So, there we have it

Wow. There you have it. 36 posts, over 15000 words, 13 weeks, multiple game ideas, lots of analysis, and too many Cokes to appropriate later, and we have a complete design journal. I thought my "last" one should probably wrap up, as I feel like it's been somewhat of an epic journey.

I've actually found this journaling process incredibly helpful for getting a grasp on the lecture content in ITN016. And I'm not trying to say this to appeal to the markers. I really have. I mean, learning about design concepts has been interesting, but I've found their use and importance by actually examining games in the industry against them.

It's also forced me to have to come up with my own game ideas. This has been great cause, while course co-ordinators invite you to think about your own ideas in your spare time, the truth is that.. you don't really get much opportunity to. Not only that, it's forced me to actually assess these ideas. Not just having ideas for the sake of ideas, but having some ideas that are actually soundly justified by tested design principles.

So, key findings:

- Designers abuse gamers - in difficulty, in interface use... and maybe not so much in terms of narrative and affect

- The tried and true methods are often your best bet - a lot of areas *could* be innovated in order to move the industry forward even further, but it's probably best for the moment they aren't ie. FPS interfaces, implicit vs. explicit challenge balances

- Games are a good medium for people to grow - whether this is by assaulting players memorisation ability and requiring superhuman ability, or by bringing them further along in their own lives

- Designing games is HARD - or harder than I initially thought: there are no guarantees what you come up with will sell, and the processes you have to implement to get there are actually quite involved

I know that game developers have probably known these for years, but it's good to have the revelation of these for myself.

I may even continue this blog in the near future. It sure has been useful for creating good game ideas. And while it may not always have an ITN016 lecture to go by, it sure will be focussed on finding new and innovative ways to revolutionise, or at least increment, the gaming medium.

Watch this space.

Alas, the tormented soul

I can't seem to escape this notion that designers are mean to gamers. They clearly are. I swear they are. Or maybe I just have some sort of deep, repressed hurt from the times that these games broke my heart so... Alas, my secret misery is now revealed.

But it just occurred to me that some things which could severely mess up a group of players emotionally could also be what inspires or engages another set of gamers. It seems that the perceptions gamers may bring into their experiences may have severe consequences on how they are affected, or how they allow themselves to be affected, by a particular gameplay segment.

The problem is choice, Neo.

In Knights of the Old Republic, you are given an extensive list of options as to how your character behaves, and a branching story that follows along depending on how you've acted. **SPOILERS** In a significant part of the dark side end-game, you are given the option of how to treat your party after you have fallen to the ways of the Sith. You are given the rather cruel option to turn one of your life-bound companions on his life-time friend and have her killed. When he refuses, you are then given the option to kill them both. It is a pretty high impact decision, after spending 20+ hours in the company of these characters. For some, it may have had them wishing they never said yes to Bastilla and her dark side ways. For others, it may highlight the new-found power and authority of their twisted dark lord. ***END SPOILERS***

I haven't played Half-Life 2 Episode Two yet, but I have played all the titles before it. So when I saw a link on GameTrailers to watch its ending, I couldn't help but click. And omigolly. An incredibly significant, albeit innocent character is shockingly killed off in the presence of family... then the game ends. When I saw it, I actually felt quite ripped off and it's sort of put me off getting the game. My mate Dan, on the other hand, said it was quite a good cliffhanger and would lead in well to the next game. The level to which we involved ourself in the game obviously came out.

And don't get started on Final Fantasy VII. When I see Aeris die, it just makes me remember all the parodies. "And remember, phoenix downs don't always work... I'M LOOKING AT YOU, AERIS!". But there are enough records of people breaking down in tears in that segment of the game to show that the game had some serious affect on people... or that they were just too attached to the game.


Well, there's an evident design question: How do you design so that people view your high impact, emotional scenes in the right light? Well the obvious answer, it seems, is you can't. You can't design for everyone, sometimes not even for yourself. But you can pick up trends and strategies used by others, in games and in other media, for touching the emotions of a particular market. Otherwise, it seems to be a large waste of time and money. Besides, if you can hit most people, it's usually described as a success. Here here, Mr. Uematsu!

Ok ok, so I'll admit it - gamers probably aren't as tortured as I've made them out to be. I guess when the Universal Survey of All Gamers is run*, we will finally know.

*May or may not be a Universal Survey of All Gamers, any likeness to a real survey is mostly coincidental

What are you implying?

Lately I've been getting into the Nintendo 64 Zelda games again. What great games. They're absolutely fantastic. Great quest and level design, fun controls, excellent reward system, wonderful score etc. The list goes on on reams of paper that clearly aren't fair for the humble rainforests.

Zelda is a really great series for showing the power of balance between implicit and explicit challenges. Combat, for instance, is always very explicit. There are icons on the screen clearly showing what button will initiate a jumping attack or a sword swing, as well as others corresponding to arrows or bombs. If that isn't specific enough for you, there's even the option to listening to advice from your fairy about exactly how to kill this beast. This is offset with a remarkable quest system: a spelled out critical path; some other quests which are largely hinted at, but not forced; and a whole load of quests which aren't even required, or eluded to, unless you go looking for them.

I wonder what would happen if all of those optional quests were suddenly spelled out in great detail during the game. Oh yes, that's right.


Runescape would happen. Every single quest you can possibly do is explicitly implied... explicitly implied? Well yeah, the quests are completely spelt out; then again, they aren't exactly forced. Perhaps it is more useful to the target market for Runescape, which could be a bit hard to gauge since it is an MMO spread largely by word of mouth (or at least that's how I heard about it). From the community I was in back in those dark days of playing it, I can remember a fairly strong early-teen contingent. Then again, Zelda has a similar target market, albeit those owning consoles.

How can a perfect balance be determined? Guess this is another example of people not straying far from the tried and true. Perhaps it would be perilous to even try. And yes, of course we're gonna try it for a moment.

Most current games follow the formula "explicit combat, explicit critical path, implicit sub-quests". What I was thinking is, what if you implied the critical path? What if it wasn't forced? What if the player had to actively go look for what they actually had to do in the game, rather than being spoon-fed by annoying "HEY! LISTEN!" or by extensive quest logs?

On the plus side, it would be a new experience for players. I can't think of a game that has you doing something like this. Actually, that's not true. There are some games where reviewers complained about "wandering around for hours, trying to find out what you actually have to do next". Perhaps players don't have the attention span or the motivation to have to search out their main objective.

Maybe if other things were made explicit in its place, like.......................................................... optional quests? Hmmm, maybe not the best way of going about it. Well I can't say that either, cause it hasn't actually been tried. If the earliest part of the critical path was made explicit (and was an absolutely AWESOME experience), then perhaps this wouldn't be so bad? Once again, unconfirmed, and in desperate need of an attempt.

And so it seems, the tried and true is once again the winner. Not necessarily a bad thing, but if a solid innovation is made in this area, we could be on to some good game sales...

Even more gamer abuse

I've done a couple of posts stating that producers who abuse their target market sell well. And I still maintain it's true. Just looking over some of the key design principles Peta put forward in the interface lecture, and I'm so reminded of all the games that abuse players, not just by difficulty, not just by challenge hierarchy, but by exploiting the interface to no end. Usually this is done in the audiovisual, via senses, but is also done in other ways.

Instant example is Eternal Darkness. The game's whole point is to mess with the player. As typical of survival horror games, you are always being bombarded with a constant barrage of downcast yet frantic music to instill fear. You're being hunted quite a bit. And then, this is where the game just gets amazing... you have a sanity meter, which measures how sane your avatar currently is. When this bar starts to go down, all sorts of crazy stuff happens. Your head will randomly fall off. A TV volume bar will appear on screen and mute the TV on you, like someone was turning it down using the remote. The interface will turn to static. Absolute madness. A perfect example of a game abusing the player via the interface to induce emotions of fear and panic.


A lot of multiplayer games will enable players to use the interface of their opponent to effect their ability to play the game, and some are quite mean. I think of how, in Guitar Hero battles, you are able to reverse the opposing player's dexterity orientation (ie. make a right-handed player use the left-handed interface, and vice versa). I *hate* it when this happens to me. Or the flashbang grenade in Counter-Strike or Operation Flashpoint. It completely blinds the player's character, and an instant white screen with a high-pitched wail is also annoying. I know it's to capture the "realism" of a flashbang, but that doesn't escape the fact it's sense-abuse.

You've gotta admit, developers must have some excellent recruiting processes to find the genii that come up with this sort of stuff. Absolutely remarkable.

But once again, this is an example of where players are tortured to some extent, in order to create a fun experience. I think, perhaps, the tolerance of players to this sort of thing is quite a bit higher than we have been led to believe. And these are just the most popular games. There is an interesting flash game I played that makes the player wander through a maze. I think it was called Disorientation. The premise sounds easy enough, right? But then it reverses the orientation of the controls, shuns you with motion blur, and gives you a moving floor to work with, all in increasing levels as you go through the game. Sheer madness.

Player abuse. Don't report it. Be a capitalist and make money off it. Seems to have worked for so many companies, and I'm sure there'll be more to come.

My place in this woooooooorld

Ignorance is bliss, they say. Perhaps this has been my greatest source of uncertainty in our group experience. Uncertainty that our game ideas are actually *good*. And fun. These things which are potentially impossible to assess are required to be assessed during the design process. *Sigh*. The joys of entertainment.

And actually, it has been. I have actually really enjoyed working in a group to create a game idea, and then implement it. I won't go into the details of what I've already said I've gotten out of it, rather, I should probably mention what I actually ended up doing in the team.



As I have mentioned before, I was a bit of a jokester, but I also wanted to get all the work done. I would find myself constantly going over the lecture content in my mind during our group meetings, and ensuring nothing we were talking about was devoid of the key words, like "critical path" or "starting condition". That seemed to have served us well, if our marks for our design document are anything to go by.

On the topic of the design document, I was charged with the creation of the lengthy mechanics section. Admittedly, once I was halfway through it (standing at about the 6 page mark), I was thinking I shouldn't have picked the biggest section. Once I pushed out of that mindset, I found that it was actually quite a bit easier to think about design principles than I initially made out. There was just so much depth to what conflict actually was and how it took place, the intricacy of the rules, and the idiosyncrasies of game balance.

I'd like to view myself as the token nerd of our group. Before starting some key meetings, Tristan, Dan and I would sit and talk for about an hour about the games we really enjoyed and the ones we're looking forward to. 10 minutes in, two things were obvious: I'm an extreme Nintendrone, and I know too many games for my own good.

Actually, that isn't fair to say. It seems that my "past experiences with so many games", also known as my extreme nerdiness, has served me well in this unit and in this degree at large. I guess it makes sense: if you were doing film and TV, you'd have to be familiar with a LOT of movies, so one working in the games industry should do likewise with games.

Overall, a highly enjoyable group experience. I look forward to working in similar environments when I start work in the near future.

Rick Role

Atari were true visionaries back in the day when they invented a home console with multiple control ports. The money is indeed in the multiplayer game. We love it. We live it. We leave it. It's how we roll. Or role, as it were.



Wherever there is a talk about design, Sutton-Smith is always there. I think he's following me. In fact, I think he may have snuck into my house somehow...

He has some intriguing ideas. A little while ago we had a look at some of the different roles he proposed were present in multiplayer games. And it looks like he was pretty much spot on: all bases seem to be covered. I couldn't think of one game where player roles would not come under one of the eight roles discussed. But no harm in trying, right?

Ouch... there sure is. I've got nothing. He literally has all the bases covered. I would've tried games that use most of them and seeing if there are any aspects of gameplay left missed... let's try that.

Guild Wars. This would have to do it, right? It has the following roles:

- To overtake - players enter an arms race to get their levels high enough to wear their best armour and get their best skillset; similarly, the counteractors (other players) try their best to get ahead
- To catch, tackle or tag - ...not so much
- To overpower a defense - the premise of the game is combat, so this is definitely prevalent, with counteractors being on the defence
- To take person - entire group quests will be focussed on capturing one objective, while the counteractor (player controlled or system controlled) will try to evade
- To taunt, lure - Ah, the madness that arises from the constant harrassment, via chat or action, from other players... it can't be missed
- To find by chance or clue - exactly how every time in the game is found; counteractors participate by trying to get items first, although not with great success
- To be a saviour - this is more circumstantial, but still present - if an ally is in danger, the team may mobilize to get them back (if they're nice...)
- To force a forbidden action - this is more generated by the social interaction than the game itself, but still present

And that leaves... absolutely no elements of gameplay untouched or unmentioned. I have been foiled by Sutton-Smith and his analytical brilliance. I SHALL COME BACK TO HAUNT YOU, MY HYPHENATED FRIEND!

An avatar to call my own

How can you create for a player a completely unique avatar? Or at least, more unique than exists at present? And then ensuring that these unique qualities are balanced? I think it's time I stop asking rhetorical abstract questions and actually try answering some of these...

So here's some ideas.

The game Second Life (yes, the game) does this in an interesting way. The developers have created their own scripting language, enabling players to create their own custom... everything. You can upload custom clothes, custom textures, and even custom planes (that vigilante ITB010 students can come and make vanish). While it is a bit hard to do, and the quality of the gameplay in Second Life leaves some to be desired, it has proven quite successful, and allows players to fully customise their avatar.

But Second Life is not a combat-based RPG. The clothes and items do not influence how you play the game. But if this sort of scripting was ported over to World of Warcraft, say, then the results would be more felt.

Then there's the issue of ensuring balance. If players are allowed to write their own weapon scripts, what's to stop them giving it an attack radius of half of... whatever planet WOW is on... and doing 500000 damage a second to anything in its way?

Well, this is where I had an idea. Perhaps players could have a preset amount of "balance points" that a particular item must be under. For example, players could spend them all on attack power of a weapon and make it ridiculously strong, but wouldn't be able to put any points on its speed, range or required level. Or perhaps the "required level" attribute would be determined by how many points were spent on the item. For example, if 100 out of 1000 points were spent, perhaps you could equip it when you are on Level 15, but if you spend 1000 points, you would have to be Level 70 or 80.

Logarithmic mathematics is the friend here, with the amount of points being spent per attribute increasing as you buy more and more of that attribute; vis-a-vis, if you spend 50 points on one level of speed, it may cost 60 points for the next level.



Log maths seems to be quite useful for any sort of progression in a game. I think it'll be my loyal companion in years to come, where I may get an opportunity to implement some of these ideas.

The humble goth

An energetic speaker I once heard was talking about the importance of finding your identity. He was talking about different fads that people become part of in order to have some sort of identity. He then mentioned a conversation he had with a group of gothics one day in the Queen Street Mall.

Him: So, why do you all dress like that?
Goths: Because... we want to be different.
Him: But you all look the same!

Perhaps this sort of behaviour is also exhibited in the area of customisation of player avatars in video games. People want to have a character they can identify with, but some way of making them theirs. For example, in Guild Wars, every player will buy all the different robes to try and make themselves more and more unique online. But the problem is, for high levelled characters, if you want to have the best stats and attacks, you pretty much have to use the "optimal configuration" as determined by the game gurus. And there your avatar is taken from being an active representation of you in-game to simply just reflecting your play style.

This is an interesting challenge to try and genuinely address. Then the issue of symmetry arises. How can you allow players optimal customisation without compromising symmetry, or balance?

Guitar Hero does this with a list of extensive guitars and costumes to choose from. These items, however, have no bearing on the actual gameplay - they are purely visceral. Then again, this isn't all that interesting. What's the point of customisation if all it is is to make the character look pretty?

I guess this is sort of bearing on an earlier idea I had to create a unique army in a strategy game, yet this is more related to an individual avatar in a game like an RPG. At present, developers are hard-pressed to come up with different skills which are very unique, yet still remain truly fun and balanced with other skills in the game.

Or perhaps it could be done by giving each player a specific role or variant critical path or...

Even then, how do you do that without making it boring? And by still maintaining balance?

Perhaps the best system that does this well is real life. Each player (person) has their own unique skillset, their own critical path and try to find their identity. However, one of the main reasons people play video games is for fantasy fulfillment, to do things they can't in real life.

...What a challenge. Maybe this is why developers haven't strayed off the familiar paths. Or maybe they can't? This may be worth having a look at.

Oh, and it would seem I have picked the correct topic for my thesis.

Are you certain, Mr. Game and Watch?

In a much earlier post I pondered a game I would make that would fully exploit the immense amount of fun generated by uncertainty. Perhaps I left the impression that I think that the mix of uncertainty should be too far bent over towards complete random anarchy and chaos. In fact, most of the games I enjoy have a lot of elements which are quite certain. And I think that the vast majority of gamers hold the same idea. Uncertainty is important and useful for creating enjoyment. However, if used in a framework of anarchy, it clearly wouldn't sell that well. Or would it? Hmm...

Dungeons and Dragons is a good non-video game example of a highly uncertain game that actually sold quite well. All the combat, all the movement, all of almost everything relies on the roll of the infamous 20-sided die. The quests are all designed on the spot by the dungeon master, and tasks are completely reliant on the outcome of the throw. By this complete immersion in uncertainty, it should've completely turned to madness, but actually went on to create a dedicated subculture of elves and warriors.

There are also the old skool Game and Watch games. They seem to be fairly structured, then you realise how completely random the gameplay was. Green House involved you trying to kill the bugs trying to eat your precious plants. However, as you played more and more, you realise the bugs aren't in any sort of pattern, but are appearing and moving completely at random. And it was the Game and Watch games that essentially sustained the industry til the NES came out and saved the industry from going under.

Even the Final Fantasy games have a heavy dose of randomness. Random battles. Random item finds. Fairly random attack damage. Random odds of attacks missing and hitting. Random chance for a super critical hit. The only thing not random about the series is its sales, which are consistently excellent for each title.

Of course, all of this uncertainty is contained in a stable and structured framework. Dungeons and Dragons has a list of extensive rules on attacking and defending, which are always consistent. The Game and Watch games have the guarantee that the buttons you press do exactly what they're meant to every time, eg. you are guaranteed that left will move you left, spraying a bug will kill it, bouncing a patient will save them, and so on. Final Fantasy has a well-structured narrative and fluid combat system.

So as long as there's a solid level of guarantee in a game, either generated by rules, controls or narrative, developers have been mainly free to inject whatever level of uncertainty they feel is useful. And it seems to have had a positive effect on sales. Noted and accepted.

By, HUDson Soft!

Last time I found that the "people can only remember 7 plus or minus 2 things at a time" should be reworded "interfaces should have no more than 5 to 9 things displayed". It led me to think about how other games do their interfaces. And then the GUI for the FPS genre of games came up. There really hasn't been any innovations to the GUI since Half-Life really. Or even Doom.




It may or may not be a problem. "Don't fix what's not broken" as they say. However, a little innovation in this area would probably serve this industry quite well. It may even inject some valuable years into the cash cow that is the first person shooter.

So obviously you can't get rid of the main window. That is a pretty crucial part of the interface. Without it, a first person shooter wouldn't be first person, a shooter, or a game for that matter. So there's one to keep.

A useful tool in other genres of games (and other applications) are context-sensitive menus. They always work quite well for giving users more specific control over their environs, such as games like The Sims, and applications like Word 2007. I really like the way Cryis implements Sim-style mouse-wheel menus. While they aren't context sensitive, their design would be made more useful if it were context based. Perhaps this would be a more useful method for popping up things like avatar abilities, actions when next to a vehicle, or for customising powerups. Sort of like the communication system of Republic Commando, only controlling player actions, rather than communication options. This would only popup on trigger by the user eg. on middle click or something like that.

Then again, I don't think a HUD should completely remove every staple of FPS huds. Ammo, health and armour should remain as it is: on the corners of the screens using an unintrusive font.

So ammo, health, armour, main game and context sensitive menu. Five things, well within the maximum number of interface elements. This is how I'd "revolutionise" a first person shooter's HUD. Admittedly, it's not much of a revolution, but the combination of successful elements from other popular GUIs would prove to be a great success.

Super Human

At uni, I've done several subjects which cover the issue of interaction design. Creating pretty GUIs. Useful interfaces. Intuitive human-computer interaction. So when I saw some of the points in the interface design lecture, I thought "omigolly, I know where this is going". After some musing, I decided to get over it and actually listen to how they apply to games design.

So Nielsen's usability laws. Seen all them before. They're all good. Colour, spacing etc. Yeah, I've got that. And then there was the familiar idea that people can only remember 7 plus or minus 2 things at one time. It holds true for Windows form applications. Microsoft Word, Access and Excel are very intuitive because they rely heavily on this fact. They don't abuse the users' senses with overwhelming amounts of knowledge. Flash applications, such as online pizza ordering services are similar. But games?

I initially thought, sure, Nintendo does this well. Sequential tasks. Jump on turtle. Check. Jump on Goomba. Check. Jump over pipe. Check.

"Oh wait, she's talking about interface..." it dawned on me. Ok, so it isn't about how much the player has to physically manage, it should be that there shouldn't be more than between 5 and 9 items on the HUD. Like a first person shooter. Main screen. Mini-map. Task list. Special commands. Fairly generic, items are easily accessible. Essentially, these games have followed the same framework since 1998's Half-Life.

Once again, I find myself compelled to think about strategy games. They seem to be that one genre that likes to push the envelope. The modern strategy game is a marvel of user interface design. I think Age of Empires II was one of the first games to create the framework that exists today:


The user is given a large bar on the bottom third of the screen, and this is further divided into three boxes. The left-hand box contains commands for the selected unit. Quite useful. The middle bar contains information for the selected unit, building or formation. Once again, quite useful. And the right-hand side contains the ever-relied on minimap. The remnant of the screen is largely taken up by the actual game, with some more system menu buttons on the top.

This is where I found myself returning to the "But games?" thought. Doesn't a minimap have it's own interface? Doesn't the game have it's own interface in addition to this? There is so much happening on screen and on the minimap that it is immediately clear that players are required to constantly remember more than 9 items at a time: the positions of the units in the game alone are enough to blow this limit open. Add to this the hotkeys, the constant activity on the minimap, the constant sounding of alarms in numerous areas when entering combat, and you get a rather frantic experience occurring. Even under this idea, it seems strategy games require super human feits of their players. Despite this, players are well able to perform and micro-manage different events and interface feedback at once. The evidence? People buy these games in droves.

So, what then can be said for user interface? I gather that it may be wiser to say "users should not have to actively use more than 5 to 9 controls at any one time" for strategy games. It would seem that this can be accurately said for most strategy games, further evidenced Empire Earth II which tried to break this limit... and that reflected in sales. Yet, this intuitive interface provides players with enough tools to efficiently go beyond what has been classified as "normal human memorization patterns".

Of course, RTS games have a specific market. Usually those with a more logical and attentive mind are active purchasers of these games, over those who are less inclined. These others who don't purchase strategy games may be those we would ascribe this normality of active memory too. But for this other market, game developers are successfully appealing to and enhancing the skills of the super human.

The trust fund

I'm so glad I'm not a law student. I know a few of them, and gives new meaning to the word "workload". All that reading. Omigosh. Can I get it in PDF? Or in MP3? No, it's all overpriced textbooks which weigh 9kg just in the table of contents. And all that contract examination and writing. Ugh.

So it was to my dismay to discover the term "social contract" being used in video games. Well, initially. After about 4 seconds of talking about it, it seems to make sense. The guarantee of certain social interactions. Got it. Works well. Two most important elements are trust and safety. Trust is one of those weird things at the moment. It's a very fragile issue for many people, but surprisingly, games have worked quite well in fostering environments of trust.

I think the great difficulty in creating an agreement about trust is the great deal of past experiences brought to the game by the players. I think of the people who have had trust violated in earlier stages of life and what difficulty that may pose to trusting in a game. A game may be, to some people, just another environment where their trust is broken. The thing is that, especially in MMORPGs where several hours of life are invested, rewards, items and money take on a much greater value. And so, in these cases, a betrayal really IS an issue game developers need to address. I think the value created by the time spent in-game also have the potential to create these trust-shattering moments. Peculiar, maybe, but I have played several MMOs where people have been extremely put off the game because someone quite seriously betrayed their trust with an expensive item or load of money. Some cases are unavoidable, and perhaps ill-addressed by the developers.


I think of other games like Call of Duty 4 or Battlefield 2 where you are divided into two teams trying to kill the opposing forces. The developers made the interesting choice to turn friendly fire on by default, meaning that team killing would have the potential to run rampant. This design choice is counterbalanced with demerit points for killing people on your team, as well as the addition of the vote-kick feature. This allows players to nominate these annoying time-wasters and send them to the video game equivalent of the Abyss (AKA, kick them off the server). It seems that this voting feature requires players to place a certain amount of trust in each other to remove the defective player. Interesting, as their subject for voting is created by enabling a potential breach of trust. This seems to be a social contract many players have adapted to, otherwise FPS games wouldn't be the fastest selling genre of games.

Whichever way trust is fostered (or destroyed), it seems that players will indeed come back for more if the conditions are clearly communicated. The social contract. It'll be pleasure doing business with you.

Blame it on the Boogie...

So I thought I'd reflect on my group experience a bit more. This morning I was talking to a mate who's just finishing his honour's thesis at UQ, and we got talking about addictive songs somehow. He was saying one of his team members in one of his group assignments, whenever he was to blame, he replied "Don't blame it on me! Or the sunshine! Or the moonlight! Or good times! Blame it on the boogie!". Ah, the joys of being overly familiar with your group.

Besides my group experience being vastly different from past experiences because we were creating a piece of entertainment, it also created a very unique environment based on the other members of my team. One member, Dan, I have done 4 major assignments with in the past, had a lot of classes with, and generally spent a lot of time with over the course of my... course. The other, Tristan, I only met during this unit. The depth of our relationships, added to the context of creating a game rather than a program, created an interesting and useful experience for me.

Usually, overfamiliarity can be a bad thing for the productivity of a group, but in creating a game, past experiences with Dan enhanced our team's outcomes. In some past units, 010 and 711, we've been pretty forgiving of the other's lack of work at times, usually accompanied by a long round of tomfoolery. An excessively long round. In fact, the previous unit's tomfoolery immediately flowed into this unit's tomfoolery. Only this time, it seems to have benefited our creative devices. Our first idea was created by variances of "Epic Fail", the drawing of a hippie-esque whale, and a mention of Pokemon. However, since we'd worked together, we also knew we could just speak openly about the idea and tear it to shreds in the light of the time we had remaining.

Initially, and I've gotta be honest, I thought having an additional member to our dynamic duo may have been problematic. Mainly because Dan and I have work in a very unique... style. Constant programming jokes (that make us shudder), lots of talk about games, and too many in-jokes to remember (and I just lost the game). But Tristan proved to be quite an excellent comrade, and brought some very useful insights to our team. I think we did well to start our first meeting by just going out to Gloria Jeans and getting acquainted It worked quite well for us, and I quickly learned Tristan was just as serious about doing well in this subject as we were.

Where working with Dan was more about obscure jokes becoming good game ideas (which has been the case... and we actually are quite productive together), working with Tristan has provided an excellent balance to ensure we don't go too far off track. Usually when I have thought of an idea, Tristan has wisely assessed it based on the previous lecture and tutorial content. It has been incredibly useful for me to keep my mind on sound design over pure zeal for zany ideas. That's not to say Tristan is a killjoy, cause he most certainly isn't. Nor is it to say our team had one half overly crazy, one half serious. Our team dynamics served to bring a healthy balance without these extremes becoming prevalent on their own.

So, where do I fit in? Well, glad you asked. Or rather, I'm glad I forced you to ask. I guess I was the more extreme one, laughing heaps at terrible puns and crazy game ideas, while constantly thinking about the lecture content. However, working with Dan and Tristan has helped me not to be overly in either category, but rather healthily in both. I've found that when I was too focused on the design principles, the creative juices ceased. I also found that when I focused too much on the creativity, it just turned into one long bout of laughter and aimless brainstorming. I think we all helped each other in this area, and we were able to quickly create, as my ITB009 lecturer described, a "high performance" team.

A key point that has been discussed in all subjects where group work has been involved came into full view in this team: it's all about creating an environment for members to perform at their best. We were certainly able to do that, and I think it's a technique that will be invaluable as I go out into the games industry.

I'm not being arrogant, but I say with some pride that our team was a fantastic combination and has helped me develop great creative processes for designing entertainment. This will no doubt serve me very well in the near future as I look out to launch a career.

And just to finish appropriately when discussing our group...

We were an *exceptional* team. We should give it another *try*. Well, I guess I'll *catch* you soon. I know, it's *finally* over.

It's the principle, it's the issue

After doing IT at QUT, I'm pretty much set in group work. I've had at least 2 group assignments per semester, in a variety of subjects. Some for business, many for programming, others for web site development, and even trying to work out algorithms for AI. And then all of a sudden, enter 016. Fundamentals of Games Design. Suddenly, I'm in a team where we aren't working on creating some massive codebase, or examining how to get C++ and Java to talk (or Tawk as we put it), but rather creativity is required of me. I have to try to categorise and invent "fun". Not just that, I have to do it with two people who have an almost identical experience to mine.

It's funny. I've done a software design subject where they taught us that is useful for programmers to have some sort of idea as to how software should be designed, what classes to write, what return types to use and what have you. It turns out the same is probably true in the games industry, especially if you want to climb the ranks to becoming a producer (like I do).

Initially, I found it quite a bit of a step up from other group assignments I had done before. Instead of there being some set structure to research, there was now something to create based on some principles with a much broader requirement than "write a program that...". Now I had to help design entertainment, something which is incredibly hard to assess. And since this is the case, it's equally hard to create. This has been my experience, and I can finally say I sympathize with all those game designers who've been frustrated when their ideas don't work.

I can also fully understand the statement "just because you think something is a good idea for a game doesn't mean others will share your opinion". I think this was more something we discovered as a group, when we had an initial design that sounded like a lot of fun (and on paper it certainly did). When another group member thought it was a bit sketchy with some good points, we quickly saw he was right. Admittedly, we were left a bit distraught (especially as a deadline was approaching). He was right, of course, the game wouldn't have worked, and would've ended up being a lesser version of an existing title. Not with the level of innovation we had conjured up, at least.

On the note of innovation, I made another key discovery in the confines of our group. No matter how much you try, innovation is not something you can force. All you can really do is create an environment for creative ideas, which is what we fostered as much as we could, by

• Many brainstorming sessions in the length of hours
• Constant bouncing of ideas, and
  
• An openness to try something new.

Even with these great principles, we did not have the necessary innovations in the area of character progression that would've been needed to bring our game into reality. At least not within our time frame. By the way, our game idea was a Guitar Hero RPG, which is still not forever lost. But within the context of this unit, unfortunately it has to be.

So for me, participating in my group has been a real stretch, just based on the fact that the focus of our efforts was a piece of entertainment as opposed to my previous code monkey experiences. I must say it has been an irreplaceable experience for me (and I really do mean that). The challenges I faced in the group have certainly refined my views on game design and the creation of "fun". Perhaps another time I'll talk more about some of my experiences more specifically with the other group members, and hopefully arrive with a fuller picture of what doing this group assignment has helped me realize.

Abusing Players = Sales?

Earlier on in the month I noted one intriguing thing: that players will take a lot of torment with respect to difficulty before they give up. In fact, more abuse can sometimes result in a more thoroughly enjoyable experience. Having now had a look at the fact that the amount of stress and required level of skill (forming the absolute difficulty of a game) needs to be well thought out, do I change my mind? Once again, I turn to the industry for help here.

And I don't know why I'm constantly drawn to this game, but I just cannot help but think of Guitar Hero here, specifically the third one. Now, the game is fairly easy on the easiest setting. Nothing too complicated. The player has to press one of three notes and strum to some sort of rhythm based on the song, but really not a high level of skill is involved. Also, the stress levels placed on the player are fairly low. This is somewhat maintained on the medium setting, adding another button and slightly increasing the stress in the way of increased notes and faster timing. As you'd expect from a "medium" difficulty. However, the last 8 songs see an even higher increase, while still contained within the medium setting. Hard and expert follow a similar pattern, with expert literally making it impossible for humans to get 100% on certain songs. Some of my gamer friends won't go past medium, as I thought I wouldn't, but the extremely satisfying reward created by the culture of gaming beckons us forward. Yes, Through the Fire and the Flames is an abuse of players (which the developers acknowledge by labelling one of the solos "What the?!"), but it has been a great selling point for this title. All you have to do is Youtube this song and you'll see that there are literally millions of views.

The example of Guitar Hero was an easy example to think up. The next ones were a bit harder. I think that this exploitation of human limits also takes place in a 2D space shooting game called Ikaruga for Gamecube, and now X-Box Live Arcade. Similar to games like Raiden and R-Type before it, this game took human reflexes and multiplied normal human processing power by 500. The game from the offset requires an extremely high level of intrinsic skill, even on low difficulty settings. Your ship is constantly being bombarded with literally dozens of lasers at a time. Rather than just having to dodge them, your ship is able to absorb some of the shots, depending on the colour. There are only blue and red coloured shots, hence only two types to try and absorb. However, when this is added to the sheer magnitude of attacks coming at you, you quickly learn that only the elite will get through to the end without cheating somehow. However, it seems again that the rewards of glory created by the surrounding culture thrust players against high difficulties, just to get their prowess recognised on Youtube.

It seems Youtube has been quite a powerful tool in reinforcing a culture around gaming. It seems that because of Youtube, the once unnoticed communities devoted to finishing Mario 64 in a ridiculously fast time, or topping out the times in F-Zero, have now been put in the spotlight, and the reward significantly increased. This has given me a great idea that I can't believe hasn't been done: why don't games have an interface for recording games to AVI? I know Mario Kart and Gran Turismo have the ability to record a "ghost", which is a virtual run of what you did that other people can compete against, but it seems that Web 2.0 is where the culture is gaining its full strength. It just HAS to be done.

Something interesting came up in both titles, and many others like it. The culture of gaming that forms around a title can greatly influence the success of a game. This begs the question, how can games be designed to target this culture and its creation, and how can this culture be encouraged to be driven by the rewards of glory? If these didn't exist, it can be assumed that the tolerance of abusive levels of difficulty in games would diminish.

But we won't let that happen on our watch, will we?

(Rewards of glory, hierarchy of challenges and absolute difficulty by Penny Drennan from ITN016 lecture 7, culture of gaming from ITB750 Lecture 3)

The profound and the heart stirring

After exhaustively looking at the quality of "epic" in games, I have come to one obvious conclusion... I obviously want to create a masterpiece. I think this is the desire of many people looking to get into the game industry. Creating the ultimate escape, an amazing sprawling "living" world, an unforgettable piece of entertainment. Something equivalent in scale to, say, The Lord of The Rings movies to the film industry.

The difficulty in the current video game climate is that so many games have already come and set and reset the definition of epic that any attempt to do the same requires much more effort (and about 5 trucks full of money). Even so, I think it's possible, and I really really want to do it.

This is one of the main reasons I want to get into the games industry: to stir people's hearts to hope. I know it sounds a bit crazy, but I think the gaming medium possesses the power to present a powerful uplifting message to its audience. Many games have proved their power to affect already using different contexts, such as the surging feeling of triumph at the end of Final Fantasy VII. But I'm more looking for a different emotional response. I'm looking for a reflective poise, creating excitement and awe, and perhaps a bit of old fashioned compassion and love.

I've been thinking much about how I'd actually go about this. Perhaps excitement is the easiest emotion to create in a player, and also one of the most necessary to maintain to preserve a state of flow. One way I thought of doing this outside of an enjoyable combat system (which I have mentioned in earlier posts), is by having a single or group of incredibly adept enemies who are constantly portrayed as being extremely powerful. At random points throughout the game, they would appear and cause some massive event of destruction or, by their very presence, inspire curiosity and fear. Yet, the player would not be able to attack them right away. I think this constant teasing of these powerful enemies would lead to an incredible sense of excitement when they finally appear in the last few hours of the game, ready for battle. The vision I have is of a now highly skilled player completely focused on the task of destroying these enemies that have constantly been in their mind during the game. This would be the use of narrative to reinforce this emotion.

I think a sense of awe could be conveyed in a similar way. These rival characters may be extremely powerful, in that they launch the first truly devastating attack in the game, perhaps in the scale of a nuclear warhead. Large environments in the context of a raging world war with one-to-one player combat would cause any player to feel part of something bigger. The reward system in the game would be crafted to allow players to develop an even greater skillset than the initial attacks of these rival opponents, perhaps increasing speed to blinding levels or attack radius to entire cities. A war-driven narrative on such a scale must be complemented by a brilliant soundtrack. None of this MIDI stuff. Let's get some great orchestral pieces in the making. Each piece would need to be carefully fine-tuned to perfectly blend with the gameplay, to create a piece of machinery which redefines the gob smack.

Here's the hard part. Love? Compassion? Reflection? How do I get a player to feel these emotions, or run these thoughts? Gameplay would probably not be the best tool here. "Shake the Wii Remote to propose to her". "Press A to voice the voiceless". Probably wouldn't work. As much as I'm not a fan of the game, I think GTA4 is on to something in the lead protagonist of Niko. He's certainly not the perfect guy, but he has been crafted with a wit to make him lovable, a past to create immense intrigue about him, and also the ability to receive consequences for direct player actions. This means that players instantly have a strong character which they can either relate to, or use as a digital representation of themselves.

A strong protagonist like this would be the most effective method to convey these emotions. However, where Niko has his own weird gangster story, the lead character in my game/s would need to face problems more common to those in our society. Perhaps then players would resonate in themselves with the protagonist's crises of love, or the decisions they make in the face of difficulty, or the solutions they find. Perhaps in this way a player may be affected in these "unusual" ways.

Actually, I'm quite glad I've been given an opportunity to think about affect like this. Games certainly contain a lot of power to convey strong messages, as well as much potential which probably hasn't fully been realised. It's only a matter of time, and I hope I'm there to be one to usher it in.

Affectionate Anomolies

Ok, so last time I concluded that there were three ingredients to epic games. Concluded... or confirmed with the findings of what I've been taught (which is always a good thing). Epic musical score. Great hierarchy of challenges. Strong narrative. Specifically, the use of all three of these elements turned out to create some of the finest games of our time.

But... You know that kid that, despite all psychological analysis and discipline and direction, still acts irrationally? There are games like that. And they can be annoying for trying to work out sound design. They have been extremely successful and maintained the title of "epic" while not using all three of these vehicles for affect. Here are a few I thought of.

Super Mario Galaxy. Or any Mario game for that matter. Most of them have been the most successful titles of whatever platform they were on. Super Mario 3 for the NES. Super Mario World for the SNES. Galaxy for the Wii. People just can't get enough of that fat plumber, his plastic girlfriend who has been stringing him along for 25 years with no sign of marriage in sight, and an old OCD lizard with red hair. But thinking specifically of Mario Galaxy, because it wasn't just me who enjoyed it; it actually did quite well in terms of sales. Many reviewers (IGN, GameSpot, GameTrailers) described the game as epic. Funny, cause that's the word I used to describe other games like Zelda and Metal Gear Solid. So let's look at the checklist again:

Powerful music? Definitely. Some of the finest tunes to date on any platform.

Hierarchy of challenges is well portrayed? Certainly, although tried and true. People have still found it fun to be told you need to rescue the princess by obtaining 120 stars, while on the way having intermediate challenges of different worlds and atomic challenges of that great platforming mayhem.

Narrative... *sigh*. Mario, Mario, Mario... you have to confuse our design concepts. The storyline of Mario Galaxy is admittedly NOT epic. Yes, it provides context for the game. Rescue the princess. For the 50th time. There have been additions to the formula: Bowser steals the whole castle this time rather than just the princess. Outside of that, still fairly barebones. Still, Galaxy has been given the status of epic. Perhaps this is because of its great mastery of the other two elements. In the case of Galaxy, reviewers have specifically praised the music for affect (see this review as an example). Either way, the game is weird in the sense it doesn't fit this framework entirely.

As much as it depresses me to seem like I am paying out my faithful Nintendo... Super Smash Brothers Brawl is another such anomaly. However, it is in deficit in both its challenge hierarchy and its narrative.

No criticism could ever be levelled at Brawl for its lack of music. In fact, its music is probably what has given it such a close spot in so many people's hearts. Over 200 fully orchestrated tracks from the Nintendo universe. The mixture of nostalgia and loud, big band numbers makes it a winner in every sense of the word in affecting players' emotions.

However... narrative is a mixed bag. There are a few single player campaigns... but they don't go past much more than "fight all the baddies and beat the Master Hand". Another tried and true Nintendo strategy, and brilliantly it still works. There is a longer campaign involving all the characters in the game, which contain some cinematics to add a feeling of grandeur. A quick search of Google and you'll find that a faithful contingent of gamers still found this narrative quite enjoyable and, dare I say, epic. Although, the fact that players are able to control many of these different characters somewhat lessens the sense of immersion as it is enforced by the narrative.

Strangely, it is the challenge design that is the unmaking of this "design stereotype". This is probably because it is part of the 2D fighting genre. Where the other titles would apply the style "Here's the final goal, here are the steps to get there, utilise your combat skills", Brawl adopts more of an incentive-based model. Beating the Master Hand does not mean the game is over, but instead rewards you with one of several hundred trophies you can collect for doing so. The game does not even present you initially with a critical path or a visible end state, but rather lets you pick up a player and revel in the atomic challenge of combat (which is very well designed, mind you). I'm not saying that Brawl's challenge design is terrible, merely that it presents a model of play structure that prevents the statement "narrative, music AND challenge design make a game epic" from being true. To put it like Penny Arcade so brilliantly has for another well-known title, "it's like the sales assistant replying 'Sure, that will be money dollars'".

Surely there are many more games out there that have an influence on an affection template. Genre seems to heavily influence it, as does the power of each of the elements. A good finding, and hopefully one to remember as I go out with my own designs.

Epic Tale avoids the Epic Fail

It seems like an innate human desire to be thrust into some larger story, much larger than themselves. It probably is, in fact. Since video games are a source of fantasy fulfillment, no doubt game designers have created games with this in mind. One look at the top 30 games on GameRankings.com confirms this. Grand Theft Auto 4. Zelda: Ocarina Of Time. Metal Gear Solid. The Half-Life games. The list goes on.

What do all these games have in common? They are designed to be highly affecting pieces of software, stirring emotion and provoking thought in their players and surrounding cultures. And they have all succeeded brilliantly. HOW is it that these games have communicated such a sense of awe and wonder, stimulating a player even to their hearts. It sounds extreme, but the truth is that this is the level of affect these games have had on their audience.

I think if I can catch some of the common things from these titles, I'd be on the way to a successful idea. Just add some unique IP, and voila.

So the first thing I noticed was their epic musical score. It has been said that sound is the cheap-and-dirty to engage a player. I disagree wholeheartedly. The success of these games has largely been due to their powerful and well-selected music. Since I'm a Nintendrone, I'll use the examples of Zelda: Ocarina of Time and Twilight Princess. These games have very little to no voice overs. The gameplay was excellent. The character design was flawless. And yet this was all delivered through a fantastical soundtrack, full of catchy Nintendo tunes and amazing pieces of music genius. The music in these games fully enhanced and conveyed the sense of emotion which the player instantly resonated with. An example of this is during the lead up to the final boss fight in Ocarina of Time. As you climb his tall tower, you are constantly bombarded with the sound of an ominous organ being played, conveying a sense of true climax and significance. Similarly, Metal Gear Solid had a soundtrack which perfectly complimented the finality of the last missions. Keys for success so far: great score.

Secondly their hierarchy of challenges are designed to immerse the player in the greater story, without sacrificing the fun of the micro-level actions. I think of Metroid Prime 3 for the Wii here. The narrative of the game was quite massive. From the offset you are told you are going to have to take out large Space Pirate bases on three planets by means of invasion, eventually destroying the source of the enemy completely. Quite an enormous scale is conveyed by the narrative early on, and confirmed by the intermediate level challenges; that is, the destruction of each pirate base. When you arrive on each planet, a similar sense of scale is shown: Here is the final target, called a Leviathan, but here are all the things you need to get there. These lower-level challenges are well varied and still carry this sense of scale. One I will always remember is the constructing of a thermonuclear bomb by collected 3 large pieces, then dropping it on enemy territory. This is all complemented by the atomic challenge of combat, which was really an excuse for Nintendo to show off how good the Wii is for FPS titles, ensuring the entire experience is constantly fun. But its this outlay of tasks while keeping the main goal in the back of the player's mind that creates a truly epic title in Metroid.

It could be debated that the previous two methods mean nothing if not for a powerful narrative. Metal Gear Solid is the ultimate game in this sense. An excellent plot of betrayal, love and triumph give context to these other elements. Without the quick wit of Solid Snake, would a player hear his theme music with the same sense of triumph? Without the insane introduction and description of boss characters, would the challenges they present actually be immersive? It would be like taking the Ring out of the Lord of the Rings.

After writing this and looking back on the lecture on designing games for affect... it seems like the listed design principles are indeed the strategies of developers. That's quite comforting and quite remarkable. And also quite humbling. Some of the greatest games I've ever played, the most affectual to me, were very carefully designed using these three factors. Sheer genius. Now I need to do the same.

(The anatomy of challenge taken from ITN016 Lecture 7 by Dr Penny Drennan)

The Ultimate Reward

I considered doing a post about the ultimate goal in man's pursuit in life... but I thought I'd stick with video games, at least for this blog anyway. All games, in some way or another, implement some sort of reward system. They have to. How will a player receive feedback if nothing is said, given or presented to the player? How will progression take place if not through enhancing and developing the player's skillset or abilities? Name a game series that wasn't remembered for some element of its reward system. Yeah. Exactly.

So as I was thinking about the different types of rewards, I wondered "What is the one reward to rule them all?". That is, which reward type is most enjoyable, and/or keeps players coming back for more? Let's have a look:

Access: So, these type of rewards open new areas to players, either temporarily or permanently. Probably the most common type of reward in adventure games such as Metroid or Zelda. Let's use Ocarina of Time as an example, since it is/was considered "the best game of all time" (til something rhyming with Me P.A. Law came out). Once a player had advanced a certain part of the narrative, a new area would be made available. For example, climb a mountain and talk to a Goron and you open up a new dungeon. Much later in the game, approach the same area 7 years later in the game time with a new skillset and by talking to a baby Goron, and suddenly the entire interior of the mountain becomes available. Personally this part was a big thrill for me, as finally being able to enter areas you've been seeing from a distance had a real feeling of value, and many other player share the same belief. That said, perhaps this type of reward is necessary for progression in ANY game. If new areas or songs or challenges did not become available in response to some player action, the idea of progress would not exist.

Facility: Related to strengthening and enhancing playable characters. Zelda is another perfect example of this. In fact, the entire game and its progression rest in these rewards. After partially completing each challenging dungeon, a player is rewarded with some sort of new weaponry, such as bombs, boomerangs or arrows. These things allowed players to access the new areas, and hence usher in the rewards of access. In fact, this is identical in any game: Guitar Hero, where new player skills usher in new songs; Metroid, which is much the same as Zelda; even Grand Theft Auto uses this idea.

So perhaps these two reward systems MUST be contained in a game. They seem to be too interlinked to be separated and compared. Hence, it must come down to the final two. Is it for glory, or for sustenance?

Just as brief definitions, sustenance rewards are just that: all about sustaining a player's character or characters. Rewards of glory usually take place outside of the magic circle of the game, usually in the community of gamers.

It seems that sustenance, for a very long time, was a main focus for rewards in games. This was usually in the form of RPGs, such as Final Fantasy. Your character and/or characters have permanence: their statuses aren't lost on power off like in games like Mario. One of the main ways this was delivered was in the forms of level ups and equipment, offering many unique and customisable rewards for players. This is also present in online games such as World of Warcraft and Guild Wars, and is the sole focus of many players for a very long time, until...

...their focus switches to the rewards of glory. The focus and adoration of the fan community. You have a Level 70 Paladin now. So what? Other players do not consider this an achievement, and in games where there is a strong community focus, the community will inevitably drive players to focus on these rewards. It's not a matter of "how good are you at Guitar Hero", it's "What's your top score on Through the Fire and the Flames", or "How many 40-man raids have you led?". Albeit, the same questions cannot be asked of Final Fantasy or other RPGs.

This leads us to an interesting point. Glory and sustenance seem to be more valuable depending on the genre and community focus they are used in. RPGs like Final Fantasy, played against the computer, seem to do well to reward players via sustenance. Games where there is a strong community focus, such as MMORPGs or rhythm games, do well to reward players via glory.

So perhaps there isn't one reward to rule them all. But it seems that wise designers should consider genre and the metagaming elements in the creation of any reward structure.

(Types of rewards taken from ITN016 Lecture 7, from QUT Blackboard, written by Penny Drennan)