Game Design Plz.

An aspiring game theorist's take on game design, literature and associated content.

[thefragmagnet]

In Closing

After all is said and done, more is always said than done.

Thinking back about my experiences with muse-based game design, I feel it is worth discussing its significance to game design in general; what it reveals about those techniques and methods that may be commonplace amongst game designers.

Although I wouldn't say that I've ever doubted the value of playtesting with others, from my brief personal experience of game design, I know that it is extremely easy to get caught up in the design of the game above all else. In fact, it is particularly salient to note that even within the textbook that guided our learning process, Game Design Workshop, the notion of “designer as player’s advocate” is given three paragraphs’ worth of attention before it discusses players as playtesters—and little more. While this concept of playtesting to ensure relevance to the players is dealt with in extensive detail, the involvement of those players is referred to as little more than validation of existing work. Up until the start of this project, I would have gladly corroborated this approach; having previously succeeded at creating what seemed like a fairly engaging game without extensive involvement of many people aside from the main development team. My past experiences were exclusively rooted in the “designing games for the designer” mentality, whether intentionally or otherwise.

The completion of Cakescavators’ design and prototypes has brought with it a drastic shift in perspective. The way the project unfolded and developed over time provided a clear view into several different other ways in which a player could be involved in the game design process; all of which were more holistic and inclusive in nature. I honestly didn't expect that my muse would so quickly become co-designer in my project, but I was happy that she did. She provided ideas that were even more original than what I could have come up with on my own, facilitating and even improving the overall process several times over.

Taking a few steps back, however, it is important to consider also the purpose of research within muse-based design techniques. Putting more attention towards the target player’s profile, even prior to the game’s design phase, provided me with ample grounds for exploring new subjects and styles of gameplay. This broadening or shifting of the game’s targeted scope may not guarantee a completely new or innovative game, but it does provide novelty in the designer’s considerations and choices. As far as I'm concerned, however, the exact research techniques applied are only incidental to the process’ overall validity—simply deferring the motivation of initial game design choices to a specific target audience provided a different take on the typical ideation phase, which I found very intriguing.

I would say that I'm still quite green when it comes to game design, but what my experiences with muse-based design have shown is that extensive experience as a designer can only take you so far. While it might not be identical, a similar trend in game design can be seen nowadays with the growing popularity of the Steam Workshop, which effectively crowdsources a lot of very well-made content from those who would otherwise only be consuming a very centrally designed experienced. Those same sorts of creative people could ostensibly have added a lot of value even during the initial design process. In fact, the newest instalment of Unreal Tournament has been announced by Epic games as being developed completely openly and in collaboration with its community from day one. Whether or not this will truly benefit their design and development process in the long run remains to be seen, but the humble beginnings of audience participation’s application in the industry has already given quite a positive indication thus far.

While not all of my future games will necessarily be designed in this way; the concepts of muse-based design or even applying participatory design in general are indeed extremely valuable tools to have at one’s disposal. They offer techniques and methods of research for the sake of inspiration, which are altogether more practical and altruistic. Designing games with others in mind is a paradigm that brings with it a wide plethora of benefits, including new ideas and powerful motivators, which should not be underestimated. When approached in the proper way, the end result of the process can be seen as far more than merely the sum of its parts.

[thefragmagnet]

When a Muse Becomes an Assistant

At which point does a muse stop being a muse, and turn into an assistant more so than a "client"?

Thinking back to one of my first posts about this process, I think I got lucky in terms of the work I had to do. I thought the process would feel forced, but it was fun and exciting; I thought the results would be uninspired, but they feel original and genuinely motivated by research; I even thought that I would end up projecting myself too far, but I believe that my muse's wants and interests are represented well in the final concept work that I've put together.

One aspect of the process, when I felt I played second fiddle to my muse, was the research process itself. She knew what she wanted, clearly and without doubt. She was quick to remind me of this and pretty much gave me the project brief on a silver platter in the end.

I feel that the process I ended up following was less "muse" based than it was collaborative, plain and simple. The term "muse" implies strongly that the person is a source of inspiration, the subject and integral focus of the work being done. Almost like the theme of a game jam, if you will.

In my case, I feel that I was quite fortunate to have someone who was already quite steadfast and had a clear idea of what she wanted from a game that she enjoys. As soon as the design process broke through the initial brainstorming phase, and a concept was chosen based on what was collected, it immediately evolved into nothing short of the same brainstorming and discussions that I shared with my peers in class.

What this means for the overall process is that, while it may not always be possible, it leads to a far more interesting process when the muse in question to be at least literate in the subject matter, so that a constant dialogue can take place throughout the design process—not just at the beginning.

In fact, I would almost go so far as to say that most of the productive work that took place after an idea was chosen, and from that point on, there was fairly little need for me to refer to the research material, since it was my muse who was representing herself in that design process; plain and simple.

One of my major take aways from this entire project was pretty unequivocal: it is an exciting and worthwhile project to design games for someone else. In doing so, involve them throughout the design process as far as their competence within the relevant subjects provides.

[thefragmagnet]

I'm Busy; no Time to Think.

When deadlines loom, it feels counter-productive to sit down and think very much about what you're doing. Is it really, and should it be set aside altogether, in favour of sheer, unbridled "productivity"?

I find that giving yourself room to debate, reconsider and criticize what you are doing, while you are doing it, can absolutely smother your work output. Planning and design should be dealt with in its own time separately, as mixing the two can easily cross-pollinate (or rather, cross-pollute) and cause confusion.

That being said, it is dangerous to work blindly and without due consideration. One must give priority to creativity, brainstorming and planning, else suffer the pain of missing the mark entirely.

The iterative process shows its value here, in particular. Learning to do, then review, in short (but productive) cycles allows for very fluid and proactive game design to flourish.

As I write this, I cannot help but think of a lecture, given by (the great) John Cleese, about creativity. He speaks ardently about the importance of a relaxed, light-hearted attitude towards ideation and creation, but only at the appropriate times.

In it, he talks about how we tend to operate in two modes; which, as he elaborates, can be considered as "creative" and "productive." Using these two modes effectively, we can ensure that our projects flourish.

Part of the work involved in participatory design is the need to consult with a muse, or recipient, while creating some form of product. One mode begets the other, and they cannot operate on their own. We must value each stage of the process in order to influence the other, else we will have nothing to build upon.

This consideration became relevant to my work on this very project. At first, it seemed like no work could be done until all the creativity had been spent; and then, conversely, once the creativity was overwith, development could get underway without any further discussion.

Thankfully, following some development on prototypes, it just so happened that I could consult with my muse, even though it was not pre-planned, about what work had been done. Each time, the feedback garnered was valuable to maintaining the flow of work that would still have happened otherwise, but not in nearly as inspired a way.

[thefragmagnet]

Game Design: Does it Need to be Complicated?

A few days back, one of my fears of studying game theory and design came to fruition. Now, it's not necessarily a big deal, and I'm not about to abandon my studies for it, but it did put things into perspective. It put my feet a little bit back down to the ground, at the very least.

I was discussing—and what a short discussion it turned out to be—a potential new feature, with my muse, about her game. She wasn't entirely dismissive of the idea, but she saw fit to re-emphasize what we determined that she liked.

Being very clear and straightforward, she reminded me that she wants something that is easily playable, with straightforward gameplay that grows in difficulty over time, but does not require her to retain much (or any) contextual information from one play session to the next.

In fact, the game that has been eating up a lot of her time lately is 2048; a fiendishly addictive, simple and abstract puzzle game which is only beatable if you play it many times and learn how to play it well. Its style of play is the epitome of what she values in a game, with the sole difference that the gameplay is difficult right from the outset—essentially, it is easy to learn, but difficult to master. Mastery leads to completion, and hence, closure of the game.

When she reminded me of this fact she also said, without intending offence, that we (game theorists, aspiring or otherwise) complicate things way too much.

And really, she has a damn good point. At the risk of controversy, is it always really that necessary to conduct such exhaustive research into the target audience? Is it so improbable for a person to actually know just what it is that they want out of a game?

Muse-based design is indeed a very useful approach towards game design. Utilizing all the involved techniques could have resulted in some strange new kind of game that she had never considered playing before, and that would have been awesome. However, it just so happened that my particular attempt at it only corroborated what my muse believed she preferred to play.

It may have just been that both of us already had a good idea of where the analysis was going (self-fulfilling prophecy); but even if so, if I set out to make an awesome thing for a person, can't that awesome thing be designed in a more straightforward manner, thanks to what knowledge is already available?

Certainly, there is more to the process than simply figuring out the bare simplest concept of a game; however, perhaps when the recipient is already quite clear on what they want out of their game, more value may be garnered from dedicating time to more game design iterations. Just saying.

[idg5202]

How to Read Atlantean

IF YOU SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THE INTERNET THERE IS THE RISK OF DEVELOPING AN IMPOSSIBLY PURE POLITICS THAT HARMS EVERYONE IT IS SUPPOSED TO PROTECT.

I don’t think that I did, nor should I really pretend to understand How to Speak Atlantean; nevertheless it carries a number of messages that I feel resonated well with me.

One of the messages that caused pause for thought was that regarding Feminism and its representation. This is explored particularly in the recounting of Kerrigan’s evolution from Starcraft 1 to 2. It talks about Blizzard’s backpedalling on making a female character who is genuinely strong and ends up captured and turned into one of the Zerg, making her the most powerful villain in the game. She was hailed as being one of the most bad ass characters in video games, but her subsequent rescue in the sequel seems as if to break that reputation.

Reading more about this also led me to discover what is likely the best 404 page ever made.

HtSA later posits that political idealization to extremes can be more detrimental than beneficial to those affected—something that can apply to most forms of overexposure online nowadays. Relationships, representation of minorities, demographics, sensitive political situations…

By this time, what I was reading felt like less of a game than a poem of sorts. It seemed almost schizophrenic when juggling between scenes of the story itself, and making another statement.

THE GUN GREASE ON YOUR HANDS IS MADE OF HTML AND CSS

Then came the climax. Oh boy. Puns.

I’ll admit; I was not expecting it and it did throw me off my stride. While I would have been just as happy to finish the game without having the twist of the Hitachi, what it did do was give me a real curiosity about the person who made it.

I probably spent more time reading and scouring the web for other stuff she’s made. I’m happier for it, as a result, as I understood the grounding and concept of the game as a whole. I’ll leave that up to you to discover, though.

Very strange, but definitely an interesting transmedia experience, to be sure.

And about the title? Here’s a major spoiler, as it’s not about the destination, but the journey.

here’s how to speak Atlantean:

glub glub glub glub

lol

[idg5202]

Player Experience: What About the Player?

When considering player experience in games, one aspect feels fairly misrepresented, or under-represented, in a sense.

It is fairly straightforward to consider what kinds of experiences a game provides. It is the content; the mechanics; the gameplay which can allow for some types of involvement or experiences to flourish, while others are left by the wayside. What different types of involvement actually exist is important to consider; however, when put into practice, the types and quality of involvement that a player experiences is determined, above all else, by their own preferences.

As is described by a lot of literature pertaining to involvement, games possess certain properties which facilitate a player’s investment in their play. It is commonly observed that players attain a strong level of engrossment when the effort required on their behalf becomes second nature.

It is this effort that is important to consider; because, like any other activity in our lives, we must be invested in it in order to feel any form of motivation to invest our energy into it. It is pointless claiming that a game can provide the pinnacle of player involvement based on its designed experience, if we do not also consider a player’s tastes and preferences.

To some, Minecraft’s lo-fi graphics are nothing more than something to scoff at; turning up their noses to the blocky aesthetic in favour of perhaps more realistic-looking graphics served up by triple-A titles. Others, however, find that it is an extremely engrossing game, with its simplistic style providing ample room for the imagination to work its magic and draw them in. Some would consider Minecraft to be a truly unsettling game at times (myself included), but many are left unmoved by the atmosphere it attempts to create, simply because they do not subscribe to the ideas that would lead them to such an experience while playing.

While it is valuable to consider in which ways games allow players to feel engrossed—it is understandably pointless to expect a game like Bejeweled to provide kinesthetic involvement—it is likewise essential that we keep in mind what a player looks for in a game as part of their ideal gaming experience. Players curate their own gaming experiences by merely exercising their power of choice; you would rarely find a player willingly choosing to participate in a game they are not at least partly interested in. Likewise you will find that, for every hundred players of a game, they will provide you with a hundred different ways to play, and hence become involved in that game.

It is only when a player and a game are brought together that we can ever begin to speak about the player’s actual experiences. You can write a thousand books pertaining to murder mysteries; but if none of those who would read them are interested enough in the genre to peruse them, then it is to be expected that those books will never result in any actual experiences, intended or otherwise.

For this matter, I would consider some form of profiling for the players themselves. In order for such profiling to be relevant, it would have to be compatible with the way in which we consider the aspects of a game’s involvement. But then, it would bring to light another question: which comes first?

[thefragmagnet]

Some Fries with that Catch Up?

Time for some catching up.

But first, some filling in.

Prior to giving Samantha her activity pack, we spent a day together, during which I had her play some games and talk about them candidly. Thanks to this assignment, one of the strangest things I have come to realize regarding our relationship is that, even though we both enjoy games (in my case it is more of an unhealthy obsession, but I digress), I never really figured out what she likes about games.

This is indeed a problematic position to be in, since we supposedly have the perfect platform to enjoy each other's company. Up until I conducted this research, however, I mostly groped around in the dark to try and find what games resonated with her. Guesswork, essentially.

To start with, I held an interview. Unfortunately, I lost the footage of this, so I am relying a fair bit on memory—notes can only do so much, especially when they are taken with the expectation of having a video recording to fall back on. That said, however, most of it was a repetition of the loose conversations we had over the course of the weeks prior. I hadn't actually intended to hold the interview following these conversations, but it did help to bring together all the scattered ideas into one coherent discussion.

What I learned, for the most part, was what constituted a good game in Samantha's eyes. She was quite clear about disliking games that were too involving or demanding. Like myself, she doesn't manage to complete games that last months on end; but then, neither does she enjoy those games which require a huge time commitment to learn to play, even if the games themselves are fairly book-ended (fighting games, for instance).

In spite of this, she mentioned that one of her favourite games was an RPG called Aveyond. This seemed contradictory to me; however, after prying further, she quickly clarified that it kept her interest because of the likeable characters, interesting plot and that it didn't take that long to complete.

With the interview done, and already providing ample insight, we moved on to the play sessions. I had her play two games, one which she was playing at the time, and another that I chose for her.

Firstly, there was Diner Dash on the DS. She had been playing it for a while already and it had been taking up a fair amount of her spare time. Through a think-aloud play session, she revealed that the level-based structure of the game appealed to her. There was strategy involved, too, but it wasn't strategy of the think-fifty-moves-ahead kind—more so quickly thinking on the fly to make the best two or three moves in a row. The level was done within about 5 minutes of gameplay.

I also had her play a game type within Diner Dash that she had not yet touched upon. She was putting all her efforts into completing the story mode before trying other things; namely, the endless mode. After she tried it out, she said she wouldn't be opposed to trying it again in future, and that she liked the change of pace; especially the idea of earning upgrades a lot quicker than in the story mode, where you would earn them only in between levels, rather than during gameplay.

Afterwards, I had her play Clickr. Clickr is a fiendish puzzle game which looks deceptively simple. Samantha's experience was not positive by any means, in spite of the mechanics being extremely straightforward. This was because the trivial controls—that of clicking on things to score points—belied a nearly painfully complex underbelly; one which had already frustrated me to no end prior to subjecting Samantha to it.

Her experience was very punctuated. She went through the tutorial levels, which bewildered her from the outset—she had no idea why she was doing what she was doing, and why what she was doing was leading her to beat a level. Once the tutorial abandoned her, she succeeded in beating another two levels, and as soon as the game required her to "figure it out," she felt confused and frustrated. Her reaction was both expected and understandable, as I went through the exact same process as soon as the game demanded a level of strategy that I could not comprehend on my own.

I subjected her also to the most frustrating gametype of Clickr: Battle mode. Annoying sounds, frenetic gameplay, cluttered interface and ineffectual tutorial... While challenging to those of us acquainted with games that leave you to do all the work, she despised it, and I didn't blame her. I ended the play session sooner than that of Diner Dash, and asked plenty of questions while the idea was still fresh in her mind.

Above all else, she despised how little the game tells you, and then expects you to figure out on your own. It requires too much strategy, essentially. She emphasized the fact that she doesn't take the time to plan moves out ahead of time, and would rather focus on what is the best move to make at that point in time.

Last of all, we took a look at some games that were on sale on Steam. I asked her which of the titles she thought she would buy, rating them on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being "shut up and take my money."

These are the games she saw, as well as the scores she gave them.

Thief: 0 (The price of the game, and perceived duration)

Resident Evil 4: 1 (Doesn't like zombie themes, but the franchise is relevant)

The Mighty Quest For Epic Loot: 7 (Aesthetics and not taking itself too seriously were both a plus. She also loved the trailer.)

Age of Wonders III: 2 (Fantasy setting was a plus, but she doesn't play strategy)

Sniper Elite: Nazi Zombie Army: 0 (FPS + zombies = very no)

Shadowrun Returns: 5 (Theme seemed very interesting, as well as the unorthodox characters. Trailer was a bit of a letdown.)

All in all, it was a very productive and revealing day of exercises. I learned a lot about Samantha's play habits, even if they didn't necessarily gel with mine.

I would just have to figure out a good way to make use of this information to make a game that she loved. No big deal.

[idg5202]

Is This Post Art?

Just as I was approaching this topic, I was so cocksure of myself to put forward a clear, concise argument in favour of Games as Art. But that all changed when I decided to do some more reading on the subject before jumping straight in.

I will admit that I have one foot far more firmly planted in the Games side of this argument than I do on the Arts side; however I still can see the validity in some of the arguments of the “Games are not Art” cohort.

What is most upsetting to me, however, is knowing one thing for sure. Nobody has found a universally accepted definition for Games, NOR Art. I stand to be corrected, but even if Art does have an academically accepted definition, many of those who argue either way blatantly cite their own opinions of what Art should or should not be.

I cannot express just how troubling this is to me when people decide to take up the helm (my past, cocky self included) to express their stance on the matter as universal fact. How can anybody expect to posit a universal truth based on their own hypotheses?

After scouring some literature and articles dealing with the debate, I found myself sorely dissatisfied with just about all of the arguments put forward.

That being said, however, much like debating the definition of Games, it is not a fruitless endeavour. It helps to expose the subjects from a different perspective. And I explicitly refer to the both of them, in this case, because I saw little short of hypocrisy and closed-mindedness coming from the Art side of the argument, to be sure.

The most prominent voice in the “anti” position was that of Roger Ebert who asked, “Why are gamers so intensely concerned, anyway, that games be defined as art?” This is indeed a valid question to make; as the experiences and emotions evoked by the beauty you can find in games are made no less or more real whether Games are accepted as Art or not. In one sense, there isn’t a point to proving Games to be Art. We should be unconcerned with its position as Art, or not.

That being said, however, does the position of Art risk being compromised if there is some possibility of relationship to Games? Would Games necessarily tarnish that reputation? I would say that a good number of acclaimed artists already do a good job of that by themselves. Modern art is likewise hotly debated as being real art. It is almost as if to say that, someday, we will stop producing art altogether by some arbitrary measure. The Mona Lisa is Art, but then, why not Modern Art? Then, why not Games?

Many cite measures of what should or should not constitute Art. Effort involved, financial interest, intent to please, perceived beauty, realism, emotional evocation… From my perspective, these are all very arbitrary, subjective measures and are personally motivated.

I would almost go so far as to simply say that everyone can decide, for themselves, what they consider to be Art. But then, that would also be a subjective, personally motivated stance to take, wouldn’t it?

I guess I may as well not have written this post to begin with.

[idg5202]

The Most Boring Story Ever Told

I am not going to about the narratology vs. ludology debate. Why? Because, given the existing literature, I think that it is now a fruitless debate.

More interestingly to me; I enjoy the concept of alter-biographies, and I enjoy that they exist. One of my favourite ways to partake in games lately has become less the playing of them than it is the talking about them; specifically in terms of personal experiences garnered from them. Unfortunately for me, the former begets the latter, so I can’t very well talk without the play preceding it.

These alter-biographies are not considered narratives of the game, but that doesn’t really matter to me.

What matters is how the vast majority of discussion between players is regarding what they experience of a game. Even something as simple as a preference for strategy or character within the game can become as heated as a political rally at times. Both or all players can be perfectly correct in their stance, but the fact of the matter is that all these positions and opinions are emergent of experience through play.

It may be a tall statement to back up, however it is interesting to humour the idea that all games, as well as their experiences, are subjective. It feels almost obvious to say, but quite simply, this is because it is the players who experience the game that interpret and internalize that experience.

So what’s the point? The point here is that a game can never really be seen just as a whole of its constituent parts. That is to say, you can’t know a game until you experience it.

Perhaps this is unfounded; really, a game is a game simply by being so—as an artifact—and its experience is simply the game as it is played. Fair enough, but I would also humour the thought as being akin to when a tree falls in the forest, and there are none to hear it. A moot point, maybe, with all things considered, but I find it hard to consider a game without also keeping in mind its intended and actual experiences.

One small example: I play Minecraft with a very clearly delineated set of rules in mind, over and above those in-game. When I am on a multiplayer server, I prioritize survival above all else, which then influences the way I do other things. Other players, who I know personally, do not hold that objective in such high regard. Hence, to them, it is perfectly acceptable to commit suicide simply to travel back home quickly.

Yes, of course I am speaking here about the experiential side more so than the artifact per se; but then, what else is the game to me, as a player, than the combination of the two?

Can the two experiences, although only differing in such a fundamental way, be considered the same game? I would say that they are not. To me, Minecraft is a game about survival above all else. To many of my friends, it is the construction, the exploration, the collection of items that dominates the experience. That dictates extensively how they play, as well as how they approach the game—which is largely different to my way.

It would follow, then, that it is pointless for me to really share or compare my experiences with them, because my stories of strict conservation would bore them, just as their hoarding, suicidal tendencies put me off. It isn’t a matter of taste, but more to do with the fact that we are actually talking about two different games. Similar, but different.

It is only when we tell, and then discuss, the same “story” together that the conversation flows. Just like conversing about a book (or any topic for that matter, since it is an alter-biography), although the story is the same, the interpretation differs from person to person.

This differentiation may cause disagreement, but the players would at least be talking about the same thing. Disagreement is not the same as indifference, as would be the case with me discussing Minecraft with my friends.

[thefragmagnet]

Give a Little, Get a Lot

Spoiler alert: The Activity Pack was a resounding success.

Without going into too much detail, the exercises for data collection have been extremely valuable in highlighting what my muse values most in games.

And in a different way; without going into too much detail, I've avoided having to poke my nose in too far into her own affairs to learn what I need to steer my designs in the right direction.

The activities I had her do seemed to be a very good balance of challenge and flow—they weren't all so simplistic as to be trivial, nor were they so challenging that it was an ordeal.

As far as the highlights of the Activity Pack are concerned, there are two of the points (which I can safely divulge in public without exposing personal details) that stood out to me.

Firstly, she enjoyed playing a game that she anticipated that she wouldn't. She likely only gave it a second chance because she was urged to by the task; however, I think it was much different to what would have happened if I had to urge her myself. While I didn't necessarily plan for this, I had anticipated it slightly. I hope that this will encourage her to try more unusual games, to broaden her preferences.

Second, she was, as I had hoped, very lenient with herself when it came to following my directions. I emphasized that I wanted creativity above all else, and her answers really reflect that. Her writing is littered with unprompted drawings, ramblings (sometimes only partly related to the task) and wonderfully flowing content.

Even if the data itself is not quantifiable per se, it is chock full of content that my muse has clearly had a lot of fun creating. Even if most of it ends up unused (which I hope to avoid), it seems as though it was a pleasant experience overall, which is pretty much what this whole project is all about.

[idg5202]

I Play an Instrument: a Console Controller

The lack of importance given to sound in games is both impressive and worrying.

Without it, games would be mute, desolate wastelands of drudgery and boredom. Even the original game of Pong (which we all know by now is not the first video game but, shut up, I’m making a point here) had some semblance of sound for the sake of feedback; let alone in the kaleidoscopic landscapes that we can run around in today.

In spite of their vital importance, they continue to be treated like a token minority in the society that is game design. This is quite troubling, as it is extremely easy to see how effective sound can be in building the experience we get while playing games.

I want to highlight my point firstly by discussing a game that soaked up an inordinate amount of my time, even in spite of (or arguably, due to) its simplicity: Meteos.

Meteos was developed by the same company that worked on Lumines, and both boast the same sound “mechanic” of having the player’s actions contribute towards the game’s soundtrack.

Gameplay could not be easier to explain: you slide coloured blocks up and down columns in a grid in order to match lines of colours of three or more. When a match is made, they are pushed to the top of the screen, where blocks are removed from play. Blocks constantly fill your screen, so as with Tetris, you need to avoid letting the blocks go past the top of the screen; otherwise, you lose.

What is so interesting about the sound, however, is that your actions actually contribute to the music playing in the background. While the music itself consists of little more than a two-to-three second loop, it feels extremely dynamic and never monotonous during gameplay, because of all the extra instruments added in whenever you complete an action.

Couple this with the fact that the music changes in tempo and intensity the closer you are to defeat, and you have an extremely lively soundscape. While the computation of the audio is simplistic, it is vital to the game experience overall.

Of course, the first conclusion one may draw from this is that the gameplay without this procedural soundtrack would feel incomplete. This is very true; we can find many people who recount their experiences with classic games based on the game’s score; characteristic passages of music bring with them floods of nostalgia to those who played them in the past. It is also a selling point of some games, which encourage customers to pay extra in order to receive the soundtrack as well.

With that being said, however, the opposite is also true: the music and sound is incomplete without the gameplay present for it to, quite literally, play off of. In fact, I clearly recall opening the sound test feature of the game as soon as it was unlocked, only to feel let down once the audio I was greeted with felt empty and incomplete.

For this reason, couldn’t we accurately consider a game controller as a musical instrument, in some respect? It is indeed a very limited view of composition and playing of music, but as with other titles such as Electroplankton and Daigasso! Band Brothers, it is not a stretch of the imagination to consider consoles as a form of synthesizer, allowing gamers to produce music through varying forms of gameplay.

[idg5202]

Ethical Questions About Questionable Ethics

It seems almost like an interminably long argument; that games have questionable ethics, which can somehow compromise the ethics of their players.

Further to this, many have discussed that games are a medium within which ethics can be explored, rather than necessarily being used as a platform to brainwash the masses. I subscribe to this way of thinking and, aside from the obvious implications that games do not foster killers, it highlights one important point that tends to distinguish between the qualities of games.

What I mean by this is that, should a game deal with context that resides within an ethical grey area, and be designed well, then it would allow the player to experiment without necessarily providing feedback in a heavy-handed manner through the use of built-in mechanics.

One example that springs to mind is that of BioShock. In the game, players are given the option, when faced with the so-called “little sisters”, to either harvest them for precious ADAM (which can be traded for powers), resulting in their death; or saving them, which provides diminished returns on the aforementioned currency.

What becomes quickly evident is the fact that this is, in fact, a false choice. Should the player put the children’s lives first, foregoing the personal benefits, they would quickly start receiving rewards over the course of the game, which more than make up for the difference in gains between harvesting and saving the girls.

Although the designers do not explicitly state which of the two paths they consider to be “better,” or rather, more ethical, it is easy to see which of the two they would rather have the players choose. Certainly, it is often a choice between two extremely polarized actions, as in this case; but to say what is truly moral or otherwise is an argument that is fraught with context.

As far as ethics are concerned, playing a game that gives free reign within any environment having players potentially carrying out actions of questionable morality, is comparable to being handed a book in which the very same ethically ambiguous acts are described.

If, as the consumer of such a text, you are incapable of critically reflecting on its contents, then its effect on you will be not much different to that of the game.

To return to my earlier point, this is where games differ so much in terms of ethics. Their ergodic nature gives way to more visceral, personal experiences of these questionable activities, making their subsequent analysis far more reflective for the player.

I would posit, then, that putting a violent game in the hands of someone capable of introspection and critical thought is far from unethical. Rather, it would arguably be unethical to deny the experience to such a person.

Conversely, it would be irresponsible to give the same game to someone who is lacking in these qualities (such as, for instance, a child); but that responsibility does not rest on those who develop the game.

No; their responsibilities lie within making a game that does not preach, but instead presents situations and choices in as objective a light as possible, as we’ve already mentioned; for their players to digest, analyse, and possibly even discuss, to reach their own conclusions.

[idg5202]

[idg5202]

This is a great place to bring up an argument I had once with Jean-Luc about diegetic and non-diegetic sounds in video games. Last time we were seeing someone playing Outlast and there is a scene where you open a door a human carcass appears in front of you. Now such a visual scene is horrifying on its own already but they had to add a high-pitch ambient sound that amplified the fear of the scene. Was that sound necessary? We don’t know what the designers’ intentions were but that sound did make the scene worse.

[thefragmagnet]

Stop copying me.

PS: If you're reading this, Pippin, I swear to god we wrote our comments at the same time, without discussing it beforehand.

[thefragmagnet]

[kamadake]

The pressure is intense but you’re definitely not going to make a perfect game in such a short time but as a brainstorming session it really works well.

[thefragmagnet]

I never said that we should always strive for perfection; only that we should at least be able to work on something properly as a group. There are times when I have felt communication break down to the extent where different games are being developed by individual people in the same team.

Lack of communication is what I have issues with. It can happen even when you have the simplest idea, and all the time in the world, and it is extremely hazardous.

I honestly think that is a fact, but on a more personal level, being misunderstood and/or confused are easily two of the most irritating things to me. And you know me well enough—that's saying something.

[thefragmagnet]

Wherein Pressure can Make Diamonds, or Explosions.

Developing under pressure, in the form of intense time constraints, is increasingly becoming one of my preferred ways of developing games or, at the very least, developing game concepts.

While I might sing its praises, it unfortunately has some drawbacks which, as an unfettered perfectionist—and I don't mean that as a good thing—play to many of my weaknesses.

Basically, the long and short of what I've learned through experience is the value of measured moderation. While the factor of time constraints helps force you to focus your efforts on what really matters in your design process, there is a limit to how much value this process can provide before it begins to subtract it.

As I've said, focusing on the essentials is beneficial, usually; what I find is far more important, though, is having the time to communicate.

Designing a game as a group, when you don't even have time to communicate your ideas clearly enough, is exactly the same as trying to navigate a race through an unfamiliar town—while you're all using different maps. You might coincidentally manage to synch up with your planned routes, but the chances are that you will agree on entirely different things altogether; especially if you have differing ideas on how the game should progress.

Always keeping focused on your important goals is indeed valuable; but for the sake of your work, you should never do so at the expense of communication and clarification.

[thefragmagnet]

Crafting the Cultural "Activity Pack"

I'll just begin by saying that I cannot abide by the term "Cultural Probe." For something that is an actually, genuinely pleasant concept in information gathering techniques, "probing" someone is just a term that is painfully out of place. Henceforth I'll only refer to it as my Activity Pack. Childish as it may sound, I think that a well designed Activity Pack should foster playful experiences; and honestly, what better playful experiences are there than those of children?

Platitudes aside, my design choices of the Activity Pack for my muse revolved around one rule, and one rule alone: No digital design. I hadn't drawn anything in a long time, and I wanted to give it as much of a personal touch as I could. I felt it would help me set aside my obsession with perfection, and that she would not feel obliged to provide me with any content that is equally as polished, stifling her creativity. Imperfection is beauty, after all.

So the first thing that I considered was how to provide the tasks. I figured it would make little sense to have her carry them out in any particular order unless actually necessary, and furthermore, I am a fan of simplicity wherever it is possible. To facilitate this, I chose to put the tasks on individual cards.

Next were the task materials. She needed something to write her answers on, of course, as well as any supplementary content for the specialized tasks. I packed some select Intùiti cards, an assortment of stickers, as well as a new notebook with instructions on the front page.

I put the entire thing in a transparent folder, so that everything is visible, along with some small packets of sweets. As fun as I strived to make the whole thing, this was intended for my own benefit, so the treats were intended to complete its image as a gift, more so than an obligation.

I gave it to her as shown, following an afternoon of assorted discussions and play sessions (more on those later). I wanted it to be a form of thanks for her contribution, but also because it would allow her exactly one week to attempt to complete her tasks.

Upon seeing it she was quite confounded at first, as she had no idea that she would be receiving it. I explained nothing about it, forcing her to explore and read all the content to figure things out. Going from one little piece to the next, reading through, she was pleasantly surprised again and again by the little touches I put in for her to discover. After seeing the whole pack's contents, she was very pleased with it.

At that point I asked her not to tell me anything about what she intended to write or do from the tasks. Since two days ago, she has taken to it with hammer and tongs, and it is certainly exciting to see that she's enjoying it so much, but also curious to find out what she's made for me so far.

I guess I'll just have to wait and see.

[thefragmagnet]

I Procrastinate, Therefore I Will Be; Later.

I'll be entirely honest—up until yesterday, I was still putting off working on any of my plans for information gathering towards my muse-based game design.

I'm not entirely sure what I was worried about, but I felt as though conducting such a premeditated investigation on my muse was bordering on the uncomfortable. As always, however, time constraints are there to save the day, and, once I realized that I needed to maintain momentum to keep up with the schedule, I dropped all pretences and got to work.

From my personal experience, over-thinking and over-planning tend to lead to stifling of creativity and, subsequently, the productivity it would lead to.

Out of all the tasks we had available, the one that sounded the least "strenuous" (although in theory, really, none of them should be) to me was the "cultural probe"—or "activity pack," as I prefer to call it.

I only really had one concrete idea in mind as of two days ago. Maybe two, at best. However, I didn’t want to waste too much time wracking my brains and building up expectations unnecessarily. I resorted to using the VNA cards, designed by Annakaisa Kultima, in a design game variant that I designed along with my course-mates Karl and Matthew.

Needless to say, I took some creative liberty with what the terms on the cards actually meant. I wasn't about to give my girlfriend tasks to do with "opponents" or "snakes," but it served its purpose.

What I had hoped for was to create activities or games to include in the activity pack that would surprise even myself. This was so that, even following the design process, I would not allow myself sufficient time to consider the possible outcomes of each of the tasks.

After the twenty minute exercise, I extended my list of ideas to the following:

Take photos on a regular basis

Organize photos based on other people

Take photos from street to street in unusual places

Play an unusual game

Play a game online

What you value most from your relationships with friends

Group your friends in different ways

Design, with pictures, a trip for another person

Associate pictures with other people that you know

Make relationships between the people you know

Make a story out of cards

Using labels or stickers to denote favourite things in different ways

Some of these resulted directly from the design game, others were inspired along the way. Either way, it is a decent selection, to be sure. Some were also a bit too simplistic to really warrant their own entire task, but were used in conjunction with other tasks.

In order to avoid too many major spoilers, I will speak about the actual design and contents of the activity pack in a later post. I will also be in a better position to discuss the results of the other activities I have planned, such as the interview and think-aloud.