And with that, goodnight.

I was recently up at a friend's place for his birthday, and we got to playing some four-player Halo 3. In my opinion, Halo is a great multiplayer game. Even crowded around a small TV with about an enveloped-size window to squint at it was great fun. But one of the great things about Halo 3's multiplayer is its extensibility. Players are not simply tied down to two or three game modes; there are several to select from, and if none suit players can make their own games with custom rules.

Of course, nothing develops one's appreciation for the difficulty of creating balanced games more than attempting to create custom levels that end up ridiculously unbalanced. This is what happened to us that night. After a few rounds of Slayer we tired of getting masacred by the one among us who was actually decent at the game, and decided to create our own custom level. Suffice to say the result wasn't what we expected.

We decided to go for an all-out power level, hoping for quick, explosive fun. Shields were turned up, regeneration turned up and all weapons turned off except for grenades, rockets and the energy sword. The level wasn't unbalanced as such (we were all equally balanced in our excessive power), but rather was just not at all fun. The combination of higher shields and faster regen served to make the rockets and grenades completely useless. It was impossible to actually kill anyone. The inclusion of the energy sword turned out to be a lucky save, as the instant-kill assassination was the only possible way to get a kill. This simple example served to highlight how easy it is to throw the balance of a game out of whack.

It also reminded me of another custom level I played with some friends soon after Halo was released. This level was both balanced and fun, simple yet highly enjoyable. Teams consisted of two people. Players were invincible, weapons were once again rockets and grenades only, and ammo was infinite. So far this sounds like a rather pointless / boring level. However, total kills was not the aim of this level. Each team had a Mongoose (the 2-man quad bike), and each level had several check-points. The aim was to race to the newest checkpoint (which would change when someone reached it). The team that reached the checkpoint limit first won. Combine these elements together and it made an exceptionally fun level - fast-paced navigation of dubious terrain whilst being hounded by grenades and missiles...

Ah the joys of having free time...

More random musings

I've been thinking a lot over this semester about current implementations of game systems and the sort of systems I'd like to see implemented in games. Particularly I've talked a bit about dynamic and adaptive AI systems, and different skilling mechanics in RPG games. In talking about these systems I've focused a lot on the RPG genre, as this is one of my favourite genres of game.

Throughout the course of the semester I've been reading a series of books by author Robin Hobb called the Liveship Traders, and I've been thinking that these books could provide a foundation for quite an interesting MMO. The books are fantasy but have a very different focus to many other fantasy books that I've read. The story has very little in the way of magic and sorcery, or epic battles, or heroic quests. Instead, it focuses on the lives of Traders and Pirates (and talking liveships).

As I've previously mentioned in posts, I'm interested in examining how MMO games in particular could be created with a variety of alternative avenues for a player to follow to get satisfaction. These books have prompted a lot of these thoughts. The books create an enthralling environment and narrative without reverting back to the combat-based backbone of fantasy. Surely it would be possible to implement a similar model inside a game? I believe there is great potential to explore such options in an MMO framework due to the implicit social and widespread nature of the game. Most single player games are bound to a critical path, where a player must fill a certain role. In MMO games however, there can be many different paths, and different players can progress along different paths without it hindering the progression of the game itself.

I've been wondering how feasible it would be to implement different paths into a game, and whether the end product would be fun and playable. In most current MMOs that Iknow of, a player can choose a class, and each class has a different approach and play-style, but at the end of the day the main mechanic for player progression is combat. What about if other mechanics were introduced, such as becoming a Trader or a Merchant, or a Craftsman, or a Scholar? I can't say whether this would be fun, but I'm certain that it could be made to be fun. Just as there are people in life who enjoy and choose to follow such paths, so too would they appeal to players in-game. Furthermore, it could open up whole new avenues of exploration and progression in the games industry.

Betrayed

I love betrayals. They add such an element to games, a dimension of play that you just don't get by being nice to everyone all the time. But some betrayals are just priceless: comme ça

The reason I bring this up is 1) because that video is awesome and 2) I've been thinking about betrayal in terms of multiplayer games and how current game systems could be extended. It strikes me that there really aren't any games that leverage the fun and extensibility that could come from a properly developed betrayal framework. Multiplayer games long ago grasped the concept of team play. Many FPS and other styles of games have grasped the concept of betrayals as well, insofar as you can intentionally or otherwise betray a team member. However, this is in the form of A betrays B, B verbally abuses A, A loses 1 or 2 points and that's it.

What would be really intresting is a game system with a team dynamic that not only allowed betrayals, but provided a framework where betrayal could become just as valid a means of success as team-work. God knows it's used all the time in the real-world, why not in game.

The problem as I see it is that for the vast majority of online games, teams are fixed at game commencement and remain throughout the duration of the round. I know there exist quite a few RTS games that actually employ quite invloved systems of alliances (and betrayals as well) and I think this is great. What I would really like to see is this idea expand out of the strategy genre into other games, particularly MMORPGS and FPSs. Just because the game might not involve managing armies and an economy doesn't mean it has no strategy, and certainly doesn't mean that alliances should play no part.

"Is it time for another group meeting?" I ponder. You groan

Sometimes group work sucks. And it doesn't matter what subjects you've done on conflict management, or what $1000 / hour courses you've sat through learning about Myers-Briggs personality types - it sucks and that's all there is to it. Of course, that doesn't mean the experience isn't useful. The negative experiences often teach more than the positive. Even if the lesson is "I'm never working with x again!"

Interestingly, even my recent negative group experience was somewhat helpful to my creative process. Well it would've been if I was in the process of developing a new fighter game / FPS or other general 'murder simulator'. But I'm not. So in hindsight the experience was completely useless.

So moving on... The above experience hinted at was not in relation to my 016 group. In that, I've been lucky enough to be in a group with someone I seem to work well with. Or rather not work well with. Meaning we both don't work, and we do it well.

I spose this group has impacted somewhat on my creative process, but as mentioned in previous posts that process has been somewhat stunted recently. Of course, working in a group with someone you're friends with is a bonus - there's that extra element of honesty (even if it's only a flicker before the façade is put up) that lets you know when your idea is complete crap. Having this assessment come from a friend I find makes it seem less of a personal assault, and allows me to quickly move on from ideas that are destined to crash and burn.

Right Int'er Face!

Interface design is an area which is often given too little thought. So many programs are released with absolutely shocking interfaces, yet we still use them simply because we require the program and the task(s) it performs. With games, however, a good interface design is much more important. Games are all about player interaction, and the interface is the means for that interaction. So crap interface = no players = no money = no moving out of mum’s basement.

The key, according to Norman, is to minimise the size of the Gulf of Execution and the Gulf of Evaluation. However, there’s more to it than that. Within a game, the developer has to be able to allow the user to accurately interpret the goals, accurately interpret the appropriate actions to achieve the goals, and finally be able to carry out those actions in a natural and intuitive manner. It is this final element that can often be quite difficult.

In the case of a console game, all player interaction needs to be confined to the limitations of whatever control system is employed, generally a game controller with a handful of buttons and joysticks. Without thinking too deeply about it, Gears of War jumps to mind as being a game which makes brilliant use of the limited controller ‘real-estate’ available. The interface for GoW is very intuitive, and was easy to pick up through the duration of the short tutorial. It allowed for the very efficient and fast-paced control style needed to match the pace of the game. Furthermore, the visual interface was just as intuitive and uncluttered as the control system, allowing a player to very quickly gain all relevant information to the goals at hand. Other than learning the basic controls (like which button I should avoid pressing if I don’t want to blow up a team-mate), I don’t remember finding a single element of the UI difficult to interpret or follow.

This simple yet intuitive display should be the aim of every game, in my opinion. However, creation of such a simple interface becomes significantly more difficult when the complexity of the game moves beyond simply blowing up underground mutant creatures.

Puberty Blues

I believe Sutton-Smith forgot a primary social role that is present in almost all multiplayer games that I can think of.

• Role: To whinge, bitch, gripe, moan, complain and generally annoy
  
• Motive of Play: Puberty, or lack of skill
  
• Role of Counteractor: To make fun of, insult, patronise and generally abuse

I believe that this role is present in any form of social play, whether video-game, board game, sport or other outdoor activity. Although this role is not always present at the commencement of play, or throughout early stages, it is almost guaranteed to be adopted at some stage if play is able to continue long enough.

Early schoolyard games such as tiggy (tag) or Piggy in the Middle are classic examples: there’s always one kid that raises all hell when it’s his/her turn to be ‘it’, or in the middle. So maybe puberty can’t be blamed here (although lack of skill often can be), but puberty comes into it’s own as we move through school years.

The best example I can think of is handball. At least at my school, handball was (and I believe still is) the lifeblood of year 8. There are the kids who play every morning tea and lunch time, the ones that run out of class to get the courts first and then only allow their top 6 ranked friends to play with them (these rankings change daily). Whilst winning, all is fine but the moment you get them out and try to get them to move, they’ll behave as if you tried to steal their first-born. Indeed, I believe the majority of fights in high school could be avoided by installing slow-motion replay cameras (such as they have at the tennis) for all handball courts.

This same trend can be seen in so many online video games, and generally follows someone getting a headshot on pubescent little Billy (CounterStrike anyone?). Other games don’t even require a certain event to trigger this role. Take for example either the Trade channel or Barrens chat in World of Warcraft. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, I truly envy you.

Getting Emotional

I’ve been thinking a bit recently about emotions that a game can evoke in a player, and what sort of games typically evoke emotions in me (and what sort of emotion). To be honest, I can’t remember too many games having that great an affect on me emotionally. Of course, that’s only true if I’m talking about a) long term emotion or b) emotion other than frustration / anger / short term adrenaline-related emotions. If I consider these latter emotions, plenty of games fit the profile: Mario Kart, Donkey Kong (the original)… actually essentially any game gets *some* sort of emotional response, which is why I’m not considering that sort of response, and am instead looking at the deeper side of things – games that evoke / provoke strong emotional responses such as affectionate attachment to characters, sadness (or happiness), or anger (the kind you get when reading a really well written villain who is undermining the extremely lovable hero).

Well, with those criteria, I have to say my list came up blank. I could *consider* Final Fantasy VII, but I don’t think I’m kidding myself when I say that even that game, enthralling as the story was, didn’t draw me in and create an emotional attachment beyond the scope of the game. I think the interactivity created by the game actually serves for me to create a level of detachment from the story that wouldn’t be present if I was reading a book. Or perhaps a book just contains the extra detail needed to really hook me in.

I compare games to books because I frequently develop emotional attachments to characters in books. Almost every novel I read evokes an emotional response from me; if it doesn’t, I rarely finish it. I’ve played some games that have some pretty involved storylines, but I’ve never found a game that can replicate the feeling of attachment that a book can evoke.

An interesting concept was raised in our lecture on designing for effect: the idea of artificial player emotion. Essentially it was stated that “emotion in games is artificial because as a designer, you are deliberately aiming to provoke a specific emotion or set of emotions in your player”. I think in that sentence lies the answer to why games fail to evoke the same emotions in me that a good book would. Emotional response is not something that should specifically be targeted and designed for. It’s something that should emerge naturally from good design. A good author doesn’t (or in my opinion shouldn’t) set out to write a chapter with the aim “this chapter will be sad and will make the reader cry”. Rather, the author should set out with the aim “in this chapter I’m going to tell the story of Sally’s death”. If the story is well written, and the event is sad, the emotion will be evoked in the reader. By specifically targeting the emotion however, I believe something is lost in the purity of the event, and it often places a barrier between the reader / player, and the desired emotion.

Designing specifically to get an emotional response seems to me to be a backwards way to do things. The emotional response should not be the target of design, but rather the proof of good design.

Mentally Challenged

I’m all for challenges. The satisfaction gained from solving a particularly challenging problem is a great feeling. But sometimes, the reward is not worth the challenge. Or rather, the reward is definitely worth the challenge, but the challenge itself is so tedious, and the reward so intangible, that it seems as if the reward is not worth the challenge. An example? Challenge: completing blog entries for ITB016. Reward: not failing…

Of course, this is not an atomic challenge. The challenge hierarchy could be represented as such

• Complete all remaining blogs for ITB016 (complete the game)
• Complete a blog relating to lecture on challenge and reward (complete the current mission)
• Think of something productive to talk about (sub-mission)
• Think of a game to realte it to (sub-mission)
• Don't sabotage myself with useless babble (enemy / obstacle immediately in front of me)
  

If we extrapolate out the failure that has already occurred at the atomic level of this challenge hierarchy, clearly we can predict that my chances of finishing this game are not very high. Bugger.

Challenge and reward and challenge hierarchies and such present themselves differently in different games. One interesting example that jumps to mind is Dead Rising. The reason I classify this as interesting is due to the differences in challenges present in the game and how these fit into a hierarchy. Although I don’t own the game and haven’t finished it and am not completely familiar with all challenges in the game, I do have a vague enough understanding to comment.

Despite the images conveyed by the trailers, you are not a trained zombie fighter or simple innocent bystander handy with a chainsaw (or any other weapon close at hand). You are instead a journalist, handy with a camera (and chainsaw, or any other weapon close at hand). The main challenge, or critical path of the game, from my understanding, is to wait out the time period to escape from the shopping centre. Other sub challenges include rescuing certain people from certain areas, taking out ‘bosses’ such as deranged shop owners with masochistic trolleys, and capturing photos of high journalistic quality of zombie activity. Despite this variety, the atomic challenge at almost any point of the game is the same: use whatever is close at hand to beat up masses of zombies.

As an example, to rescue a player you need to beat, chop and grind your way through zombies to find the person, and slash, burn and pummel your way back again with the newly acquired useless weight attached. For the vastly different photography challenge, the atomic task is essentially the same: disfigure, maim and dismember zombies in any manner necessary / possible, and then photograph them. Alternatively, let zombie disfigure, maim and dismember an innocent bystander, and photograph that.

Another game that jumps to mind has a beautifully simple challenge and reward system: Burnout Paradise. Challenge: Compete in a variety of forms of races. Reward: Get better cars to compete in races again.

This is a perfect example of a situation where the reward is perfectly suited to the challenge, and the challenge readies the player for the reward. The skills acquired completing the challenge allow the most benefit to be gained from the performance increases given by the reward.

Guitar Hero III on the other hand… Don’t get me wrong, the challenge / reward system in this game can’t really be faulted. It’s pretty simple, and pretty well suited to the style of game. But seriously, is “Through the Fire and the Flames” really a reward? For me it just serves to highlight “Congratulations, you finished the game…but you still suck”

Special K for Games

Game balancing is potentially one of the most difficult aspects of game design. A well balanced game (assuming the developers have done the other areas well too) will generally excel above competitors in the field. Poor balance, on the other hand, can quickly lead a game to failure, or can see it progress down paths never expected by the developers.

One company notorious for their well balanced games is Blizzard. Just read the class forums at www.worldofwarcraft.com and you will see thousands upon thousands of posters praising Blizzard for their perfectly balanced classes… Actually, I was referring to Blizzard in its pre-WoW days, when it was discussed in common media in the same sections as EA and Ubisoft, not ecstasy and heroin. Specifically, I’m referring to Starcraft. This game has been claimed to be one of the best balanced RTS games of all time (if not the best balanced). Furthermore, it achieved balance without sacrificing creativity and diversity. Unlike Warcraft 2 before it, where the races were essentially mirrored with some slight changes, Starcraft had three different races with different pools of units. However, in the development of this game Blizzard managed to give each unit and race a perfect combination to allow them to excel in certain situations, and suck in others.

It is the complete balance of this game that is mainly responsible for its widespread success, especially in the online arena (where balance becomes so much more important). The game wasn’t (isn’t) perfect, and particularly in online play some dominant strategies did emerge (Zergling rush). However, for the majority of online play situations where rushing techniques weren’t employed or weren’t allowed, the game favoured no particular strategy or race and provided.

Furthermore, Blizzard have proved that game balance cannot be fluked, and is the product of careful planning. Clearly balance is an area that Blizzard put a lot of thought into, and with good reason, as it has seen them continually create successful games. Warcraft III followed in Starcraft’s steps in creating very well balanced races, without reverting the mirroring of units seen in earlier games. World of Warcraft is a perfect example of how finicky good balance can be, especially in an online environment, and one that is constantly updating. Although Blizzard arguably haven’t done as good a job with balance in WoW as in previous titles, they have demonstrated that in an online environment, balance is even harder to perfect. And despite all players’ complaints, if you look at the numbers, they must be doing something right

Still deciding on a title for this post...

Life is full of decisions. We make them everyday, with varying effect on our lives. There are big decisions (“Should I buy Krispy Kremes?”), small, trivial decisions (“Bar or 016 lecture?”), and those hidden decisions that masquerade as small decisions and ultimately have some huge impact on your life (not necessarily positive: “I’m going to buy WoW”). There are also those innocent decisions that we end up regretting later. Like when you lend a DVD to someone whom you assume is reliable by virtue of position, and over a year later still don’t have it back. But that’s neither here nor there, and I’m definitely not bitter or trying to drop hints or anything. So…

How does all this relate to games? Well obviously games are full of decisions, and similarly they can manifest themselves in various different ways and with varying degrees of magnitude and impact. However, I’m not really interested in analysing all the different ways decisions can be made within a game system, or giving examples of the various different decisions that a player can make. Rather I am interested in examining the fundamental limitations of in-game decision making employed in the vast majority of games. Still wondering how the introduction relates? Well to be honest it’s a pretty shocking introduction, but hopefully I can use some of the examples to highlight some vast differences between real-life decisions and in-game decisions (just in case they’re not obvious enough already…).

There are a variety of categories of decisions that can generally be made by a player within a game system. Although I’m not qualified to make any such categorisations, for the purposes of this post I’m going to. Firstly there are general player decisions (or choices as I will refer to them) that involve trivial issues such as “Should I equip the mace or the sword”, “Will I drive on the road (and contend with traffic) or the footpath, killing hundreds of civilians and possibly getting held up by an inconveniently placed street lamp”. By trivial I am not implying that this category of choices is unimportant, but rather that it ultimately won’t affect the outcome of the game, or the player’s progression along the critical path. These choices impact on the player’s experience of the game, but generally leave the game system completely untouched so to speak. The category of decision that I’m interested involves those decisions that a player can make (and often must make) that directly impact on the game system, generally by altering the critical path followed by the player, or fundamentally changing the way the player progresses down that critical path.

Suddenly we are working with a much smaller pool of decisions. In my experience, albeit limited, there are very few games that implement such decisions with much effectiveness. Think of Star Wars Jedi Knight: Jedi Academy. This game opened up many previously unavailable choices to the player: race, gender, light-sabre type and colour (Kyle Katarn is … offline). These decisions have absolutely no bearing on the game itself, only the player’s experience of the game. However, the game also provides a single decision to the player towards the end of the game – whether to go to the dark side or follow the way of the light. This decision then results in the player progressing down one of two separate paths towards the end of the game, depending what choice they made. So essentially we have ONE main decision, resulting in one of TWO endings. This is only slightly more involved than the majority of games that offer no such decisions, resulting in one ending (this is not to say that most games offer no decisions, but rather that said decisions will not actually alter the course of the game).

Unlike in the real world, decisions in a game are by necessity strictly bound to a predetermined action. Although from a player’s perspective a game might provide some decisions to make it appear new and exciting, it is very rare to find a game that provides a truly unique experience each time it’s played. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but if the technology was available for a more dynamic decision system in games, I’m sure it would become widely adopted, and be a huge success. In the majority of games, a set of actions will generally produce a certain result. Reproduce those actions, and you’re guaranteed to reproduce the results. Obviously this is not always the case in the real world. Consequently, such elements of decision making as uncertainty and risk generally only exist within a game system in a limited facet; the uncertainty associated with certain decisions can diminish with a player’s familiarity with the system.

A Reflection on my Participation in a Creative Group - Part 2

Don't groan, this will not be like its predecessor (if you haven't read the previous post, read that first).

Seeing as whether I covered any relevant content in the previous post is a subjective and contentious issue (between all parties involved, namely myself), I decided to post again on my ACTUAL participation in a creative group.

I find the criteria itself is somewhat interestingly worded. Is the validity of the reflection of paricipation dependent on the creativity of the group? Is participation not as valuable if, despite best efforts, the group ended up rather uncreative? These are the problems I've been faced with in pondering this most ominous of topics. Hours of sleep have been lost.

I find group participation is just as often a hindrance to creativity as it is a help. Discussion with group members can allow ideas to be developed and taken in directions that a single person would not have thought to explore. However, the need to constantly appear at least slightly interested in what other group members are saying can restrict a mind from wandering to that place where creativity is given free reign.

Focusing on the proceedings of my own group for this subject, I believe my own participation has not been so much in the providing of creative inspiration, but rather in the more mundane role of refining and critiquing creative ideas found from other quarters (namely team-mate Dan). The following sections from our game-design document serve to somewhat outline the roles that have been played in my group this semester (knowing that a Pirate board game is being created may give some relevance to some of the content contained):

...Dan Jack has embraced the pirate within and turned his abilities to the development of quality games. His primary role has been as the creative inspiration and drive behind the project; indeed, four of the seven characters listed in this document are direct relatives of his...

and

...What he lacks in prison time, Jeff makes up for in his amazing ability to make the simplest and most mundane of grammatical structures appear as a convoluted and intrinsically detailed plethora of expressive idioms. Jeff brings refinement and detail to Dan’s creativity and passion...

A Reflection on my Participation in a Creative Group

"What is this?" you might ask, upon reading the title of this blog. "A completely unimaginative and blatant attempt to ensure that a certain criteria of a certain assignment task is met?" you then ponder. "Not at all!" I would respond with gusto.

Actually, that's a lie. This post is indeed a completely unimaginative and blatant attempt to ensure that a certain criteria of a certain assignment is met. "But surely," you reason, "it is possible and indeed desirable to present such criteria-meeting content in a manner that appears more intellectual, more creative, and decidedly less obvious!"

"Au contrare!" I challenge...which is simply the beginnings of another lie; of course it's bloody possible. The realm of possibility is exceedingly generous, all thing considered: it is (or at least was) possible that at this stage of the semester I would be on top of my work; it's possible that I will be (hopefully soon) inundated with creatively brilliant ideas for blogs, and it's possible that future blogs will not start with a couple of hundred words of rambling crap. Indeed, I get along quite well with possibility; it's the realm of actuality that has proverbially left me up a certain proverbial creek without a certain proverbial paddle.

It is about at this point that logic returns from lunch, ambles over to watch proceedings and idly points out, in an irritatingly superior sardonic drawl: "For a completely unimaginative and blatant attempt to ensure that a certain criteria of a certain assignment task is met, he has yet to mention so much as a passing syllable relevant to said criteria."

"Shit!" you say "He's right" (for logic is always male).
"Shit!" I say "He's right" (for logic is always male). "Unless," I counter, with renewed hope, "the very content contained herein is both the participation in a creative group, and the reflection on said participation!"

"Hmm," you consider. "He has a point there. The criteria in question doesn't specify a particular creative group to reflect on."

"Bah!" Logic derides with an air of arrogance, "One cannot participate in a group populated solely by aspects of one's own mind. Indeed, we are not independent participants of a creative group; there is no group, only a clearly insane author!"

The veritable onslaught of logic slowly pulls you back to your original view of the post: that it is nothing more than an irrelevant farce of a post.

"But surely," I conclude, "by virtue of reaching this point of the post, you have indeed participated in my creative group. Indeed, my imagined personas have found physical embodiment in your participation, and thus are made real. By your own very actions, by reading to this point of my blog, you have allowed it to transcend idle musing and become a relevant post, evidence of a creative group of which we are both participants."

You falter, pause. "Surely not," you disagree. "Logically... It makes no sense, it is not possible!"

Logically, perhaps. But of course, logic is always male, and thus is likely wrong. And even more likely not to admit it...