Friday, February 28, 2014

Bonus Feature: Music Game Developer Interviews


On Thursday, Kill Screen published my entry in their weeklong "Future of Genre" series. Mine is about music games, and how they're evolving into and out of their genre label. Check it out.

I'm ever grateful of the musicians and developers who took the time to answer my questions as research for this piece, but you may have noticed that I was only able to quote a little bit from each of them. As you might imagine, these folks had a lot more to say on the subjects at hand, and so I want to share my full text interviews with them, conducted over email. For most of the interviewees, I asked the same crop of questions, but by the time I got around to speaking with Rich Vreeland, I had new questions, so I've separated his Q/A from the rest below. There are some really interesting insights here, especially when comparing how different developers approach the same questions.



LOW CUTOFF: If you had to describe your game for a general audience or assign it to a genre (could be an entirely new category) in as few words as possible, what would you say? Why did you choose that description and why did you include/exclude a reference to music/audio?

Marc Flury (Thumper): We've been calling it a "rhythm-racing" game because elements of those two genres can be found in the game. That's nice and short and seems to work from a marketing perspective, but it's probably not the best way to describe the game. We're trying to do something new rather than hybridize existing games, so genre labels aren't that useful. Our core concept is to take simple step-sequencer patterns, interpret them as audio, 3D space, and movement, and then build gameplay that is intense, physical, and mind-expanding. One might call it "physical rhythm action," but that sounds too much like jazzercise or something. Usually we just tell people it's a game where you're a bug and there's a giant creepy head that wants to kill you.

Brian Gibson (Thumper): No reference to music because I think people might make certain assumptions when they hear the term "music game" that don't apply at all to Thumper.

Samantha Kalman (Sentris): I'd love to just call Sentris a Music game. I can't really do that because the audience associates the term "music game" with games like Rock Band and DDR. Those games are about rhythm and perfect performance. Sentris is explicitly about creating music of your own. So, I call it a musical puzzle game because it differentiates the game from the preconception of music games. At first thought people probably compare it to Lumines, which still isn't ideal. The puzzles in Sentris are all compositional puzzles. I'm trying to not abstract the game mechanics from the act of making music. I'm trying to make them into the same thing. Nobody has really done this before, and I guess I'm facing the problem of invention: how do you describe a thing that is similar but different from everything the audience is already familiar with. I don't know! Maybe by the time the game is done and shipped, then I'll know.

Quynh Nguyen (FRACT): FRACT is a musical exploration game. To be honest, it took us awhile to figure out a good way to describe the game, because it doesn't necessarily fit nicely into already-existing genres. It's not just a puzzle game, or adventure game, or music game. While it does have all of those elements, assigning it to one of those genres doesn't quite capture the experience that we're trying to achieve. FRACT is about exploring a forgotten world, but also about exploring music at the same time - it's part of the same experience. As you explore the world and try to make sense of it, you're also discovering ways to shape sound and make music within that world. And as you continue along, you're given tools to make your own music and invited to explore your own musical creativity. So including a reference to music was definitely necessarily, as it's intrinsic to the game.

Ryan Roth (Starseed Pilgrim): I know we're talking dynamic/generative audio here, but I would still say that Starseed Pilgrim is, at it's core, still a puzzle platformer. I wouldn't classify Starseed Pilgrim as a music game, per se, but it certainly is important to the gameplay in terms of giving the player a reason to continue planting and exploring the world that they are creating. Since the game is sometimes difficult to grasp in terms of what the player should be doing, it's important for the player to have something they can enjoy sonically, that they also feel as though they're creating.


LCO: Is it important to distinguish different kinds of music games from one another (generative vs reactive vs hybrid) or does the general term “music games” serve that purpose just as well? Why?

Marc Flury (Thumper): I'm not interested in splitting semantic hairs, so if it's convenient to call Thumper a "music game," that's fine. But to me, "music game" typically means reactive gameplay built around traditionally structured songs. These games are designed to let the player (re)consume music they already know and like. For a player, playing along with their favorite music can be fun and gratifying, but it's also predictable and assumption reaffirming. In that sense, the term "music game" feels limiting. For Thumper, we don't want the player to feel like they're just playing music. We want the audio, visuals, and gameplay to create a world where the player can get lost and be surprised.

Brian Gibson (Thumper): Whatever describes the game best (with as few words as possible). It seems like over the years art and music genres have branched and subdivided so it makes sense that the same will happen over time with games. Interacting with music should be a core element of any game. In film, a soundtrack is a critical component of storytelling. But people don't consider films with prominent soundtracks musicals. A video game is a little like a film where the player helps tell the story, so ideally the soundtrack is also dynamic and reflects the player's choices. That quality alone shouldn't be what makes a game a "music game."

Samantha Kalman (Sentris): It's kind of a silly situation because pretty much all games have some kind of music in them. Where do you draw the line between "a game that has music" and "a music game?" How much influence on the music do you need to have before you bridge this gap? Even Super Mario World had dynamic music based on whether or not you were riding Yoshi. I would prefer to call out a category of "creative games", where the game mechanics are based around the player creating something explicitly -- not just consuming it. In this way, Sentris has more in common with Draw Something than with Rez. Generally with all other "music games" out there, I would tend to call most of them "rhythm games" instead.

Quynh Nguyen (FRACT): It all comes down to context. If the discussion is about very general categories of games, or the participants in that discussion are completely unfamiliar with that concept or idea of music games, I think the general term can be appropriate. That said, I think more specificity is important if you want to convey a more precise idea about a game or games, especially as more and more diverse sound- and music-oriented games come out. It's just like how musical genres can be pretty broad, but then can also drill down to super precise (you know, like downtempo celtic stoner sludge instru-metal or something like that) terms, depending on who you're talking to.

Ryan Roth (Starseed Pilgrim): I think "music games" to be something more along the lines of Electroplankton where the game could be almost considered an instrument (I actually wrote a piece for the game when it came out in a university composition class, haha). FRACT is another game that's doing a lot of cool things with synths being built in the game. Music and audio that's used as an experience; that creates a mood or generates emotions to enhance or drive gameplay should be viewed as the norm. Dynamic music/audio that drives gameplay situations should be the focal point of a sound designer's ideal for the sonic aspect of a game. I don't think just because you have some interesting generative or dynamic music working in a game, it should be classified as a "music game."


LCO: Do you want players to make music by playing your game? If so, do you want them to be aware that they are making music or is music making just a byproduct of some other form of play?

Marc Flury (Thumper): Having players "make music" is not our goal, although if it's an incidental byproduct of the gameplay, that might be interesting. We want the player's actions to result in compelling audio, but the kind of music that works while you're actively engaged in a fast-paced game is not necessarily going be interesting to listen to outside of that context, like when you're just chilling on the couch.

Brian Gibson (Thumper): The less aware they are of 'making music' the better. We want it to feel more like magic or a vivid dream. The syncopated interactions should seep into the player's subconscious. We want the player interacting with the audio and the visuals in such a way that creates a powerful sense of immersion. The goal is to make the game a potent emotional experience, therefore it's better not to draw attention to how it works.

Samantha Kalman (Sentris): Absolutely, yes! I want everyone to create their own unique music and be acutely aware of it as they do it. The puzzle mechanics are such that the game should still be fun if you have the sound off. But it's a huge goal of mine to make players aware that the puzzles are abstractions of musical concepts. Other elements play into this, like letting the player choose different instruments for any given level.

Quynh Nguyen (FRACT): Ideally, we want both. As we mentioned, FRACT is a process of musical exploration. At first, players might not be entirely conscious of how they're influencing sound and music in the world, but as they continue playing, we do want to them to become more aware of it, and take more ownership of it. The music making is pretty tied to the gameplay, but as they progress through the game, we also give them tools to make music on their own. We're hoping that by tying music making into play, it's more accessible at the beginning - and that hopefully players will get to the point where they feel comfortable creating on their own, outside of the world.

Ryan Roth (Starseed Pilgrim): I certainly think it's cool if people decide to use the seeds to plant something that sounds interesting to them, but this isn't the mechanic of the game, it's more a result of the player exploring the gameplay mechanics. Also, the game really isn't set up to handle the exact things that a player is going to want to hear - the player is just being lead through a dynamic music "path" that they are unable to completely melodically or harmonically control. This is definitely interesting though, since most players aren't musically trained, so giving them a color or shape to their seed, so that they know what instrument they'll be "playing" next. I feel like most players become aware of this and they may even get excited when they come across a certain combination of seeds that will be important for them gameplay wise, but also associate the sonic harmonies with a gameplay strategy as well.


LCO: Do you feel that sound/music design as a component of game design is understood and recognized for its merits by critics and players on a similar level to character design, level design, puzzle design, etc? If not, why do you think this is?

Marc Flury (Thumper): In general, the creative importance of sound/music design in games is overlooked. A big reason for that is that it's often undervalued by game developers. Music tends to be considered late in the development process. It's often outsourced and smeared over existing games like a magic ointment to enhance the mood or "vibe." But I don't think this phenomenon is unique to games. For whatever reason, our culture seems to almost always emphasize the visual over the aural. Looking at Hollywood, for example, the sound design of most mainstream films follow standard conventions and are basically interchangeable. Music is often forgettable by design. That's not necessarily a bad thing. And it means there are lots of opportunities to do interesting things with audio in games.

Brian Gibson (Thumper): It's probably under appreciated because music naturally targets the subconscious and the emotions. A person may get a vivid and emotional feeling from a game, but it might take some work to see concretely how the audio and visual elements worked together to create such an evocative mood. This under appreciation is fine with us though, the gaming experience should be mysterious.

Samantha Kalman (Sentris): I'd say sound design is much better understood by creators than anyone else. Usually sound and music are used to create some emotion in the player. It's usually important for the player to feel the emotion without wondering how or why the sound is driving them toward it. When that's done well, it's effective and transparent. It's a lot more difficult to be transparent in the same way regarding characters, worlds/levels, or puzzles.

Quynh Nguyen (FRACT): The short answer is no. But to expand on that, I feel that music and sound design, like interface design, are hugely underrated in games. Part of it boils down to the fact that if it's well executed, you're not consciously aware of it. Essentially, the better it is, the more it should disappear, while at the same time heightening and reinforcing everything a game has to offer. But as more games put music and sound to the forefront, I'm hoping that this can change people's perceptions of the value of music and sound in games.

Ryan Roth (Starseed Pilgrim): I feel as though there really should be a similar thought process when discussing gameplay, audio and general design. I think that most people feel as though sound design or music composition for games should be thought as in a similar vein to post production for film or television. I think a huge reason that game sound is sometimes not viewed as an important part of a game is that a lot of the people doing audio come from these very static media outlets. Static foley/sound effects or music synced to a specific event in a game should not be how we view game sound. We are not watching a movie. We are not watching a television show or cartoon. We are playing a game, and we have control. Dynamic/layered/generative sound that is being utilized to enhance or drive the gameplay should be the norm, and should be what game sound should be striving to achieve and I don't think that music and audio will be viewed in the same light as the other elements of a game until that is more widely understood by sound designers and composers alike.





LOW CUTOFF: Going off of your recent Coding for Music post, could you speak a bit more on the value you feel can be added to games when the music is generated through code via player actions?

Rich Vreeland (Disasterpeace): I think there is limitless potential in this approach, because it could move the music experience more into the realm of instantaneous intelligent feedback, on a level far more detailed than what is typically possible only using loops, layers and other recording-based techniques. The thought of a complex yet highly curated system that composes music on the fly is akin to having a musical genius, someone like Keith Jarrett for instance, living in your game and improvising music to underscore what is happening. I think a system that could render lots of permutations with meaningful differences, while also managing to sound musical, could really add so much more value to a game. The quality of these systems is really the issue at this point. There have not been many systems of this scope that actually manage to create appropriate music. Generated music tends to be pretty freeform and loose, I suppose because that's the easiest format of music to generate. I think we have all the tools and knowledge to create something far superior than what we've seen to this point. It's just a matter of desire and having the resources to make it happen. I think games where every player's experience is truly unique, are some of the games we tend to cherish the most, because it creates personality, and it gives us a story to tell that no one else can. Games like Spelunky come to mind.


LCO: Is there a distinction that should be made between "sound effects" and "musical sound effects?" How much of this is tied to diegetic / non-diegetic sounds?

Vreeland: Great question. I think it depends who you ask, and it really depends on the context, too. There are a lot of music games that feel as if the sound effects are both diegetic and non-diegetic at the same time ... it's underscoring the emotions and narrative of the experience, but also emanating from sources within the game world. This has become more prevalent lately, and can really add to the experience in an interesting way, by tying the underscore into the actual sources of the world, adding a layer of cohesion. In FEZ we made the sounds for collecting cubes based on musical scales, relative to the current musical underscore. This is not always an appropriate solution though, and sometimes I think that making sound effects too musical can actually confuse the experience, so it has to be done with careful consideration.

It would be pretty interesting to see a game where all of the sound effects that emanate from the world are musical, and the underscore is all sound effects. What would that sound like?


LCO: Do you feel that sound/music design as a component of game design is understood and recognized for its merits by critics and players on a similar level to character design, level design, puzzle design, etc? If not, why do you think this is?

Vreeland: Sometimes yes, sometimes no. I think it's far enough to say that the world has become highly domesticated and in many places our ears have become far less crucial to our survival. I think that has something to do with it, but I also think that while we all manage to have so much in common, we also experience things very differently, and gravitate towards different aspects of a game. I have a friend who never really liked playing video games growing up, he just wanted to watch other people play and listen to the music. Now he writes music for games for a living. I've read countless game reviews where sound is hardly mentioned at all. That being said, it's clear that in some games music or sound was clearly deemed not as important to the experience as other aspects, and that may be apparent when you play it. Sound is a wonderful tool, but it's not one that has to be used every single time, to solve every single problem. Overusing sound can cheapen its impact.


LCO: On the subject of genre, do you feel it's important to draw attention to new and interesting uses of music in games at the genre level, applying labels such as "music games" to titles like Rez or Sound Shapes which visibly implement shooter and platformer mechanics?

Vreeland: I have mixed feelings about genres. I don't look at them anymore, because it's such a common denominator and I've played games in every commonly listed genre and I know what the generic ideas behind all of those mechanics are. That information no longer tells me what I need to know in order to make an informed decision about whether I want to check out that game or not. In one way, music games as a genre is an easy way for folks who are interested in music applications in games to find titles to check out, but on another level it's an easy way for everyone else to straight up overlook all of those games, because of personal experience and bias with other games. I much prefer the idea of curation as a way of finding new content to enjoy. For instance, I generally check out the games that you guys write about, or the recommendations of friends who usually share my taste.


LCO: Lastly, do you have a favorite musical moment from a game?

Vreeland: I'm not sure. The entire experience of playing Journey was quite wonderful, but I remember most of my game experiences holistically, so it's hard for me to pinpoint, but that being said I can definitely recognize when the music is having a significant impact. Playing Chrono Cross as a 14 year old was definitely a landmark moment for me. That was one of the first RPGs I'd ever played, and everything about it was so fresh and inspiring to me. The music was unlike anything I'd ever heard before. Also I would say some really simple things, like the beat that gets added to music in Super Mario World when you hop on Yoshi, or the layers that get added as you progress through a world in Yoshi's Island. In Tecmo Super Bowl for NES and SNES, the background music for home and away teams was different, and you got unique songs in the preseason, regular season, and playoffs. I definitely noticed stuff like that and it felt like a nice little treat.


:top image by Zack Kugler:

Thursday, February 27, 2014

Blips: Letting Go


Source: Game of the Year
Author: Davey Wreden
Site: Galactic Cafe

I'm going to keep this brief because commentary on the article I'm linking to today feels a bit counter-intuitive. Davey Wreden, creator of The Stanley Parable (a game I quite liked), recently wrote a post with a comic that details what he felt like to have a critically acclaimed game come "game of the year" time. The Stanley Parable was included on a lot of top 10s last year, which can be validating and depressing all at the same time. In Wreden's comic, he goes through his thought process in a very open and honest way as a means of self-catharsis moreso that trying to make a point to readers. He explains his reasoning for even deciding to share the comic in a preceding explanation.

I wonder what effect choosing games as your artistic medium has in this situation opposed to others. Games are a medium that allows for very wide distribution from small sources. The products are digital and infinitely reproducible, rarely ever with consideration to editions and rarity the way a medium like photography is. It's an industrialization of individual artistic labor, and I can understand the conflict inherent in critical praise for commercialized art that you no longer feel 100% ownership over because of its mass distribution. I think this will be an increasingly important issue, especially in indie games, as some developers grow in size to fill gaps left by mid-tier studios and others remain as one-person entities.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Blips: Clumsy Controls


Source: Why Are Clumsy Games Like Octodad and Flappy Bird So Big?
Author: Janine Hawkins
Site: New World Notes

Let's keep the humor game train rolling with a piece by Janine Hawkins that discusses how the "bad" controls of Octodad: Dadliest Catch are actually a great thing. Well, I should hope so anyway; that entire game hinges on them. If you're not familiar with Octodad, it's a game where you play an octopus in a suit that is trying to pose as a normal human father. Of course he has tentacles instead of human limbs, so the results are less than graceful. Octodad is unweildly, but that's the point, because humor is the point, and as you struggle to get a grip on the game's controls, you end up causing some hilarious collateral damage. I got to play some Octodad on a PS4 back in November and greatly enjoyed my time with it. Yes, I was actually laughing aloud.

I find these physical comedy games usually make me laugh much more than scripted comedy writing in games. And, just like comedy movies, the audience has a lot to do with the enjoyment. Playing CLOP and Get On Top with someone else produces even more riotous results than it would otherwise. Local competitive multiplayer games have this ability as well, even when they're not setting out to be funny. Nidhogg isn't a comedic game, but I found myself laughing quite a bit in the social situation in which I played it, perhaps I found my own poor luck amusing, given the low stakes of a tournament with nothing on the line. Perhaps it's not even that physical comedy is necessarily more effective at generating laughs in games than scripted scenes, but that in many cases, these physical comedy games encourage an audience of more than one, which acts in the humor's benefit.

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Blips: The Joke's On You


Source: Polygon Cartoons: Humor and Sadism in Video Games
Author: Pauli Kohberger
Site: Madam Stardust

As I'm currently working on a piece about physical comedy in games as it relates to something like Turbo Dismount, I was pleased to find Pauli Kohberger's piece that approaches video game comedy from a slightly different angle. Kohberger's starting point is a little-known (I'd never heard of it) PS1 game called Welcome House, which is setup as a slapstick comedy where a nephew goes to visit his uncle. The uncle has laid out a bunch of booby traps and sight gags that pummel the nephew, presumably for laughs, but according to Kohberger, it's not all that funny. There is a fine line where physically harming a character can be interpreted as funny or mean-spirited, which has a lot to do with the power dynamics between the characters. Kohberger draws the comparison to Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd, and how there was a mandate that Bugs always had to be provoked before pranking poor old Elmer. Spy Vs Spy is also brought up, with an interesting backstory that I'll leave for you to check out for yourself.

I think these comedic virtual characters have very doll-like quality to them which can make them fun to torture, knowing no one is really being hurt. It's the same instinct that prompts children to blow up action figures with fire crackers, but in a game, there's no physical danger and you always have a fresh doll to use, no matter how many times you've blown it up. On the other hand, this can also make video game physical comedy seem too fake, since the lack of consequences are so instantly apparent. In comic strips, you have to at least wait until the next day to see the characters reverted back to their default selves. I think this is why some video game physical comedy can feel more violent than in other media that feels more grounded in reality. Then again, Elmer Fudd has been shot, crushed, and electrocuted, and no one was under the impression that was real either. I don't have a resolution on this yet –just something I've been thinking about.

Monday, February 24, 2014

Blips: Against "Rational" Play



Source: Videogames and the Spirit of Capitalism
Author: Paolo Pedercini
Site: Molleindustria

I find that when I speak of the whole of games, I often use the term "video game industry," though it's something I'm trying to extract from my vocabulary except in instances where I'm actually speaking about the industrial aspects of game development and publishing. It's no coincidence that "industry" has become such a go-to term when referencing the sphere of games, when games themselves often reinforce this capitalist mindset. This is one of my primary takeaway's from Paolo Pedercini's talk at Indiecade East 2014. I'd encourage you to give the whole talk a look, either in video or text form (via the "source" link) which elaborates on how games typically stand in support of capitalist ideals through their designs as rationalist pursuits. Rationalization runs counter to what it means to play.

The "game" in gamification is supposed to reference how otherwise normal activities can be turned into games, but it's actually just a meta-game on top of those activities –a means to an end that benefits upper management over the "players." If only gamified experiences actually incorporated video game mechanics, there might be an opportunity to transform them into something more engaging. We do this with our own imaginations when we're bored of something and want to shake things up. However, when the "game" part of gamification is about filling up a progress bar and receiving digital trinkets for doing so, labor itself is commodified and play is all but ignored.

Friday, February 21, 2014

Blips: Time To Pay


Source: Gaming;s Long Con
Author: Simon Parkin
Site: The New Yorker

In a new column for The New Yorker, Simon Parkin wonders whether we put too much stock into the length of games as a gauge of quality. For the most part, I'm in agreement with Parkin here; there remains an expectation that games should be a certain length, and disappointment when they don't extend to such a point. This instinct is outdated since the length of a game has little bearing on the quality of that experience. Now, I think the chances are greater that a game will stick with me if it goes on for at least an hour or so, but that's not necessarily the case and becomes a fuzzy distinction when considering games with short, repeatable loops of gameplay like Tetris. And Parkin is also correct that the time-as-value mentality made more sense when games were exclusively targeted at younger age groups who have infinitely more free time, who hope single games will sustain them for months. One of my favorite resources when selecting a new game to play is How Long To Beat, which let's me know on average how long a game takes to complete, not so I can pre-judge its value, but so I can predict how playing it will fit into my schedule.

What Parkin mentions only briefly is how monetary value plays into this, which I think completes the circle of logic here. Just as the amount of time someone can dedicate to playing games varies from person to person, so is the dispensability of $60. It's not worth getting upset about MGS Ground Zeroes being just a couple hours long, but if that experience is not conducive to replayability and costs $40, it begins to sound like a questionable value. There are fully-fledged, amazing games like Journey and Proteus that take fewer than 2 hours to complete, but they usually only cost $15 to $20. And it's a tough call to make because Ground Zeroes may very well feel like it's worth $40 after playing it, but it's pricing model flies in the face of expectations, asking players for a heightened amount of trust going in. So, as much as I'd like to dismiss the value of game length entirely, I still care about game duration in terms of entry fee. This judgement is made in conjunction with many others, but it still holds some degree of merit, and can be especially helpful when considering the worth free-to-play transactions. They say "time is money," and while I'd argue that there's more to it than that, the phrase isn't without at least a modicum of truth.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Blips: What It Is


Source: No Alternative, 1
Author: Joel Goodwin
Site: Electron Dance

I really enjoyed this piece on Electron Dance about whether certain game developers creating experiences on the fringes of what we consider "games" actually want their works to be seen as games. The reason this speaks to me is because the answers that developers like Ed Key (Proteus), Dan Pinchbeck (Dear Esther), and the Tale of Tales team are the reason I've returned to games with such fervor and enthusiasm. For me, these kinds of games are both the most interesting games and some of the most interesting contemporary art being produced. Part of this reason is the way games are distributed, and their more accessible nature.

Here's the thing; "art" is a neutering label while "game" remains a bit of a taxonomical battleground. Imagine if Dumb Starbucks was considered a game instead of performance art. There's an earnestness to the "game" label, where "art" applied to the same situation is viewed as a hoax (unless you're talking about ARGs, which are more complicated). Not that "game" couldn't become what "art" is now (it actually feels like it may be headed that way), but at the moment, games are seen to occupy a space that has a more open and honest relationship with those who engage with them. It's an ironic twist that when the artists behind horse_ebooks revealed themselves, they essentially "came clean" by releasing an FMV game. For artists, entering the game space is equivalent to "going legit," in that they're deciding to enter a space that is generally regarded as a front-facing commercial enterprise. Public performance art is the game you play without knowing it, but in "games," players are willing participants. It's no mystery which one has greater potential for generating a healthy relationship between artist and audience across the long-term.

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Blips: No More Excuses


Source: Video games need more women – and asking for that won't end the world
Author: Keza MacDonald
Site: The Guardian

So, I just started playing Mass Effect for the first time, and I selected female Shepard for my protagonist. Now, I know a lot has been written about the Mass Effect series and FemShep, and I'm too early into it to have much to say, but something about this game feels a bit fresher because the protagonist isn't short-haired, white, 30-something, military dude. And to be fair, my Shepard is a short-haired, white, 30-something, military lady, though there are options provided to change race and hair if you so choose. Still, the gender difference is something. I simply found the default male Shepard terribly boring, and lackng any sort of charisma. He appears on the cover of every Mass Effect game, looking empty and sullen. That's not to say that FemShep placed in the same marketing materials drips with character and nuance, but she's an alternative: a new lens through which to view a robust, yet by-the-book sci-fi universe.

The logic of Keza MacDonald's article about implementing more female protagonists in games is straightforward and to the point. There's no good reason not to, and many good reasons to do so. Want to sell more copies of your game? Well, how about trying to appeal to the other half of the human population? I don't think my selection of FemShep is in any way special, but anecdotally it shows that male players don't exclusively want to play as male protagonists. Give us something else for a change! I know others feel differently about this, but for me, it's not a question of games literally matching the make-up of the real world's population. With all the power games have for projection and identity expression, literalism ill-serves these causes. However, greater diversity, even if the level of diversity goes beyond what is literally the case in the real world, is a force for a wider range of interesting stories and interpretations.

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Blips: What's the Story?


Source: Games by humans
Author: Brendan Keogh
Site: The Conversation

Source: Irrational Games, journalism, and airing dirty laundry
Author: Leigh Alexander
Site: Gamasutra

I'm presenting a double-shot of reading material upfront today, so I'll try to keep this brief. Unless you've been living in a cave, you've probably heard about the closure of Boston-based studio Irrational Games, developer of BioShock, BioShock Infinite, and a host of other games across the past 17 years. The announcement was framed by a letter by creative lead, Ken Levine, who's one of the few game developers to garner a Hollywood director auterism within mega-budget game development. In the announcement, Levine states that he'll be staying with parent company 2K Games along with a dozen hand-picked Irrational staff to form a new venture within the company. The rest of Irrational's now-former staff, are seemingly on the job hunt. This isn't the way these types of things usually go, which has prompted rampant speculation as to what's really at the heart of a studio closure in the wake of a critically acclaimed, high-selling game.

At the heart of the responses from Brendan Keogh and Leigh Alexander are considerations for the largely unseen labor forces that make AAA games possible. While it's not the job of the press to help find these folks new work (though showing a bit of goodwill seems only courteous), it does seem worth reporting on these issues as they effect industry labor trends. I'm not seeing a lot of reflection on what 2K's part in Irrational's closure was, but they're the ones with the power in this situation, more so than Levine. This kind of reporting is extremely difficult because the "grunts" aren't allowed to speak with the press in most instances, as any negative sentiment about the company has the possibility of costing those individuals their jobs, or in the case of a studio closure, they've likely signed away their grievances into silence. It often feels like the only way we ever hear about this stuff is from journalists who used to be in the industry themselves, and thus can draw from personal experience and the trust of contacts they were able to make during their industry tenure.

So, while I'm not interested in the story that foretells the downfall of Irrational Games a year out from when it actually happens from an anonymous inside source, there is value in labor practice transparency. For me, it's a question of timing and audience. "What good would it do?" Leigh Alexander asks. I'm less concerned with impartiality as I am with fairness. I'm not the sort of person who'd "do anything for a story," because the story itself is only half of the equation. What you do with a story is just as important, and sometimes that means publishing a very public expose, and sometimes that means withholding comment. Though, I'm of the mind that we need a lot more of the former at present.

Friday, February 14, 2014

Blips: Grayscale Dreams


Source: The beguiling, sketch-like beauty of NaissanceE
Author: Dan Solberg
Site: Kill Screen

My latest review over on Kill Screen is for NaissanceE, a very cool exploration/puzzle game from Limasse Five. In the review, I make the comparison between the game and a pencil drawing lesson, seeing as how both place such a large emphasis on the gradations of light and shadow on simple shapes. Of course, NaissanceE, does this on an architectural scale, which doesn't necessarily convey the feeling of a still life so much as a spacial ambiance, but I do think my analogy fits pretty well overall. NaissanceE is a moody game that had me taken aback by its beauty on a number of occasions.

Crazily enough, for a game that doesn't have much in the way of intricate textures or AI, I did run into some technical problems with NaissanceE on my meager laptop setup, so be forewarned there. The game's Steam page lists a set of minimum recommended system settings, so I imagine you can avoid my issues there by just meeting those standards. It was the first time I'd run into a progress-stifling bug/glitch/hiccup (whatever you want to call it) in a game, and there was a time that I was at a bit of a loss as to what to do about actually reviewing a game that I could not physically experience for myself. Luckily one of my fellow writers was able to shoot a save file from past my trouble spot my way, and everything was gravy from that point on. Sometimes I take it for granted how much I rely on the stability of console hardware for games, but increasingly I'm drawn to a lot of stuff on the PC, so I think this might finally be the year I put in for an upgrade. We'll see.

In the meantime, give NaissanceE a shot, won't you.

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Blips: Still a Game


Source: Dungeon Keeper may be a bad game, but it’s still a game
Author: Mary Hamilton
Site: metamedia

It's a bit strange the way the label "game" has taken on certain qualities of the word "art" considering the two's somewhat tumultuous relationship. But that's what seems to be happening in the case of the new Dungeon Keeper game, which some critics and players have denied the "game" label on grounds of quality. We've all heard this similar accusation made about controversial works of art. "That's not art! It's just a bunch of scribbles!" "That's not art! It's pornography!" That's not art! It's just offensive!" There's a notion with art that a work can be "elevated to the level of art," but if that's the case, what was that work prior to that elevated distinction? Just because a game is rotten with microtransactions or deviates wildly from it's series' roots, doesn't mean it's not a game. This is the conclusion that Mary Hamilton has also drawn in the linked article above.

I see where some of these critics are coming from in the case of Dungeon Keeper though, and they're qualms with the game are on a more formalist grounds. The argument is that you don't really play Dungeon Keeper, but pay currency (virtual or real) to not play it, in a sense. While this argument could hold some water if you're expecting this new Dungeon Keeper to be a simple port of the original game, that's just not the case. This new Dungeon Keeper is simply a different type of game that needs to be played in a different way. I have no real familiarity with that series, but imagine I'd be likewise ticked off if say, a new Zelda game was released with similar mechanics. Instead of working your way through dungeons, Link only has the energy to explore 3 rooms in a 24 hour period, but you can pay minions to do that exploration for you. That sounds like a bad game, and by all accounts, Dungeon Keeper isn't too great either. But it is still a game.

Monday, February 10, 2014

Blips: Big Tunes


Source: When you’re playing Titanfall, something might sound different. Here’s why
Author: Dan Solberg
Site: Kill Screen

Last week, Kill Screen published a profile I did on Stephen Barton, composer on Titanfall. I went into this piece looking to learn about the analog recording process he used, since that sounded pretty unique for a video game score where everything just ends up in digital form anyway. While we did touch on that stuff, the primary angle ended up being how he used digital and analog sounds to distinguish the game's two opposing forces. It wasn't an even split between one side being pure analog or digital, but the resulting sounds frame it this way just the same.

Typically these kinds of video game scores aren't my bag, sounding to alike to one another and never something I'd want to listen to outside of the game context. But I think I'm being too dismissive since the reason many of these scores don't resonate for me is because I'm not typically invested in the games. Titanfall does seem interesting though, and potentially more fun than the always-dying nature of so many online shooters. I am a big fan of these atonal orchestral/digital mash-up noises that are so popular these days too, which make for a perfect match to Titanfall's mechsuit aesthetic. So yeah, this ended up being one of those pieces where I came away a little more open-minded than how I went in, which always feels good.

Friday, February 7, 2014

Blips: Positive Development


Source: Static Electricity: On Photography in Videogames
Author: Lana Polansky
Site: Sufficiently Human

With the ubiquity of video capture in the gaming sphere, the screenshot can tend to feel a bit old fashioned. The constant technological progress of games and the media that covers them redefines screenshots as outdated documents meant for use in near-extinct print publications. However, those screenshot tools are now in the hands of players and easier to access than ever before, resulting in an uptick in virtual photographers, like myself. Granted, I've enjoyed real-life photography ever since owning one of those little toy flashbulb cameras back before they sold disposable ones, and much before digital photography was an option. I think much of what I like about photography in general translates to why I like to take pictures in virtual environments: exploring and finding sights rarely seen, transforming the familiar into the unfamiliar, and showcasing aspects of the world that I find interesting or worthy of attention.

In a recent essay, Lana Polansky writes about her own photographic explorations in the game Killing Floor, and what it is about in-game photography that makes it resonate with people. She speaks with photographer Robert Overweg (top image) about his images from Left 4 Dead and Half-Life 2 that focus on glitches in those games. Glithes, Overweg says, reveal the humanity of game design, that games are ultimately made by people despite their often cold and mechanical character. Glitches are the parts of games where someone didn't sew up the seam quite tight enough, and that actually carries an endearing quality.

But Polansky's not just talking about capturing glitches, she sees in-game photography as another way for players to project themselves into virtual worlds. As players and photographers, we take on the role of inhabitants of these spaces, wherein we document our experiences and put our personal spin on the way we perceive them. Many new games are including selfie options for your in-game character. What the selfie option does, as Polansky states, is reverse the long-standing belief that game characters are exclusively opportunities to wear someone else's skin, and instead provide a platform for players to insert more of themselves into the game. I love that games have been more readily offering these photography tools (Gran Turismo 6's photo mode simulates an actual DSLR camera) and have even made a habit of supplying my own screenshots for games that I review. Photography modes acknowledge the architectural aspects of games and allow players to interact with them as such.

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Blips: Flap Flop


Source: The Squalid Grace of Flappy Bird
Author: Ian Bogost
Site: The Atlantic

Ian Bogost's treatise on mobile game zeitgeist Flappy Bird isn't the only one worth reading (I quite enjoyed Yannick LeJacq's take on the game too), but it is the one that assumes the widest angle on the game, framing it within centuries of gaming history. As Bogost states early on, Flappy Bird is a stupid game. I haven't played it, and yet I'm still comfortable stating that as fact. I've played enough eerily similar endless runners over the years to know a time-killing mechanism when I see one. The game itself is a visually different version of Copter, where you have to continually tap to prove your helicopter or bird with enough lift to avoid obstacles and navigate the gaps in between. Flappy Bird is exactly that, except it doesn't even have the progressive difficulty curve of Copter, it just is what it is.

This is one of Bogost's main points: unlike masocore games that are a hard-swing reaction against the gradual casualization of difficulty in games, Flappy Bird just "is." It's a game that exists outside the conversation, and is seemingly unwilling to join it despite its astounding popularity. Flappy Bird is a game that makes the mundane actions of game playing grotesquely apparent. Where Kinect games often literally show you how dumb you look playing them, Flappy Bird's stupidity shows through in it's very design. There's nothing to the game other than repeatedly tapping on a small glass rectangle. There's no sense of group effort, story progression, or artistic insight. Flappy Bird is a video game stripped of facade, and it's as pure as is is disgusting.

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Blips: Installation Puzzle


Source: The Possibilities and the Pitfalls of the Video Game Exhibition
Author: Nicholas O'Brien
Site: Rhizome

Do video games belong in museums? This is the core question Nicholas O'Brien is asking in an op-ed for Rhizome. I don't see a definitive yes or no answer here since sometimes games can be perfect fits for museums, and other times they aren't. Having seen a few of the bigger, more mainstream museums like the Smithsonian's American Art Museum and the Museum of Modern Art in New York tackle video game displays it varies by game as to how well their approaches worked. When the curatorial approach is to treat games with the standardized format used for the majority of other artistic mediums on display in the museum (work displayed as is with a wall placard of vital stats), certain types of games will benefit, while others will seem terribly neglected.

They say a typical museum-goer averages something like 5 seconds with an individual work. Games born out of an arcade tradition are likely to thrive in a museum environment because they are literally built to attract the attention of passersby, and their gameplay is constructed around an immediate experience that takes only a short time to mechanically comprehend. Control schemes for arcade-style games are also more intuitive for those unfamiliar with a particular game or modern home controllers.

However, this same treatment, when applied to Myst or any other games with layered narratives and puzzles, does the game a tremendous disservice. Even assuming the game is programmed for easy restarting for each new player, many of these games take 30 minutes or more to truly get moving to the point where its core play experience begins. And in some ways this is why we don't see many novels or full-length feature films in general museum exhibitions; the majority of visitors are there for a "museum experience" and that's comes with a certain set of expectations. Typically this involves a desire to see many different works within a matter of hours, and choosing a select few of particular interest to engage with more deeply along the way. The thing is, people like to choose these works for themselves rather than the medium dictating how much time they need to engage with something before it can "click" with them.

I don't think every visitor has to actually play games on display to appreciate them so long as they're able to understand what's happening as a spectator. Still, special attention needs to be paid for certain types of games to make more sense in a museum context, and what this is will vary by game. Not all video art makes sense on a standard flatscreen monitor, and by that same token, though most games to function within a standardized context in a home environment, that universality does not translate to the museum setting. Perhaps this is an area where museums could take cues from gaming trade shows where a "vertical slice" of the game is offered instead of the full article. Additionally, trade shows have attendants on hand to assist players in understanding the controls and ensuring that the installation is functioning correctly (another huge hurdle for high traffic institutions). Or perhaps a totally different type of installation would be more suitable for a particular type of game. How about one that uses a "black box" space to envelop players and spectators in a game's immersive, surround sound environment? That might work for a solemn, contemplative game like Proteus, but might make a lot less sense for local multiplayer games where social interaction with fellow players takes precedent.

I still want that "museum experience" when I go to a museum, and what that means for games is that I'd like my experience with games in a museum to feel unique to the setting. I own copies of several Katamari Damacy games; I don't get anything unique when the museum installation of that game a is a stand-up replica of my setup at home. I can look at photographs of paintings, sculptures, and video stills in books and on my computer, but being in the presence of those actual objects in a museum is a special experience that can't be had anywhere else. This is more difficult with games due to their general status as widely available commercial products, but if museums aren't going to try and make the experience of games in their halls special as well, then perhaps it's best to leave that task for those who will.

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Blips: When the Dog Bites, When the Bee Stings


Site: Edge

I'm as guilty as anyone of making "best of" lists (usually for music), but I think Leigh Alexander has the right idea here: we should be writing not about what's "best," but instead, what our "favorites" are. Now, there's definitely some overlap between the two, as often when I'm saying a game or album is "the best" I'm actually just saying it's my favorite while using the more objective-minded term "best" as a booster to make my preferences seem more definitive. When we're talking about personal lists, I think there's a general assumption that we're looking at a list of favorites, but when a game is touted as The Best by a website or publication, it's taken as a much more objective statement. There's not one person's opinion of the game to justify its placement, there's the opinion of the committee, and the committee has no personality (see Polygon's group review of the PS4, despite the charming page design).

This past December was the first time I voted in year-end lists as part a group of writers, and definitely I lucked out in the blurbs I was assigned. For both this music list for Unwinnable and this games list for Kill Screen, I wrote about my favorite album/game of the year (Random Access Memories and Miasmata, respectively). I wrote about them as if they were ranked #1 on the site, even if they weren't. They were my favorites and I wanted that to show through as much as possible.

Still, best-of lists are a lot like review scores: when readers get bogged down in the numeric minutiae of one game ranked against another, the ranking system begins to take attention away from the actual subject at hand. I've listened to Giant Bomb's "game of the year" deliberation podcasts the past several years because that's the component of their lists that is interesting, and that's where you get to hear the staff speak passionately about their favorite games. The list itself is a byproduct that I couldn't care less about, except for the fact that it prompts such an intriguing discussion to arrive at that point. The more access to the list-making process we can give to readers, the more they'll actually get to hear why we like certain games so much.

Monday, February 3, 2014

Blips: Public Good


Source: Copyright, trademark & money in a creative industry
Author: Steve Gaynor
Site: Pastebin

Lot's of talk about when games should enter the public domain today, sparked by an editorial by Rock Paper Shotgun's John Walker. Walker's stance is that games that are more than 20 years old (or 25, he's willing to haggle) should become public domain and essentially free to access. While I wasn't swayed to Walker's side by his arguments, I understand (I think) where he's coming from. No one should be allowed indefinite ownership over an idea. Where he loses me is we're not talking about putting ideas in the public domain, as he posits, we're talking about games. Games are as much discrete objects as the tables used in Walker's arguments, they just happen to be digital in nature.

It seems as if this discrepancy also struck a chord with The Fullbright Company's Steve Gaynor, who shared his response to the editorial on Pastebin. Gaynor picks apart Walker's metaphors about plumbing and electrical work, showing how those labor practices have almost nothing in common with the exchange of money for goods that occurs in the acquisition of a copy of a game. In fact, the outlandishness of Walker's made-up scenario where an electrician earns royalties every time you flip a repaired light switch, has more in common with actual F2P pricing schemes than it does with the idea of a one-time purchase of a 20 year old game.

One of Gaynor's strongest points is in recognizing how money earned through game sales is distributed within companies, and how it's not necessarily just going into someone's pocket, but often towards new projects through reinvestment. For a company or individual to have a strong back catalog can be a tremendous asset because it has the potential to mitigate risk for more unproven ventures. Walker claims that just because a game enters the public domain, doesn't mean the then-lapsed rights holders can't continue to make money off of it, but why should someone else? And for that matter, if a game is freely available in the public domain, why would anyone pay money for it to begin with?

I'm not talking about remixes and derivative works here, in which I'm in full support of, and video games as a natively digital format seem particularly well-suited to thrive. Gaynor's example of Alice in Wonderland is on point though. The ideas of Alice in Wonderland are indeed free to use, but Disney's film adaptation from a couple years ago is theirs and theirs alone. If not, then someone other than Nintendo would surely be selling Super Mario Bros for iPhones by now. Still, that hasn't prevented every game with user-generated levels from having World 1-1 in it.

I'd love to see Walker write a direct response to Gaynor's points because the questions he set up for himself to answer were just weak, belligerent strawmen, and even still, I wasn't convinced. Some clarity from the pro-public domain side on issues of copyright and trademarks in reference to games instead of ideas would also be helpful in understanding the full extent of this issue. I'm just looking to be informed here. Until then, I suppose I'll just keep having to spend money for old games, though price depreciation and deep-cut sales render most of them near-free as is.