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Archive for the ‘Game Development’ Category

This post is spoilerific for Quantic Dream’s loved and loathed PS3 game, Heavy Rain. I already have two posts about the game here and here, but this one is different. Stop reading now if revealing the main twist of the story is a problem for you.

I mean it.

Really.

Still here?

Awesome – let’s dig in.

First, I want to make it clear that I really really enjoyed Heavy Rain. I think it is more than successful overall  in what it sets out to achieve, and it is fun and engrossing. I do not believe it to be perfect, for a string of relatively little things, and one big piece of narrative fail.  Despite this bit of nonsense that I’m about to dig into, I would still rate it about a 90 on a scale of 100, which means I must have really liked the rest of it given how much of come to really dislike one particular bit.

Heavy Rain places you in the lives of four main characters – Ethan Mars, who’s quest for his kidnapped son Shaun is the backbone of the story, journalist Madison Paige who becomes embroiled in the search, and potentially with Ethan, FBI agent Norman Jayden who is brought in to assist the local police department, and Scott Shelby, a local private eye who is ostensibly acting on behalf of the families of other young boys who have been kidnapped by the same serial killer that has kidnapped Ethan’s son. You are afforded a great deal of control of each of these characters, during multiple sequences or chapters devoted to telling that character’s part of the story, and have significant influence on their actions and decisions. You are also in some scenes, with the press of a control, privy to their private thoughts about the situation they are in. (These private thoughts give you some amount of guidance, if you wish, in which actions or dialogue responses you may want to take with the character.) The key here, however, is the degree of control you have over the characters except for one key moment in the story. And therein lays the rub.

If you’ve played, you know the scene I am talking about. Scott Shelby, accompanied by a woman named Lauren (who is a prostitute and who’s own son was a prior victim of the same serial killer Shelby has told her he’s hunting) go and speak with the owner of a repair shop (clocks and typewriters, apparently) about tracking down a clue in the form of a message typed using an old typewriter. The two of you show up in the store with you in control of Shelby and Lauren tagging along not under your control. You speak with the store owner (an old friend of Shelby’s) about the message in question and he goes off into the back to check his records. Once he does, the player loses control over Shelby as the camera lingers on Lauren engrossed in a small figurine atop a display case. The clocks all chime loudly and oddly and then the player has control over Shelby again who declares that he should go in the back to check on the store owner… and when you guide him back there you discover that the old man is dead, apparently killed literally moments ago by the serial killer.

Except, as the climax of the story reveals, Shelby is the serial killer. So, during a scene/sequence where the player is supposed to be completely in control of Shelby the game removes that control, stages a scene out of sight where Shelby kills the man, and then returns control to the player who doesn’t know what the character he’s been controlling just did.

Um, no. That is all shades of wrong.

Narratively, the game has broken faith with its player. If I am in control of a character then I am in control of that character. You cannot empower the player in that manner and then through slight-of-hand have the character do something that the player is unaware of right under his nose. It means that I as a player cannot believe in the agency I have with that character, since it’s clearly a sham. I cannot begin to explain how much of a cheap trick this is, and one that diminishes the overall experience of the game. My decisions, my choices, become meaningless.

I think the game plays fast and loose with Shelby most of the time you are playing him, since while it’s possible to interpret many of the actions available to him as appropriate for a serial killer pretending to investigate his own crimes so as to cover up any evidence he may have left behind it is again playing narrative Three-Card Monte with the player. I can appreciate the shock of discovering the Shelby is the killer, but too often his actions and thoughts are written so as to be subject to interpretation so carefully that it feels like the character would have to know that someone (the player) was spying on him constantly. And in this case it’s the authors of the story who know the player is “spying” and write things so manipulatively that you don’t think Shelby could be the killer, until you look back on his actions with the knowledge that he is.

If you were a participant in the story, someone other than Shelby, looking at the private eye’s actions one way through most of the story, and then with more insightful eyes once you learn he’s the killer, that’s fine. That makes sense. But while you are playing that character? That’s chicanery.

Additionally, when you go in the back to “check on the old man” (who is already dead), Shelby reacts as if he is surprised and then you are able to control Shelby quickly investigating the scene which all plays out as if Shelby did not know the man was already dead. Why would Shelby behave like this? In case Lauren wandered in (which she does eventually), but that’s an iffy maybe? The bottom line is that there is no reason for the selection of actions you the player have at your discretion for Shelby since he knows he’s the one who did the killing! (Why, for example, stick your head out the open back window to see if the killer escaped that way – and knowingly leave fingerprints doing so – if you just moments ago opened the window yourself to make it look like the killer escaped that way. Who are you trying to fool… yourself? Narratively this is terribly shaky ground.)

Frankly, I can tolerate the narrative tap-dancing that occurs to keep the player from knowing the killer is Shelby until the end. It is him committing murder without me knowing while I am in control of him, during his scene, that breaks it for me. I’d be more accepting if say I was controlling Ethan, or Madison, or Jayden and not Shelby during a scene where Shelby went off to do his dastardly deed… but I am not. I am puppeting Scott Shelby and while the camera distracts me he goes off and commits murder. That’s not cool.

I look forward to seeing what Quantic Dream and Heavy Rain’s primary author/designer David Cage does next… but whatever it is, when I play it, I’m going to carry with me the nagging suspicion that the story is lying to me.

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Phil Cameron over at Resolution Magazine has a lengthy review of Heavy Rain up that I pretty much agree with. Phil’s a little more effusive in parts than I am, and I am still digesting the narrative shenanigans I mentioned in my post last night, but he said what I would have said. (Phil references the lack of narrative truthiness in his piece as well, and as a writer/designer/author I’m really having to chew on that …)

He also points out something obvious that I completely missed when I was talking about Quick Time Events – the Paragon/Renegade scene interrupt option in Mass Effect 2 are absolutely QTEs using a symbol rather than explicit button graphic as the prompt. Frankly, the entire conversation mechanic in Mass Effect 2 is basically a QTE scheme and it works just fine, thank you.

I also have to give Phil points for invoking the Talking Heads. :::golf clap:::

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The second submission has the really long title of  “Plot and Purpose: the Non-Existent Conflict Between Agency and Authorship in Game Stories“, which though accurate is a mouth full. My guess is if the lecture submission is accepted it will be shortened.  Here’s the submission:

Plot and Purpose: the Non-Existent Conflict Between Agency and Authorship in Game Stories

Exercise:
Choose an action verb, past tense. [VERB]
Choose a game character sounding name. [CHARACTER]
Select a noun that is a familial or personal relationship [RELATIONSHIP]

“Hello. My name is [CHARACTER]. You [VERB] my [RELATIONSHIP]. Prepare to die.”

Congratulations, you’re written the premise of too many action-driven computer games.

Seriously, though, many recent top-tier games have fortunately moved beyond this structure. Entire discussions could be based on the meaning and execution of each portion of that sentence: The player/character, the inciting action, the emotional stake in the story, and so on. Instead, this presentation looks at the last part – “Prepare to die.” – the Desired Resolution – which is the Character’s response to the Inciting Action and how that’s crafted in a game story.

The Desired Resolution is what the Character wants… but it isn’t what the Character does. In order to achieve the Desired Resolution, the Character follows a Course of Action that brings about the ultimate outcome. This Course of Action is what the player/character can do within the structure, or allowances, of the game, which is the simplest expression of Agency, created by the “author” for the player to experience. Authorship doesn’t conflict with Agency – it enables it.

This presentation talks about defying the traditional story creation paradigm of conceiving of, and then plotting, the story from the beginning, through the middle, to the end. Once the writer has fleshed out the main plot – the primary Course of Action – that’s when they think about the alternatives… but look at the words used: Primary. Main. It establishes the desired set of events and it’s very hard to weave in alternatives. For telling interactive stories – game stories – don’t start from the beginning –start from the end. Construct possibilities based on desired outcomes.

Since there is no right plot thread or Course of Action, this presentation talks about determining what elements of the Desired Resolution are variables, affected by choice (Agency) – As obvious examples, is death required for the antagonist’s downfall? Does an ally change sides due to the character’s actions? And so on. Decide what the states for these narrative variables are and then devise what Courses of Action can affect these states.  Once all these options are defined – within the constraints and allowances of gameplay and content creation –weave them together into the web of all of the possible Courses of Action leading to the Desired Resolution. Authorship enables Agency.

Attendees of this lecture will be exposed to not only theoretical talk about Agency and Authorship, and the false conflict between them in game and interactive stories, but also practical considerations and possible solutions to enabling and expanding Agency in game stories. What kinds of narrative variables are practical to work with? How do we deal with the constraints of content creation? How are gameplay and Agency interrelated, but not the same? Some answers to the big question of “Yes, that’s all well and good, but how do we do this?” will be presented.

(c)2009 Tom Dowd. All Rights Reserved.

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I’ve sent in two submissions for GDC 2010, one is a lecture and the other is a roundtable. I’ll be taking time to jabber about each on this site, but for the moment, here’s the information on the first, a roundtable submission:

Designing Gatsby

Designers, and critics, of narrative-driven computer games speak often of a desire to find deeper meaning in game stories and plots. Is it possible, or do the constraints of the medium prevent the inclusion of more so-called literary qualities in game stories? Thus far, the narrative structure of games has relied more on film than anything else, but should it? Should, instead, we be looking at novels and short stories for inspiration? Using the “Great American Novel” – The Great Gatsby – as a lens, jumping-off point, and crucible, this roundtable discusses how more literary concepts related to character, setting, perspective, drama or melodrama, structure, and so on can be applied to games and interactive narrative. All of this must also be looked at on the context of the reality that, at this time, games replicate physical action better than anything else. Are deeper meanings, complex literary elements, and action-driven plots incompatible, or is there some chance for synthesis of these ideas? And lastly, even with all these literary buzzwords and high-art talk, how do we actually do these things?

Running multiple times across the Game Developers Conference, this roundtable provides a great opportunity to dig deep into a handful of ideas, or broad spectrum of topics, depending on the make-up and inclinations of the attendees. The intention of the roundtable is to not only discuss these ideas on a theoretical level, but to also address practical considerations in presentation and execution. “Yes, but how do we *do* that?” is expected to be an often-asked question at the roundtables.

As with most roundtables, the takeaway here is food for thought and the opportunity to push boundaries and exchange ideas. Are we looking at the wrong paradigm for game structure? Can we weave deeper meaning into our run-and-gun content? Should we? With luck, these discussions will inform future game development decisions, or at the very least provide some fodder for the next round of beers.

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Middle October is when the submittors find out if they’ve made it to Round Two.

(c)2009 Tom Dowd. All Rights Reserved.

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