Last week I got a nagging feeling that I needed to catch up on some of the latest games… I’d played and enjoyed Grand Theft Auto IV, as well as some other open-world and RPG titles, but occasionally there is a “huge” title that I just plain miss. This fall was a busy time… while I’d played Bioshock and some (but not enough) of Assassin’s Creed and Mass Effect, I’d completely breezed by Halo 3. As a long-time shooter fan/developer I figured I owed it to myself to put in a few hours and catch up with what’s held up as state-of-the-art.
As I played through the first few levels, I got reminded of weird thing that always bothered me with the Halo series. The weapon you start with, the Assault Rifle, always starts the game on the wrong foot for me. It always felt anemic and ineffective against enemies, and the third installment wasn’t a whole lot better. I have no doubt that some of this might be a design choice, since it would be foolish to give the player a powerful weapon at the start of the game. Of course you need a lot of room for growth so that the player feels a sense of achievement as he/she finds new weaponry. However, for a weapon so obviously inspired by the Pulse Rifle from Aliens (one of the coolest movie guns ever), it’s always been tremendously disappointing to have my anticipation have this gun look and sound so subdued, with little apparent effect on my opponents.
C’mon, watch this and tell me that you don’t want that rifle to be this badass sounding (around 3:00):
While I got past it and am now churning through Halo 3, the experience got me thinking about what elements make up a weapon that is satisfying to wield. Sure, making a weapon do more damage is what you’d expect, but there are a large number of intangibles that can add to the player’s shooter experience without disrupting the balance of the game.
Most of my roots are from Raven Software, where shooters are (mostly) a way of life. If there’s one thing that members of the studio preached constantly, most particularly my boss Brian Raffel, was that “the player must feel powerful”. It seems obvious, but a lot of times games don’t do enough to make the player feel like the gun in his/her hand is an unstoppable tool of destruction. This is about gratification and player expectation… Movies have trained audiences to expect that guns shoot massive plumes of flame and sparks and are accompanied by tremendous booming sound. In comparison, the sharp, loud crack or pop of a real gun can be a disappointment (although obviously they are intimidating nonetheless in person). Usually just modeling the audio and visual reality of a weapon isn’t quite enough.
Most games that have contemporary-style guns have a few standbys in their arsenal … the pistol, the machinegun or automatic rifle, and the shotgun. As an exercise, I cracked out a bunch of different first-person shooters and captured their weapons on video for the purposes of comparison. These games were:
Halo 3 (Xbox 360, 2007)
Resistance: Fall of Man (Playstation 3, 2006)
Half Life 2 (PC, 2004)
Quake 4 (PC, 2005)
Doom (PC, 1993)
Deus Ex (PC , 2000)
Bioshock (Xbox 360, 2007)
In each, I took shots of the weapon firing at a surface, and follow with shooting at a “common” opponent. The choice of a “common” opponent is arbitrary (and sometimes driven by convenience when I was capturing footage), but suffice it to say that I wanted to choose an enemy that the player was going to face frequently with a given weapon. A few of these weapons also have “upgrades” that make them more effective, but I wanted to provide feedback on how the weapon would be seen upon first picking it up… will the player be glad he did? Will he or she keep using it because it’s just awesome? (Read the article)
It’s been a pretty scattered summer for me so far… Lots going on but some weird lulls in between. Most recently I found out that I’m going back to my hometown of Madison, WI to attend the Games+Learning+Society Conference on July 10-11. It’s not a huge GDC-type affair, but a show in its fourth year put on by people from the University of Wisconsin… In my last year at Raven my friend and cohort Nathan McKenzie introduced me to incredibly smart UW folks like Constance Steinkuehler, Kurt Squire, and Jim Gee, who as I’d said before, exposed me to a refreshing outlook on games. It’ll be great to see them again.
I’ll be giving a short talk on scope, vision and just good game design practices, which you know I’ve been thinkingabouta lot lately… It’s the first talk like this I’ve given and hopefully there will be a lot I can offer the attendees. There’s an interesting mix of academics and development people, and while my talk isn’t as heady as some, I’ve been told that there is a lot of interest in more traditional game development issues. In the end, the goal of a lot of these people is not to wrap a bad game around education (as has been done in the past), but to create great games that have educational merit. I think it’s a fantastic objective that is still underestimated by the game industry.
With all the good reasons to keep your game design lean and mean, anything you can do to streamline the feature filtering process is worth it. Continuously asking yourself “Is this for the good of the game?” is difficult, and the answers are hard to trust when you get caught up in the details. A system of high-level priorities must be applied in all but the smallest of games.
The Power of Verbs
A lot of game designers like to talk about Verbs… They are a good tool for stripping down a game to its basic components, unfettered by a particular fiction or context. While some designers define their verbs at a fairly micro level such as “move”, “turn right”, “push”, or “draw weapon”, for the purposes of scope it is much more useful to keep those verbs big and chunky that describe objectives or major game states… These are words like “Fight”, “Explore”, “Customize”, “Build”, “Cook”, “Expand”, and “Destroy”.
While a game can have many verbs overall, it is also important to identify, very early in the design process, which ones are the Pillar Verbs… These are the core activities that the player will engage in 90% of the time… it’s really what your game is about. It is important to keep the list of these verbs as tight as possible, hopefully three or less. Here is where you are going to lavish the most love and attention, along with the most art and technology. These activities have the most depth and polish applied to them… even to the point of having the most buttons assigned to them on a console controller.
A great game has a tight list of Pillar Verbs that read loud and clear, even to a player:
God of War: Fight
Super Mario: Traverse
Halo: Shoot
Diablo: Fight, Acquire
Oblivion: Fight, Explore, Customize
GTA: Drive, Fight
The above list may sound a bit simplistic… Halo had driving, right? So did Half-Life 2, but by far the greatest depth is placed in combat. A game may technically have many Secondary Verbs that provide an experience beyond the Pillar Verbs, but generally they add breadth (note I didn’t say “depth”) to the game experience or a sense of added value. Diablo II provided a secondary verb of “craft” via the Horadric Cube, but nobody would accuse the game of being about crafting.
On a big project with a big team and a big budget, it is critical to identify your core experiences as early as possible. This sounds intuitive, but many teams have difficulty with this point. The Pillar Verbs are the core of the game, the foundation on which the experience is built. Use them as a Razor for every new feature, bell or whistle: If new item X adds to the depth and richness of one of the Pillar Verbs, it deserves extra consideration. Items that don’t support the game’s pillars undergo greater scrutiny before being added to the final list of features.
Games spread their efforts around too many Pillar Verbs are likely to end up with a game that is described as “unfocused” or “unpolished”. Attempting to layer too much depth into too many verbs even might be (ironically) declared to be “shallow”, because of the failure to focus the player’s attention to their key strengths.
Enormous games like open-world titles can be the toughest to nail down. They are inherently about breadth… If you added all the micro-activities in Grand Theft Auto IV to a list of verbs, you’d end up with a page or two of entries. However, while some of us might feel that there was a bit too much of the “date” verb in the most recent GTA, it’s still very clear that the Pillar Verbs are still “drive” and “fight”… the same as it was in GTA III. It sounds simple but if you go back and play it, driving and fighting was all it needed to sell six million copies.
When Vice City added “acquire” with real estate and San Andreas added “customize” with clothing and fitness, they were merely window dressing on the core activity of getting in a vehicle and going to shoot something. If GTA IV required you to do more bowling or dating or web-browsing, would you doubt that the game experience would suffer? Worse yet, what if the team developing more of these side activities distracted them from creating a great driving or fighting experience? It would certainly be a disaster. God knows if Little Jacob invites me for a night of drinking one more time while I’m running from the cops, I’ll be hurling my controller through the TV.
Sticking to your Values By nailing your Pillar Verbs, you will have an invaluable tool for focusing your game. However, there’s one other list that needs to be considered when you are prioritizing your features: the Pillar Values. For example, would you claim that the only emphasis in the direction God of War was to have great combat? What about all those memorable moments they provided, the huge monsters, or the crazy button-matching minigames? Clearly they were out to create a visceral, brutal character, and an epic, cinematic experience as well. Whether they were summed up in a formal list or not, you can tell that the team had a clear objective to provide these things from the word go.
Pillar Values are often expressed as “vision statements” that describe the most important aspects of the game experience, and help guide the high-level decision-making during the creation of a game. They should be established early, and ideally embraced by the entire team. Despite the immensity of the task, the Pillars will help you still put a focus on what’s important. What you are basically doing is locking in what you believe will be the main reason that players will enjoy your game, and what people will remember about it. Make ‘em straightforward and memorable too… if nobody can remember them, they do no good.
Like Pillar Verbs, the Pillar Values should number no more than my favorite number of three. (Four shalt thou not count… Five is right out.) Too many values, or poorly-defined values, can once again result in a sub-par game, leaving the impression that you didn’t know what you wanted to accomplish.
One personal example of Pillar Values is the set held during the development of the superhero action RPG X-Men Legends:
It’s about a team of heroes, not an individual. The game isn’t about a single superhero, but giving the player control of an entire team.
The most destructive game possible. Technology-permitting, provide the most interactive, destructible environment possible.
This is your own team of X-Men. Allow the player to choose whatever team he or she wishes, and play the way he or she wants.
Again, Pillar Values should be so strongly executed that they should be obvious in a game’s execution. It’s easy to tell what some of them were on successful games:
God of War: Unapologetically brutal character. Powerful, visceral combat experience. Epic environments and setpieces.
Devil May Cry: Fast, over-the-top combat. Style over substance.
This explains God of War’s massive success in using “quick-time events” (button-prompt minigames driving “canned” cinematic sequences) as a successful part of the their game experience, even while other imitators fail. While to some they might seem to be just “fluff”, every moment of minigame action provided in God of War is used to add more brutality, power, or epic action to the combat experience. It just so happens that canned sequences can convey certain actions extremely well. When similar games try to throw a button-prompt minigame at the player, it can sometimes just be a vehicle to make the main character do something clever that doesn’t necessarily reinforce the core game values. As such they just don’t provide the same magic as when Kratos leaps onto the Colossus’ face and stabs him in the eye (awesome).
Sharpen that Razor Everything that I’ve said in the past couple of weeks is based around the idea that cuts are good. That’s difficult for many folks, developers and gamers alike, to accept. Too often we get wrapped up in that one favorite feature that didn’t make it to ship, and forget all the good parts of the game that did ship.
Cuts happen, and they happen constantly throughout a project… They are driven by producers working to fit the project to a schedule, by artists or audio people who are asked to generate too many assets, or by programmers who must trim down an overambitious technical plan. They are a required part of a game reaching completion, and since a game that doesn’t ship is a guaranteed failure, it’s worth accepting cuts for the opportunity they can provide.
Whether there is a game designer making these calls, or if you are just looking to add some sanity to your corner of your project, these tools can allow you to control your cuts and make them up-front. By focusing your game development on pillars, and using them as a razor to guide the cutting process, you will see less wasted time, fewer tears, and a lot more of an enjoyable development experience. Better yet, I contend that if you focus on what’s important throughout a project, you will create a better game for it as well.