Terminally Trivial

I've attended a couple of Atlanta-area game development events in the last month and have been meaning to blog about them both.  I'll talk about this last weekend's SIEGE convention soon, but I'm going to first back up to the Atlanta IGDA Chapter relaunch meeting held back on September 23.

The host for the evening was the Atlanta branch of CCP games, makers of EVE Online.  Their hospitality was astounding.  Not only did they provide attendees with plenty of space to converse, but they also provided a full steak and seafood dinner on the house… that alone nearly pays for my IGDA membership. 

In addition to facilities and food, the staff of CCP also gave a presentation entitled How to Make an MMO (in 90 Minutes or Less!).  No, you can't actually make an MMO on the scale of EVE Online in 90 minutes, but you can get a quick overview of the process.  The presentation consisted of a handful of smaller lectures covering many different aspects of MMO development.  Unfortunately, I forgot to bring a notepad.  I do, however, remember one point in particular.

Reynir Harðarson, one of CCP's co-founders, gave a design-focused presentation.  In it, he talked about how that many MMO's are either theme parks (find something to do, get in line, and, when it's your turn, participate in the story/quest/activity) and others are sandboxes (here's the things you can do, have fun!).  EVE is more sandbox than theme park.

Why?  Because players quit games, but players don't quit friends.

That's a simple but very profound piece of advice.  It's true that games that are more like theme parks such as World of Warcraft have been phenomenally successful with such an approach, but I really like the logic behind CCP's philosophy.  I find it particularly interesting as I've been studying the social games space a lot lately (if planting crops and running mafia missions counts as "research").  I'd say that this should be a guiding principle to anyone creating a social game.  I may not be interested in reaching yet another level when I've already leveled up 162 times, but I might just keep playing to help my friend reach his goals.

While the next Atlanta IGDA Chapter meeting will be a social gathering, Clint Hocking is scheduled (if I heard correctly) to be the featured speaker at the following meeting.  I listened to him during the "micropresentation" session and went to the game design workshop he and several others ran at GDC last March.  I'm sure he'll have something interesting to say… and I'll remember to bring my notepad this time.

The recent Xbox Live Arcade release Shadow Complex is getting glowing reviews… for the most part.  One of the harshest (though a still solid B) came from a review by 1UP.com's Jeremy Parish.  In the review, he says:

To call Shadow Complex inspired by the Metroid series would be a terrible slander to the word "inspiration." It's not so much that the developer, Chair, looked to Super Metroid for ideas as it is that they took a sheet of wax paper and did a rubbing of Samus Aran's entire career. It's a clone, albeit one for these modern times — which is to say, it uses polygons instead of sprites, and it's a reasonably-priced download game for Xbox Live. In practically every other way, though, it's completely identical to Super Metroid… down to the powers you earn and the map structure. This is a game where you use missiles to blow up red doors, if that tells you anything.

As I played the game, I found myself agreeing with this statement ten times over.  I'm collecting health upgrades to add little squares to my life meter that represent extra energy?  I'm using a grappling hook to traverse the map?  I'm constantly doubling-back across the map because I didn't have the necessary weapon or power-up to reach a certain location when I visited it the first time?

It's true, I could fill a notebook with the similarities between these two games.  In spite of this, I do give Shadow Complex recognition for improving one aspect of Super Metroid.  I'm not referring to how much fun the combat is, though the melee attack animation is satisfying every time it plays and the power of the game's final weapon makes replaying the game with it a joy.  What stood out for me is how Shadow Complex makes exploration a pleasure, especially in comparison to Super Metroid.  Both games challenge players to collect every item in the game world.  Even as a kid with too much time on my hands for playing Super Metroid, I found this task frustrating to complete.  In Shadow Complex, I was somewhat disappointed to reach 100% completion.  I was having too much fun tracking down all the items and it had nothing to do with my unhealthy obsession with trying to earn achievements (full disclosure:  I did get 20 Gamerscore points for finding all of the items).  I can pinpoint a couple of design choices that led me to feel this way.

First, consider the size of the worlds in these games.  If you don't mind potentially spoiling the experience of them, take a look at the map of Super Metroid's game world.  Now look at the map used in Shadow Complex.  While I think that the Super Metroid game world has more rooms to explore, ignore that for now and just focus on how spread apart the game is.  Compare this to tight corridors of Shadow Complex.  In the latter, it's relatively easy to get from one area of the map to the other.  In a game that requires the player to constantly traverse around the world and revisit previous areas, moving through familiar corridors for the sake of getting from point A to point B isn't guaranteed to be a fun experience.  It might be fun in an MMORPG when the player doesn't know what will be encountered along the way, but the enemies of Super Metroid that stay in the same areas minimize the potential excitement of the journey.

Second, observe the amount of effort it takes to discover hidden paths in both games.  Take a look at this sequence from Super Metroid.  In the span of about a minute of gameplay, there are three different items that can be collected.  All of them are very stealthily hidden throughout the area.  The secret paths in Shadow Complex tend to be much more obvious.  Sometimes an alternate path is behind a vent cover or  a familiar style of door.  On other occasions, a path is blocked by environmental features like rocks that are out of place.  In several instances, Shadow Complex shows the path or an item on the screen.  The player is then left to figure out how to access the secret area.

Metroid fans will be quick to point out that these paths are far from impossible to find without a strategy guide.  In fact, the game gives Samus an X-Ray Scope for this purpose.  The problem is that, assuming the game is played in the intended sequence, this scope doesn't become available until nearly half-way through the game.  Shadow Complex has a similar weapon, the flashlight.  Turning it on and shining it on different areas reveals objects that can be destroyed and, through a color-coded system, lets the player know which weapon will be necessary to eliminate it.  When does the player get the flashlight?  Right after the intro sequence and opening cutscene.  While Super Metroid forces the first-time player to wait until making significant progress in the game to start exploring closely, Shadow Complex gives players the choice to do so right off the bat.  The ability to examine the world as the player encounters it enriches the gameplay with a greater sense of freedom.

Am I ready to declare that Shadow Complex eclipses Super Metroid, one of the greatest games of all-time?  I don't believe so.  The point here is that dismissing Shadow Complex as nothing but a knock-off of Super Metroid is far from accurate.  While it isn't wholly innovative, it is evolutionary in its approach to the "Metroidvania" style of game.  Refusing to purchase the game because it rips off Super Metroid is far from a wise move.

But what about refusing to buy the game for political reasons?  Well, my friends, that is another blog post entirely.

If you aren't reading this from an RSS feed (and really, you should stop by the site and say hello), you'll notice I gave the blog a bit of a makeover.  I wanted to accomplish a two things by moving to a new theme:

1) I wanted something a bit more "content-focused." Although my last theme served me well, I starting feeling like it was a bit cluttered.  I went with a simpler, plainer theme just to bring the content front-and-center.

2) I wanted to have a theme where it didn't matter if everyone else uses the same one. Creating a unique theme from scratch or from a base theme is not very high on my list of priorities at the moment, so I still need to use an off-the-shelf theme.  I've seen my previous theme used at several sites, but it often used a different color scheme or had different subject matter.  When I stumbled on to another game developer who used the same theme (along with the same color!), I decided I eventually needed to change the theme.  With a simpler theme like this one, it's less obvious that there are many blogs out there using the same theme.

So there you have it.  I hope it makes the site easier to read.

One other note:  I have temporarily taken down the link to my projects.  I'm in the middle of revising that section.  I'd like to talk a bit more about the ones I've posted as well introduce some new ones since the last time I updated that part of the site.

I tweeted about this a month ago, so I guess it's time for a post on it, eh?

The game that has captured my attention the most in the past month is a simple puzzle game called Droplitz.  The premise is pretty simple:  taking its cue from Pipe Mania / Pipe Dream, players rotate dials to make a path from one of the entry points for the Droplitz at the top of the screen to one of the exit points at the bottom of the screen.  There is a limited number of Droplitz.  If too many of them fail to reach the bottom, the game is over.

But here's the weird thing:  I've never been so moved by a puzzle game with absolutely no story.  Most puzzle games are almost sexual in their emotional arcs.  The game board usually becomes more complex, chaotic, and challenging as the game continues.  There may be a moment of rest when the end is momentarily avoided through superb play, but the game always ends in the state of climax known as game over.  At that point, there is an emotional release as the adrenaline rush is over.

So what makes the gameplay of Droplitz so different from the other emotional roller coasters traditionally provided by puzzle games?

While the game's mechanics are spot on, that's not what makes the game truly great.  The way Droplitz handles pressure on the player to perform is marvelous.  As implied above, most puzzle games create a sense of tension when the player is walking the line between playing and game over.  The most frequent tool in achieving this is having the music intensify with a more urgent soundtrack.  Not so with Droplitz.  Instead, the music only builds when the player is excelling.  As the player continues to twist pieces into the correct places to create new paths, both the multiplier and the complexity of the music increase.  Once the player breaks this multiplier by failing to keep a path constructed on the game board, the music returns to normal.  When a game over is reached, a pleasant chime is played and the game returns to the normal in-game soundtrack.

What I've come to realize is that this is game design for Millennials, the group also known as Generation Y.  One of the things that stands out about this generation is the need to achieve and be recognized for a strong performance.  This generation was told they can do no wrong as long as they try their hardest.  Gen Y needs positive reinforcement to perform their best.  It's not simply a matter of getting the job done and staying in the game; they need to know when they are rocking it and need a cushion to land on when they fall.  Droplitz does just that.  The game doesn't contrast playing with not failing, but rather succeeding versus "keep trying."  It's the modus operandi of Gen Y in game form.

All this explains why playing Droplitz is a therapeutic experience for me.  I was born somewhere between the end of Gen X and the start of Gen Y, but I seem more in touch with later.  As part of a world that is still led by Baby Boomers, it's nice to involve myself in an experience that is more in tune with my way of thinking.

While I think it is important for designers to realize that members of Generation X will still be buying and playing video games, Generation Y is entering the workforce and starting to have a disposable income.  Maybe this means I should lighten up about New Super Mario Bros. Wii's new "Demo Play" feature that will help gamers get through tough parts by having the computer play the game for them.  Or maybe this means that I still have some Gen X in me after all.

The following post is mostly spoiler-free, but the YouTube links aren't.  You've been warned…

First, a list of examples:

- One of the standout aspects of Mirror's Edge is the way that the limbs of the main character, Faith, appear and disappear from the first-person view as Faith runs.  At the end of the game, the player releases control of Faith for an exciting sequence that culminates in something I've never seen in a video game: a first-person hug.

- The title character of The Maw grows with everything it eats.  As the game proceeds, The Maw grows from this funny little character to large (but still harmless) force.  By the end of the game, The Maw has reached a size that significantly alters the relationship between it and Frank, the other protagonist.  This moment plays out in a touching fashion.

- Late in Dead Space, the protagonist Isaac learns a devastating truth that causes him to lower his head and nod in disbelief.  This is a moving moment not only because the story has revealed a piece of critical information, but because the player has never seen Isaac in this state.  Emotion has never caused the avatar to launch into an animation.

What do these emotional experiences have in common?  The avatar that the player controls performs an action that is new to the player.  A character surprising the audience by acting in a new fashion is an old technique.  What makes this "avatar bending" unique is the circumstances surrounding it.  The player has been conditioned to believe that manipulating inputs in a certain way always leads to a certain result.  I find that disrupting this conditioning can make a moment much more emotionally jarring than by pure narrative alone.  There's a reason people still remember the best ending to the original Metroid.