Come visit at Groudswell Games

Thanks for visiting The Game Needed Me. In an effort to formalize my game development efforts and to promote my first iPhone game, I have created a new site and a new blog, Groundswell Games. All the old posts from this blog have been imported to the new site, so all you need to do is update your RSS feed or bookmark.

I will be attempting to redirect this blog as well as possible, so I hope the transition to Groundswell Games will be easy for you.

Thanks for reading, and let me know how you like the new site!

A personal note

Here at TGNM we're pretty much all business; this is a game development blog, after all. Today is different, however. You see, my wife is pregnant with our first baby, and we found out this morning that we're having a little boy. It's hard to describe how I feel today, probably because there's not a single word that would do it -- excited, scared, nervous, happy, awestruck. None of them quite work.

Things are certainly going to change for us, and soon, but rather than dwell on all of that, I'd like to take a moment to admire the first picture of my firstborn son.

The doctor says that's his spine. You can see it ... right?

Zen and the art of indie game design

Touch Arcade posted an article yesterday about the upcoming iPhone game Zen Bound. Besides looking pretty frickin' slick, Zen Bound is notable because it's aiming at the increasingly popular zen-influenced approach to indie gaming (There is no spoon).



I put this in the same category as other non-traditional games like Jenova Chen's Cloud and flOw, and, to some extent, Crayon Physics (though it's more of a traditional puzzle game). These games are all characterized by a deliberate attempt to avoid the traditional trappings of commercial video games (or even the general concept of gaming). They aren't violent or particularly goal-driven, and they don't present situations where winning something is the player's primary motivation.

Games like this are appealing to me from a design perspective because of their counter-cultural tendencies. What's the best way to create an interactive experience that explores more than the adrenaline rush of today's big-budget games? Make something that moves slowly and doesn't go anywhere. It's a distinctly indie thought process, and it works perfectly for small projects. The focus is on quality on a small scale, doing one thing well and for its own sake.

I don't know if any of these designers will ever strike it rich, but that's probably not the point. The point, I suppose, is that there is no point.

Real estate in Fable 2: an incentive not to play

I've been playing Fable 2 since late December, hoping that it would deliver on all the hype. After putting in quite a few hours and completing the main story line, I've decided that, like a lot of critics, I'm not quite convinced. Certainly there are impressive elements -- the graphics and visual style are suitably impressive, and the combat system manages to be simple, fun, and relatively deep.

However, as plenty of critics have said, the story is way too short, and ends abruptly without so much as a boss fight. The clothing system is pretty fun to play with, but there is an unfortunate lack of options for outfitting your character, and the only equipment that affects your performance is weaponry (which is also lacking variety).

Aside from all these issues, the one that sticks with me the most is the poorly balanced real estate system. On the surface, it's a neat system. You can buy property and rent it out to earn money. You can purchase furniture to improve the value of your properties and sell them for a profit. You can interact with the local economy to improve (or destroy) the amount of profit you get from your businesses. You collect rent every five minutes of real time, even when you're not playing.

As nice as it is to earn money when you aren't playing, the real estate system actually creates an incentive not to play once you get further into the game. After finishing the main story, you gain the ability to purchase Fairfax Castle for 1,000,000 gold. I didn't have close to that amount, so my strategy was to buy up as much valuable real estate as possible and then stop playing for a week until my bank account got fat enough. There wasn't enough content to keep me occupied in Albion until I had enough money, so I just switched to a different game. Call me crazy, but shouldn't game mechanics actually encourage people to play?

To make matters worse, now that I have more money than I can spend, there's no reward that seems worth the trouble. Apparently the reward for collecting all 50 silver keys, aside from an Xbox achievement is 50,000 gold? Seriously? After spending a million on a piece of property? Why would I spend hours collecting keys for chump change like that?

As much as I complain about Fable 2, my wife and my brother (who get the brunt of my complaints) would be quick to point out that I'm still playing. I can't really explain why, except maybe for my compulsion to collect obscure achievements.

Beyond the numbers: are they just for über-nerds?

Hit points, experience points, reputation points, strength, critical hit percentage, intelligence, agility... There's a long list of "stats" common to games today (RPGs in particular), and most of the time the numbers behind these stats are visible to the player. So do players really want to calculate their crit percentages and crunch the benefits of +12 stamina vs. +10 intelligence? Is it enough for NPCs to express their feelings toward you as +5 love, +7 attraction, and -30 fear?

Asked another way, is it possible to derive any real drama from all the rigid computer logic behind our favorite games? Earnest Adams gives his thoughts in a recent Gamasutra feature about "Numbers, Emotions, and Behavior."

Adams' argument is a familiar one: video games will never rise to their full potential as long as designers continue to focus more attention on the numerical mechanics behind a game than the human element of the game's characters.

In principle, I agree. Games do need characters that behave in more believably human ways. We as gamers would all be better for it, and the industry would get more respect. The constant focus on math isn't a very "humanistic" thing; it feels more mechanical.

The difficulty, though, is that video games aren't just about characters and stories -- they're called games for a reason. We play them. They have rules and structure. We engage in goal-oriented activities and try to win more often than lose. In a fundamental sense, games are mechanical. If you take these elements away from an interactive experience, it no longer qualifies as a game.

Adams notes in his article that "all that emphasis on gear [in RPG games] seems distinctly nerdy." He's talking here about the desire to collect the best items that provide the best stat bonuses and give you the best chance at beating your opponent(s). Is this nerdy? Maybe, but this behavior isn't the exclusive domain of hardcore gamers. Fantasy sports requires the same type of in-depth attention and number crunching, and no one calls it nerdy.

Perhaps the difference is that fantasy sports don't offer the potential for narrative the way video games do. It's pure gaming with no delusions of artistic grandeur.

So what's a game designer to do? Hide the numbers at all costs or give your hardcore players something to sink their teeth into? The answer to this quandary, like most good quandaries, is likely somewhere in the middle, and it definitely depends on the type of game you're trying to make. Could World of Warcraft benefit from more compelling dramatic action or characterization? Absolutely. But would it be so ridiculously popular if it wasn't possible to agonize over item stats and DPS? No way.