This article was the first one written for the website Joystick101.Â I actually wrote it because I wanted to get into GDC in 2004…Â This was a few months before I left Raven, so it was natural that they couldn’t pay for me to go that year.Â My compatriot Nathan McKenzie (also at Raven during that time) and I both wanted in, and we knew some of the folks who started the website (including Kurt Squire, who is now well-known in game academic circles).Â After we each did an article (sadly the original postings were erased as Joystick101 got relaunched in early 2007), and with some other credentials, we were able to travel to San Jose on our own dime and have an incredibly educational (and enjoyable) week at GDC.
Â It was interesting posting to that crowd…Â It was a group that was pretty academic-heavy, so getting content from a developer was a rather novel thing.Â As a result, I kept this first article rather general.
Play Appraisal: Observations of a Developer
By Patrick Lipo
A few months ago I celebrated my tenth anniversary at Raven Software. My first reaction to this milestone was predictable, â€œwow, ten years already?â€â€¦ However, after the amazement wore off, I began reflecting back on the path I took to get here. I looked back at the young, ambitious programmer I was ten years ago, almost like he was a different guy… In fact, Iâ€™ll treat him like another guy, and call him â€œVincentâ€.
Vincent definitely was passionate, with a head full of crazy ideas, and wide-eyed at the concept of learning how the experts made a real game. This was back before the Web, before mods, when most of us were as likely to know how to make Circus Peanuts as we would a game. What Vince did know was that he was dissatisfied with almost every aspect of how games were made, and (with inflated ego) considered himself a champion, crusading to bring new concepts to gamers everywhere. If you asked his co-workers, they could recall how he got into a lengthy design argument with his boss during his first team meeting… Itâ€™s amazing he survived the week. Of course he was pretty clueless as to how to live up to this ambition. Vincent just had drive and a really hard head.
Now that a few projects have come and gone, and that person has evolved into myself, Iâ€™d like to think that Iâ€™ve learned a few things and gained a better understanding of the big picture. I discovered that there are ramifications of each design decision made, risks and tradeoffs, and the need for focus and goals. However, looking back at the past ten years, I started to think about Vincent and the way he thought about things. The belief that it can always be done better and the drive to learnâ€¦ without them, weâ€™d still be making clones of Space Invaders (â€œWeâ€™ve got it, Mr. Molyneux, this time the aliens can move along a curveâ€¦ And get thisâ€¦ theyâ€™re orange!â€)
Nathan McKenzie and I have recently had lengthy discussions about the choices various games have made, and the effects that those choices have on the player experience. As a result, we thought it would be fun to look at some of the games of the past and present and bring away as many lessons as possible from them. The only rule is to stay constructiveâ€¦ If anyone wanted rants, they could visit one of a hundred message boards to find them. The goal is to recognize achievements of past and present games and identify how each design decision ultimate affects the player. Comparing play patterns across games and genres (and eras) can provide some interesting food for thought.
In honor of Vincent, and to illustrate some of the things that differentiate him and me, here are a few things that I quickly came to understand over the years. Some of these are dead obvious, but if anything they show that lofty ambitions donâ€™t automatically spawn fantastic games.
* Reality is (usually) not the ideal that games aspire to
When I came to Raven, my first project was Cyclones, a shooter in a sci-fi setting. One of the earliest weapons I was assigned to implement was a grenade launcher… With it you could shoot around corners, which (since this was a few years before Quake) was pretty cool. When I got done implementing it, others complained that the weapon was difficult to use because when they would shoot their target directly, it would continue to bounce until the fuse ran out and it exploded, often back at the playerâ€™s feet. I really was stubborn about changing it, because of the way I felt the weapon would have operated, and considered the weaponâ€™s use to be a matter of a learned skill. Unsurprisingly however, nobody ended up using the weapon because it was too difficult to use.
At the time I thought that games were heading towards reality, and at some point becoming completely realistic would be the ultimate achievement. I wasnâ€™t aloneâ€¦ I commonly hear requests for a more realistic approach to guns, AI, player health, vehicles, or other elements inspired by real life. True, realism has a definite place in simulations or hardcore military games, but it is important to realize that we still have to define an experience as a â€œgameâ€. And real-life is not fun (most particularly war).
* The player doesnâ€™t always need (or want) complete control of everything
Micromanagement in games was something that I really enjoyed back in college. With games like Civilization, I could control small details of every city in my fledgling nation. That was cool, and catered well to folks like me that had a lot of time on my (pre-developer) hands, but at the time I wanted even more. Why not build your cities building by building? Why not provide more interaction with your armies during combat, rather than relegate the results of the fight to a simple roll of the dice?
Since then I have seen (and implemented) the results of many game mechanics that attempted to present the player with too much. Intricate power control systems for the heroâ€™s armorâ€¦ Complicated weapon loadout rules… Pinpoint control when swinging a Jediâ€™s lightsaber. All of them provided the player with interesting choices, but unfortunately they were drowned out by dozens of other more meaningless possibilities and actions. The ideas had merit, but the lesson learned was that without directing the playerâ€™s focus on the fun stuff, it can be lost in tedium and frustration.
* Game developers do not represent â€œaverage gamersâ€
It has crossed the minds of more than a few people who have made games, and it certainly was in my head ten years ago. â€œWhat defines the ultimate gamer better than a developer?â€ Sure, not only do we love games enough to learn how to make them, but we devote their lives to making newer and better ones. â€œI am my own target audience,â€ is a quote I once read from another developer. Possibly not coincidentally, his company is no longer around.
Not surprisingly however, game makers are far from normal. We are freaksâ€¦ gamer-mutants. It takes a healthy amount of obsession for someone to bring oneâ€™s pastime into their lives full time, and it permanently changes oneâ€™s view of games after a surprisingly short amount of time. Developers often donâ€™t purchase games for the same reason as gamers, and they sometimes have difficulty enjoying the newest game. Often they donâ€™t have time to play many games at all, or to finish more than a tiny number. After finishing only one game, I realized that making games only for myself was close-minded, and certainly not profitable.
* One person cannot do it alone anymore
I came to Raven in 1993 with my head filled with visions of Richard Garriot cranking out Ultimas in the eightiesâ€¦ one man with a story to tell, and a vision of how it would be told from start to finish. I knew that teams had already exceeded 10 at Raven when I started, but remember that I wanted to save the world. I wanted to do it all.
The eighties are over. A single person is not going to be solely responsible for the success or failure of a game anymore. The idea that a single person can maintain vision on design, programming, art and sound on a modern mainstream game and convey it to others in a useful way is rapidly fading, if even such a possibility still exists. A strong team is paramount to making a great title nowadays, with good leadership binding the team together and guiding them in the right direction. As such, communication is becoming more critical than ever, and collaboration is necessary to bring a lofty concept to a satisfying conclusion.
Okay, so in this article we did not get around to examining any specific games, but weâ€™ll get to that in subsequent ones. However, I wanted this introduction to serve as an explanation of my goals in writing these articles. If there is anything I have learned so far is that there is a lot to know and there will always be more.