Surviving the action of a typical (or atypical) role-playing game can be a careful resource balancing act. But 99% of the time it all comes back to a very simple relationship between two fundamental resource categories:
The One That Makes You Live Longer
On one side of the teeter-totter, we have your life bar and extra life bars. But I don't have extra life bars, you say? Health potions.. medical kits... food... every game has its own relevant lore, but they all essentially augment your life bar. If you want to get technical, armor and its fancy sci-fi cousin shields fall in this category as well.
The One That Makes Other Stuff Live Shorter
On the other side of the metaphorical teeter-totter, we have pretty much everything else. Swords? Check. Guns? Check. Ammo, grenades, repair materials, spell scrolls? Yup. Anything that you can use to make the bad stuff die faster than normal. Mana / MP / that blue bar that you spend to cast spells also qualify.
1 + 2 = Zen?
RPG success is about using both of these resource categories to mutual benefit. Its possible to go crazy with games that give you complete inventory customization. You could, for example, completely disregard your weaponry and buy the best armor money can buy. The likely result? It takes you so long to kill anything that your armor gives you little, if any, net gain in battle. Or you go all-out on weapons. Just be sure to kill everything before it can retaliate or you'll be defeated pretty quickly. Though probably not ideal, these are unique playstyle decisions that are both at least somewhat viable. This is good!
Of course, other games give you a scripted inventory. You only have access to what you find, whether as preset or randomized loot. In these games, the dilemma is not about playstyle but about survival (or at least it should be if tuned properly). Choosing when to spend combat resources to end a battle faster or when to take a hit to save that last bit of special weapon ammo... these are meaningful, engaging decisions. This is good too!
Often times the safest route is to go somewhere in the middle. Give your player character just enough money to supplement their favorite resource, but keep the pace tense enough that they can't get cozy one way or the other.
Ultimately it doesn't matter where you end up, your player will have fun regardless. Just ensure that you allocate what the player needs for the resource model you're going for.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Branching paths on a linear road
Ever played a game that just felt painfully linear? Of course you have. Most games are super linear. And that is by necessity-- you can't just create a massive open world full of relevant, interesting things to do in every direction. Unless you're Bethesda.
The trick is to make the game seem non-linear when in fact, it totally isn't. Make the player think that s/he has a choice in travel direction when really there isn't one. Utilize these two time-honored level design elements to accomplish this:
1. Parallel paths
Easy. Split the road....one part goes one way, the other part goes another. By necessity, they'll rejoin a little later. Using these will be a no-brainer, right? Hold up. Think about the poor completion-driven players... those guys and gals are going to want to thoroughly investigate both paths... and they'll be distraught if nefarious blocking techniques are employed to prevent revisiting... such as doors that lock behind you or ledges that you have to drop down off of.
Parallel paths are probably better reserved not for segments dedicated to exploration, but for segments dedicated to combat. When there are bad guys around, a path split decision becomes a strategic decision rather than a whimsical "hey I sort of like the lighting and doodads over there so I'll go that way" decision. This is good. And then the player feels better knowing they didn't miss any secrets or goodies because no self-respecting level designers hide secrets and goodies in the combat segments of the level. Right?
2. Dead-ends
And you thought parallel paths was easy. You split the path and one way goes somewhere while the other way doesn't. Done. There are, however, two kinds of dead-end paths for your amusement:
a. The kind where you get rewarded
This is the sort of dead-end you'll see for exploration. There is at least a 50% chance that there will be treasure or some other goodie at the end of the wrong path. Of course there won't always be treasure or it would get too predictable and just not be exciting.
Often times, these dead-end branches are designed to intentionally look like the wrong way. But then no one would go down them, right? Wrong! People love detours to get free stuff. And they'll appreciate the feeling of cleverness they get from thinking "hmm... this isn't the obvious way... so it must be secret and thus contain something I want to get!"
Making a dead-end path split with no clear route forward can be dangerous, though. Think back to the poor completion-obsessed player. If s/he knows you like to hide treasure in your dead-ends, s/he is going to try to pick the dead-end. But what if they pick wrong? How long should they keep going before checking the other way? What if they get dragged into a cut-scene or or some environment element blocks the path back? It could be downright distressing! But not as distressing as...
b. The kind where you die
Fairly self-explanatory here. You pick the wrong path you die. The death can be accomplished in a variety of creative ways. Such as deathtraps. So-named because they inflict death. If the player gets plenty of time to mull over this decision, the death-end should be clearly marked. I recommend universally recognizable warning signs such as indicators of the presence of the trap or precarious environment. Or just be a douche and require the player to have paged through the 50 lines of dialog with that one side character two levels ago. Either way.
Death-ends don't have to be observation puzzles, either. Consider an action segment where your character is supposed to run away from bad things. Stopping is of course an option, but it will also probably result in death. So that is sort of like a death-end. But more importantly, there can be path splits during this moving segment where there is not a lot of time to pick the right or wrong way. In this case, the game really needs to make it obvious which route is and is not going to cause death. Otherwise the player won't be too happy. Proximity to the previous quick-save point pending.
And... that's really all there is to it. Your boring linear game now seems to offer non-linear choice and it required hardly any extra effort to pull off.
The trick is to make the game seem non-linear when in fact, it totally isn't. Make the player think that s/he has a choice in travel direction when really there isn't one. Utilize these two time-honored level design elements to accomplish this:
1. Parallel paths
Easy. Split the road....one part goes one way, the other part goes another. By necessity, they'll rejoin a little later. Using these will be a no-brainer, right? Hold up. Think about the poor completion-driven players... those guys and gals are going to want to thoroughly investigate both paths... and they'll be distraught if nefarious blocking techniques are employed to prevent revisiting... such as doors that lock behind you or ledges that you have to drop down off of.
Parallel paths are probably better reserved not for segments dedicated to exploration, but for segments dedicated to combat. When there are bad guys around, a path split decision becomes a strategic decision rather than a whimsical "hey I sort of like the lighting and doodads over there so I'll go that way" decision. This is good. And then the player feels better knowing they didn't miss any secrets or goodies because no self-respecting level designers hide secrets and goodies in the combat segments of the level. Right?
2. Dead-ends
And you thought parallel paths was easy. You split the path and one way goes somewhere while the other way doesn't. Done. There are, however, two kinds of dead-end paths for your amusement:
a. The kind where you get rewarded
This is the sort of dead-end you'll see for exploration. There is at least a 50% chance that there will be treasure or some other goodie at the end of the wrong path. Of course there won't always be treasure or it would get too predictable and just not be exciting.
Often times, these dead-end branches are designed to intentionally look like the wrong way. But then no one would go down them, right? Wrong! People love detours to get free stuff. And they'll appreciate the feeling of cleverness they get from thinking "hmm... this isn't the obvious way... so it must be secret and thus contain something I want to get!"
Making a dead-end path split with no clear route forward can be dangerous, though. Think back to the poor completion-obsessed player. If s/he knows you like to hide treasure in your dead-ends, s/he is going to try to pick the dead-end. But what if they pick wrong? How long should they keep going before checking the other way? What if they get dragged into a cut-scene or or some environment element blocks the path back? It could be downright distressing! But not as distressing as...
b. The kind where you die
Fairly self-explanatory here. You pick the wrong path you die. The death can be accomplished in a variety of creative ways. Such as deathtraps. So-named because they inflict death. If the player gets plenty of time to mull over this decision, the death-end should be clearly marked. I recommend universally recognizable warning signs such as indicators of the presence of the trap or precarious environment. Or just be a douche and require the player to have paged through the 50 lines of dialog with that one side character two levels ago. Either way.
Death-ends don't have to be observation puzzles, either. Consider an action segment where your character is supposed to run away from bad things. Stopping is of course an option, but it will also probably result in death. So that is sort of like a death-end. But more importantly, there can be path splits during this moving segment where there is not a lot of time to pick the right or wrong way. In this case, the game really needs to make it obvious which route is and is not going to cause death. Otherwise the player won't be too happy. Proximity to the previous quick-save point pending.
And... that's really all there is to it. Your boring linear game now seems to offer non-linear choice and it required hardly any extra effort to pull off.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Why Blizzard's new talent system rocks
So I spent some time mulling over the new talent system that Blizzard is working on for their latest World of Warcraft expansion, Mists of Pandaria. I think they're on to something here. I'd go as far to say that it may be... cataclysmic.
You don't need to play World of Warcraft to appreciate this either. The Blizzard design team has struck home at a problem that has plagued character specialization since the dawn of time (or at least for a good while now).
But first! Here's a refresher on how character specialization usually works. I'm going off MMOs in particular here, but a huge swath of RPGs with character or playstyle customization are going to fall in as well...
How Things Are Normally Done
1.) You pick your "class". I've found that more and more, your class only defines how you do what you'll do, instead of intrinsically what you are going to do. For example, you pick Warrior as your class. This isn't your role, you aren't necessarily the group's tank (it means you can be...). Rather, the Warrior class choice in and of itself simply means you are going to spend your time smacking enemies at short range with heavy objects. That's all you're committing to. And that's good. It makes taking the first step a little less harrowing.
2.) Then you pick your "real" class. Once you've had some time to get your feet wet with your basic skills, it becomes time to further specialize. World of Warcraft for instance gives you this choice at level 10. Your real class builds on your base class to give you both a more unique playstyle and a solid role for party gameplay. Now please note that by different playstyles I just mean you get different button combinations to do essentially the same thing... and maybe your attacks or spells are a different color (think of a spellcaster that decides to specialize in fire or ice magic... the differences are like 90% cosmetic).
3.) You "customize" your real class abilities as you grow. Now that you have a distinctive playstyle for your class, you need a way to improve your unique skills and make meaningful character growth choices down the road... I mean who wants the decision-making to end at level 10, right? So the game gives you a talent tree. Every level, or every few levels, or really whenever they darn well please, you get talent points to spend on your talent tree. This gives you, the player, the chance to decide how your character grows. Which abilities will get stronger? Which new skills will you acquire?
Unfortunately... its pretty much never that interesting. See, there is almost always a "best" answer. Especially if your goal is something fairly cut-and-dry like do the most damage possible. The talent tree comes off as an untamed frontier of new possibilities, but once you actually dig in, it becomes a simple matter of budgeting choices because they are better... not because they customize your style of play.
How World of Warcraft's New System Changes That
World of Warcraft used to (and strictly speaking still does-- since the expansion isn't out yet) use exactly the system I described above. They've planned some adjustments. Here's what's new:
2.b.) You still pick your "real class" in the form of a specialization decision at level 10. However, your specialization does not grow in power through your talent tree anymore. Instead, simply by making the specialization decision, you will gain passive bonuses and special skills as you gain levels. This just makes sense and people should have done it ages ago. You're going to take the best, most defining abilities anyway. In essence, they were never really choices. So why disguise them as choices?
3.b.) Your talents are role-independent playstyle decisions. Remember how I said people will look for the best answer? To do the most damage possible? If you want meaningful decisions, you can't offer a right answer. How does Blizzard's new talent system accomplish this? By offering simple apples-to-apples choices.
Instead of the usual tradition where you scan the options, find the one that helps you do the most damage possible, pick it, and move on, you're forced to think a bit more. Each talent decision is isolated from any later talent decisions, and each is a choice between large bonuses or powerful abilities that make you better at something. One decision may be between abilities that help you move around the battlefield. Another may help you survive incoming damage. And yes, at least one will help you deal the most damage possible. The point is that you can't put all your points into the damage abilities because those are the "best". Your decisions will be based on your playstyle, on how you want to go about dealing more damage, or escaping a tight spot, or moving around in combat, or snaring a target, and on and on.
Even though the total number of talent "choices" is dramatically lower, the number of significant, unique decisions will be higher than ever before.
I really hope other game developers catch on. Character development decisions that define playstyle, and most importantly, fun, are always in demand.
You don't need to play World of Warcraft to appreciate this either. The Blizzard design team has struck home at a problem that has plagued character specialization since the dawn of time (or at least for a good while now).
But first! Here's a refresher on how character specialization usually works. I'm going off MMOs in particular here, but a huge swath of RPGs with character or playstyle customization are going to fall in as well...
How Things Are Normally Done
1.) You pick your "class". I've found that more and more, your class only defines how you do what you'll do, instead of intrinsically what you are going to do. For example, you pick Warrior as your class. This isn't your role, you aren't necessarily the group's tank (it means you can be...). Rather, the Warrior class choice in and of itself simply means you are going to spend your time smacking enemies at short range with heavy objects. That's all you're committing to. And that's good. It makes taking the first step a little less harrowing.
2.) Then you pick your "real" class. Once you've had some time to get your feet wet with your basic skills, it becomes time to further specialize. World of Warcraft for instance gives you this choice at level 10. Your real class builds on your base class to give you both a more unique playstyle and a solid role for party gameplay. Now please note that by different playstyles I just mean you get different button combinations to do essentially the same thing... and maybe your attacks or spells are a different color (think of a spellcaster that decides to specialize in fire or ice magic... the differences are like 90% cosmetic).
3.) You "customize" your real class abilities as you grow. Now that you have a distinctive playstyle for your class, you need a way to improve your unique skills and make meaningful character growth choices down the road... I mean who wants the decision-making to end at level 10, right? So the game gives you a talent tree. Every level, or every few levels, or really whenever they darn well please, you get talent points to spend on your talent tree. This gives you, the player, the chance to decide how your character grows. Which abilities will get stronger? Which new skills will you acquire?
Unfortunately... its pretty much never that interesting. See, there is almost always a "best" answer. Especially if your goal is something fairly cut-and-dry like do the most damage possible. The talent tree comes off as an untamed frontier of new possibilities, but once you actually dig in, it becomes a simple matter of budgeting choices because they are better... not because they customize your style of play.
How World of Warcraft's New System Changes That
World of Warcraft used to (and strictly speaking still does-- since the expansion isn't out yet) use exactly the system I described above. They've planned some adjustments. Here's what's new:
2.b.) You still pick your "real class" in the form of a specialization decision at level 10. However, your specialization does not grow in power through your talent tree anymore. Instead, simply by making the specialization decision, you will gain passive bonuses and special skills as you gain levels. This just makes sense and people should have done it ages ago. You're going to take the best, most defining abilities anyway. In essence, they were never really choices. So why disguise them as choices?
3.b.) Your talents are role-independent playstyle decisions. Remember how I said people will look for the best answer? To do the most damage possible? If you want meaningful decisions, you can't offer a right answer. How does Blizzard's new talent system accomplish this? By offering simple apples-to-apples choices.
Instead of the usual tradition where you scan the options, find the one that helps you do the most damage possible, pick it, and move on, you're forced to think a bit more. Each talent decision is isolated from any later talent decisions, and each is a choice between large bonuses or powerful abilities that make you better at something. One decision may be between abilities that help you move around the battlefield. Another may help you survive incoming damage. And yes, at least one will help you deal the most damage possible. The point is that you can't put all your points into the damage abilities because those are the "best". Your decisions will be based on your playstyle, on how you want to go about dealing more damage, or escaping a tight spot, or moving around in combat, or snaring a target, and on and on.
Even though the total number of talent "choices" is dramatically lower, the number of significant, unique decisions will be higher than ever before.
I really hope other game developers catch on. Character development decisions that define playstyle, and most importantly, fun, are always in demand.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Storytelling, How To Not Do
In the past couple months, I finished playing three ultra high-production value games-- Uncharted 3, Final Fantasy XIII-2, and Mass Effect 3. Consider this your SPOILER WARNING. Each of these was a great, enjoyable game, but I felt like the storytelling in each left something to be desired. I'm going to go through them one at a time here and talk a bit about where things went askew.
Uncharted 3: Climax
Overall, Naughty Dog (the guys and gals that made the Uncharted series, if you were wondering) had a great story to tell. It is another globe-trotting history-digging adventure to stop bad people from finding bad things.
The problem? The climax of Uncharted 3, or rather, the lack-thereof, left me far too confused to feel any sense of accomplishment or catharsis when Drake rides off into the sunset and my little "Charted: [insert difficulty setting here]" achievement popped up on the screen. I honestly didn't think I had reached the end of the game before I saw the achievement, and even then I didn't believe it. But why?
I'll be honest, the high-point in the lost city for me was fighting the would-be Djinn enemies. These supernatural battles were intentionally wild, dramatic, and gripping. The fighting itself felt like the game's climax. This created a big problem, though. It made the big reveal... disappointing. All that cool stuff you just saw? Not even real. Having heard about it from the nomads earlier just makes the disappointment worse. The player is completely dragged back down from the frame of supernatural possibilities.
Now I'm not saying the big reveal isn't interesting, I'm just saying the pacing makes it feel like falling action, when I'd wager it was supposed to be the story's climax.
After the reveal, the story wastes little time in destroying the entire city and killing off the main villain without so much as a quick-time event. The wrap-up and escape feels rushed and mashed together. There is no defining cathartic moment when Drake defeats the villains that the story spent the entire time giving the player a reason to personally dislike. (By comparison, Uncharted 2 did this really really well).
There was no "this is it" moment, and by skipping that moment, I was left without any frame of reference to guide what I should be thinking about as the story careened to a conclusion. A good, engaging story needs that defining moment.
Final Fantasy XIII-2: World Mechanics
Good storytelling requires a world with premises and mechanics within which the story takes place. Many fantasy mechanics are so common that they are taken for granted-- the usage of magic, fantastic monsters, technology that achieves feats contrary to modern science... all of these are practically expected in a (final) fantasy setting. Others, however, need to be explained beforehand.
In my opinion, the fewer fundamental world mechanics that needed to be included, the better. This makes a story more intuitive to the player, something that can be understood. This also leaves room for "human" traits and decisions to drive the plot around these unique world mechanics. This is why (final) fantasy games can do whatever sort of ridiculous over-the-top final battle sequences they want... because they don't matter. The fight mechanics, whether sensible or not, are simply there to compound the (human) drama that has led up to them.
In FFXIII-2, the human element can be summed up as such: the bad guy wants to save this girl and doesn't care about the cataclysmic consequences. This is interesting. It is thoughtful. It could get the player weighing the morality of action. Unfortunately, once the game starts spending hours trying to explain how time and space work in a fantasy world with multiple realities and non-linear historical progression and then defining every important plot event based on those rules, the really worthwhile bits start to get lost. The story's ending does not resolve any thoughtful conflict, it simply further leverages world mechanics for shock and awe.
World mechanics need to support the mindful, human aspects of a story, not define them.
Mass Effect 3: Relevance
The conclusion of BioWare's space epic had an insane bar to live up to. Did it reach that bar? I'm not sure. A lot of people who have played it are unsure. What about Mass Effect 3 left a less-than-savory taste?
I would argue that the issue is with relevance. The goal of Mass Effect 3 can be summed up simply as "defeat the Reapers". The problem? Almost half the game is spent fighting the human organization, Cerberus. Not Reapers. As much as the story would like to explain otherwise, the plot of Mass Effect 3 does not require Cerberus to exist at all. Cerberus plot points could just as easily be explained through some other improvised logic.
The issue of relevance doesn't stop at plot points. The entire over-arching direction of Mass Effect 3 didn't even want the premise for action to be "defeat the Reapers" in the first place. The plot tries really, really hard to make that premise into "save Earth". And what is wrong here? The Mass Effect story, up to that point, had never been about Earth. It was barely mentioned, and only in passing. Even Mass Effect 3 spends maybe five minutes introducing the player to Earth before it needs saving.
Whatever a story is supposed to be about, the action needs to matter, and the player needs to have a reason to care about it aside from happening to live on the same planet.
Uncharted 3: Climax
Overall, Naughty Dog (the guys and gals that made the Uncharted series, if you were wondering) had a great story to tell. It is another globe-trotting history-digging adventure to stop bad people from finding bad things.
The problem? The climax of Uncharted 3, or rather, the lack-thereof, left me far too confused to feel any sense of accomplishment or catharsis when Drake rides off into the sunset and my little "Charted: [insert difficulty setting here]" achievement popped up on the screen. I honestly didn't think I had reached the end of the game before I saw the achievement, and even then I didn't believe it. But why?
I'll be honest, the high-point in the lost city for me was fighting the would-be Djinn enemies. These supernatural battles were intentionally wild, dramatic, and gripping. The fighting itself felt like the game's climax. This created a big problem, though. It made the big reveal... disappointing. All that cool stuff you just saw? Not even real. Having heard about it from the nomads earlier just makes the disappointment worse. The player is completely dragged back down from the frame of supernatural possibilities.
Now I'm not saying the big reveal isn't interesting, I'm just saying the pacing makes it feel like falling action, when I'd wager it was supposed to be the story's climax.
After the reveal, the story wastes little time in destroying the entire city and killing off the main villain without so much as a quick-time event. The wrap-up and escape feels rushed and mashed together. There is no defining cathartic moment when Drake defeats the villains that the story spent the entire time giving the player a reason to personally dislike. (By comparison, Uncharted 2 did this really really well).
There was no "this is it" moment, and by skipping that moment, I was left without any frame of reference to guide what I should be thinking about as the story careened to a conclusion. A good, engaging story needs that defining moment.
Final Fantasy XIII-2: World Mechanics
Good storytelling requires a world with premises and mechanics within which the story takes place. Many fantasy mechanics are so common that they are taken for granted-- the usage of magic, fantastic monsters, technology that achieves feats contrary to modern science... all of these are practically expected in a (final) fantasy setting. Others, however, need to be explained beforehand.
In my opinion, the fewer fundamental world mechanics that needed to be included, the better. This makes a story more intuitive to the player, something that can be understood. This also leaves room for "human" traits and decisions to drive the plot around these unique world mechanics. This is why (final) fantasy games can do whatever sort of ridiculous over-the-top final battle sequences they want... because they don't matter. The fight mechanics, whether sensible or not, are simply there to compound the (human) drama that has led up to them.
In FFXIII-2, the human element can be summed up as such: the bad guy wants to save this girl and doesn't care about the cataclysmic consequences. This is interesting. It is thoughtful. It could get the player weighing the morality of action. Unfortunately, once the game starts spending hours trying to explain how time and space work in a fantasy world with multiple realities and non-linear historical progression and then defining every important plot event based on those rules, the really worthwhile bits start to get lost. The story's ending does not resolve any thoughtful conflict, it simply further leverages world mechanics for shock and awe.
World mechanics need to support the mindful, human aspects of a story, not define them.
Mass Effect 3: Relevance
The conclusion of BioWare's space epic had an insane bar to live up to. Did it reach that bar? I'm not sure. A lot of people who have played it are unsure. What about Mass Effect 3 left a less-than-savory taste?
I would argue that the issue is with relevance. The goal of Mass Effect 3 can be summed up simply as "defeat the Reapers". The problem? Almost half the game is spent fighting the human organization, Cerberus. Not Reapers. As much as the story would like to explain otherwise, the plot of Mass Effect 3 does not require Cerberus to exist at all. Cerberus plot points could just as easily be explained through some other improvised logic.
The issue of relevance doesn't stop at plot points. The entire over-arching direction of Mass Effect 3 didn't even want the premise for action to be "defeat the Reapers" in the first place. The plot tries really, really hard to make that premise into "save Earth". And what is wrong here? The Mass Effect story, up to that point, had never been about Earth. It was barely mentioned, and only in passing. Even Mass Effect 3 spends maybe five minutes introducing the player to Earth before it needs saving.
Whatever a story is supposed to be about, the action needs to matter, and the player needs to have a reason to care about it aside from happening to live on the same planet.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Welcome to CMGM!
Hello world!
So far so good. As you can probably see from the giant 60-something point font text at the top, this is the Creative Misuse of Game Mechanics blog. I'm certainly going to be writing a lot about game mechanics... and there is a lot to say--every game has a plethora of pieces, units, or items. Each of these interact with one another in unique ways. A game's story has its own mechanics that need to be followed in order for the plot to be coherent or enjoyable (hopefully both). How the mechanics are designed, how the relationships are tuned, and how it is all presented ultimately determine whether a game is worthwhile.
I'm going to be discussing (and most likely ranting) about things that games do right and things that games do wrong. I'll analyze gameplay mechanics and design philosophies and ramble on about why they work or don't work. I'll probably derail myself on a regular basis to emphasize why the player experience is a culmination of not just the rigid game structure, but the art, music, and presentation that draw you in and make you want to keep playing.
And in case you're curious, since this is the source material, I guess you have a right to know what I play. I like a good story. I'll pick up most big budget releases. I'm a fan of science fiction, though in my experience, good science fiction (particularly in a game) is hard to do well. I like fantasy too. Not as much because elves and potions are awesome, but because you're more likely to get a respectable, engaging story. I've played next to no sports games, and only a few first-person shooters. This is intentional. Aside from the the predictable lack of interesting narrative, these genres are fairly cut-and-dry in their gameplay formulas. And that's just no fun.
Stay tuned.
So far so good. As you can probably see from the giant 60-something point font text at the top, this is the Creative Misuse of Game Mechanics blog. I'm certainly going to be writing a lot about game mechanics... and there is a lot to say--every game has a plethora of pieces, units, or items. Each of these interact with one another in unique ways. A game's story has its own mechanics that need to be followed in order for the plot to be coherent or enjoyable (hopefully both). How the mechanics are designed, how the relationships are tuned, and how it is all presented ultimately determine whether a game is worthwhile.
I'm going to be discussing (and most likely ranting) about things that games do right and things that games do wrong. I'll analyze gameplay mechanics and design philosophies and ramble on about why they work or don't work. I'll probably derail myself on a regular basis to emphasize why the player experience is a culmination of not just the rigid game structure, but the art, music, and presentation that draw you in and make you want to keep playing.
And in case you're curious, since this is the source material, I guess you have a right to know what I play. I like a good story. I'll pick up most big budget releases. I'm a fan of science fiction, though in my experience, good science fiction (particularly in a game) is hard to do well. I like fantasy too. Not as much because elves and potions are awesome, but because you're more likely to get a respectable, engaging story. I've played next to no sports games, and only a few first-person shooters. This is intentional. Aside from the the predictable lack of interesting narrative, these genres are fairly cut-and-dry in their gameplay formulas. And that's just no fun.
Stay tuned.
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