Story Mode

Dear Team Meat,

2011-10-27T00:11:00.000-07:00

It's been one year since you released Super Meat Boy, and even longer since you announced the Mac version. I was so excited about your game when I first heard about it. I had fallen in love with Edmund's prior work, having discovered Aether linked on Rock Paper Shotgun way back when, and having unwittingly played Spewer before that.. Hearing that he was working on an indie love letter to 8-bit/old school platformers filled me with nothing but joy.

When you said you were putting SMB up on Steam, you said that getting the PC version would act like a preorder for the Mac version. Taking you at your word, I bought SMB on Steam over a year ago, hoping that in a matter of months that I would get the platforming experience we'd been dreaming of. Knowing that it was coming to mac meant that when I bought a current console last year, your game no longer had to be the reason I bought one or the other. I bought a PS3 last year, and while I love it, I might have changed my mind had I known that the Mac version of the game was not only a low priority, but of almost no urgency.

I really want to show you the love and respect that the rest of the SMB community has. I understand that you want to share really cool tools with other people who love platformers and love Super Meat Boy. But I feel like I've been lied to; that you promised we could be part of the group, but that you forgot about us.

I want to play your game. I want to be pushed to my limits and crushed beneath the whim of a fetus in a jar, or salted to death and carved to bits by a rotating saw. I want to breeze through a warp zone like a boss and unlock Captain Viridian. I want to know what Brownie is all about without looking it up on a wiki or watching another Youtube let's play.

Team Meat, let's face it. You've Thumbblocked the Mac users for a full year. Let us finally get off.

With love,

Matt

Ico Is So Much More

2011-10-13T22:50:00.001-07:00

Ico's tenth anniversary has flown by. It's a wonderful fairy tale horror story with a mechanic that overshadowed the rest of the game. When it came out in 2001, Ico separated itself from all prior games by allowing you to hold hands with an AI controlled character. The young horned boy leads the slightly older girl Yorda to escape a citadel ruled by her evil mother. As remarkable as it is to hold Yorda's hand and draw closer to her, or hear her call back to you, the game is a storytelling should have eclipsed a single programing gimmick.

Ico uses minimal dialogue. All three speaking characters in the game speak in strange dead, yet subtitled languages. Ico, the young horned boy who was brought to the citadel to die, speaks a language that is subtitled in english. Yorda, the taller girl, speaks in a dialect subtitled with hieroglyphics. The Evil Queen, Yorda's mother, understands and speaks both languages, but Ico, and thus the player, only understands one. The game relies on their body language and the tones of their voices rather than dialogue. There are moments of terror, horror, fear, distrust, and mourning, all implied by urgent and often melancholy gestures made by both Ico and Yorda. But there are sweet, tender moments as well; Yorda calling out to Ico in longing; the moments when Yorda leaps across a short chasm, and Ico helps her back on her feet; the moment when the player saves the game, and ico beckons her over just to hold her hand and rest on a concrete bench. These are well defined moments that would be spoiled with english (or the players native language).

But beyond this, Ico was able to communicate through it's environment ideas that otherwise would have required long and overbearing exposition.

*Spoilers*

Right before the final showdown, Ico enters the room where he began. Inside the room are separate sarcophaguses where horned children have been place, which we know from the beginning of the game. On the other side of the room sits the statue of Yorda, where her frozen stone body was taken when she was recaptured. Surrounding her are the weird, blue eyed shadows that have desperately been trying to capture her all game, but that Ico has successfully staved off. As you defeat these spirits with the recently acquired Royal Sword, the sarcophaguses light up one by one. Instead of using a life bar or a counter to show how many enemies are left, the game built it into the environment, and implied that if Ico hadn't broken free, he would have been one of the shadows haunting and harassing Yorda.

* Spoilers End*

As beautiful the sentiment is, Ico isn't just a game about holding a girls hand. It's so much more than that. It's a beautiful game with storytelling chops to be treasured in an eerie setting that can haunt and caress your agile mind.

The Legacy of Steve Jobs

2011-10-06T12:49:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, October 5th, 2011, Steve Jobs passed away. He had been struggling with pancreatic cancer, and earlier this year, stepped down as CEO of Apple. Last night, my twitter stream was filled with tributes to him and his products, and how Apple Computer helped make better creators.

Many of these tweets praise current hardware, and how he reinvented computer usability with the iPhone and iPad. Others reminisce computing on their Apple II and learning to program. Some, like me, think of how wonderful of an entrepreneur he was, founding such as wonderful company as Pixar.

I realize it's poor form to highlight the failures of the recently dead, but no one in my twitter feed is hailing iTunes or the App store.

In my opinion the silence on that subject is out of respect; calling out the foul business practices and guerilla legal theft that's been executed on the behalf of iTunes so soon after Jobs' death might be in poor taste.

Jobs' Legacy, and that of Pixar and Apple Computer, will be one cherished by me; iTunes and their treatment of developers and software will not.

Story Buttons

2011-09-05T01:36:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you push a button, not because it needs to exist, but because it represents an action taken. Specifically, there are story moments where pushing a button shows that you took an action (as opposed to advancing the on screen text). I love these moments.

Some of them are presented as if they were a choice. In Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor for the DS, there's a dialogue option for you to answer your phone. It's the only option, and even though you don't have a choice, it still feels nice. It feels in universe. Instead of describing and action, the game uses this moment to simulate the action.

There's a similar design choice made in Ghost Trick (also for the DS). Your character, Sissel, go back in time four minutes before a person's death in order to avert it. The game also presents a single dialogue option: 'Rewind Time." To me, this shows that it's Sissel's ability, and not an event facilitated by the game.

In Assassin's Creed 2, about half way through the game, you can press a button to hug Leonardo Da Vinci. The first time I played AC2, I missed it. I had pressed Circle to gently undress a woman in Florance, and pressed Square to kill the guards in Tuscany, but somehow I missed pressing circle this time. Leonardo opened his arms to receive a hug, but I hesitated to reciprocate, and Leonardo looked away in Disappointment.

I played the game again. This time I got the hug. After I freed the Military District, I visited Leonardo again. This time I didn't have to press a button to hug him. This time, I embraced "My oldest friend" effortlessly.

Small moments like these allow players experience these stories differently. A simple button press can imply ownership, simulate an action, or even emote in unexpected ways. In the case of AC2, even though there are hundreds of other events I could recall, I choose to cherish the time I hugged a friend.

Stories Inform; Players Inform Too

2011-07-28T21:24:00.000-07:00

One of my faults, when I think about how traditional storytelling applies to games, is assuming that games inform their audience the same way films, television and other static media inform theirs. It's mental shorthand to compare the two; it's often justified by cutscenes and designer moments meant to glorify the story rather than the player.

That's why thick terms like player agency sometimes mystify me. I 'know' it refers to the players control, but it's easily lumped into concepts like mechanics. It's the same with feedback loops and incentives: concepts game designers use to inform the player.

Games differ from static mediums and are of closer relation to live performances; at a concert, the audience feeds off of the musicians energy, and musician becomes more and more engaged with the enthusiastic crowd. In games, the players inform the story as much as the story informs the player. Player's who feel they're being punished will likely rebel; depending on the game, they'll grind levels for extra lives or experience until they're ready to face off against the next challenge down the line. Players also inform other players in the game; If my friend switches to a Heavy in Team Fortress 2, I'm going to switch to a medic and help him out. If we're playing Minecraft and he's working on pixel art, I'm probably going to start sheering sheep and looking for dyes or blocks that will match his design. If we're playing poker, my past bluffs will most likely catch up to me when I go all in, because everyone around the table has learned I make rash and impatient decisions when I'm playing with unvalued chips.

Perhaps the study of players is just as important as the study of play; no?

An Interpretive Artform

2011-07-20T22:12:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I place emphasis on the wrong person in the equation. I look to the designer, trying to experience their work and their craft. Often times, it's not about them. It's about the player, and making them feel special. The game isn't always the part to be celebrated; game design is the craft that lays the ground for play. Many, many good games make the player the artist; devising strategies, and discovering them, but the games I find myself returning to make me co-author.

The other night I finished Dragon Quest IX. I've talked about this game before; most of the story arc is tread through episodically. There are moments where I felt like I was being squeezed through a narrative funnel, and also times where the dialogue felt overbearing. I still say that Dragon Quest IX was one of the best storytelling experiences I've had, and it's not because of the script (or the scripted events). It's because the game lets you make your party from scratch.

Coming up with a team is fun; you have to think up individuals that are competent on their own, but work well with the other members. You can't have one member that stands apart from the group or carries the team; if they die in the boss battle, then you're screwed. Redundancies are also a problem, so having two of the same class won't sit too well.

The player character starts out as a minstrel, but you can change your characters class at Alltrades Abbey later in the game. I made myself a spikey blue haired chick named Kelda who would eventually go on to be a martial artist. Along the way, we saved up our skill points so we could dump them all into claw skill when the time came.

Next was Drennon. He had tan skin, a bit of a smirk, and red coifed hair he often hid under a turban or a helmet. His golden eyes often gazed on treasure. He was originally a thief, though he rarely stole anything. He preferred to rely on his fists, even when he decided to become a Paladin. When he did change classes, he traded his turban and vest in for a brass colored helmet (with the roman style mohawk-thing) and holy mail. From then on, he carried around a shield, and was dedicated to helping others...

I have a story for each team member, and each one has a relationships. None of these characters were scripted or created by a game designer; they started out as archetypes, but as the game progressed, each one took on a personalities and desires. Equipement was no longer about the highest stats; Each character needed to look and feel like themselves, whether they wanted a Dragon Top, a Fur Vest or a Minotaur Helm.

Writing and game design can be considered creative arts, while playing the game is an interpretive art. It's the difference between the director and the actor: The director knows what they need, but the actor provides an interpretation to the character, and what's happening to them durring their performance. The director can give out guidance, but a good actor will elevate the story and give it new meaning.

The Secret Ghetto of Mass Effect 2

2011-06-23T22:06:00.000-07:00

I just finished playing Mass Effect 2 the other day. My Shepard was like a mother to her crew. She was compassionate and hopeful and deeply wanted to help put her crews demons to rest. She wanted to make sure my squad had no regrets before going on their suicide run. Even though we lost 2 squadmates (Katsumi to an engineering blast and Thane trying to secure a door that just wouldn't seal) She and I know we accomplished so much.

There's a bit of dissonance between me and her. While I know that it was my hand guiding her, and that I was shaping her, the bigger than life ordeals and questions she faced are some I'm grateful that I've never had to address.

I won't lie; I loved Mordin Solus. He was charming, focused, and caught me off guard from time to time.

Mordin is one of the scientists who unleashed a genophage that sterilized most of the Krogan race (Krogan's being the big tanky warrior race in the Mass Effect universe). The Krogan Species had a history of overbreeding and and mass extinction before they were exposed to the rest of the galaxy. It was feared that they would create a massive war. The genophage was deemed the best proposed solution for the entire galaxy, including the Krogan race.

In Mass Effect 2 you can visit the Krogan homeworld where Mordin can address the implications, both moral and practical, of his work. Here, I will address some issues the characters seem oblivious to, despite that the Krogan's themselves bring it up:

The females are separated into their own clan.
The females are the ones who were sterilized.
The males fight over the right to breed with females.

The issues that Mordin and Shepard address are about the species as a whole. They do not address how it has affected their civilization, or how female Krogan's are treated like a resource to be preserved rather than members of the society. In the game you will never meet a female Krogan, and the game explicitly says that you never will.

Mordin's actions were a blatant violation of human rights that the game. He took a distasteful situation and implemented as distasteful solution he felt was in the best interest of everyone, but his actions led to the ghettoization of half the species: the same half of the species whose bodies were violated.

I'm ashamed that I tried to ease his mind rather than condemning his actions when I had the chance.

2011-05-23T15:57:00.000-07:00

'I don't know why I play this game. Throbbing noises; flashing lights; monsters chasing you! I get enough of that in real life.'

Christopher Lloyd as Jim Ignatowski: Taxi; The Unkindest Cut

Actions Speak Louder with Words

2011-05-09T11:38:00.000-07:00

Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor opens with a longer than initially desired cutscene. Stylistically, this isn't video game storytelling or movie storytelling. Devil Survivor tends to rely on comic book sensibilities and uses those languages as the base, bringing agency when it feels like a strong design choice. It hits the ground running.

"If you have the will to challenge your destiny of battle, son of man, state your name…"

At the very end, you enter your name (or whatever name you want within the 3 six-letter frames). First name, last name, and a nick name. Suddenly, this passive piece of customization is a confirmation, or a pact. It's an action. Rather than a passive feign at customization, this is the first moment. It has the player accepting a challenge with no reservations. It's a contract between the player (or the player character, depending on the level the player embraces the story) and the game.

The opening act has a couple of nice moments like this.

This doesn't need to be a dialogue option, as Mediocre Storytelling Theater rightly points out. However, rather than just having you advance the dialogue, you are presented with an action. Devil survivor opens without game elements, but it identifies action and knows when and how to present your actions, even if they aren't choices. Talking in and of itself is an action, so the game presents other seemingly minor actions in the same manner.

Let's consider the steps it takes to answer this phone call:

1. Locate your phone

2. Fish it out of your pocket, purse, jacket or what have you.

~~3. Look at the screen to identify the call~~ (skippable action)

4. Accept the phone call.

This of course omits preceding necessary actions like making sure your phone is charged, making sure you've paid for your service, remaining in an area with good reception...

"Atsuro might call us, so we should go somewhere with cellphone reception…"

So you were prepared for a call before hand. The game took the necessary actions out of the way, left the step that mattered the most and made it an action.

You could say the game has already developed a grammar for action before you actually run into any core gameplay.

Resistance

2011-04-27T02:01:00.000-07:00

Sometimes games don't play fair.

I'm in love with stories. It's a pleasant affair. I get pulled in gradually by the aloof one on the other side of the room.

And it's cool. It's awkward at first, but we get used to each other. We hang out, get to know each other. It gets really involved--like a story should--but then I want more and I'm suddenly in above my head.

And I have to earn it.

So I continue to climb the mountain, hoping that I won't be disappointed, and that I won't disappoint.

And sometimes, no matter how fair the beauty might be...

Son of a--!!!

Yeah, sometimes a game just comes together on each level. I'll love the mechanics, the writing, the themes; it's in a sweet spot and it dominates my time. I feel like there's a world to save, and I have a responsibility. Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor is one of those games. I've played it twice, and loved every bit...

Yet I never finished.

It's a case where I truly felt beaten.

Sometimes I play a game for the story, and the game resists my advances every step of the way.

It's a special sort of masochism, and I'm diving in again.

God rested on the seventh day of Creation; there's no rest on the seventh day of the Apocalypse.

Pray for those who survive.

I've Got Broth in My Veins

2011-04-20T16:27:00.000-07:00

I was asked to test a new patch for Suparna Galaxy and I came away from it in tears (which definitely enhanced the inate P'taak). Never have I experienced such a vivid moment in a game. I realize that I wasn't testing the game: the game was testing me. I was reminded of this episode of The New Batman Adventures from the nineties, when the Joker decided that his commitment to comedy was more important than his relationship with Harley, or even his hatred of Batman. While not giving away details (I am under an NDA, after all), I will say that I never expected to be emotionally tested by soup.

It's a Wonderful World

2011-04-18T19:41:00.000-07:00

Over a year ago I got a DSi XL. This was partially because I wanted the bigger screens, but also so I could lend my DS Lite to others along with some games. I did this one friend who was a Zelda fan and did what I could to open her up to my DS catalogue starting with Phantom Hourglass and Professor Layton, among a few other titles. She absolutely loved it, and her roomate went wild for it, too, buying herself a DSi. MY friend, when I asked for it back, decided to get herself a DSi as well.

My DS lite, which I still enjoy, is in perfect condition, with one exception that I find somehow gratifying. The colors on the screen, for all their hours of use, are slightly duller. To me, this means that my friend spent the hours I hoped she would playing and puzzling through the small catalogue I started her with.

Now, I'm lending out my DS lite to my cousin who doesn't play nearly as many games as my friend. She's in high school and plans to become a writer/director in film. This is my attempt to open her up to the language of games.

I scrambled to select games I hoped she would appreciate. I left my pokemon games to the wayside and grabbed my Layton games, the entire Ace Attorney series, Chrono Trigger, New Super Mario Bros. and The World Ends with You. These are all great games, but as soon as she was out the door, I wondered: did I give her the right games? True, the writing in Layton, Ace Attorney and Chrono Trigger are deserving, but two of these series are adventure games, and Chrono Trigger... I hope isn't too anime looking for her tastes. Yes, these games are fantastic, and great examples of what we should be doing in games, but by technical definition, Adventure games are puzzles rather than games. Chrono Trigger is probably my comfort game of choice, but when I first played a Rom back in 2006, I was a tad apprehensive because of my prejudice towards anime.

I've separated Mario and TWEWY from the main group for a reason: These are games that I don't appreciate for their innate storytelling. Mario does not stand on it's story: I stands firmly on it's platforming. TWEWY, I feel, stands on it's mechanics as one of the few DS games to utilize both screens effectively. It is remarkable for it's visuals, it's music, it's game design... but it's storytelling is a lesson in how not to tell stories. It's filled to the rim with exposition and unskipable dialogue. While the actual plot is worth following (Though it requires the same amount of untangling as the television series Lost), the narration and presentation of story moments can grate on nerves. It uses the language of comics ineffectively.

I would not try to disuade anyone from playing TWEWY. I don't review: I criticize. TWEWY has it's flaws, and isn't for everyone. What I'm concerned with is if my cousin is a member of everyone or not. I worry that I handed her a game and gave her a false idea of the kind of storytelling we want.

But this is a burden that I think a good game can handle. Not every game should have to engage in apologetics. Some games, though, serve as a beacon both to current and would be players, and draw them in.

I suppose I'm trying to evangelize games as much as I am portable games, but I hope I'm nurturing her interest with the right games.

Is it fine enough?

2011-04-15T19:23:00.003-07:00

I'm not sure if this is me being observant or me nit picking, but I occurred to me sometime ago, when I was playing Stacking, that the central game mechanic felt oddly familiar; a sense of deja vu fell over me. I had played both Brütal Legend and Costume Quest 2 months prior; the three games were all made by Double Fine.

Since the less than stellar sales figures of 2009's Brütal Legend, Double Fine has gone on to make smaller downloadable games for consoles. It's released two so far, both of which I believe came out of their Amnesia Fortnight competition, where the studio was divided into four groups and each group was challenged to make a game. When Brütal Legend came out, Tim Schafer, founder and CEO of Double Fine Productions, shopped the games around to different publishers.

Both Costume Quest and Stacking (along with their respective downloadable content) were published by THQ. Each was helmed by a different designer: Costume Quest (a Halloween RPG) was designed by Lead Animator Tasha Harris, while Stacking was designed by Lead Art Director Lee Petty.

Costume Quest is a very old school inspired RPG. It has a lot of the traditions of a turn based Japanese RPG, along with the requisite theme: growing up. In the game, you get your powers from your costumes. Almost all of the costumes have an exploration ability. One allows you to cross gravel smitten terrain by raising your shield to protect your party. You'll light a dark path with your plastic lightsaber or lead hungry kids to a french fry stand when you're dressed as a fry mascot for NotMcDonalds (TM). It adds an adventure game layer to a charming RPG, which makes sense given Schafer's pedigree as a LucasArts game design veteran.

Stacking focuses on that core adventure game design, substituting costumes for matryoshka doll shells.

If you've played it, you've probably thought it.

You're the smallest matryoshka doll in the world. In order to manipulate the world, you have to stack into larger dolls, each of whom has a unique ability.

It's the same mechanic. You choose a doll, look for your objective, and press a button to activate their ability.

It's a similarity that colored my observation of Stacking.

My main concern coming out of this is that the mechanic came from the same studio in two games within a short window.

It's a good mechanic: not a game unto itself, but it works. I feel, however, that if it was such a deserving mechanic that they should have explored it in depth each time…

But with the short amount of time I was allowed… each experience felt shallow.

The thing about constraints: once you know that your boarders, you feel indiscriminate freedom to go in any remaining directions.

But with linear titles such as these, it's hard to explore the breadth allowed, especially in the short time your can finish each game in.

An Expert I Shall Be!

2011-04-12T01:59:00.000-07:00

I realize that sometimes I show myself to be green. I reduce years of experience to a sentence, and I sometimes follow an idea because I like it rather than because it's worth following. I do try to guard against my naivety, however difficult it may be.

"Ouk imae idenai, ah mae oido!" The more I know, the more I know I don't know...

My goal has been to become an expert on the subject of storytelling in relation to game design, but as I supplement my knowledge, I realize I cannot swallow the ocean.

I'm reaching a point where I see and hear other preach what I've been contemplating.

This is not the end of my days as a student: I'm still learning, and eager to learn, but I think I have insight to share.

I don't have a job yet, or the experience to warent the attention, but I plan to start making GDC proposals. I plan to give a talk at the 2012 Game Developers Conference.

This might be the most foolish thing I've ever said, but the audience I want to make games for is larger than the audience that floods Moscone every year. If I've anything to say, then my peers will come and listen.

Negative Space

2011-03-12T14:09:00.000-08:00

In visual art, negative space is used to define the foreground, or the visual point we're fixated upon. It helps define boarders and creates unique silhouettes. It's not as important as the foreground, but it is necesary. The negative space helps define the focal point. It gives the viewer context.

If I was to allude to base assumptions, it could be inferred that settings are the negative space of storytelling. That is a faulty conclusion, or at least misleading. Characters aren't the foreground and the setting isn't the background. The elements we want our readers, viewers and so forth to focus on are the moments; everything in between is narrative, or that which we use to get our audience to those moments. Moments are defined by the continuum within the story; you will not have the desired effect on your audience if they don't have context. "Where are we? Who's that?" There's an economy of information, lack of information and misinformation, which you can use with a delicate brush to help shape these moments.

Actors and animators use motion. They use stillness to define that motion. An actress can use all of her energy in the scene of an argument, using physical motion to convey how pissed or hurt she is, and later just lie down, curled in a ball to show how draining an argument can be. In this case, the definition of what's negative and positive space begins to blur; are we focused on the intensity of the argument, or the emotional break she gets when she sleeps it off?

Music can be the same, though it's not a matter of sound versus silence. Her we have the maintained measure (consistant keys, consistant scales, chords and so forth) that are broken up by solos, key changes and so forth. If a guitarist maintains a riff for long enough, the audience's intensity will start to build and build... it's an agony of sorts; they're both waiting for that new note and sweet release. It builds an intensity. Building a pattern brings the audience to anticipate a break in the pattern, and te longer it takes to get it, the more incredible the break can be.

So what about games? What is our positive space? What's our negative space?

It's what we do with games the best; interactivity. Moments of non-play define play, and vice versa. Can you see why it would thus frustrate players when we don't let them play the coolest moments, and instead use them to get the avatar to the action? To the storytelling moments.

Cut scenes aren't the problem; they're just tool, and any tool can be misused. If we are to tell stories, we need to let players play the positive space; the moments that we define.

This is what killed me about Metal Gear Solid 4, and why I realized it isn't really a game, but a mixed media piece using different storytelling media (Cinema, games and slideshows) to get a message out.

The moments that I found most memorable and intense were usually in cutscenes; long cutscenes. Usually poorly written, or at least unrevised. But the End of Act 3, when liquid takes control... is actually quite a beautiful piece of cinema. It's a well crafted sequence, and one worth playing towards. It will get you over the hump of playing MGS4.

But I was surprised by the way the game ended. No, I'm not talking about the epilogue. I'm talking about the desparate moment where I as a dying solider was crawling a long, long tunnel, with my stealth suit blistering and my insulated insides cooking. The screen was split in two; One half focused on the action outside; these were where my thoughts were: the people who would die if I didn't achieve this mission. On the bottom half, me as I tried to bring my tired, aching and failing body to crawl. There was a moment when I separated myself from the Avatar, and I became just as concerned for Snake as Otakon was.

The preceding game was storytelling negative space, but this was the positive space I had been searching for throughout the game.

Shooting Craps to Pismo Beach

2011-03-07T14:51:00.000-08:00

(Hence the absurd post preceding.)

To everyone I met over the past week: We survived! This week has been it's own challenge, diving down rabbit holes and following rabbit trails...

Every session imparted a lesson, or was at the very least educational.

I consider myself an expert in the making; though I don't have the years of experience necesary to declare myself such, I do have the background and the working knowledge to discern between information which I believe is vital and that which I believe to be misleading.

As someone new to the field, I can be easily influenced, as can others. Thus I find it necessary at times to fight my own nativity with skepticism. It is because they wield experience and expertise so valiantly that myself and others might be easily swayed.

Let me lead with a disclaimer: the following is not an attack on those who follow the ideals, models or principles that were discussed in the mentioned lectures. I praise these men in my own way by challenging the messages they delivered, even if it is a bit of a back handed compliment.

David Cage: Creating an Emotional Roller Coaster in Heavy Rain

David Cage is a storyteller and president of Parisian "Game" studio Quantic Dream. Those quotes are not my own; Cage said himself that he wasn't sure what Heavy Rain was to this date, though the interactive story has been out since February of 2010.

Before Heavy Rain, Quantic Dream developed Indigo Prophecy (known as Fahrenheit in Europe). The game was very experimental. It had a real time conversation mechanic that made players choose a stance within a time limit, meaning the flow of conversation was preserved. Nearly every action in the game was playable. Heavy Rain sought to carry that further.

And Cage believes that it is the model for what Interactive storytelling should be.

Michael Abbot recently posted his own thoughts on the session, but I want to point out my own feelings on the subject.

Cage illustrated that his model is expansive and expressive, but did so to the exclusion of other forms within storytelling. His game had the player exploring options and branches rather than environments, which I applaud!

Applause! Applause! Applause!

But according him, there's not room for anything else...

I will be the first to go against the tyranny of authorial control in Metal Gear Solid 4... but I feel that it's in the same category as Heavy Rain; it's an authors statement.

Players and authors should work together to craft something new. A writer and a game designer have a responsibility to provide their players tools to craft their own story.

And even that shouldn't be the exclusive method or the ideal. Just as there are many games and no player is satiated by all of them, there are different audiences, and no reader, viewer or listener is satiated by all of them. To propose that your own method is the ideal is to declare yourself stubborn.

Brian Moriarty: An Apology to Ebert

This was a speech on how games aren't art yet.

How could I possibly be tempted to agree with this? Well, firstly, his argument is actually well thought out and quite sound.

It's difficult for this to seem like anything other than slamming his statements into the mud with a bloody hammer. After all, isn't that what I as an artist am striving for? To perpetuate my chosen craft?

Well, I'll begin with his closing argument:

"Who's left to make art? The same people who have always made it: the artists."

Yes, I consider myself an artist, but right now I'm trying to develope my craft as much as I'm striving to make something comparable to what I hold as art... which happens to be in a video game.

When it comes down to it, though, Morriarty (an art professor and a game lover) does yet believe that games have had that one game that can be considered "Art," but that our field thus far has been driven as a commercial art, or what he describes as "Kitsch."

Kitsch is easily understood and highly commercial art marketed to the masses.

And before we throw Morriarty to the flames, he goes on to say that 99% of film, music, theatre, literature and other media are kitsch as well...

And that his statements aren't a reason for game designers to give up.

But I feel that, as he said, Art, and the ideals of Art, is a subjective topic worthy of study.

But Kitsch is such a broad idea that it's easy to write off anything as Kitsch.

And furthermore, and I might be putting words in his mouth at this point, his discussion on what is art and what is not seems to apply the term to the entirity of the work in question.

No. This is where I officially disagree.

One term story tellers pass about and hold paramount is "Moment to moment."

Each moment exists separately from others, but relates to them within a continuum. A moment is what we strive to craft. In my opinion it can encapsulate a pure, raw emotion, or it can be used as a catalyst for emotions under the surface to brew. It's where we often post a snapshot of humanity. The rest of the narative is important, but is often window dressing, set up or background; it lays the cord for the moments we want to create.

To me, these moments are Art. They are what I care about, and what I desperately crave. I love Prince of Persia: the Sands of Time; it's my comfort game, and what drove me to become a storyteller. It is where I most often look to find Art. However, art is not a veneer or a polish that you can soak into every pore of a work. Every work has it's negative space, as does my beloved Prince of Persia.

To label an entire work as "Art" and "not Art" is a troubling and misleading position to take.

I firmly believe that James Cameron's Avatar is a prime example of what Moriarty calls Kitsch, but it is presumptuous and pretentious (two qualities I carry in spades) to dismiss such a works entirety when the art that I seek might be held somewhere deep within.

It's difference between describing the museum art, and recognizing the pieces held within as art.

Meanwhile in another city, Just about to go insane...

2011-02-24T03:13:00.000-08:00

As of March 1st 2011, I will have moved from Birmingham, Alabama to the San Francisco Bay Area. I'm in pursuit of a job in Game Design as a Storyteller. This, I believe is the absolute greatest place to begin my career, though there are no guarentees. Essentially, I'm here to start a revolution, though I realize that it takes more than one man to start such a thing.

But if you consider it, it takes more than one person to make a game. Really think about it. If someone makes a game, and no one else plays it, is it truly a game? It's much different than other media. If a painter paints, it's still a painting, because he might be his own audience. If a poet writes, it's still poetry. If a dancer dances, or a singer sings, or a musician plays...

But if a game designer creates a game and there's no one to play it... why, all it is is an activity. Isn't it?

And to treat a game as little more than activity? Well isn't that a tad abusive to the player? If not, it certainly is patronizing. And as I rant, I realize that I, as a storyteller, may be the most presumptuous that a player is there to be told what to do. She isn't. She's there to communicate with the game. To express herself. Because that's what play is. It's an expression of a individual or team and not the expression of the designer.

This is partially a rant, but also a commitment I'm making to my players. Games are a conversation, whether between the player and the designer in single player games, or a discussion between players (multiplayer games). I promise not to drown out your voices with my own. I promise to shout when I need to and whisper whenever else possible. I promise not to argue with you.

I chose the topic, but you get to lead the discussion.

Guillermo del Toro on Game Narative

2010-11-03T01:21:00.014-07:00

One of the greatest storytellers on the planet showing game narrative reverence.

Also, he says he's working on a game. Not that that's news, but it's definitely worth mentioning.

Del Toro directed both Hellboy films as well as Pan's Labyrinth, and is currently slated to direct an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft's At the Mountains of Madness.

Del Toro moderated a Scott Pilgrim Panel on November 1st 2010, starting a great conversation with Edger Wright (Another fantastic storyteller).

Via /Film

2010-11-02T15:44:00.000-07:00

Sotomayor: Would a video game that portrayed a Vulcan as opposed to a human being, being maimed and tortured, would that be covered by the act?

To the Natural Conclusion

2010-11-02T01:50:00.002-07:00

I've been playing around in Final Fantasy: 4 Heroes of Light for the DS. It's not a bad game. It features a cool job system that's easier to mess with than the remake of Final Fantasy 3. The inventory system, while at first clunky, can be a joy to wield under the right circumstances, and the world is small enough that I can get around with ease. In summary, the gameplay is a joy.

The art direction is fantastic, too! It has the same style of rendering as the previous Final Fantasy DS games. The most apt description of the art direction would be storybook illustration. The characters are all child-like and adorable. The environments are absolutely gorgeous; each town feels like it's on a rolling page: As you head towards the horizon, the world turns forward as if you were unrolling a scroll.

Unfortunately (knew it was coming, didn't you?), I've run into storytelling problems with the game.

It's not with the plot, which is familiar to anyone who's played a Final Fantasy or another JRPG. It's the charming, simple tale where you're instructed by a crystal to save the world.

It's not the pacing: I'm halfway through the game and I don't feel like I'm being led by the collar to a final confrontation.

It's not the characterization; I find my parties traits appealing, whether they're lazy, greedy, over-eager or overwhelmed.

It's the line where programing and writing meet, or how you trigger a series of events.

Spoilers follow!

A short while into the game, You take control of the Princess (Whom I named Rhylie and will refer to as such) in a town called Liberte. She and a companion (Whom I named Jaque, who has slicked back white hair and a dismissive attitude) are refugees in the city of Liberte. Rhylie wants to explore, but Jaque decides to sleep in. As the Princess you begin to explore the town and the area surrounding it. You can continue as far north as the merchants town, Uberth, go east the the Pirates cave, or stay in Liberte where you can find a few pirates proclaiming their love of freedom. These freedom loving pirates tease you, saying that you need a password to get into their cave, but they can't divulge it.

You can carry on as you like... but you can't make any progress unless you find a small house behind your field of vision, where you aren't sure you can go, and find a small boy whose parents have been kidnapped... by pirates.

Even though you know the pirates love freedom, the guard at the pirate caves won't ask you for it until you've been told the the boys parents are captive. Even though you know that of the choices offered that the Password is freedom. You descend the cave and discover that there were captives inside... but the game decides it's authored narrative is too important to allow Players to discover anything on their own.

Spoilers End.

As a storyteller I love an authored tale. As I've recently mentioned I LOVE Phoenix Write and Professor Layton. I love Sam and Max, I love The Dig...

I'm in love with adventure games.

And I'm not against linear storytelling in games. On rails storytelling has worked for the best, from Portal to Prince of Persia.

There's an inert tension that I love when I try to drive the story forward and I have to figure what the game wants from me. Sometimes, though, it feels like arbitrary resistance, and that's just a turn off.

In this case, I think that the triggers necessary to advance the story were unnecessarily obscured.

This can be where the line between games and stories is drawn, but it doesn't have to be.

Take That! The Game No One Suspected

2010-10-19T22:34:00.000-07:00

It's funny that ever since I finished playing the third Layton game (The Unwound Future), I've suddenly been playing the Ace Attorney games. The transition was a smooth one, as they're both mystery tales with puzzle elements. I've stayed up lat at night pushing through a puzzle or a case, trying to figure out what's next. Each of these series focus intently on the story, as a good Adventure game is wont. This is why it's especially appropriate (and exciting!) that the two franchises are coming together for the greatest crossover of any media.

I usually try to keep the blog limited to my pretentious academic views on game design or storytelling, but each of these series fit into my view of games as literature.

Now if I could only get some gameplay videos...

Ben's Interdimensional Rant

2010-09-23T23:49:00.002-07:00

A talented animator friend of mine named Ben Shambrook recently got some crazy awesome ideas. With a little encouragement (and a cattle prod reaching from the continental United States to Australia), I got him to write an article. So, without further ado...

I've been reading a bit of Hunter S. Thompson lately and it's got me thinking, but not about the death of the American dream and the radical freaks movement, but more about what I'm passionate about which is animation.

Looking at the animation industry in film and television, animation in stagnation. We have two big separate sides: 2D animation and 3D animation, and never the two shall meet; except, of course, when they do.

The most common ways that 2D animation includes 3D animation is cel shading. Making an object appear as if it was drawn in 2D, this shit is everywhere, from feature length films like Treasure Planet to television shows like Futurama. Everyone is cel shading; it's the cool thing to do. What is done less and more commonly in feature length films is painting 3D backgrounds to make them appear 2D. Disney pioneered a technique in the making of Tarzan to paint directly onto 3D models (which can now be found in freeware sculpting packages) where as across the pond, Ghibli achieves a similar look through a technique of painting static backgrounds, then projecting them onto 3D scenes. And of course in 3D we have the ever-popular matte paintings.

The thing these two have in common though is that there done to be seamless. The aim of a cel shaded character for example like Ben from Treasure Planet is to have him look as though he was drawn in the same style as the rest of the characters. The painted backgrounds are made to be indistinguishable from the 3D painted backgrounds. And the whole point of the matte painting is that you can't tell it's a matte painting.

But why does it have to be this way? I mean when we watch an animated movie we are already making a big leap of disbelief to buy into those characters. Would it be taking it too far to have 3D and 2D as obvious separates interacting as a whole? I don't think so. There are two things would point towards this.

The first is the band Gorillaz. Their film clips have always played with the separation and interaction between two and three dimensions; they never try to hide the genesis of each. The 3D elements aren't made to look like a painting; they are made to look like a vivid 3D render. What really brought it out to me at least was the film-clip for On Melancholy Hill where a completely 3D Noodles on a 3D submarine interacts with 2D characters. It doesn't snap you out of it; you’re already making a massive leap to believe in characters who vaguely resemble human beings.

My other indication would be Studio Gonzo (Ha, new I could bring it back to my opening sentence some how) who frequently combine 2D and 3D and either fail to blend them together or just don't try. Alucard is frequently shown (Not in that clip) as drawn in 2D while wielding 3D guns. Last Exile took it to the point when the characters would frequently be the only 2D elements on the screen.

But I digress.

Each medium has different strengths. 3D is more capable with intensely detailed mechanical objects; I, however, think it's real strength comes in broad character animation.

The way the tools are designed, you can start up 3D max—and with a quick run down on where to find biped and how the time-bar works—begin animating broad body movements. With a bit of research and a day or so browsing the Internet, you can have a basic character modeled, rigged up to biped and running around. While the tools are a major part of it, the fidelity you get is the definitive marketing point. Sweeping camera movements, rotating characters, quick flips etc. can all be achieved without losing the solid shapes of your character; you never have to think about whether you’ve kept the proportions right; if head is getting bigger etc. It all just works.

Conversely, 2D excels at subtle animations such as facial features. It would take weeks of practice to model a characters face properly, learning how to rig it for facial animation, and even longer bug testing the rig to make sure it doesn't freak out if you try to make him wink; to achieve what an artist could achieve in flash after learning the most basic of it's functionality that would take at most 10 minutes to explain; to achieve the same result in an hour. It seems to be like a massive waste of time in a medium that is already very time intensive.

To elaborate on this you really need to have an understanding of how the tools work.

Now the tools in 2D animation shouldn't need any explanation; you just draw whatever you want. You have a limitless scope to design what you want. You’re constrained only by the quality of your draftsmanship.

With 3D, though, there are two distinctly different tools for animating the body and the face.

Below is a biped. It's a simple character rig that comes built into 3D Max, you just go to the biped button, click and drag him to the size you want, then there are various options for how many fingers you want him to have, how many joints for the fingers etc.

The above picture took me roughly 15 seconds from starting a completely new file in 3D Max.

To animate it, you go to your key frame (A single frame that contains the most important movements of the action) then drag his legs, arms, torso etc into the position you want.

From booting up 3D Max in a brand new scene you can be animating a biped in under a minute. Since the program is working out everything in 3D, you needn’t to worry over keeping the proportions right; about things crossing over each other etc. You're free to focus on what animation is all about; movement.

The initial modeling and rigging phase of a simple model would take about 3-4 hours if you're not doing anything too complex, after which creating an animation for each pose can be done quickly. As I said the above pose took me about 15 seconds including creating the biped. To draw and ink a character in the same pose would take a far greater time. When you consider that there are thousands of these drawings to get a minute of footage this is a massive time saver. BUT--

This is a simple facial animation rig.

What's going on here?!

Each cross on the left represents a part of the face. Along the left we have the jaw, in the middle the mouth; the right the eyes. Moving these crosses then moves the equivalent part of the face. Nothing about this rig is pre-designed. These rigs are created by modeling every extreme the face could have. You have to go in and draw all those boxes with the spline tool, mapping each cross to a morph point on the model. This is not only extremely time consuming, and technical but it suffers from some obvious limitations.

These extremes, designed at the creation of your model, will be the extent of what your model is capable of expressing.

Using the above rig, if I want to push it as far as I can in a surprised expression, this is pretty much as far as I can push it.

Compare that to in 2D animation; if you take an extremely simple character like Finn from Adventure time (The one on the left)

and you want to make him surprised, you can easily add more detail to push the expression further.

Or, if you want, just go completely nuts.

None of these would take a great deal of time longer then the other, leaving the animator free to choose how he wants to express the emotion on the character without limiting him by technicalities.

Each medium has clear advantages and disadvantages, but this isn't a piece on how to choose an appropriate medium or anything as rubbish as that.

The entire point is to simply pose the question why separate the two?

Why not combine the two in a way that highlights the strengths of both mediums?

Would it really be any different following a story of the character on the left rather then the right?

Playing Catch Up

2010-08-31T19:29:00.000-07:00

Ngh... Haven't posted anything in a while. Alrighty, then, here's an update.

I've been working on article concepts for the blog, but to be honest, all I've done for these is research. I haven't actually gotten anything written down for them yet.

I recently made a banner for Leigh Alexander's Sexy Videogameland. She's linked me back. If you came in from her blog and were disapointed with the lack of updates, cheer up. Things will look up this month.

Aside from playing Starcraft II, which Love, Language, Videogames did a lovely storytelling critique on, I've mostly played indie flash games like e7. I've also been replaying Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time with the Vintage Game Club, something I'm very excited about. Finally, Sam and Max: The Devil's Playhouse finale was released the other day and I thoroughly enjoyed it. "The City that Dares Not Sleep" was a fine ending to the season, and I've heard other players say that even if this was the last Sam and Max game they'd be satisfied with the way it went out. While I feel that way, myself, I definitely want Telltale to make season 4 and beyond. Great work, guys.

The current goal is to continue saving for my move out to California in April. I'll move either to the Los Angeles area or to the San Francisco bay area. The bay area is more likely with the greater number of designers I admire that are already out there or have moved there, not to mention that I have family in that region to support me.

Part of that goal is to have enough extra cash to go to the Art History of Games as well as GDC with the Main Conference Pass. Some of that is the cost of admission, but there's also the cost of rooms and travel to take into account.

I'll try to have an article up in the next week or so. Keep your eyes peeled.

Building the Breaks

2010-07-24T00:56:00.003-07:00

What’s your game about?

“A Prince with a magic dagger who falls in love with a Princess.”
“A Failed soldier defending the galaxy against evil so he can crush it under his own heel.”
“A prisoner whose guards are in more danger than he is.”
“The pursuit of truth; defending an innocent accused.”

Plots and themes. Overall arcs. These are ideas that a writer, director or a designer will see. It’s the bigger picture. This isn’t how any audience will view it.

A story has payoff, but to say that it’s about the payoff is rather bland and obvious. If getting the ending of the game is the goal, the games should be far shorter than they are, as should films, books and music.

Sometimes you have to have smaller payoffs. Not just in games, but in stories. You have to break it down.

And this is why film envy scares me.

We look at Hollywood. It’s about polish; it’s about getting a finished product out the door to woo over. The director has two or three hours to tell his story, so you’re getting one plot and all the moments in between. Games are a longer format. We have 25 to forty hours of game. Why are we making games like movies when we could build in serialized storytelling; emulate a different model like television or comics?

Obviously this isn’t a new concept. Players will be off on multiple quests, not all of which are related to the central plot. Side-quests in RPGs, separate cases in games like Phoenix Wright, and more recently, the works of Telltale Games’ Sam and Max episodic games.

Games like these have allowed variation that wouldn’t have existed in a film. You get over all themes in these games, but you aren’t always bogged down with the central plot, but the most immediate conflict.

Serialized storytelling is spreading to games where it isn’t expected. Dragon Quest IX starts out like a standard Japanese role playing game; turn based battles, loot collecting, shopping, and linear storytelling. I wasn’t expecting short and sweet visits to villages with vastly different problems all steming from the macguffin. Sometimes the macguffin directly creates terrible problems, but sometimes it enables what can only be described as miracles.
Spoilers ahead:

***

One of my favorite towns was Port Llaffan, a fishing village with problems. Apparently, an earthquake at the beginning of the game has scared fish away from the coast into open waters. An orphaned girl named Jona, whose father drowned at sea, can now summon the whale-like creature; Leviathan. Each morning, Jona summons Leviathan, who splashes fish ashore. Bryce, the Mayor, wants to adopt Jona and have her use Leviathan to find sunken treasure and make himself rich.

Jona is reluctant; she wants to fish at sea like her father, whom she believes is shipwrecked out on the ocean. Bryce takes her to his private coast, where you follow them, and coerces her into summoning Leviathan. The Great Whale is angry with Bryce, and you have to save his skin.

After a boss battle, Leviathan is revealed to be the spirit of Jona’s father, who ate one of the enchanted Fyggs that you’ve been searching for. Her father, dying at sea, wished to look out for his daughter. After an impassioned plea, Jona convinces her father that she’s growing up, and that she has to take care of herself.

***

Spoilers end

This sequence has a lot of charm. One of the things I love about this sequence is the accent that the translators gave these characters. “Sure” became “Shooer.” They almost sound Welsh, or what I believe the welsh might sound like. Other towns have their own unique tones and mannerisms, and every village seems to be at a different level of poverty or prosperity. It’s not what I expected from a JRPG. Rather than the whole world having different countries fighting because they have a red crystal and live below ground while another has a blue and lives at sea, these towns seems to be separate cultures and self-reliance. It makes me feel like I’m actually a wanderer rather than another adventurer.

Smaller stories like this give the game a sense of scale. You aren’t just fighting on the behalf of your hometown, which you last saw fifteen level-ups ago, or something as faceless as mankind, you’re fighting for these smaller communities. A million is a statistic, a person is a tragedy (or a celebration).

While trying to make your game like Serenity is admirable, don’t forget the little moments, the smaller episodes. Firefly isn’t the same without a sympathetic episode like The Message or a creepy one like Objects in Space. They all lend to the tone, build the composition, and show the characters in different lights. If an episode or sequence isn't contributing, it's easier to trim it out. If the game is missing something, it's easier to add something in. It's versatile, and it's less of a headache on your producer.

This is your last chance before the future.

It's the Same Story.

2010-06-10T00:44:00.011-07:00

Every story has already been told. In fact, they've all been retold. Every plot has already been recycled. Game over for writers, right? The work's been done already; all we need is someone to turn in some dialogue spreadsheets.

Wake up. That's not a nightmare that has to come true. A story isn't a plot, nor is it the sum of it's characters, setting or dialogue. A narrative is as strong as it's storytelling.

Narrative and storytelling are two different concepts. Narrative embodies several concepts; composition, plot, characters, setting... the list goes on. Storytelling, to me, embodies one idea: how the audience is made to experience a story.

There was once a man, a pimp, named Lee Shelton. Stacker Lee, Stagolee, the original thug.

The story goes that Billy D'lyons and Stack we're having a friendly drink when their discussion turned towards politics. Ol' Stack took Billy's derby hat and broke the form. In turn, Billy took Stack's fine Stetson. Stack pulled his six gun, and Lyons pulled his knife.

"You cockeyed son of a bitch, I'm going to make you kill me."

Bang.

And so it goes, as a story ages, there will be retellings and embellishment. Today, there are several songs based on this story, played by the likes of Lloyd Price and The Clash, but two versions of the story stand out to me.

Pacific Gas and Electric, featured in Death Proof

Samuel L. Jackson, featured in Black Snake Moan (This song features inappropriate language)

Two versions of the same song that protray the character differently. One in third person and one in first. One that makes Stag out to be a villain (which he was), and one that makes him out to be mistreated. Both a telling of the same story.

Of course it isn't always the exact same story. Often times a plot is reused, substituting themes, characters or settings, but the end result is the same unless you change the storytelling. Storytelling is how your audience will come to care about any of these things. It's how you make them sympathetic to the heros, and how you make them loathe your villain.

J.J. Abrams did a wonderful talk for TED, where he examined ideas of mystery, but also that of storytelling. He proposed that the film is not about the Shark, but about Martin Brody (portrayed by Roy Scheider). But if someone ever summarizes the plot for you, they'll tell you about the Shark, and that's all you'll ever think the film (or the book) is about. But if you experience the film, you'll see how Spielberg handles the character, and how he struggles with his masculinity.

Storytelling isn't about serving the audience the plot. It's about defining the way that your audience experiences the story.

The Gospel is Second Person

2010-06-08T13:41:00.001-07:00

Character portrayal is all about perspective. I’m going to depart from the standard gaming definitions of first and third person and go with the literary definitions. Most console games—rpgs, first person shooters and free-roaming games—are told from a first person perspective; the player is living the story directly through the avatar. Real time strategy games are third person; that is, the player directs the gameplay, but the story is about the heroic (or less than heroic) leader.

I find that many games focus on first person storytelling because they treat the game as a power fantasy. “You’re so important! You’re gonna save us!” The player is treated like some kind of messiah. Why?

Who wrote the Gospels? Mathew, Mark, Luke and John. It wasn’t Jesus. Jesus didn’t chronicle his own story; we didn’t see it through his eyes. We saw it through the eyes of his disciples and companions. Where’s that game? I’ve had a glimpse; in Shin Megami Tensei Devil Survivor, I was convinced that Atsuro was the leader; the one with all the best ideas, and the one with the best solution. Then the game labeled me Messiah. I

Where’s the Batman game where we play Alfred?

Can'tcha Smell that Smell?

2010-06-02T12:21:00.001-07:00

Video Games; the new medium for visual storytelling; a new chance to repeat mistakes.

Consider, my friend, that human beings are blessed with five senses: Sight, Hearing, Touch, Smell and Taste.

Reading presents none of these, and relies on clever use of the imagination to portray any. Comics rely on sight to illustrate any of the remaining four. Radio relies on sound alone. Film allows for vision and hearing, relieving some of the burden on our imaginations (which may or may not be a good thing, depending on how you rely on these tools)

Video Games offer sight and hearing just like cinema, but able designers can portray a sense of touch. Half-Life 2 lets the player pick up nearly everything that isn’t bolted down. With the Gravity Gun, you can take objects and punt them at nearly anything. If it’s sharp, it’ll slice. If it’s wood, it’ll shatter. Glass will fracture and metal has a delightful K’Thunk. Valve gave the player a wonderful sense of touch.

So we have sight, sound and touch all but mastered; tools at our fingertips. What about smell and taste? Are these too abstract concepts to illustrate? Not for Star Wars.

In A New Hope, after freeing the princess from Bows—the detention cell, Luke, Han, Leia and Chewie all dive into the garbage chute.

Get in there, you big furry oaf! I don't care what you smell…Garbage chute. Really wonderful idea. What an incredible smell you've discovered! Let's get out of here!

Yes, it’s dialogue, but there’s enough here to defend it. Chewbacca hates the smell, and is trying to get away from it. Han just wants to get away from the blaster fire, then regrets that decision and decides he wants to get away from the smell. Not to say that they took it far enough. When they finally get out, everyone is wet. No oil stains on their clothes, no one muddied up, cut or scrapped. All we get is Leia insulting Chewbacca, calling him a carpet when she could scrunch her nose and complain about wet fur.

But the storytelling gets better. In Empire, we have Taun Tauns, which look like a combination of camels, goats and kangaroos. If you’ve ever been to a stable you’ll immediately realize the implicit odor this strange creature must attract. After Han finds Luke, he cuts one open with slightly graphic results. “And I thought they smelled bad on the outside.”

Bam! We as a viewer have a reference to how the animal might smell; we have a gross visual, and then a gagged reaction to the odor. The comparison gives it more weight. Saying something smells funny isn’t specific. Comparing it favorably or critically to something else.

Taste is a different animal altogether. All the other senses take stock of the environment. Taste is localized, and someone telling you what something tastes like is different than two people experiencing the same smell. Again, this is where comparisons work well. This time, we’ll discuss beer.

Beer comes in different varieties from ale to lager. How dark a beer is will tell you a bit of what it will taste like. For instance, Blue Moon has a nice amber color. If I see the bar tender pour a glass of Hercules, I can make a few assumptions. When I actually bring it to my lips, it tastes a bit like a Sam Adam’s Imperial White. The visuals played on my assumptions to my benefit and the subversion of my expectations.

Of course, this plays to the adage I’ve heard from everyone I’ve ever cooked with: people taste with their eyes first.

Why Am I So Long?

2010-05-30T22:43:00.001-07:00

I am not the typical handheld gamer. I’m not an ADD child at a fancy restaurant, or an everyday Metro rider, or a bored teenager eating spare time in a stairwell. I like to relax in my home with a DS for hours upon hours. I can actually find a couple consecutive hours a week to dive into a handheld game. I’m an outlier; not the target demographic.

So I wonder: whom are these 40-hour epics designed for? I know exactly who Pokémon is for the obsessive-compulsive; I know that if Square-Enix is remaking a game, then it’s going to come out more-or-less intact, but handheld games are supposedly made for people who want a short burst of play. If they can’t get the same amount of fun out of five half-hour play periods that I can get out of two and a half hours, there’s a problem.

So when I finish playing a 40-hour game and I’m told that I don’t get closure until I replay events again... no thanks.

Public Privacy

2010-05-29T13:34:00.000-07:00

When I pick up my Xbox controller I’m getting ready to dominate my environment. It doesn’t matter that I’m the only one in the room; when I start playing, whoever is in the household can’t watch TV. If I’m playing a game that my brother has played and he sits down, suddenly I’m not the one playing; I’m experiencing our contrasting memories of the last playthrough. Console games are really advanced, but they aren’t private experiences… they aren’t personal, because whether or not the game is trying to engage you one-on-one, you as a gamer are on display in front of others. That’s not a good or a bad thing.

To me, though, a haldheld game for the DS is a more intimate experience. I can play in the same room as someone watching TV without inconveniencing them, but I can also play wherever I like; in a bar, on the couch, at work or in bed. I don’t have to schedule my playtime around other people and I don’t have to feel like I’m being inconsiderate.

Beyond that, the fact that the screen is feet away from my face makes playtime that much more intimate. I have one-on-one engagement and I have an opportunity to really connect with the design. While I don’t want to limit myself before I get a job, I definitely feel passionate about handheld games.

Why Port a 6-Year-Old Game?

2010-05-29T01:18:00.000-07:00

Steam--Valves successful digital game distribution network--was released for OSX this month (specifically May 12). Some of the great games released at the time included Portal, Civilization IV, Sam and Max Season 2, and Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis. Suddenly, Mac Gamer seemed much less like an oxy-moron. This week, Valve posted Half-Life 2 and it’s episodes to Mac. When I was reading some of the comments to articles announcing this, I read things like “Welcome mac gamers to 2004.”

There are reasons beyond cash to port older games to a new platform. Realize that Steam is reaching a brand new audience. While many members of the Cult of Mac have played console games, I doubt that a majority of them have played a lot of PC games. The mac gamer isn’t just a new market, it’s a new culture; a culture that may not have a very high gaming literacy. So when Valve ports Half-Life 2 to Mac, they aren’t just increasing their profit margin, they’re missionaries for PC gaming, educating a new culture and helping them identify excellent games.

The Fallacy of Choice

2010-05-08T21:40:00.002-07:00

I’ve looked for ways that a story might be better delivered, and in the process, I’ve been looking at ways that a story might be overly cluttered. First off, I think that player experience is most important, and something to never sacrifice. But there are certain things that interrupt that experience. When it comes to gaming narrative, the most important thing is the feeling of contribution; the feeling that their presence in that universe affects how things play out. Whether it’s through skill or moral choice, they have to feel involved.

Even incorporating their mistakes can make a powerful impact on a player. For instance, in Michel Ansel’s Beyond Good and Evil, there is a point in the Nutripills factory, shortly after you repair the elevator, where you run into a sealed door. You stumble into a nearby air vent to clamber into, though you have to leave your partner (Uncle Pey’j) behind. You soon find that there isn’t much here, snap an innocent photo or three, and return through the air duct. If you are like me, you looked about a bit in that area and ended up using the gyro-launcher, which set off the alarms. Once that happened, you instinctually head for the duct. As you do that, Jade (your character), calls out; “Pey’J? Pey’J!” in worry. You see a cutscene of Jade running down the duct as fast as she can, at which point she sees the door from earlier seal behind Pey’J and his captors. To me, that moment was filled with regret for leaving my partner behind. That simply can’t be done in any other medium. You had already been separated for short periods of time before, so you had no reason to suspect that would happen. You went ahead and abandoned him in the name of progress. While you had no choice, there’s still a tinge of guilt.

I’ve seen this technique used elsewhere, though not as eloquently. At the end of Prince of Persia (2008), you have just defeated Ahriman after Elika (your partner) gives her life to seal him away. Once this is done, the credits roll as you walk out of the temple and lay her on the alter at the entrance. As soon as that happens, the screen pan over four trees similar to the one Ahriman was just sealed in. After having, supposedly*, falling in love with her, the Prince can cut down each tree, and in exchange, Ahriman returns her to life. While this did not feel genuine to the story that had been told to that point, the way it was delivered was a stark contrast to the dialogue-heavy delivery throughout the game. It was poignant, elegant, and stuck with me.

Other games often present the idea of choice, but consequences are usually absolved by reloading if you don’t like the result. If not that, then often choice is given a moral flavor that doesn’t really affect the story. I’m interested in the exploration of non-linear story telling, but I don’t think we’ve experienced it yet. “Linear” doesn’t have to be a dirty word. It can accomplish something more than itself.

Portrait of Cast Mechanics

2010-04-21T01:18:00.002-07:00

Castlevania: Portrait of Ruin is a wonderful example of taking an existing mechanic and repurposing it for a cast of characters. By adding a second character, the designers went in a different direction with the series. Jonathan and Charlotte depend on each other’s individual talents and willingness to collaborate to reach their mutual goal. Faced with two threats instead of one, the Castles inhabitants join forces to murder them.

Almost from the very beginning you are able to switch between the two characters at will. Previous Castlevania games allowed the player to switch through equipment set-ups by pressing X: this time the game has focused on specializing each type of Equipment slot. Jonathan focuses on physical weapons and attacks while Charlotte is a dedicated spell caster.
The designers took the duo further, allowing both to be present in the field at the same time. The pair has to work together to push moveable obstacles that are too heavy for a single person to oppose, stand on each others shoulders to reach higher platforms, etc. The two are mechanically integrated into the game.

This could have just stayed a mechanic, but it seems the designers decided to roll with the theme. One of the bosses is a Cleopatra inspired temptress. Charlotte’s attacks deal negligible damage, leaving Jonathan as the obvious strategic decision. However, this boss uses an ability called “Temptation” to steal Jonathan away from the player, leaving Charlotte at the mercy of the boss and the hypnotized Jonathan. The trick to this boss is the switch the two characters when she calls out “Temptation.”

Continuing through the game, the players have to face off against Brauner’s vampiric daughters. The first time, you face only one and nearly defeat her. Before finishing her off, her sister intervenes. You later have to face the two sisters at once. To avoid the false ending, you need to have Charlotte use the spell sanctuary, which leaves her vulnerable. While her spell is charging, you must take control of Jonathan and try to distract the sister’s until Charlotte’s spell is unleashed and cleanses the two of vampiric power.

While Dual bosses are nothing new, the unique and varied bosses of the game were an interesting play on a repurposed mechanic. These aren’t the only examples of doubled bosses in the game. Others include a gigantic globe-like entity made of cadavers, two symbiotic toads fused into one, Death in search of his master Dracula, and a final boss too good to spoil [let’s just say it retcon’s Sora’s ability, Dominance].

Not bad for a mechanic that could have only been an aesthetic change.

“Our methods have not differed as much as you pretend”

2010-04-07T12:02:00.003-07:00

Two of my favorite films are Raiders of the Lost Ark and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. I could talk about the characters, the imagery, or the adventures, but today I’m interested in structure; the short vignette at their beginnings. What I really take away from these short episodes before the main storyline is how beautifully they establish the themes and the story beforehand. Instead of getting the audience to the story, you’re establishing relationships and foreshadowing themes.

“Dr. Jones. Again we see there is nothing you can possess which I cannot take away.” Here we have the first scene with Belloq and we already see that he’s in complete control of the situation. While Indy has done all the dirty work, Belloq has made sure that no matter who got the idol first, he’d have the last laugh [literally]. We also see him using a group with conflicting ideals to his own ends. As the vignette progresses, we get a preview of events to come; death traps, failsafes, the price of greed [the death of Alfred Molina] Chase Scenes and Narrow Escapes.

Isn’t that what a tutorial should be? A preview? I see a lot of games that preview elements of gameplay, but I absolutely adore a game that teases its story at the same time. It’s a natural part of the progression.

I think we’re so tied to the player as the character that we decide to tell an entire story sequentially. We start by getting the character to the action instead of starting with a separate action. This also kind of boxes the characters into the composition and leaves less room for continuity. Going back to Indiana Jones; the brilliance of the vignettes [even Temple of Doom] was that they were the conclusion of another adventure. This is what Dr. Jones does for a living. He goes to foreign countries and risks life and limb for his passion all the time. This is a huge amount of show vs. tell. If the film had started with him teaching his class, we would have deduced that he was an archeology professor, and wouldn’t have known what lengths he’d go to for his passion.

Let’s look at the very first level of Chronicles of Riddick: Escape from Butcher Bay. This entire sequence is a dream, but I still think that it’s a powerful example. His very first action is to kill his captor. Afterwards he uses his unique skills to escape the prison. This may be his dream, but this is also his plan. Riddick is the ultimate survivor, and we just got a look inside his head. We see how he treats those who mistreat him.

Now let’s look at a game that is directly inspired by Indiana Jones: Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time [again? Yes, again!]. This time we see a more sequential approach; we’re trying to get the Dagger of Time. His goal isn’t the dagger, though. He’s trying to please his father by using his own talents. What’s great about this is that he calls upon his unique acrobatic abilities before the main adventure, but he’s also in a different position. At this time, he’s the aggressor. He’s the one sacking the palace, and he’s using his abilities for theft. After the sacking of the Maja Raja’s vault, he’s no longer behaving as a thief, but as a survivor. We see the Prince’s abilities in a new context.

The Necessity of Narrative, or Apologetics for Storytellers

2010-03-25T17:07:00.001-07:00

Why do games, especially video games, have narrative? Couldn’t we be satisfied with an awesome mechanic and just let our players loose on a sandbox? Why do we need plot and dialogue or characters, even? Is it just part of our human need to project our own image onto another media? Pfft. You’re looking too deep. It’s only natural to have a game with a story. A Story is a natural extension of a games flow.

A good storyteller uses the same tools as a game designer: anticipation and release. Let me momentarily discuss my personal passion of blues guitar. There’s a version of Voodoo Child performed by Stevie Ray Vaughan. Every time he plays a song like that he can’t help but get into a rhythm and mood that forces improvisation. Each performance is a different composition, like I’ve discussed before. But each composition plays off the other. He’ll play the song, and his fans know the song is about to break into a major peak, but he keeps playing the same riff. And he plays and he plays until his audience can’t stand it. Finally, he’ll play the riff they’ve been waiting for, and it’s almost an orgasm. You know it’s coming, but the wait made it that much more incredible.

If you look at Csikszentmihalyi’s Flow theory and compare it to a flow line, you’ll see roughly the same thing. Csikszentmihalyi’s flow channel is on a graph with two axes: challenge and skill. If someone with a low skill level is given too great of challenge, the player becomes anxious. If someone with great skill is not being challenged, the activity gives way to boredom. Card, board, and sports games cannot regulate the amount of challenge a skilled or unskilled player is given, but a video game can.

Let me put forth, again, one of my all-time favorite games: Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time. This broaches the question skillfully. You have a few unlockable powers through the dagger, but all of your acrobatic abilities are available from the start. This game brilliantly separates avatar/character ability from Player skill. The Prince, who is an adept acrobat, can leap significant distances, run along walls and tip toe safely on ledges, but he doesn’t have to swing on ropes or balance himself on beams until closer to the middle of the game. Thus, instead of overloading the player with all these mechanics at the very beginning, the player can master one ability before he has to overcome the next. You aren’t increasing the difficulty: just increasing the variety of challenges.

“So if there’s flow, why is there need for plot? They’re practically interchangeable, right?” Yes, but if you have perfect flow in a game, there’s still a progression, and progression is a form of narrative. In my opinion, the moment that you give your game context, narrative begins to permeate. Whether you work with a writer or not, your players will perceive a story. If the story they perceive is of poor quality, it will reflect upon the game. A great mechanic needs a story worthy of it.

Reflecting GDC '10

2010-03-15T21:44:00.001-07:00

This was my first GDC and man it was a blast. It's always amazing being around people who care about games as much as I do. There are a couple things I hope to do differently next year:

1) Get an all access pass: The expo pass got me into some cool lectures and seminars, but I spent too much time on the expo floor. There was a lot of cool stuff going on, but I spent nearly two days there. I probably would have been better served going to all the educational stuff I could.

2) Go [or meet] with someone else: It's pretty easy for 1 person to take on 1 person, but try to get into a group is daunting, if not impossible. I'd love to talk to these people, but I just feel obnoxious, like I'm interrupting. I definitely need a wingman.

3) Go to parties: I went to one party: The IGDA social mixer at Jillian's [over at the Metreon]. This was nearly a waste of time. It was frickin' crowded and you couldn't get to the bar. Everyone was packed in like sardines and the music was too loud. This was probably the one party I shouldn't have gone to. Brian Crecente of Kotaku wrote an article on the party scene, which you can read here.

4) Have an online portfolio: I didn't go to GDC expecting to get a job this year, but I think I felt self-concious because I didn't have a lot of work I could present to future colleagues. While I feel I presented myself pretty well, I think that if I could say "Bam, here's what I can do," I believe I could have gotten a job on the spot. Jacob Minkoff had a brilliant talk on the subject and will post his power point in the coming days.

5) Bring a second bag: My shoes were perfect, but my shoulder bag was not. Perhaps this won't be a problem if I spend less time on the expo floor next year, but there was a ton of swag and it's really tough on the shoulders. The first day I had the bag they give you with your badge, but the second day I only took my computer bag. This was a bad idea. My strap lasted the day, but the next morning on my way to the Bart train it broke. Some booths on the floor gave away bags. Sony's was probably the best I got. So I don't necessarily need an extra bag, but I just need to use the damn thing.

6) Spend less money: I was lucky budget-wise this year. My parents gave me $300 to help me out with conference stuff this year [very generous on their part], and I stayed with my grandparents in order to avoid hotel and food, but I still have a $360 bill for the flight, paid for expensive food at the Moscone center, and bought nearly $150 in books; $180 if you include Jesse Schell's Deck of Lenses. I was smart enough to buy these books at the end of the day, but it's still a lot of strain on my wallet, esepcially if I want to get an all-access pass next year.

These are things I'm going to do to improve my experience next year. I might not be able to do all of them, but I think it's a good place to start. If you're planning on going to GDC next year, consider what I've listed, but definitely check out Brenda Brathwaite's GDC advice for students.

Casting Pearls

2010-03-15T09:36:00.001-07:00

Whether you’re a Naratologist or a Ludologist, you have to know that almost all main-stream console games are being sold as a story. You are Kratos, a pissed off bastard on an odyssey seeking revenge against the gods; you are Batman, and you’re stuck in here with a bunch of psychopaths that want to destroy everything you’ve accomplished in the name of your dead parents; you are Solid Snake, an aging clone of one of the greatest heros ever, and you’re trying to stop another crisis in a foreign country; You are Faith, a free running messenger trying to escape with her own life; You are Chel, a test subject trying to do the best she can so she can get some yummy cake.

But you’re only one person. Over and over again we see the same structure: you play one role in a game, and you are expected to play it well. The world is in danger and it’s up to you to save it. No one else can because you’re the only one who has been grinding this whole time. But you’re only one person.

I believe that a trend is ending soon; the single character story game. I’m not sure we’ll ever see the end of a leading man or woman, but I do think we are culturally moving to an age of a cast.

When I say cast, I’m not talking about a supporting cast as such. We’ve had strong examples of that not only recently, but even a generation ago. Thinking back nearly two months ago we had Mass Effect 2; before that we had Brütal Legend and Uncharted 2, we’ve had Farcry 2 [On which Iroquois Pliskin gave a fantastic talk during Art Game Sessions at GDC], Phoenix Wright: Trials and Tribulations, Knights of the Old Republic 2, Beyond Good and Evil, Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time [2003 was a great year for me even if I didn’t play these games when they came out], Planescape Torment… There are plenty of games with great casts of characters.

But now we have Left 4 Dead and Heavy Rain. Who’s the lead? You play all of these characters. I’m sure that if you play the Heavy Rain you’ll come away thinking that Ethan is the lead, which is fine. But the story doesn’t occur unless you experience everyone. Left 4 Dead colors your experience on the necessity of your friends, and unlike other co-op games, no one plays Master Chief or Marcus Phoenix or anyone else who’s on the center of the cover; everyone is equal. You could say that this rightly follows an era of MMO’s, and I couldn’t argue against you, but I think that there’s going to be a growing trend of writers and designers who want to experiment with the relationship between a player and their avatar(s). It’s an exciting time to be a writer. The only question is whether you can to stick with one horse or get on the 4-horse stagecoach.

Thanks to Michael Ahearn of Neversleep for being a sounding board for these ideas.

GDC Thursday

2010-03-11T23:56:00.001-08:00

I really couldn't ask for a better start. I got to meet some of my heros [Chris Avellone and Gabe Newell], and also ran into some unexpected faces from AHoG [Sarah Brin, Chris DeLeon and Henry LoWood]. So far I've gotten 14 cards, one of which came with an offer to collaborate on a cinematic demo reel for Sachin Gangupantula. I'm not completely clear on what he wants from me, but I'm definitely interested.

From the discussions I've had today, I feel that not many people are looking for Writers. Even Obsidian Entertainment, a studio that I think of as narative driven, has only two on staff writers [Chris Avellone wants me to work my way in laterally].

So what I've taken away today is a need to work on my story boarding. I'm going to look online and see if there are any tools for branching storyboards that resemble something by Scott McCloud. If I can't find something, I'll see if I can monkey around in Flash and make a tool for myself.

Quest for Answers

2010-03-07T20:19:00.001-08:00

I'm excited to head out to GDC tomorrow. That said, I'm a little nervous. I've got business cards to trash, complete with contact info and unofficial titles like "Story Teller" and "Graphic Artist." I know the seminars and such I'm going to attend. I just need to refine some questions.

Should I, as a writer, get an agent? Should I apply to the IGDA before entering the industry? I've got interest and academic knowledge in Economics; how should I present that on a resume if I have no college degree. Should I move to L.A. or to San Francisco to get my start? If I apply to a studio as a Writer, should I present storyboards, scripts, or both? What should come first; game genre, or narrative themes? Should I hide my identity as a conservative/libertarian in the game industry? When applying as a writer, or even as low as a tester, what size salary should I ask for? If I'm a writer, should I apply full time to one studio, or should I try to write for multiple studios? Should I even start out applying as a tester, or should I focus on applying as a writer?

I'm guessing that the best people to ask this kind of thing will be people like Tim Schaefer, Chris Avellone, Jordan Mechner [if he's even going], or anyone from Bioware. I'd definitely like to see what Brenda Brathwaite would say. hopefully I can track down some of these people.

GDC Schedule

2010-03-06T13:11:00.000-08:00

I'm really interested in meeting mentors, and I'm not expecting anyone to seek me out, but if you're interested, here's my schedule [short as can be].

Art Game Sessions Friday 3:00-4:00

This looks almost like a sequel to the Art History of Games, but I'm still interested to see if there's new ideas presented.

Game Career Seminar

Tips for Networking with the Pros Saturday 9:00-9:50

A Contrarian Explains the Basics: How to Become a Game Developer Saturday 10:00-10:50

Getting Noticed: Why You Need an Online Portfolio and How to Make One Saturday 1:30-2:30

Rising to the Top: How to Land a Triple-A Job Saturday 3:00-4:00

Made from Scratch

2010-03-05T08:20:00.005-08:00

[Edit April 15] Made from Scratch is now viewable on the Writen Work Page
In preparation for GDC I'm going to post some samples of my writing. Feel free to critique.

Made from Scratch

She was striding down the sidewalk past recently lit neon signs that were barely visible against the sunset. She only got off her shift a scant few minutes prior, and if she didn’t keep this pace, she’d have another fifteen minutes to sulk as she waited for the next bus. She was tired of customers ordering a grilled chicken club, then changing their mind to the meatloaf sandwich after their food had just come off the line, and having to tell an already frustrated cook to change an order only to have him whine about getting another order wrong the previous day. As her work shoes dug into the cement, her mind turned towards the overpowered shower she would step into to wash away both the days miseries and the low trans-fat grease that saturated her hair.

She slowed as she watched the bus speed past the light. Anther fifteen minutes covered in her stiffened, frilly dinner outfit that always smelled like old fries. She reached into her purse past her keys, wallet, a tampon, and pulled out her cheap lighter, then fished out an empty cigarette pack. She had forgotten that she had given the cook her last one to make up for a customer’s indecision.

Opposite of the bus stop was a gas station, so she hurriedly crossed, seeing no sense in waiting to smoke at home. She gently pushed the door past the chime and stood behind the counter while the cashier grabbed the brand she pointed to.

Once outside, she tore the package open and pulled a butt out with her lips. She dug around for her lighter again, and soon she felt a cloud in her lungs. She didn’t see the car before it dug into her calves.

She woke up with her cheek resting on an uneven floorboard. She stood up and blew chunks. As she became aware of her surroundings, she heard behind her the sound of a guitar being tuned. She turned her head to look as a black man in sunglasses clipped the curled wires on the guitar head, and strummed an E7. Through the smoke, she saw him peer over the top edge of the glasses. He looked her directly in the eyes, then motioned her to sit at a table near his stage.

“Scratch’ll be here soon, chil’.”

She sat by the stage, and thought to look around as the guitarist started strumming leisurely. She took in the most of the brands displayed behind the bar before she even realized she was clean and in a fine red satin dress. She realized the burn she had been expecting at the back of her throat was missing. That’s when the wall caught on fire.

Glowing lines traced the shape of a cage door, and out stepped a sharp dressed man in a white dress coat with a purple tie. His blonde hair was slicked back, and his sideburns neatly trimmed just like his pencil thin mustache. It would have been impossible to see his facial hair through the smoke if it weren’t for his porcelain skin. As he drew nearer, she noticed how closely his complexion matched hers; the only difference being his was eerily grayer. She dismissed that as being an effect of the haze around them.

The man sat in the seat opposite her. “Good evening,” he said to the bluesman. “Sorry I’m a bit late.” The Bluesman smiled in the mans direction, and continued to play the same leisurely beat.

The man in white turned his attention to her. “I do apologize. I don’t like to keep a beautiful woman waiting.” She trembled as she smiled. She didn’t know where she was, how she got there, or who these people were. She laid her hands on the table, tried not to fidget, and tried to decide what importance each question was.

“This is Limbo, isn’t it? This is the place in between.”

The man set aside a book of matches and a pack of French cigarettes before her. “What makes you think that?”

“This place is too comfortable for familiarity,” She said. “A dive like this I’d expect a couple old foggy men sitting in the corner nursing bourbon and listening to your friend by the curtain. We’re the only one’s here, and you’re overdressed for the locale.

“Who might you be?” She held her trembling hand down as she leaned in flirtatiously.

The man gave pause, then began. “I’m the victim of the first ambition.” He watched her fingers tremble. “Yeah, let’s go with that. I’m the guy who got tired of getting piss on his wings. And I’m tired of seeing others going through hell for God’s mistakes.”

“This can’t be hell. You’re here. You’ve got to be the Devil.”

He nodded. “Can you believe it? The factual, true-blue Devil. And you’re sitting across from me.”

She pulled a cigarette from the pack The man struck a wooden match, and offered it to the tip of the tobacco. He pulled the match away and the tip went from orange to black and a tail of smoke joined the rest of the haze. He smiled at the ashtray.

“You’re right. This isn’t hell. You can’t end up there until you’ve received judgment. Let’s just say that I’m here to offer you the option of ‘bail.’”

She looked at him blankly, and pulled the butt from her lips. “What do you mean? There’s a god, and I was going to hell? Why are you telling me this?” The bluesman stopped playing, and left the stage, looking a little sheepish; like he was avoiding an awkward event about to happen. No such event took place.

The man looked down at the table, then straight into her eyes. “I do not lie unless I have something to gain from it. It’s the same with the truth. I need your trust, so I’m beginning with the truth.”

“Why do I need to trust you?” She said, driving the butt into the ashtray.

“Because like it or not you’ve just died. You are going to hell. I’m here to offer you a stay of execution, if I may. It’s mutually beneficial.” He leaned in closer, then brought his fingers together as if he was framing a shot. As he pulled his hands apart, smoke trailed from his fingers to reveal a piece of parchment; a document. He laid it out in front of her, and placed a quill with red ink beside it.

Her eyes scanned the first couple of lines. She looked up at the man. “What do I call you?”

“Well, I do like ‘Scratch.’”

“Then I will call you Scratch.” She signed.

“Congratulations! I think you’ll enjoy becoming the next Antichrist.”

***

“Nnnghu…”

“’Phist? Come down to Old Souls. You’ve got a new pupil.” Kik..bruu..bruu...

“Lou…?”

Mephistocles dug his knee into the mattress as he lifted himself up. He stumbled into the shower and stood there until he was ready to get out. Afterwards, he pulled a razor over the sandpaper on his neck, leaving the scruff at the jaw to survive the day. He uncommitedly toweled his hair, leaving it damp. He did the same for his body.

He dressed himself in plain clothes, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, then pulled a triangular poncho on, letting the point hang between his thighs and below his crotch; he then put suspenders on over the poncho. Pink light started streaming through his blinds as he walked out his apartment door, boots and cap in hand.

Once he reached the steps, he pulled his boots over his naked feet. The breeze spun his damp locks into hooks as he pulled his cabbie hat over them. He walked north for half an hour. A black cat decided to follow him a block short of his destination.

As the old, unlit neon sign came into view across the street, he slowed his pace, letting himself wander leisurely towards the abandoned tavern. He reached for the worn handle on door only for it to draw away as someone pulled it from the inside.

“I’m sorry; red just isn’t my color.”

Out peeked a gorgeous porcelain skinned woman in a blue dress. Not Prussian, pastel or powder blue. Blue that can only come from a fresh tube of paint. A cream colored sash dressed her waist, accenting her silhouette. For a moment Mephistocles was left breathless.

“Oh, hello,” the woman said. “ Are you here for me?”

An impatient voice beckoned from within the tavern. “Is that Mephistocles? Tell him to come in.”

Mephistocles walked in, grabbed a bottle and a shot glass from behind the bar, and sat across from the man in the white suit.

“Mornin’ Scratch. How’re ya?” Mephistocles speech was often slurred early in the morning. As the day proceeded, it would become precise and almost elegant. Almost.

“I’m actually on my way out, right now,” said the man. “If you hadn’t taken you’re time, I would’ve been able to tell you more about your pupil.” He stood up.

“Head to the back room. Mr. Elder is practicing back there, but I’m sure he’ll be willing to explain your new position.”

Scratch walked toward the vestibule, where the woman was still standing. “You listen to him, and he’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

Mephistocles glanced at the woman, hidden in a shadow behind the light streaming through a broken window, and turned towards the stage through the faded curtains.

“Louie? You back here?” He heard light strumming coming from the side

“Good morning, my friend,” responded the smooth, dark voice behind the curtain. “You took you’re time getting down here.” Louie had never said a word he didn’t enjoy. Mephistocles envied his almost hedonistic speech.

“Did you see her, ‘Phist?” Lou nodded towards the opening in the curtain, through which she was still visible. “Lawyer Man was kind of impressed by her reaction this evening.”

“Really? Is she that special?”

“I think so. You haven’t spoken to her, yet?”

Mephistocles shook his head. “Not yet. I couldn’t get the words out. She chose possibly the most beautiful form I’ve ever seen.”

“She hasn’t chosen a form. That’s what she looked like.”

Mephistocles glared through the dark glasses just to see if Louie was pulling his leg. “Don’ give me that! It’s too early for me to joke around.”

“You think I’m joking? No, sir. That woman was born ready to look like that. We offered her the chance to change anything, and all she wanted was skin that hadn’t been abused by kitchen grease.”

“Astoundin’,” He took a chug from the bottle, only to discover he had grabbed scotch instead of bourbon. Not at all an unwelcome mistake.

“So who was she? What do we know about her.”

Lou put his guitar aside. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. She led one of the most boring lives imaginable, and now she’s has eternity to look forward to. Would you care about a past life like that?”

“You’re acting like she has important work to do.”

Lou’s voice grew less patient. “Lawyer man treats all of our work as important. Especially this… He didn’t tell you what she had in mind for her?”

“No. He had to leave. I think I took too long getting here.”

“Heh. No wonder you’re so confused. She’s gonna be ‘portant. She’s just penned a contract to become our dark messiah.”

“…Antichrist? Her? And he wants me to train her?”

“Of course he doesn’t want you training her. I do.”

Mephistocles turned and peered through the curtain and whispered. “Best. Job. Ever!”

Louie packed up his guitar. “I’d like to meet with her a little time after her lesson this morning. You taking her to that antique shop?”

“Yeah, the little geezer has an appointment this morning.”

“Good. You can go home and shave while I visit with her”

The two men stepped out from behind the curtain.

“Lou, what do I call her?”

“We had a short discussion about that. She chose Mercy.”

“That’s a bit odd. Naming herself after a virtue.”

“There was a bit of concern, but it was a little more interesting than that.” Lou took a breath. “Mercy be the reaper.”

Questions of Composition

2010-03-05T00:10:00.002-08:00

When you play a game, is it one whole experience? Whether it's 5 hours or 25 hours, there's going to be a time when you put the controller down and sleep. When you pick it back up, is this a separate experience? It's all part of the same game, right?

What if you're playing Starcraft online. Each match, even if it involves the same players, can be considered a new composition. Several matches strung together breed rivalry, experience and flow. These can also be considered on composition.

But what if it's a single-player campaign, like in Prince of Persia? Where does the composition begin? On the start screen? With the trailer preceding said screen? When the player opens the box? If he replays it, is that a brand new composition? If two people play the same game the same way, is that the same composition?

If you have to ask that question, try to apply that question to a DnD Campaign and it'll become obvious. Everyone is playing by the same rules, but each session is separate from the last. Ask a theatrical player about a show and they'll tell you how in rehearsal they played the role one way and on stage another. Hell, ask a speed runner about a game and they'll tell you how many playthroughs it took to get their lowest time. Ask me about Prince of Persia and I'll tell you that it took my fifth play through to discover how subtle the game is.

I think there are different kinds of compositions that need to be explored. There's the designers composition; what they hope the player gets out of the game. There's the player's composition; what the player gets out of the experience. There's also another composition that comes from people playing together which can never be repeated, which is even harder to grasp.

This is all too big for me to grasp by myself, but I needed out of my head and in type.

Pack Your Bags

2010-02-08T11:39:00.001-08:00

I’ve been reflecting on everything I learned at the Art History of Games. One thing that’s really stuck with me is something Frank Lantz said during his post-lecture panel about how we review games. He said that, considering the great percentage of people who never finish a game, that perhaps critics should treat games less like a film or book and more like a destination. Perhaps like a traveler.

This is a very new concept to me. While I like to think of a game as a composition, there are some games that that feels completely accurate. Michael Abbot wrote an article for Game Set Watch discussing the faithfully recreated city of Florence in Assassin's Creed II. I don’t think there could be a better article to kick start the discussion.

I walked around the Basilica, mouth agape, amazed by the fidelity. I climbed several surrounding buildings for a better view. I handed my wife the controller so she could have a look. We both smiled in amazement.

And there my love affair with AC2's virtual Florence ended. I returned to playing the game, and the city receded into its role as a backdrop. To be sure, it's a beautiful, astonishingly faithful (and climbable) backdrop...but as game environments go, it's hardly more than that…

Assassin's Creed II seems to want to deliver an open-world experience to the player, but for the most part that world is look, but don't touch. The game offers two awkwardly implemented city tours (the first carrying a box through Florence for Leonardo Da Vinci; the second a walking tour of Venice courtesy of Alvise da Vilandino), but these introductions serve little meaningful purpose since the only real rewards for exploring are locating hidden chests, feathers, glyphs, and other collection-oriented gameplay add-ons. Despite their extraordinary visual presentation, these great Italian cities usually function as little more than labyrinths for acrobatic chase sequences.  

I don't think that if we are going to take Lantz's approach that we need to judge only the setting, but how we can interact with it. We have to make the setting mean something to the player. After all, it's not just the destination that matters; it's the inhabitants... or lack thereof.
Many of the games I enjoy are single setting... Castlevania, Prince of Persia, Metal Gear Solid or Shadow of the Colossus to name a few. There's something beautiful about how they take a space that could be limiting and add diversity to it. Prince of Persia's Azad could have just been a palace, but there are courtyards, libraries, an observatory, haram's, bath's and dungeons. It's a linear game that lets the setting define the pace and how the narrative unfolds. Each location within the palace contrasts another. You quickly go from a spacious cavern to hidden passages, and new environmental obstacles are introduced throughout.
The space that a game occurs defines the experience, and I think that whether or not the game a game has characters that the player is going to come away with how that world defined his actions. This is definitely warrants further contemplation.

Links
Brainy Gamer
Game Design Advance
Game Set Watch

Collected and Archived for Your Consideration [pt. 1]

2010-02-07T14:25:00.002-08:00

[Edit: April 12, 2010] This post is made semi obsolete by my reference page.

Over the past couple of years as I've been following different academic blogs I've started to bookmark anything that left me inspired or I just thought was interesting. A few of these are just out of quirky interest like the artistic machines of Arthur Ganson, but most of them have been to articles on game design, designers, criticism or storytelling. I hope you enjoy these.

The Sands of Time: Crafting a Video Game Story by Jordan Mechner
"In film, story is king. Stunning cinematography and amazing action set pieces may help sell the movie - but if they're not working in the service of the story, the film will fall flat with viewers. Not so in video games. The gameplay isn't there to serve the story; it's the other way around. The purpose of the story is to support and enhance the gameplay."

Don't Show Don't Tell by Corvus Elrod
"It is, I admit, far easier to provide exposition in a linear media. But even when you’ve got skilled writers handling your gameplay breaks and they are careful to script everything with, “show, don’t tell,” in mind, I think most video games are still breaking the spirit of the rule."

Put Away your Popcorn by Michael Abbot

“And it's here that the game-as-interactive-movie train runs off the tracks. The notion that games can deliver emotional content merely by adding an interactive layer to an otherwise cinematic presentation is misguided. It presumes that we experience games like we experience movies, and it assumes we can enrich that experience by leveraging the interactivity of video games to make movies we can control.”

The Role of Interpretation in Prince of Persia by Finn Haverkamp

“Each interpretation of the ending will cause players to either be satisfied or dissatisfied with the game and/or story. This is all that matters. Not that players are correct in their interpretation. Not even that they particularly like how the story ended. Only satisfaction and enjoyment or dissatisfaction and anger according to their subjective view of the game's ending.”

Mass Effect: Massive Interface Fail by Krystain Majewski

“One can argue a lot about the various shortcomings of the game and whether or not they bear a significance to judge the game. But one particular area leans itself pretty well to a thorough analysis as it provides some tangible evidence to root the debate on actual facts. Almost EVERY screen in Mass Effect contains at least one major interface design flaw.”

In Defense of the Classic Controller by Leigh Alexander

“The controller is a cultural object that has for decades defined a pastime – there are those who know how to use it and those who don't, and being one of the skilled has always been a way for gamers to self-identify. Who would we be without it?”

The Girl Who Wanted to be God by Kiero Gillen
“[Shodan is] more than just a gender-switched HAL, and it’s a disservice to treat her as such. She’s, essentially, a pulp villainess. Pulp is pop fiction – the fiction which engages most immediately, most /viscerally/ with the problems of the age.”

That's the first batch. More on the way.

Welcome to Gilgal!

2010-02-07T13:36:00.000-08:00

Welcome to the new blog: Games in Literature; Game as Literature. I'm jumping off the recent Art History of Games Symposium hosted by Ian Bogost, John Sharp and Michael Nitsche. This was my first conference of this nature, and I left more inspired than ever.

So to get started, what are the goals of this blog? Well, I'm currently working towards a career as a game writer and designer, and I like to focus on narrative and progression in games. When I say progression, I'm not just talking about progression of the media, but actual progress in a game, or the flow. This to me, whether or not the game has a backstory or written dialogue, is narrative that needs to be explored and digested. There's nothing more important to me than discovering new modes of expression within games.