These grunts, sighs, squeals and miscellaneous other vocalizations compose roughly 1/4 of the dialogues in the early hours of Final Fantasy XIII.
One one hand, they’re to be expected. Japan is known for its plethora of exclamations and onomatopoeiae. On the other — at least when translated literally — they make for a poor localization.
These sounds are often louder and longer than their English counterparts, or they simply have no equivalents. As such, they’re difficult to remove or replace and are usually left untouched. They’ve even become something of an accepted “quirk” among the more dedicated fans of Japanese media, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be handled in a more global-friendly fashion.
As things stand, vocalizations often come across as alien and awkward. They break the flow of conversation and the suspension of disbelief, and can leave a new audience feeling put off.
Sure, one can always argue for the purity and cultural authenticity of any given product, but that’s being a bit of a stick in the mud. Literal translations lack context and social nuances, and those fully familiar with them might as well experience the original versions. In order to make the products more palatable to a different audience, some things need to change. FF XIII in particular is a title Square Enix wanted to be a global blockbuster, not just a Japanese game released to a niche audience outside of its home country, so it stands to reason that they’d want to iron out these kinks.
So how can this be done?
A couple of points:
- If possible, simply remove the exclamations altogether. The ones that could easily be cut are left in to keep things consistent, but getting rid of them shouldn’t be an insurmountable issue.
- Use local equivalents of the vocalizations if available. For example, make a character surprised by a hand on his shoulder utter a short “Huh?” instead of the original, “Mwwwnnhaaa?”
- Use actual words or sentences for sounds that have no local counterparts. A character crying out “Gwahhhhhhhhhhhh!” for three seconds after witnessing a car crash could easily be replaced with a quick “Oh my god!”
- Meld the exclamations into the speech itself. I’m not an expert, but I noticed many of the vocalizations were isolated within the dialogue, whereas in English they’d part of it, e.g., “Mmmm, I don’t know about thaaaaaaaat.”
- Finally, keep these points in mind when developing the game, and provide the team(s) with the tools necessary to port it. Automated lip-synching is already widely used, but I’m sure other functionality or just the permission to alter the in-game cutscenes would be appreciated.
Of course there are more issues to consider as well — perhaps toning down on the dramatic, clenched-fist poses with characters uttering such phrases as “I’ll do my best!” — but those are a whole other topic…
- The Psychology of Randomness – People tend to be terrible at accepting randomness for what it is, and it’s a very important trait to accommodate for in game design.
- Testosterone and Competitive Play – Danc’s essay on playing against friends, playing against strangers, the perception of luck and skill, and pro-social/pro-dominance tendencies.
- Groundhog Day and Video Games – Groundhog Day is a fantastic movie with a surprisingly wide-spread appeal, and I always thought its concepts were perfect for a videogame.
Nelson Tethers: Puzzle Agent cribs quite liberally from Professor Layton, and relies heavily on its art style, but it’s still my favourite of Telltale’s episodic games to date.
— Obviously the most noticeable thing about Puzzle Agent is its offbeat, crayon-drawn art style. What’s interesting here is that the game relies on stop-motion like animations reminiscent of old, low-budget cartoons. The effect is actually quite good and and the choppy movements are consistently utilized even when smooth animations could have easily replaced them (e.g., a snowmobile driving in a straight line).
The system made me wonder if other art styles not conducive to animation could successfully adopt a similar approach.
— Aside from the visual style itself, PA is a very atmospheric title in the vein of the old LucasArts adventure games. The characters are bizarre and expressive, the Fargo-esque setting is unique (at least for a videogame), and the great music and voice acting enrich the overall experience.
— PA was clearly designed with the iPhone/iPad in mind. The player never walks his avatar around the screen, and clicking most places sends out a helper-shockwave. As this shockwave expands, it highlights any points of interest that can be clicked on to initiate conversations, puzzles, scene transitions, etc.
— The actual puzzles in PA are a bit of a letdown. This is due to two main reasons: lack of instructions, and the inability to jot down notes in-game.
A lot of the puzzles are quite obtuse, sometimes to the point where a hint needs to be purchased just to figure out what the game wants the player to do. Unfortunately this seems like a concession to the game’s hint system (all puzzles must contain 3 individual hints) as some cases actually contains an additional screen that explains the controls and the goals of the minigame.
The secondary complaint deals with the nature of the puzzles themselves. Many of them are common math/logic problems that are meant to be solved in a series of steps. However, the player is often forced to visualize and work through them without any in-game aids. This artificially inflates their difficulty, especially when compared to the visual jigsaw puzzles.
These points certainly don’t ruin the game, but do I hope the various minigames are improved in future episodes.
– Many puzzles are completely optional and make exploring the world feel more like a non-linear, interactive experience.
– The actual hint system is quite clever. The game starts off with the protagonist trying to solve a crossword, and, having some problems with it, eventually reaching over for some gum to help him concentrate. As we soon learn, the town he visits is experiencing a gum shortage. This forces the player to pick up old, discarded pieces of gum to aid Agent Tethers in his puzzle solving endeavours. Yes, it’s quite gross, but perfectly fits the mood of the game and gives the designers a great excuse to sprinkle virtually all parts of the environment with a useful collectible.
Old gum also seems to be a reusable resource, reappearing in new spots as the Agent Tethers travels around town. This provides the player with an unlimited source of hints and prevents him from getting stuck on any one puzzle.
– As a nice little touch, the time of day on the title screen changes up periodically while the camera slowly scrolls around the Scoggins eraser factory.
– The UI of the game is very flashy but intuitive, with lots of animating widgets composed of labels and icons. The unskipable puzzle submission is a tad long, but the overall interface is a joy to use (especially when compared to many other adventure games).
– Agent Tethers uses a tape recorder throughout the game to narrate his experiences. This provides extra personality and context while clearly outlining what must be done going forward.
In the 90’s, Capcom produced a plethora of side-scrolling beat-‘em-ups. They were all pretty fun, but my favourite was an unlikely-branded D&D title, Tower of Doom.
The TSR/Capcom partnership actually spawned two individual games, but here are the notable bits for the first one:
— The most famous feature of ToD is the branching path structure. Periodically, the player is presented with 2-3 options of how to proceed, with each choice leading to a different area and boss. All these paths converge fairly quickly, but the extra choices are a nice feature and encourage multiple playthroughs.
— ToD’s overall structure is very similar to a typical beat-‘em-up, but the game also contains lots of streamlined D&D/P&P RPG elements. Characters gain experience and grow stronger by leveling up, keys (or a thief character) are needed to open some chests, traps are virtually everywhere, there’s lots of treasure to collect, etc. There’s even a troll boss that needs to be burned once his health is depleted or he’ll simply regenerate.
— There are very few health-recovery items in the levels themselves, but the player can heal by collecting loot and purchasing health potions in shops. The shops appear in between levels and also allow the player to restock on usable items such as daggers and arrows.
— ToD contains lots of nice, little touches: the characters start the levels with their weapons sheathed (and the player can walk around unarmed until he presses the attack button), enemies can be damaged by traps, an extra victory animation accompanies a boss’ defeat, and all major stages and events are framed using unique illustrations. The game even contains some unique “Game Over” pop-ups that — if triggered during a boss fight — have the player’s enemy openly mocking him.
— Magic spells execute a flashy animation while pausing the gameplay, and their effects occasionally carry on once the game has been unpaused. This works fine for the most part, but due to the rule of only-one-spell-at-a-time, it’s occasionally possible to not be able to cast a spell while walking around without having a clear idea as to why it’s not working.
— Like many other beat-‘em-ups, ToD’s attacks are accompanied by hit-flashes that indicate successful hits and mask collision issues. However, unlike most other titles in the genre, the player can attack downed enemies, but can’t actually grab or throw them.
— If timed properly, it’s possible to slash projectiles out of the air with a basic attack.
— Non-usable/equipable items are fairly rare, but they do provide passive bonuses such as extra attack and defense boosts. These items don’t usually last very long, though, as they get “broken” or “lost” if the player gets hit a couple of times.
Split-screen modes in videogames are often pejoratively labeled as the “little brother” feature. I think the association was always there, but only recently has the term itself gained popularity.
With the advent of XBLA, PSN, etc., console gamers are playing multiplayer titles the same way their PC counterparts have been for years: online. Supporting both online and split-screen modes is not a trivial task, so the older brother — much to the younger one’s assumed chagrin — ends up hogging the console. If a split-screen feature is present, though, both can enjoy the game at the same time, hence the “little brother” moniker.
Of course developing multiplayer games for a single screen has been around for ages. Shmups, puzzle games, rhythm titles, rail shooters, etc., often only require a single screen to accommodate all the participants. Other genres like scrolling beat-‘em-ups or fighting games tend to lock or stretch the playing field to attain similar results. However, when a title requires a large physical separation between the players (such as in a racing game), console titles have generally relied on a split-screen approach.
Split-screens (especially with 3D games) are computationally expensive, so their implementation tends to be quite basic: each player gets his own personal rectangle of real-estate. In two-player games, this means dividing the screen into two portions with either a horizontal or a vertical line.
On older, squarish TVs neither the horizontal nor the vertical approach could really be that graceful, but the horizontal split became a de facto standard. It made sense since much like human vision, games were more horizontally oriented. It was the lesser of two evils.
With the rising popularity of co-op and the advent of widescreen HD TVs, though, I assumed this would change. My HD TV’s picture-in-picture option allows me to vertically split the screen between two visual streams, and it works quite well. After all, 8:9 is a lot closer to 4:3 than 16:4.5. It’s something developers have started to address — despite the fact that many current games are designed for a 16:9 aspect ratio — but split-screens still tend to be a bit of a mess.
To improve their implementation, I would suggest the following:
— Provide an option for either a horizontal or a vertical split-screen mode. Automatically selecting one might seem user-friendly, but it’s also a very divisive issue. Once split-screen is implemented, it should be relatively simple to support both modes, so why not let the player choose which one he prefers?
— There’s no rule that says 100% of the screen real-estate must be taken up by the players’ viewports. This can often produce a warped and cropped appearance, so why not try to maintain correct aspect ratio (in either mode), and use the remaining space to display a minimap, the inventory, HUD components, etc.?
— The major issue with vertical split-screens seems to be the lack of peripheral vision. It’s a legitimate complaint, but one that also seems easy to address with a little bit of field-of-view tweaking. FPS games in particular have been reducing the FOV for quite a while now, and widening it for split-screen modes should be very simple to do.