending more troops to join the tank slapping?
  • Are his troops currently under supressive fire?  Are they walking into it?

If yes to any of the above, steer clear.  It might even be pertinent to just kill all of his men yourself using the attack ground command with heavy weapons.  It’s more fun than quitting, and he won’t know you had any hand in his demise, because he doesn’t understand what’s happening in the first place.

However, consider this checklist as well:

  • Are his troops bigger than yours?
  • Does he have tank support, and if so, could your troops hide behind them?
  • Is he currently cleansing an alien world with hellfire?
  • Does he have guns that fire things you don’t understand?
  • Is his hero knee deep in bodies and swinging a hammer?

If yes to any of these, go hide behind his tanks.  Of course, this could cause the flank you were holding to collapse and all your forces could be consumed by the wave of death the enemy will rain down on you, but you can probably piggyback on his success for a little while before any of that happens.

You should be nearing the end of your perfect match now.  If you’ve remembered to capture the points on the map and kill the enemy, then you should be in good shape.  If you’re winning you should notice all but one of the players on the opposing team have quit, leaving you to fight computer-controlled enemies that are perhaps dumber than most DoW II players.  Let your teammates push back the staunch, elite forces of the one remaining human player while you decimate the mindless drones the computer sends in front of your guns*.

*Your guns should, hopefully, be facing them.

Rinse and repeat.  Have fun!

The New Face of Tower Defense

Posted in Game Review, Independent Games with tags , , , on April 2, 2009 by nickhalme

vgd_td1

Defense Grid: The Awakening is a game which by any other name would have a better name.  That’s pretty close to what I typed into Twitter not too long ago.  Unexpectedly Jeff Pobst, CEO of Hidden Path Entertainment, twittered back asking why I thought the name was dumb.  My blood pressure spiked a bit — a game developer wants to hear criticism after the launch of their game?  After a bit of back and forth I discovered the reason for the name — they needed to proclaim they were a tower defense game with ‘The Grid’ but at the same time wanted to ensure, by the use of ‘The Awakening’, that it was obvious it wasn’t a cheap flash game.  As it turns out there exists a quaint and well-thought out sci-fi premise that sheds light on the at first glance generic name.  But I never called the people who named the game dumb, I called the name itself dumb.  Whoever put the name together had their reasons, but the fact remains that the name turned me off.

Jeff offered me a Steam key, which I politely turned down despite my, uh, broke-ness.  I didn’t suspect any foul play, of course, but having just played the demo I was at the point where I was more than happy to add one more tally to the game’s sales figure.

Behind a name that only ceases to be generic once you play the game is, well, perhaps the most charming if not most intense (that is to say, it is not too hard, but it is very fun) tower defense game I’ve played since it developed into its own Flash-borne sub-genre.

At the root of it, ironically for me, is the name.  It is very apt.  A number of squares surround a large and winding track.  You can build a number of different towers on any of the blocks.  Then you kill waves upon waves of alien robots.  As far as the story is concerned you’re waking up an ancient (and British) AI to assist in fending off the second coming of the alien invaders.  So, you’re awakening the defense grid.  It all fits together quite nicely, which is surprising for a genre that usually treats story as a non-entity.

Each tower has its advantages and disadvantages against different enemy types and some towers work together better than others.  It becomes a fight between making more new towers or fully upgrading a few of the right ones in the right places — mindful of which upcoming waves will reveal you built in the wrong order, which actually works quite well in inviting repeat playthroughs to figure out the winning strategy.  And then there are all of the ‘nice things to have’, the icing on the cake that tops it all off: a handy speed up function, and actual checkpoints so you don’t have to retry whole levels (which can be around 20+ waves).

If I’m laying it on a bit thick it’s because this is one of those games you have to recommend.  This is a AAA tower defense game; it could have worked fine even in Flash, and been just as good.  The fact that it’s 3D is nice, but I’m happy to say it’s the design and production values that move it up a tier.

Grab the demo here.

A Rose is a Rose is a Rose

Posted in Game Theory, Industry Comment, game design with tags , , , , on March 29, 2009 by nickhalme

“A rose is a rose is a rose” is a quotation from Gertrude Stein, an American neurosurgeon who was best known for her automatic writing and poetry.  She kept some pretty impressive company, ranging from Ernest Hemingway to Pablo Picasso.  Stein broke down language and worked to show how patterns of speech still inferred meaning even when individual words were disassociated from their meanings.  According to Stein herself, “Words had lost their value in the nineteenth century, they had lost much of their variety and I felt that I could not go on I had to recapture the value of the individual word.”

In Jonah Lehrer’s Proust Was a Neuroscientist he points out that she worked to show that words had no inherent meaning.  Specific to the quote “A rose is a rose is a rose” is the fact that ‘rose’ is simply a construct of language.  As Shakespeare said “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other word would smell as sweet.”  Stein noted that the Romantics were simply referring to the qualities of a rose when they used the word, but in modern works the word rose may also refer to a more intangible quality such as love, or the heady romanticism of a bygone era.  Basically, what Stein found was that she could not disassociate a word such as rose from its meaning.  It’s such a strong signifier that it cannot be deconstructed — the equivalent of my saying ‘don’t think of an elephant’.  It’s impossible not to think of an elephant, isn’t it?  Just the same, all of the things the word rose signifies are rooted deeply in the history of our language, and it’s not easy to just forget and think blankly of nothing when you hear the word rose.  Here’s another example of Stein’s work, so you can get a sense of it.

A CARAFE, THAT IS A BLIND GLASS.

A kind in glass and a cousin, a spectacle and nothing strange a single hurt color and an arrangement in a system to pointing. All this and not ordinary, not unordered in not resembling. The difference is spreading.

Hang on, what does this have to do with games?  Well a few days ago I snapped rather offhandedly that the way in which some amount of people are taking Resident Evil 5 at face value (gathering that it has racist undertones), disproves the thinking that games cannot produce a congruous meaning in its visual imagery and mechanics — change the visuals and change the meaning.  First of all it was a mistake to use the term ‘face value’.  More correctly people are judging a book by its cover, inferring too much from too little in a way that the author never intended.  It’s a game constructed to be digested at its face value, but more on this much later.  This blog is a stream of my thoughts, and I don’t claim to have figured everything out from the outset.  So consider this a correction as I grow to understand this issue more and more.

But back to the argument posed by the folks at Game Design Advance.  At the face of it I seem like a dunce; well of course if you removed the black people from RE5 it would cease to be racist, and thus the meaning would change.  But I assure you it’s more complex than that, if you’ll bear with my explanation.

This is the part of the argument I would like to take apart:

Whatever your final interpretation of The Marriage, whatever meaning you ultimately glean from it, it’s undeniable that it relies on its representational layer as much as it does its pure mechanics. After all, the color of the squares seems just as important as the fact that they grow and shrink. The very reality that the name of the game is The Marriage sets up and shapes any interpretation that a player might have. What would a game called Untitled No. 1 that featured shapes in various shades of gray express? Something different, obviously. At the very least the reasonable interpretations would have a much wider range. However, only the colors and the title would have changed, the mechanics of the game would have remained exactly the same.

Now, I’d argue there is a fault in the logic of this theoretical deconstruction of The Marriage.  Recall “A rose is a rose is a rose.”  The Marriage would not be The Marriage if it were named Untitled No.1, therefore the meaning would change, obviously, because it would be something else.  This is a common mistake of theoretical thinking.  

In theoretical physics it is the job of theoretical physicists to construct mathematical models of the universe that are often simplified by a dimension.  The models they produce are not imagined to be real, but are the easiest way for humans to engage a problem.  For example it’s easier for us to think in terms of two dimensions than in three, so a theoretical physicist might create a graph that represents something much more complex.  The model is true in that it can produce the correct solution, but it itself is not a realistic depiction of what it describes.

In the same way it’s easy to see why simply discovering the way in which parts of a game fit together to create an experience could lead someone to believe the game itself is devalued — but knowing how a magic trick is done should not devalue the trick.  The Marriage would not be the same by any other name because as a game it contains more dimensions of meaning and signifies more than a word does.  Changing the name of a game is the same as changing a letter in a word.  A game is the sum of all its parts, and when one part of a game is exchanged for another it becomes another game.  This might sound familiar to some of you, because it’s game development.  Only at the end of the development process is a game a game, only when all the hands that craft it are halted does it become the game it is.  

This is as vain as arguing why it is that a crocodile is not a giraffe.  While it’s true that if a crocodile shed its scales, grew a long neck and made a plethora of other changes it could indeed be a giraffe, we know it will not make those changes.  Why would it, even if it could?  Therefore why should The Marriage be said to have mechanics that act apart from its visuals for the simple fact that the imagery could be changed?  The Marriage’s mechanics and its imagery work in perfect harmony, Game Design Advance puts it quite well:

The Marriage is a very simple game. It features two squares, one blue and one pink, bouncing around a field of color with a variety of circles, some green/gray and some black. If the green/gray circles collide with either of the squares, the squares will grow. The black circles will make the squares shrink. Both squares will fade over time. However, if the blue square collides with one of the green/gray circles its color will become brighter, while the pink square needs to collide with the blue square in order to thrive. Moving the mouse over either square will make them move towards each other, though it will also make the blue square shrink. The mouse will also make any of the circles disappear, but this causes the pink square shrink. If either square completely fades away or shrinks to the point where they can’t be seen, it’s game over. Keep both squares around long enough and they explode into a bunch of tiny blue and pink squares on a gray background.

That gameplay is only that gameplay because of the visuals.  To say it becomes different gameplay with different visuals is true, but it also becomes a different game.  Only the right combination of mechanics and visuals can be called The Marriage.  So it presents no problem; simply produce a game with parts that work well together and meaning is produced.

But enough of that; I think the point has been made clearly — but what of its relation to Resident Evil 5?  What we often forget is that, like any other art, games have an audience that absorbs what games are telling them.  RE5 is out of tune with its audience.  It says ‘this black zombie is a zombie who is black’.  A rose is a rose is a rose.  A cigar is a cigar.  The audience however reads into things more; ‘this black zombie represents an archaic and racist view of black people’.  

This is a horrible thing for complex games like Resident Evil 5 because although graphically they appear realistic the mechanics are still just made to be dumb fun.  Until there is some fundamental change in design they are doomed to be misinterpreted by an audience tempered by the more advanced meanings of other mediums.  But this is a great thing for ‘art games’.  Small simple games that can rely on the way in which people read into very simple imagery.  They can create great meaning with very little effort, because people will infer more than is really there.  It would be harder for art games to seem expressive and meaningful if they were taken at face value — The Marriage is just a bunch of interactive floating shapes, but it works as a game because the simple colours along with the title give it profound meaning.

All things said the Game Design Advance article is a great read, and poses a list of interesting questions; some of which I’d like to address later on their own — it’s just obvious to me that their thinking in this case seems flawed.

Bold New Criticism

Posted in Design, Game Theory, Independent Games, Industry Comment, Musing, Opinion, game design, game industry with tags , , , , , , , , on March 19, 2009 by nickhalme

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Ever since Greg Costikyan gave his take on what game criticism is I’ve been trying to think about games and how to write about them quite differently than I had before.  My post-secondary education was, fittingly but I think strangely for any human being, in game design.  I like to think I read enough to have absorbed some academic opinion, but I am not an academic.  Costikyan was the one who, for me, stepped up and delivered a clear definition of criticism to an industry which never cared to discriminate much between reviewing and criticism.  But I doubt many people spotted his article and had the same feelings.

The upside of the RE5 racism debate is that it has either acted as a catalyst for a new kind of critical view on videogames, or has become a platform for this sort of critical thinking that hadn’t previously had a chance to expose itself.  People are talking about the effects of the gamer hive mind on the subjective experience of playing a game, the face value of imagery and how the current worldview has audiences absorb it, and…well mostly it has spurred radical thinkers to opine about the race issue, but the effect on games criticism is visible just below the argument’s waterline.

It’s  a bit concerning that this is the way in which games criticism may come into its own, because this is an argument that I can’t see anyone winning.  Especially when individuals are laying out monolithic statements such as “if we’re going to accept this sort of imagery in games then questions are going be asked, these questions will have merit, and we’re going to need a more convincing answer than ‘lol it’s just a game.’”  Well, Resident Evil 5’s problem, the whole reason it sparked this debate in the first place, is that it was constructed to be ‘just a game’.  It’s not trying to say anything, as no Resident Evil game ever has in the past.  While it’s promising that people are now looking at a game like this and asking ‘why is there not something of substance here, why is it that with this subject matter nothing but the equivalent of zombie sport has been made?’, it’s also disconcerting that those same people are disregarding such an important aspect of what games are, and by proxy what games criticism needs to consider.  

The videogame, by its very name, seems to suggest a slapdash combination of film and games.  And it is just that.  Visual imagery of someone’s imagining provides a context for us to engage in play on a computer monitor.  Whether it’s as stunningly simple a combination as the rules of soccer and a soccer game motif, like Fifa, or the more complex coupling of a certain brand of gunplay and item collection and an imaginary Africa, ‘It’s just a game’ will always be a valid argument, because some games don’t say anything — have no intention of saying anything.  As the videogame medium grows and matures we can’t expect the next step to be games in their current form with the extractable meaning that film or literature or visual art can achieve.  Current games, for the most part, are not built to be analyzed like this.

The closest thing we have at the moment to a more responsible form of videogame is the still-debated ‘art game’, such as Passage, Immortality, The Marriage, Braid, or The Path.  The idea that without the imagery in these games being perceived at face value, even though they strive to reinforce meaning with their mechanics, they cannot be seen as ‘art games’ — or simply, ‘games with a purpose’ — seems to have been proved incorrect by the way in which people have absorbed the imagery in Resident Evil 5.  People, or at least, enough of them, have digested the meaning of the game through the end user evaluation of the imagery.  If people are beginning to think about games like this then it’s going to be a dangerous thing for traditional games, but it could mean the beginning of a new period for art games.