Archive for April, 2009
The cattle prod.
Posted by The Management in design on April 28, 2009
I’ve previously talked about the Alamo standoff, a technique in which the player’s physical progress is halted, so I figured I’d take a quick look at the opposite end of the spectrum: forcing the player to move forward.
The iconic escape sequence from the intro of Super Metroid.
Now there are plenty of ways to encourage the player to physically make progress in a game (collectibles, for instance), but forcing him to do so is a bit different. One approach is to simply take the player on an automated ride where his input bears little to no effect on the actual traversal, e.g., autoscrolling stages in shmups, or wholly scripted camera movement in light-gun games. Another possibility, and the one I’ll be focusing on, is what I like to call the “cattle prod.” But first, a quick definition:
- An event in which the player fails to adequately advance through a challenge, often resulting in a restart at the last checkpoint/save spot or a “gave over” scenario.
Super Adventure Island's cattle prod is the very intuitive hunger mechanic that requires the player to constantly pick up fruits. Not only is this concept very easy to grasp, but it also fits in with the game's setting and is supported by the extremely horizontal level design.
Game death is a pretty nebulous concept, e.g., losing a race and having to repeat it doesn’t have to actually involve anyone or anything being killed. However, it is also the ultimate consequence of not properly following the directions dictated by the cattle prod(s).
With that in mind, we can now talk about what makes a cattle prod work. Namely, diminishing resources that can bring on game death.
Cattle prods are manifested in various ways, e.g., time limits, combo meters, autoscrolling walls, currencies, decaying health, unstoppable enemies, etc. The overall feeling they tend to bring on is that of tension (and the possible satisfaction of overcoming a challenge) although that intensity varies greatly from case to case.
From what I’ve noticed, there’s three main factors that play into the stress level of a cattle prod:
1). Player Knowledge.
The more information the player possesses, the better he will be equipped to judge the situation at hand. Traversing a familiar level while being accompanied by a minimap that displays various points of interest is a lot less intimidating than being given a time limit and thrown into a hostile and unknown area.
Although Crackdown's races were actually pretty easy, the rapid checkpoint approach definitely increased their intensity.
2). Player Power.
The stronger the player is, the lesser the impact of any possible cattle prods. For example, if an RTS match begins with the player at a fully outfitted base with a lot of units and resources to mine, he won’t be too worried (at least not immediately) about succeeding. However, remove the base, provide only a handful of starting units, severely diminish possible resources and create a massive opposing army, and the stress levels quickly increase.
3). Resource Availability/Lifespan.
The more sparse the resource and the quicker it runs out, the more intense the overall experience. If a checkpoint is fifteen minutes away in a rally-style racing game, the player tends to trust the designer to give him plenty of time to reach that goal. However, if a checkpoint can be seen just a block down the street but the player only has 10 seconds to reach it, the experience becomes much more rushed and hectic.
The dials on these 3 factors can be turned independently — something that’s particularly important when using multiple impetus mechanics at one time. In the end, though, they all represent a single concept:
- A mechanic based on diminishing resources that forces the player to advance in order to avoid game death.
Tee hee, he’s gay…or something.
Posted by The Management in miscellaneous on April 23, 2009
There are many examples — and satires — of the East’s penchant for gender bending in various forms of entertainment media. For instance, these two videogame characters are supposed to be male.
The ancient race of Magypsies in Mother 3.
A subset of this phenomenon seems to be Japan’s jovial fascination with homosexuality (at least when contrasted against pop-culture trends in the West). More specifically, it appears to be a general kind of giddy amusement brought on by extreme and often exagerrated imagary of gay men.
Now you should take that statement with a grain of salt. I am not Japanese, nor have I ever lived in or visited the country. This is just a loose perception stemming from internet sources, second and third hand opinions, and videogame exhibits such as these:
While some of the above games were quite niche, others, like “Freshly-Picked Tingle’s Rosy Rupeeland” (actual title), were published by family friendly companies and became mainstream hits. The response to these games wasn’t an outrage or a rallying call, or even apathy. Instead, it seemed like something else entirely: a collective giggle.
Now on the surface that doesn’t seem so bad. These ridiculously over-the-top portrayals can be amusing, but when they all follow the same pattern, they also risk becoming misrepresented as the status quo. And in this case, isn’t the majority of gay-related subject matter distilled into a cheery “Oh, you silly, adorable people!” pat on the head?
Considering Japan’s somewhat schizophrenic history with homosexuality, this strikes me as particularly odd. Anyone care to enlighten me on the root and cause(s) of this trend?
The DS, a small chest of fun.
Posted by The Management in design on April 21, 2009
It’s often said that to have a truly great game on a system like the DS, one must fully embrace its input capabilities. I’m not so sure that’s true — I enjoyed Drill Dozer as much on the DS as the GBA — but there is something to that statement. I think the crux of it is not the game itself, but rather the overall experience surrounding the physical hardware.
The Nintendo DS. Open it up, and fun comes out.
Nintendogs was the first title to really take advantage of the DS’ capabilities. The touch-screen and stylus were perfect for petting your dog, the device-clock kept track of the commitment to your canine(s), and the algorithms behind the microphone recognized basic speech. This last feature allowed you to record your own voice and summon your dog by speaking his name — by far the best use of the mike to date.
Phantom Hourglass made great use of "screen-scribbling."
Brain Age took the device-clock integration even further with all sorts of scheduled events, and created a new perspective of sorts by forcing the player to hold the DS vertically by its spine, i.e., like a book. Hotel Dusk did the same, but also included a journal where the gumshoe protagonist could make notes.
This scribbling mechanic became much more involved in The Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass. Not only was it used to jot down clues, but it also served as your ship’s navigation system. In addition, it was utilized in numerous puzzles that required tracing patterns and pinpointing locations, all of which had an immediate impact in the gameworld. Phantom Hourglass also had an interesting segment where the DS’ two screens were used as a stamp. The upper screen held a pattern, and by closing the device itself — effectively nestling the two screens against each other — the pattern would become mirrored on the bottom screen.
It's too bad that most of Duck Amuck's minigames were entirely forgettable.
Now Nintendo isn’t fond of anyone messing around with the default suspension that’s activated when the device is closed, but another game got away with it — Looney Tunes: Duck Amuck. Aside from all the clever ways in which you could play the sadistic cartoonist, Duck Amuck also included an interesting minigame that was played with the DS closed. Daffy would give you audio cues as to his orientation in a pitch-black area, and you’d control him using the L and R buttons.
While the overall quality of these titles is debatable, they all managed to — at least in part — turn the DS into a multimedia portal. They used the device’s various input and output capabilities to facilitate interaction and provide feedback, and, in a way, transport the player into a virtual gameworld.
GTA: Chinatown Wars contains lots of quick, full-screen minigames.
But there’s something of an alternative: bringing the gameworld to the player.
Various DS titles like Grand Theft Auto: Chinatown Wars utilize full-screen minigames. These are typically quite zoomed-in, approaching the scale of the scenes’ real-life counterparts. No scrolling is involved either, removing that “portview” sensation of looking into an artificial world. The controls used in these minigames are also quite intuitive, emulating the interactions expected in real life. The end result is subtle, but it gradually gets away from the feeling of reaching into the game and replaces it with a DS-created construct that exists in “our” world.
Of course consciously trying to achieve this is rarely logical or feasible, but it’s an interesting approach with its own pro’s and con’s. It’s also becoming quite popular in iPhone/iPod Touch “lifestyle applications,” which would partly explain the success of all those dice rollers.
Headspin Storybook bits.
Posted by The Management in games on April 17, 2009
Headspin Storybook is a basic matching game, except that the images on the left side of the screen need to be mirrored on the right. It’s very simple and approachable, and wrapped up in an undeniably “neat” package.
If you ask me, pop-up picture books are too rarely an inspiration for videogames.
The bits:
- The storybook theme is instantly recognizable, and it’s the perfect setup for the left/right duality that serves as the base of the gameplay.
- The backgrounds and moving people have the same cutout look as the interactive parts, which is a bit confusing. I realize that the confusion is the intended result, but I don’t think it’s necessary. The level timers are already fairly short, and the extra visuals are distracting enough by themselves without mimicking the interactive objects.
- The positions/object lists and their flipped values are randomized. This provides decent replay value and prevents levels from being too easy the second time around.
- The sliding timer indicator and the flipping animations are true to the game’s theme and provide inexpensive but fitting effects.
Scary Girl and the bane of platformers that is physics.
Posted by The Management in design on April 16, 2009
Scary Girl got quite a bit of attention at the tail end of GDC ‘09. It’s out now, and it’s free, so I decided to give it a go.
Yes, it's pretty.
The game’s aesthetics are definitely its high-point, somewhat aping the twisted surrealism of Beetlejuice. Scary Girl even does some interesting things like the animating dialogues — something that I’ve been meaning to throw into a game ever since reading demian5’s When I Am King.
As a platformer, though, it’s simply bad.
I also found myself scratching my head when my character wasn't picking up the collectibles she was overlapping.
The issue with Scary Girls is what’s endemic to so many indie games: an overabundance and over-reliance on physics. For every Armadillo Run, there’s ten titles like Pac-Man physics. This particularly hurts platformers as the whole genre relies on “tight” controls and precise movement (even in the easy games).
Yes, Mario, Sonic and Mega Man all had physics, but they weren’t realistic. The algorithms behind those games were MIN/MAX-ed to attain a certain “feel,” and the level design reflected that. There was usually no need to involve mass, the Coriolis effect, or the actual trajectory of a human jumping ten times his own height in an earth-like environment. Instead, the physics were meant to be fun and intuitive, and the architecture of the levels supported them and the player’s goals.
You need to jump to get the cross of collectibles, but hardly any of the possible trajectories will achieve that.
Sure, N was quite a departure from that, but it wasn’t your typical Flash platformer either. It had a very zoomed out view, a high resolution, lots of different surfaces, etc. The game still wasn’t my cup of tea, but it was aware of its strengths and used them to build unique and entertaining playgrounds. Most physics-based platformers, though, seem to occupy a space somewhere in between N and nostalgic games like Mario, and they’re rarely any good.
Scary Girl’s second stage is the ubiquitous underwater level, and, naturally, it’s even slower and floatier than the on-land action. It also uses tank controls, i.e., left/right to rotate, forward to advance, and it’s a mess. Even though you have to dive, the buoyancy of the water is constantly rotating your character to face up. What’s worse, there’s an air meter, water currents, and painfully slow step-like diving movements. It’s pretty much the complete opposite of fun.
Despite its good looks, the game’s an awkward struggle with no flow. I doubt I’ll ever play it again.
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About
Hi, my name’s Radek Koncewicz, and I work as a videogame design consultant. I'm also the creative lead of Incubator Games, a small development studio I started with a few former coworkers.
I think a lot about videogames, and write a lot of it down too, so I figured why not make it public?
If you'd like to contact me, drop me a line at themanagement@significant-bits.com.