You Mean You Have to Use Your Body? That's Like a Baby's Toy!

So, there's been a lot of confusion lately about who the Kinect is "for." So much confusion, in fact, that even Microsoft can't get their story straight. However, the general consensus seems to be that the Kinect will be focused on making games for "casual" players, which is generally code for simpler, more accessible games suitable for families. More specifically, it means MINIGAMES MINIGAMES MINIGAMES and very little depth.



The thing I don't understand about it is that there seems to be a sense that the Kinect's full-body motion controls couldn't be put into a more "hardcore" context. It seems to me that a game in which your every motion can be used as a command would be an excellent way to make games much more deep than the one's we're playing today.

Let's think about it this way. In the average game, discounting something like an RTS, you are controlling a person. The buttons and joysticks on your controller almost all serve as commands for this person. As a result, you could think of the controller as a kind of abstracted way of controlling your game protagonist's body. Now consider the Kinect. The Kinect, at least in theory, has been touted as having the ability to locate your "skeleton" and determine exactly how you're moving. It stands to reason, then, that this "skeleton" could be used as the "skeleton" of a game character. Imagine a game in which your motions correspond 1:1 with the motions of your game hero. You punch, they punch. You duck, they duck. No canned animations, no fudging hitboxes, it's all you.

Think of the possibilities of making a fighting game out of this. I'm picturing a game structured very much like your standard 2D fighting game, only the character you play is using your skeleton, so your movements translate directly to theirs. The designers would have to be clever about it, particularly in determining how the game recognizes things like "blocking" or whether there would be ways to implement super moves like fireballs. See? That's something that would be an actual game, and the depth is...kinda infinite in a way, because your options are limited only by your ability to move.

The potential for the Kinect to create things gamers would actually recognize as video games and not just diversions seems obvious to me, just with the skeleton mapping alone. So why do developers continue to limit themselves in exploring the hardware's capabilities. I think it could be one of three things.

The first possibility is that developers don't trust themselves. Taking full advantage of dropping a player's skeleton into a game would no doubt be hard. It's a completely different animal than canned animations and would require inventing not only new engines, but new languages in which to give feedback to the player. It would require, y'know, creativity. And of course, with creativity, comes the risk of screwing up and failing, and we all know how well that goes over at shareholder meetings.

The second possibility is that the developers don't trust the Kinect. It's been a point of concern just how "ready for primetime" the Kinect technology actually is. It's possible this "skeleton-mapping" I've been going on about doesn't work as well as Microsoft's marketing team would like you to believe. It's possible there are too many issues and hiccups with the technology to make anything deeper than light fluff. If that's the case it's particularly sad, because at least to my eyes the skeleton mapping abilities of the Kinect were all that was elevating it above being a glorified EyeToy.

The third possibility is that the developers don't trust gamers. Specifically, they worry that if they make a game that actually requires standing up and moving, they run the risk of alienating the 300-pound shut-ins whom they view as the ones buying "hardcore games." If this is what's going on, I think it's missing a key point. Hardcore gamers aren't the only people who can appreciate deep, "hardcore" game mechanics. A game can be deep while also being accessible, something that's always seemed to be at the core of Nintendo's design philosophy. Motion controls offer a fantastic opportunity to create a game that's deep but accessible, because the hurdles of memorizing buttons and getting used to joystick controls are put aside. Controls don't get much easier to grasp or deeper to master than "punch to punch."

Since apparently Microsoft hopes the Kinect will last for a good five years, at the very least developers are looking at a good long time to unlock the hardware's true potential. I just hope they take the time to investigate it, because I really want to play that skeleton-mapped fighting game I was talking about. I am not kidding, here. That's a day-one purchase.

Sunshine Syndrome: Get Your Franchise Checked Today

Hello. I am Dr. Lex, and I'm here to talk to you about a very serious and very misunderstood illness. It's a disease which has claimed many a great game, taking franchises in their prime and leaving them with permanent, sometimes crippling black marks on their history. It's torn fanbases apart, ruined game careers, and for no good reason. I know it's a difficult subject to talk about, but the silence must be broken. Today we're going to talk...about Sunshine Syndrome.

The medical definition of Sunshine Syndrome goes thusly: "A condition in which a quality game is poorly received because it fails to live up to the expectations given by the franchise to which it is tied."

It is named for Super Mario Sunshine, an excellent game which was widely considered disappointing for not being the sequel to Super Mario 64 people wanted. Sunshine Syndrome is a condition which tends to strike more often in older game franchises, and the more beloved the more at risk they are. The higher fans' expectations of a franchise are, the more likely it will be hit with Sunshine Syndrome. To give you a better idea of this condition, let's review a few cases.



Super Mario Sunshine. The game for which the condition is named and one of the more famous cases. Super Mario Sunshine was a wonderful game, beloved by critics but still falling short of fans' high expectations. The game's water-spraying mechanics were fun, but felt out of place in a Mario game. After all, Mario games are about the jumping and platforming, and while this game had both of those, they didn't feel like the center of the game. The release of Super Mario Galaxy marked the last nail in this odd duck's coffin. One wonders how an original IP might have fared with this game's watery antics, but the world will never know.



Ah, Starfox Adventures. Now, while Super Mario Sunshine may be a more famous case, this one is particularly tragic. This game was, at the start of its development, never intended to be a Starfox game. It had the Starfox characters and mythos added very late in development in an effort to help the game sell, despite the fact that the game had nothing to do with flying around and shooting stuff like a normal Starfox title. Instead, the entire game centered around Fox going planetside and hitting dinosaurs with a stick. Understandably, this game left fans and critics alike absolutely mystified as to what Rare and Nintendo were getting at, and it was heavily panned. The fact that this was never intended to be a Starfox game in the first place makes this a somewhat more clear-cut instance of Sunshine Syndrome than most, and should be considered as a case study for academic analysis of the condition.

Before we move on, I warn you, this final example is an extreme sufferer and may be difficult to look at. Those of more squeamish constitutions may wish to look away.



Now this...this is just sad. In many cases, franchises suffering from Sunshine Syndrome are able to make a recovery, making a slow return to producing the type and quality of games their fans expect. Sonic Adventure however, should be viewed as a cautionary tale on how heavily Sunshine Syndrome can cripple a franchise. Sonic the Hedgehog, once a beloved video game icon, was never the same after his move to three-dimensions. The complaints about Adventure, his first 3D outing, were rampant. It "didn't feel like Sonic," it was either "too fast" or "not fast enough" and so on. But, unfortunately, it didn't end there. Sonic Adventure 2 came out, attempting to fix the problems but receiving roughly the same criticism. Then Sonic Heroes, then Shadow the Hedgehog, and for game after game after game after that Sonic Team attempted to recapture the magic of the franchise's glory days to no avail, and nostalgia only made the old games look better and the new games more inferior by comparison as the years wore on. It reached a point where no one even knew what they wanted out of the franchise anymore, gamer or developer alike. In the most severe stages...well...viewer discretion is advised. While the final chapter has yet to be written on the blue hedgehog, his will be remembered as one of the most protracted bouts of Sunshine Syndrome on record.

So now that you've seen the problem up-close, it is time to step back and look at the problem as a whole. Before we discuss prevention, let's first review the ways you can check a game for Sunshine Syndrome at home. Nothing invasive is required, just a few simple questions answered honestly. Here's a questionnaire:

1. If this game were an original IP with original characters, not tied to any sort of franchise, would this game have been better-received?
2. Do the majority of reviews from fans contain the words "It doesn't feel like (Franchise Name)"?
3. Name what you consider the core gameplay mechanic of this franchise. Do you feel this mechanic is poorly-represented in this game?
4. Did this game have a large discrepancy between review scores from professional game reviewers and reviews from fans? Specifically, were review scores from fans lower on the whole?

If you can answer yes to at least two of these questions with regards to a game you know, it may be a sufferer of Sunshine Syndrome. Do not panic. There is absolutely no need to despair. Many games with Sunshine Syndrome go on to lead happy, productive lives as part of peoples' game libraries in spite of their condition. Treat them as you would any other game and try not to let your preconceptions cloud your view. Remember that every game is some developer's pride and joy.

And speaking of developers, it is time to discuss ways to prevent Sunshine Syndrome before it starts. As always, prevention begins in the home, and a video game's home is the game studio. The most common cause of Sunshine Syndrome is a feeling by game developers (and their bosses) that games in a popular franchise will automatically garner more interest than new properties. This is often true. People will get excited for sequels to awesome games because they expect more awesomeness. This is, however, precisely the problem with heavy franchising and the reason Sunshine Syndrome exists.

If you're going to release a game as part of a beloved franchise, you need to seriously consider the expectations that will result from such a move, and whether or not you can deliver on those expectations. If you can't, you're putting not only your game but, as we've seen, your entire franchise at risk. Just one instance of Sunshine Syndrome can drive away fans and you may be hurting yourself for games upon games down the line. If you want to make a more modest or experimental game, do the responsible thing and make it a new property.

I know it's frightening, and it will require your marketing team to do actual work outside of shutting down independent documentaries you don't consider "on message," but in reality the risks of disappointing the fanbase one has built around a franchise cannot be ignored or overstated. People will always, always be more open to new IPs than you think they are.

Sunshine Syndrome can strike any franchise at any time, and it's still a threat. The upcoming X-COM game, for example, looks like an especially at-risk case with its move away from turn-based strategy and towards first-person...and blob-fighting...and also the 1950s for some reason. Spread awareness of this condition however you can, for everyone's sake. Let's work together so that there will be no more grieving investors.

Thank you for your time. I'm sorry if this topic was troublesome, but it had to be addressed. I am Dr. Lex...and...yeah, I really didn't think I was going to keep this doctor gimmick up through the entire post.

Old Games and New Names

Two things to talk about, today! Yeah, I said I was gonna tackle "sequelitis" in this installment, but a couple things have come up which I want to address, so that will have to wait for next time.

First up, it's time for ACTION ON-THE-SPOT VIDEO GAME INDUSTRY NEWS! There's been a lot of ruckus recently regarding the business, ethics, and business ethics of selling pre-owned video games. Basically, game companies don't make money on used game sales, and are now doing everything in their power to dissuade people from buying used. As developers lock players out of more and more used-game content with one-time codes and the like, tensions are rising, and people are starting to wonder what the solution to the problem is. Is there a way to encourage people to buy new without coming off as a massive jackass?

I don't know the solution...because frankly, I don't think there is a solution. Game developers may not like the used game market, but I think they're fighting a battle they cannot win. Developers can not and will not stop used game sales. How do I know this? Because used game retailers have been doing their damndest to put people off of used games and it still hasn't worked!

Seriously, the used game business was incredibly repugnant even before this. Putting aside the issues I already covered with regards to the constant upselling one experiences in these establishments, buying used is always a huge gamble. There's no quality control in these places. Store clerks can't test EVERY GAME that comes in to see if it runs. The best that happens is that someone checks the back of the disc, confirms there are no obvious toothmarks, and slips it into a little paper cover to get jostled around a bazillion times before it actually reaches you. Then you get a disc with no instruction manual and (sometimes) no freaking box,instead getting a generic box with the words "HAYLOW THREE" scribbled in crayon on the front. You put it in your system and, assuming it boots at all, it plays decently or at the very least never fails in a repeatable way so you could get a refund bringing it in.

And despite all this, people...still...do it. Saving ten bucks is so important to some people that they will actually put up with that crap. Do you developers out there really think you can do anything to these people that Gamestop and God haven't already done ten times over? All this "project ten-dollar" nonsense is like putting a 5% tax on crystal meth. You're not going to put people off it by doing that.

If you want people to buy new, all you can do is make something worth buying new. Use the hype machine. Make me want your game on day one. You know when I'm going to consider buying a game used? If it was a game I wasn't excited for so I waited a month to see what the reviews were like before picking it up. If I'm super-hyped about a game, I will run out and buy it at launch (assuming you ship enough for me to do so, of course). Excluding the people for whom used games are an addiction (or economic necessity) I think a lot of gamers operate the same way. So, surprise I guess, the secret to selling games is...making and marketing good games.

I...I hope that helps?

So that's the first item on the agenda, and the second is with regards to my blog itself. As you may have noticed, my recent posts have all started centering around video games, and in light of that I'm considering biting the bullet and converting this into a video games news-and-theory blog. That said, as part of the change, I've decided my blog will need a new name in order to get peoples' attention. There are a few directions I could take this.

I could go the "nonsensical but catchy" route and call my blog something like Flaguzzle or Zimboing. Y'know, one of those titles that betrays absolutely nothing about the content, but is intriguing nonetheless, and is spelled exactly as it sounds so it's easy to enter into a websearch. This tends to be the naming convention used by newsblogs like Kotaku, Destructoid, and all those other places you keep hearing a news story originally broke even though you never actually visit them.

I could also just make the title some random phrase from video game pop culture. I mean it worked for 1up.com, or webcomics like PvP. I could call my blog something like Full Clear or Assisted Aim or...um...Crafting System. Something like that. There's tons of phrases out there, and they all sound about equally like titles. Why, I bet I could just randomly point to a phrase on the back of a video game box and it would work as a blog title. Let's try it...

"A Persistent Internet Connection is Required to Play This Game"

Sounds like a winner to me!

And if I was feeling less creative I could go with one of those lame "informative" titles, like A Gamer's Thoughts or Game Story Discussions. Where's the fun in that, though? The point of a good blog title is to make your content seem more interesting and more important than it actually is. I may be some random nerd on the internet who thinks his outsider opinions on video games are valuable, but ideally my title should leave the impression that I'm a random nerd on the internet who knows his outsider opinions on video games are valuable. Going out there with a blog called "Hey Guys I'm A Gamer, Read This" is not going to get you the obsessive cult of personality which should come with amateur video game journalism. No one's gonna write a creepy Fandom!Secrets post about that mess.

Plus, I have the problem that my blog basically already has the best title ever. It's called "Atomic Chainsaw Apocalypse," a name specifically chosen because it was the most awesome title I could think of. How do you come up with a title cooler than that?

Clearly I will need to think on that. For now...man, I still need to buy Little King's Story. I wonder how much it goes for used.

Graphics Schmaphics

Hey, guess what time it is! It's time to spin another Gamasutra article into a vaguely-related tangent about game theory!

Today's article is this one here, in which some EA dude says a bunch of stuff about social gaming I don't care about. However, he does make the point that he thinks video game budgets have reached their peak, and that future games will be given more modest budgets. Now, the way he phrases this, he makes it sound like "more modest budget" means "games for more casual players," and this is the bit I wanted to talk about today.

You don't need a huge budget to make a game that appeals to hardcore video gamers!

This is something I'll never understand. Why do people continue to think that having the best production values ever equates to increased sales, when the opposite has proven true time and time again? I'm not trying to be one of those "APPRECIATE INDIE GAMES YOU PHILISTINES" bloggers, because I don't need to be. People already appreciate low-budget games so long as they have well-crafted gameplay. Case-in-point, Monday Night Combat, a game that came out this month as a low-budget, fifteen-dollar Xbox Live release. People are loving this game. And why not? It's an awesome (albeit very, very derivative) game with tons of personality. Then you compare it with something like Mafia II, which came out this month as well, which clearly poured a ton of money into creating a massive and fully-realized city...and manages to be the blandest thing ever if reviews are to be believed.

A video game only really needs a fun core of gameplay in order to be engaging. I've played games people have coded in their basements for free and had more fun with them than I ever had with Grand Theft Auto 4. As many gamers and critics as there are out there who praise graphical fidelity and count pixels and all that, I feel like game companies really overestimate how much anybody out there really cares about production values.

But the real proof comes from the numbers, and this is something I've never heard brought up before. Has anyone ever noticed that, when two video game consoles go head to head, the one with the better graphics almost always gets outsold by the lower-powered machine? Seriously, almost every time. I mean, let's ask Wikipedia.

Game Boy vs. Game Gear? Game Gear had better graphics, in color even, but was absolutely decimated sales-wise by the two-color Game Boy.

In the 16-bit era, you have the SNES outperforming the Sega Genesis, which seems like a victory for the graphical powerhouse...until you realize that both of these systems severely crushed the "Neo Geo" in sales even though it was a far more powerful system than either. During this console generation, the Jaguar also tried to break into the market, and ended up more or less dead-on-arrival despite being able to process goddamn polygons.

Then you have the Playstation vs. the Nintendo 64. While it's true the N64 wasn't capable of doing full-motion video (at least not very well) in actual in-game terms the N64 consistently had smoother, better-looking 3D graphics...and it was brutally, brutally outsold by the Playstation.

Playstation 2 vs. Xbox vs. Gamecube vs. Dreamcast! Playstation 2, despite generally having the weakest graphics of the four, sells more than the other three consoles combined, and by a significant margin, too!

And that brings us to today, with the Wii outselling all other consoles all around the world and the DS outselling the PSP despite considerably inferior processing power.

...

THAT...IS...A...GODDAMN...TREND!

I really can't think of a better indicator that gamers, all gamers, prefer games with solid and interesting gameplay over high-fidelity graphics. People don't by consoles, and they don't buy games, just because of how good they look. If reduced budgets on future high-profile titles lead to a shift away from polygon-boosting and towards an examination of what really matters in terms of making a quality game, I'm all for it.

I know I'm oversimplifying. I know that. But, at the very least, I feel like this is an important jumping-off-point when considering game design theory. Are developers actually shooting themselves in the foot by pumping so much money into these games? Is there really such a thing as a "safe" investment? The mentality of "sequels are safer," which is part of the core of this problem, is something I intend to tackle next time. For now...I think I'm gonna go buy Little King's Story and enjoy the hell out of it.

Narrative in Video Games and How Not to be Doing It Wrong...Maybe

Follow-up time! So yeah, last time I said that I would follow up my comprehensive dissection of the failings of video game storytelling (which totally didn't spill off on an unintended tangent about critics) with my thoughts on how a video game story could be told well. I actually went back and forth on whether I would write this, primarily because...what the hell do I know? There are tons of articles on the subject of game narrative out there, written by people who...y'know...actually study this stuff and do it for a living. My own experience writing for video games begins and ends with Spore: Galactic Adventures, so who's to say if my thoughts on the subject are valid at all?

But I guess you're still here, so let's get on with it. Here are my personal thoughts on how game storytellers can improve their narrative.

TIP 1: WRITE A WORLD, NOT JUST A SEQUENCE OF EVENTS

This is probably the biggest piece of advice I can give game developers. And yes, I'm speaking to all of the developers. The most important thing about a video game's story is that it be more than just a story. You have an entire world to work with and shape to be a part of your narrative. Use that canvas!

While there are probably better choices, right now I'm going to point to Bioshock as an example of this concept. If you look at it, there's very little "plot" in Bioshock. You've given a few objectives here and there, but for a large majority of the game you're just kind of a rat, alone in a maze and trying to get from point A to point B. However, this game has story in spades. Every area you encounter is full of hints as to what happened in the ruined city. Everything you see and experience ties back to establishing what this city was and what happened to it. In my last post I described a scene wherein I come upon an abandoned cabin in a video game and intuit what happened there. Bioshock is made of moments like that. I feel like I'm exploring, scavenging, and discovering, while all the while learning more and more about this story being told all around me.

The reason it works and the reason it engages the player is that it makes you feel like the protagonist you're supposed to be. If the player gets the sense that their experience is being too tightly controlled (hello, Final Fantasy XIII), it will feel more like watching the characters than inhabiting them. Since your protagonist is the player's connection to the world, that's a bad thing.

TIP 2: GIVE YOUR STORY A MEMORY

(This is something I'm stunned I don't see more often in video games. It's such a simple way to not only make your story more dynamic, but also boost replay value.)

So, let's say I'm playing some Fantasy RPG. In fact, let's pretend it's that game I made up in the last post. From now on, that game is called ExampleQuest. So I'm playing ExampleQuest and I'm at a crossroads. Down one road is the town of Portside, which is under attack by pirates. Down the other road is the town of Ravencroft, which is under attack by zombies. I decide to go to Portside first and, hero that I am, fend off the pirates and kill the Pirate King in a duel. After that, I head to Ravencroft. Outside, two guards stop me.

Guard 1: "Stay back, sir. It's not safe to go any further."
Guard 2: "Bah, I heard this man killed the Pirate King himself. If anyone can solve our problem, he can."

And I'm let through. Now what does that sound like to you? Sounds like railroading, and if I'd gone to Ravencroft first I'd have been turned away. Nope, if I'd gone to Ravencroft first, I'd get this exchange instead.

Guard 1: "Stay back, sir. It's not safe to go any further."
Guard 2: "The man is armed, at least. I suspect he could make it through town. Just...be careful in there, okay?"

And I'm let through.

That was a really complicated example of a simple thing I'm trying to get across. "Consequence" in video games doesn't have to mean the story changes wildly, or that you get some kind of "good" or "evil" bonus for your actions. Consequence can be as simple as a line of dialog changing, as above, to reflect what you've done. It's so simple but it can be so powerful.

Probably the most awesome example of this in a real video game is the infamous "court scene" in Chrono Trigger. Basically, at the start of Chrono Trigger, you go to this country fair where you can wander around, have fun, and do a variety of things. However, much much later in the game, your character finds himself on trial, and the game starts bringing in a bunch of "character witnesses" to testify for or against you. In this scene, the game brings up a whole bunch of things you, the player, did at the fair at the start of the game. A lot of it is really inconsequential stuff you wouldn't think the game would keep track of (like whether you ran into a certain character or if she ran into you). It's really powerful, and everyone remembers that scene despite the fact that it really has nothing to do with the gameplay. (You find yourself slated for execution no matter how the verdict goes for...reasons. I'm not going to summarize the whole game.)

This is such an awesome storytelling device, and a device which is unique to video games. You can't do that in a movie! It's so simple, too. It's as simple as having two sets of dialog here and there. If your writers are too lazy for that, God help 'em.

TIP 3: MAKE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT A PART OF GAMEPLAY

The mark of a good story, no matter the medium, is that the characters grow and change over the course of it. In a movie or novel, this tends to follow the pattern of a "character arc" with the character learning how to change themselves for the better right at that eleventh hour when it matters. In a video game or television series, this tends to be a bit more free-form, and character development is usually a slow-build over the course of the character's journey. (I'd argue that this slow-build development is actually a bit more true to real life. I mean, how often do your beliefs take a total 180-degree spin just because you had a bad day?)

Most gamewriters understand the significance of character development from a story standpoint. They'll usually stick some big redemption scene in the game's third act somewhere with dramatic music and the hero vowing not to let the evil wizard hurt anyone else. Still, I feel this is missing an opportunity as video games are supposed to be an interactive medium. Give character development some meaningful impact on gameplay.

A lot of people like to criticize "moral choice" systems in games, like the one in InFamous where you unlock more destructive powers the more of a jackass you are and unlock more heroic powers the more virtuous you are. While I feel like these mechanics are often ham-handedly implemented, I don't think the idea at their core is a bad one. The idea is to take away the "Grand Theft Auto Syndrome" where your character is built up as a noble dude in the story...despite how many pedestrians you run down when actually playing. Having your character's personality change to reflect the way you're playing makes a lot of sense. The main problem, I think, is that the game tends to paint in broad brushstrokes. Your playstyle results in your character being "good" or "evil" without much room for moral ambiguity.

I think the solution here is to get away from the "good" and "evil" dynamic. Make it more a matter of personality. Is your character brave or cowardly? Sarcastic or straightforward? Passionate or cold? Sympathetic or sadistic? People's personalities don't conform to just one slider. Now imagine that each of those sliders is tied to your character's growth, for example...

Brave vs. Cowardly = More Health vs. More Speed
Sarcastic vs. Straightforward = Ice Element vs. Fire Element
Passionate vs. Cold = More Offense vs. More Defense
Sympathetic vs. Sadistic = Healing Abilities vs. Destructive Abilities

And so on. (I...I don't know why Sarcasm is tied to Ice Magic, but just go with me, here.) Seriously, if nothing else think of the replay value in a game where your character's personality could be so radically different from game to game. It wouldn't be that hard to implement in conversation, either. Just have each response check an appropriate slider. If someone asks you to help them, the game determines your character's reply based on their bravery. If someone asks you a silly question, the game determines if you cut them down based on how sarcastic you are. If you're clever about it, you wouldn't need to write 30 different responses for every line, just two appropriate ones. Simple!

I...can't really think of a good example of this from an existing game, but if anyone else can I'd love to play it.

And those are basically my three tips for telling a better video game story. Maybe I don't know what I'm talking about, but I can honestly say that any game to implement all my suggestions is a game I would pick up in a heartbeat. Anyone else feel the same?

Narrative in Video Games and Why You're Doing it Wrong

Sup, people. Glad you're continuing to read my always-updating-and-not-at-all-frequently-abandoned blog. ACA appreciates your continued viewership, even though you're all probably reading this through facebook and don't know what ACA even stands for.

Anyway, I've been doing a lot of thinking about storytelling in video games lately, primarily because a lot of other people have been thinking about storytelling in video games lately and have been posting opinions on it that tick me off. A good example of this game-story-related off-tick I've been experiencing can be seen in this article on Gamasutra. In it, Mr. Darby McDevitt rattles off a lot of complaints about the current state of video game storytelling. They're complaints I've seen in a lot of places, albeit this article lacks the subtext of "My Critical Studies degree is worthless and I'm taking my frustrations out on the world" which tends to accompany such arguments when they appear on message boards. His basic thesis is that the nature of most video games, with the killing and the maiming and the "Oh God my face," undercuts their ability to convey a good narrative with all the juicy pathos of a Hollywood oscar-bait flick. I feel like this article, as well as a lot of articles and message board rants I see on this subject, is missing or at least sidestepping one key point, and this is a point I'd like to attack first and foremost right now.

VIDEO...GAMES...ARE...NOT...MOVIES

I don't mean this in the standard "making fun of Hideo Kojima" sense, I mean this in the critical sense. While the Gamasutra article avoids this particular fallacy, it's not uncommon for me to see people say "The way to tell if a game has a good story is to ask yourself if that story would work as a movie or novel." This is, in my mind, probably the worst way to think about constructing video game narrative. Asking if a video game's story would work as a movie is like asking if a movie would work as a stage play. You're not accomplishing anything by thinking that way. All you're doing is trying to cram a narrative format you don't understand into a more limited one which you can get your mind around.

Video games provide a much more complex framework for storytelling than your standard three-act narrative media. They offer the possibility of branching paths, world exploration, customization, random or procedural worldbuilding, co-operation and competition between audience members, and so much more. Any game that could be 1:1 converted into a movie or novel has severely underused the capabilities of the medium. It makes me wonder if the true problem with video game narrative isn't so much a failure of the creators as it is a failure of the critics. We have a lot of jargon we can use for describing traditional, linear narratives, "acts," "motifs," "deconstruction," "subtext," and tons of other words you learn in film school, but we don't have anywhere near as strong a vocabulary of words to analyze the narratives of video games.

Let's say I'm walking through a game world and come upon an abandoned house. Inside, there are blood and claw marks everywhere indicating some wild animal got in and killed whoever was living there. I look around and, after making sure the wild animal isn't still around, decide to do a little snooping. I open up a cabinet and see a shiny axe. Deciding whoever lived here no longer has use for said axe, I add it to my inventory and continue on my way. What just happened there? What do you call it? If you're a game narrative scholar looking at that sequence of events, how do you break it down? At best, right now that sequence of events would all be lumped into the buzzword of ~emergent gameplay~, but it's way more complicated than that. I had my perceptions and emotions influenced six ways to Sunday in that five minute span. I was curious, then analytical, then cautious, then curious again, then happy at my discovery of the axe, and then maybe remorseful about stealing from the dead. Just because I didn't have a cutscene shouting exposition at me doesn't mean a story wasn't told, there.

When I say this is a failing of critics, what I mean is that the traditional way of things is to allow the audience to derive meaning from what creators make. Consider the early days of film. A lot of it was just people jackassing around with cameras like it was their favorite new toy, shooting visceral stories about gunfights and trains and...more gunfights...and...more trains. And why not? At the turn of the century, gunfights and trains were two of the most awesome things ever. It wasn't until later that people started to take a critical approach to analyzing films. They looked through all the old gunfight and train-based narratives, built a vocabulary to understand why they were so engaging, and thus inspired filmmakers to build on this knowledge to make a love scene just as engaging as a gunfight and an inner-city apartment look just as awesome as any train. (This may be something of an over-simplification, but I hope my point remains clear.)

We've yet to do this with video games, and we never will as long as we try to analyze them through the lens of existing media. You can't just tell someone to "grow up and make art" and expect them to know what to do. Video games are a new form of storytelling and need to be treated and developed as such.

I may make a follow up post in which I go into ways I personally feel game narrative can be improved, but this is really what I wanted to get off my chest. Maybe I'm totally off base here, and if I am feel free to leave a comment, but this seems like fairly obvious stuff to me.