New-Gen Roleplayers: Where's the incentive?

I had a very nice talk with a good, well-informed friend of mine earlier today about the sales of table-top role-play game systems, and how the number of younger consumers seems to have dropped dramatically from the late 90s. Yes, the economy is rough, but there are a number of worrisome factors:

• MMORPGs allow for (technically) instant gratification when it comes to play-for-accomplishment. Managing a table-top session requires commitment, an administrator (GM/DM), and a schedule. There are merits to the latter, of course, but instant gratification is pretty enticing in itself.
• Are parents put off by scary, violent, and possibly "blasphemous" covers of role-play books? It's a distinct possibility, and trends point towards yes.
• The math of role-play games can be complicated; the math of digital games are less, as you've got a computational unit built into the process (the computer). However, this is a great selling point to parents! Role-play can make statistics fun! You hear that?
• There haven't big any big-theme replications as of late (Supernatural, Smallville have made it, but aren't blockbuster enough to turn things around). The lack of any official Harry Potter representation in role-play gaming has dealt a meaningful blow to the industry. That in and of itself could have added thousands of players and millions of dollars to the cocktail.

Other thoughts? This makes me wonder if parents from the height of the table-top years still take their children aside and teach them the ropes. I've been under the impression that they are, but I suppose that's not enough to keep the industry going, alone. This means something's going to have to be done to renew interest, or the current generation of table-top lovers are going to age along with the product, and there won't be much left in 30 years aside from the occasional hail of rats in the basement from digital games.

The Cataclysm Begins

Super brief post today, folks. Just a heads up that the Big World Changes for WoW have started today with patch 4.0.3a. I don't have much to say about this right now, but I'm sure I'll have some opinion come a couple of weeks time when the reviews start piling up.

Until then, enjoy!

The highlights:

• The mainlands of Azeroth are reborn.
• Goblins and Worgen will make themselves known (though remain unplayable until the expansion proper).
• Every starting area has been revamped. (Trolls and Gnomes start in completely new areas).
• Class and Race combinations are being relaxed.
• Updated Art!
• Class-defining talents received earlier (looks like level 10).

MCH

Not your grandparent's Attributes & Skills! (But they still listen to the same music).

The posts for this week are likely to be somewhat abbreviated (or skipped entirely, in the case of Thursday-Friday), as I'm busy preparing for the week's holidays!

That said, I've recently been floating amidst an interesting conundrum concerning RPG (Role-Play-Gaming) statistics. From Dungeons & Dragons, to newer video games like Dragon Age, there's this... phenomena of attributes and skills. These may be renamed for the sake of setting or some gimmick, but the very core design mechanic works like this:

• A character has a series of attributes associated with their base, natural abilities. Strength, Intelligence, and Charisma are but a very small sample of the possibilities offered here. These usually number somewhere between 6-9, though some games have less and others more.

• A character also has a series of skills associated with their learned, nurtured abilities. Athletics, Marksmanship, and various Knowledges are but a small snippet of what can be an incredibly lengthy (150+!) list from which to choose.

This is ultimately a throwback to table-top war games and the genre as defined by Gary Gygax and his contemporaries. It has been copied and modified by too many games and systems to count since its inception, though the core of this mechanic ultimately remains the same: a) attributes modify skills in some way, b) attributes allow for skill selection in some way, c) attributes are "dropped" and "replaced" by some other mechanic that ultimately amounts to the same thing with new trappings (and still have some relationship with skills). I'm open to input, here.

Anyways, it has been suggested by some that this process be abandoned, as it smacks of the very tired nature/nurture argument and all the equally fatigued politics still on the dance floor behind it. In a moment of inspiration and madness, I decided to take up this challenge and attempt to do just that.

 ... Yeah that didn't work out so well. So far, I have discovered that if players are willing to make statistics a very, very low priority in their gaming (and prioritize narrative, instead), the attribute/skill system can indeed be dumped for something simpler, such as an archetype system. On the other hand, if players are married to the idea of statistics (as they would have to be in a digital setting, given current technology), there are ultimately no alternatives to the attribute/skill system I have found.

A savvy coding friend of mind made an intriguing point that "objects" in a coding environment demand "attributes" that detail the object, represent its purpose(s), and inform the script (or whatever is reading the object) how it should behave. Character "objects" in digital games work the same way, and I'm personally willing to transfer the analogy over to analogue games as well: For "mechanics" to work, they need to be able to "read" the character-objects and compute some sort of conclusion as appropriate.

What I have done in my current design attempt is to almost completely eliminate the typical attribute associations (Strength, Dexterity, etc.) and instead replace them with more vague motivation-oriented statistics as opposed to flawed direct representations of human (or whatever) ability. I say flawed for a rather complicated reason. But essentially: Simulation attempts to re-create that which it can never fully re-create, because it will always be preoccupied with creating a facsimile of the original, which can never fully be the original, because it will always be a facsimile - at least so long as the original exists. And if humanity is the original, we're (hopefully) not going anywhere any time soon.

I'm not going to draw a line in the sand and say that argument is flawless, because it's not. However, it's good enough, I think, to get across the idea that attributes are generally viewed as good enough a representation for purposes of gaming. Why fix what's broken? And so on.

Of course, if good enough remains the prevailing philosophy for using this system, I must agree. It's time for something fresh.

MCH

Ten Minutes to Win.

Onto a bit of theory! Oh, don't close the page, it's not that bad. As my last post for the week, I simply want to give you readers something to think about over the weekend - perhaps even begin a series of comments. With conversation, ideas are sparked! information exchanged! egos stroked! You see, I do enjoy feedback. I admit to being needy in this way.

But seriously, I do very much appreciate all of you who continue to read and enjoy my wordspam. My N7 ball cap off to you.

So I was cruising Gamasutra again as I do, and came across this little gem by Leanne C. Taylor. In short, does the 10-minute rule of movies apply to games? The idea here is that if a movie has not grabbed the viewer's attention in 10 minutes, it's very unlikely the viewer will enjoy, or even continue to watch said movie. I will term this a viewer's 'grace' period for simplicity. Leanne transfers this concept to game studies, and explores successful games and the amount of time it takes for them to establish an acceptable amount of information and game-play time for a player to determine if they like the game or not.

It is interesting to note that many successful games' opening cinematics tend to last no longer than three minutes, offering plenty of time for gameplay before the 10-minute mark. This is hardly an industry standard, however. Reviewer Kyle Orland over at Games for Lunch allows games a full hour to wow him with the bulk of its bells and whistles, while a few commentors of Leanne's article demand that solid games can take two or even three hours to reach their full pacing. My question, as always, is how narrative has an impact on this process.

Think of games you've played, and the approximate amount of time it took to explore the game's mechanics, determine your options, and discover how you can use those options. Obviously, story can be completely divorced from this process, and a game can exist without establishing plot elements (pong, tetris), but an important point is made in the comments to this article: A game wants - needs the player to perform certain actions for the cybernetic (man-machine) loop to complete, and for the game to continue. If narrative design can be understood as a marching forward of elements towards satisfaction (climax/goals), or whatever, than even this process has some suspiciously narrative elements. Janet Murray would be pleased.

Regardless, Leanne suggests that those games what do employ narrative in story form have a couple of different ways to grab reader attention, as follows:

1. What has happened? (History - Fast)
2. What's going to happen? (Story - Faster)
   
3. What's happening now? (Mystery - Fastest)

Note the progressing level of immediacy. If you're curious as to what games fit what categories, check out Leanne's article; she focuses mostly on Blizzard, Black Isle/Bioware, and Bethesda games. Hrm, but which one of these to pick: Does the player's grace period and patience allow for a huge storydump? How long can a player stand exposition in the face of not playing? (There's an interesting compromise in the Prince of Persia's exposition-through-voice-overs while the player still actually gets to run around).

The problems I see - and I'm glad Leanne mentions this, however briskly - are the varying motivations players bring to their game. Richard Bartle's discussion of the four sorts of players that populate MUDs is a good place to start, though it's now somewhat dated; the updated version is directed towards virtual/synthetic worlds and sports eight categories instead of four. However, if you're curious about how you rate with the original four, take this quick test.

The original four, succinctly summarized are:

1. Achievers - For Glory! (Acting on worlds).
   
2. Explorers - The Great Discovery. (Interacting with worlds).
   
3. Socializers - I'm Here To Talk. (Interacting with players).
   
4. Killers - Distress Is Best! (Acting on players).
   

This method is really reserved for interactive games; I really don't see Killers as having that much a presence in single-player campaigns. But then again, morally-oriented stories do allow for some level of acting on non-player-characters-as-actors (Killers) and interacting with those same characters (Socializers). Similarly, Exploring is still available in games like Oblivion and Fallout 3. So there may yet still be some truth here.

To confuse things, consider the Threefold Model. This model states that (usually tabletop) RPG gamers have one of three motivations:

1. The Dramatist: It's really all about story.
   
2. The Gamist: Challenge is what makes a game worthwhile.
   
3. The Simulationist: In-game events should be as "real" as possible.

I think this is a decent model to apply to many gamers, RPG-intent aside. If a gamer isn't interested in story, they're likely interested in a challenge (puzzle games, RTS, FPS), or in pretending to do or be something else (flight simulators, the Sims).

Of course I think there are other facets; neither of these models are perfect. There can be Drama-oriented Simulationists, or Social Achievers: People can not be so easily pigeonholed and tend to be a mix of aspects, generally gravitating towards one over the others. Designers have a lot of choices to make when deciding how best to satisfy that first 10-minutes (or hour, or whatever). The plan ultimately comes down to audience. Can you satisfy all players in the Threefold model? Quite possibly, but what (if anything) is being sacrificed to do so?

Of course, having this knowledge also allows the informed gamer to make some educated judgments about games before purchasing (I'm a Dramatist - Will I really enjoy this challenge-based shooter?).

So: Storydumping early (if there even is story), allowing for gameplay exploration first, or starting off with a challenge? Something else?

Which would you prefer?

MCH

Dragon Age: Darkly Dark? Preview for Dragon Age Legends.

So the announcement of Bioware/EA's Dragon Age: Legends is rather old hat by this point, but given my own Facebook expansion, it seems appropriate to take a snippet and chat about it. For those of you not familiar with the franchise, it really has nothing in the way of amazing innovations for the 'high' fantasy genre, but it is a solid universe with a commendable depth. And to preempt a comment or two: Yes, 'high.' Despite marketing's attempt at labeling the game 'dark,' which amounted to an 18+ rating, almost-bared breasts, and a few buckets of blood that had a drunken night with a three-legged airbrush, the game is no more 'dark' than any of its spiritual predecessors.

If I had to label something as 'dark,' or 'gritty,' I'd go with A Song of Ice and Fire or the Book of the New Sun for the sheer shock of some of the moral issues (and failures) detailed therein. In that light, I might go so far as to classify Dragon Age as 'dim,' but there's rarely a fantasy story without some Earth-Shattering conflict with a Great Evil or some-such. And quite frankly, Dragon Age would lose its charm if it were any grittier. (However, the prospects of Dragon Age 2 fiddling with these tropes has me a bit giddy, to say the least).

A few examples of anti-grit:

• The core game's companions are fantastic, detailed personalities with believable and sometimes confrontational motivations, and while I adored their banter, the lightness of it sometimes did more to undermine the seriousness of the character's mission than underscore it.
• The lighting in the game is beautiful, and very befitting a fantasy game. It's also plentiful and not the adrenaline wall-hopping of F.E.A.R, Silent Hill, and so on.
• Quests are true to the genre's tropes: There's even a 'rats in the cellar' problem for the human noble origin. I loved it, but this leads to an atmosphere of nostalgia, amusement, and so on. Hardly dark. (With the exception of the City Elf origin, I didn't personally find any of the origins that 'gritty,' though several are quite tear-jerking).
  

I'll admit that the game's 'mini-climaxes' sported some fairly gruesome scenes of the eye-widening variety, if not out-right gasp, which I appreciated. There was also quite a bit in the way of abjection, be it the nature of Grey Wardens, the semi-exile of the character cast, the dead bodies, flesh-like taint, all of which successfully lend themselves to an environment of horror. So I'm certainly willing to give the game an honorable mention for 'darkness', though it's still not quite there for me. What did you think? Toss me a comment.

Anyways, while it hasn't been made clear exactly how much of the universe's lore will be apparent in Legends, I don't think a lack of historical knowledge should stop those of you who enjoy Facebook/social gaming from giving the game a shot when it premiers in January. I do have my reservations about the universe's cultural analogues (zounds! the French are giant snots, invaded England, and have amazing shoes), tiresome plot elements (betrayal again! take a shot of tequila), and questionable motivations (really, Loghain? are you still mad about that?), but I've also played the core game through three times and thoroughly enjoyed myself.

If anything, I recognize that this universe should ultimately be very familiar to not only lovers of fantasy or those of you who have had reason to flirt with 1066, but anyone who's in-tune with European stereotypes or has at least glanced at the Lord of the Rings movies. But in familiarity is not only comfort, but also a cauldron of ideas, ready to be ladled out and repurposed, and Dragon Age has repurposed these idea well - far more than I can say for half of the 'once again!' novels that keep flooding the market.

As for story, I must agree with the amusing, if foul-mouthed Yahtzee (yes, I watch him too) that Bioware just doesn't get props for good story anymore. They've gone and made themselves a model in the industry for sound, compelling narratives. Now why would anyone go and do that? All that work. All those expectations. (No, really, please don't stop).

So, without further ado, here's some information I've scraped together about the upcoming Facebook social game, Dragon Age: Legends. Keep in mind that this is all tentative and open to revision between now and January.

• No longer do you have to fight or mug solo in those lonely, dark Facebook alleyways. Now you can requisition your friend's characters to fight alongside yours! Doing so will not 'level-up' your friend's characters, but it will get them gold, and likely access to whatever epic loot the party happens to come across (presumably duplicated between characters).
• Build and manage your own castle! Visit the castles of your friends! TP them from the battleme--no, no, I don't think they actually added that. But you will be able to perform some actions in the halls of your regal compatriots, likely involving rewards, gifts, and 'special rooms' which have yet to be detailed.
• Yes, castles will aid in combat (somehow), and work like a sim town-builder. I doubt the castle will join your party, alas.
• Every class (I'm assuming three, per Dragon Age canon) will have 27 skills, which are maxed out at 10 points. Level max is currently 270, but will likely be capped at launch, with that cap being relaxed every so often.
  
• There will be monthly updates that may include such things a PVP arena, Raid Dungeons, and Epic Team Battles (all caps).
• The game's life expectancy is somewhere in the 2-3 year range before needing a major revamp, but there is story planned for the length of this time. It has been promised that Bioware's excellent attention to story will not waver for Legends.

For an idea of how Legends might run, check out Dragon Age: Journeys, Legend's predecessor. (And for those of your who are curious, Journeys has not been canceled, but merely tabled until the Legends hubbub calms a bit).

Any comments? Disagree with anything stated? Feel free to post your thoughts here, or over at the Phantom Narrative's facebook page!

MCH

Unpaid Internships = Slavery?

I feel compelled to make a brief shout-out to Slade Villena over on Gamasutra: Unpaid Internships are crap. I modify this by clarifying unpaid internships are indeed crap in-a-hat when offered by for-profit companies, outside of an educational environment (ie. after graduation), which I think was Slade's intent anyways.

Regardless, I agree: Those of you who take these sorts of internships are perpetuating a cycle that not only cheapens the talents and capabilities of all job-searchers, but are giving companies no reason to modify their behavior.

Please Stop. Now.

Yes, I sympathize. But quite frankly, I'm not particularly interested in constructing a huge argument on this subject (if you want a more balanced one, go to Businessweek or the New York Times). I will forever fail to see the benefits of this exploitation outweigh the destitution those of us without trust funds and loaded or connected families have to endure to maintain these positions. Yes, unpaid internships offer Professional Experience! On-the-Job Training! and (maybe) Potential Promotion to a (overworked) Full-Time position (if you're lucky) with good (bad) pay!

Believe me, I understand. With the prospects of returning to Starbucks looming ever darker on my occupational horizon, I'd love nothing more than an "in" to some willing game company. But am I also willing to completely uproot myself and go live in a wet hole somewhere on the west coast with coupon-bought ramen to do so?

What do you think?

While I love the gaming industry to tears, I'm simply not so desperate as to quiver at the slightest touch of its divine big toe. As Slade put it, gambling with no chips means prostrating yourself before the fickle mercy of a company with Far More Important concerns and goals than you. Sure, unpaid internships can get you experience, but how the hell do you intend to bargain successfully for a good salary with no previous salary history to speak of? Protip: You can't.

No chips. No dice. No moohlah, buckos.

Believe me, I'm stuck in the big conundrum here, too. How does one get a job as a game developer/writer/community manager that demands 2+ years industry experience when every. similar. job. demands the same? Yes, I'm aware of the job-seeker's subtleties: Qualification listings are ideal; sell yourself, and maybe you can convince HR that they can waive that experience requirement. Maybe. If they call you. Or have their phones on.


...


Did you read my previous post about silence?

I truly have no beef with HR. They have a job to do, and with the job market swamped with candidates, their job isn't getting any easier. Not to mention all those experienced employees getting laid off in recent months, prospects for us newbies certainly aren't improving by leaps.

But to not be entirely negative, as I wouldn't still be here blithering on if I thought sticking it out were utterly pointless, here are a few suggestions to keep you going:

1. Take this time to sharpen your skills. Be it through more classes, certifications, or even through online solo tutorials if you can't afford the former two, don't waste the lull to depression. It's really, really not fun.
   
2. Try working on an independent game solo or with a group of people. It likely won't turn a profit, but the risks are minimal. Then again, it might be a hit.
3. Keep up with industry news and scuttlebutt. You never know, it might apply to you.
4. Start a blog. *cough*
5. But most importantly, keep on trucking! I think (eventually) the industry will be made better by those of us that have the dedication and perseverance to keep trying, despite the hurdles.
   

Good luck!

MCH

On Jobs. And English Degrees. And Kilts.

Okay. Grain of salt time! It's time for my little addition to the angry blogosphere.

Frankly, I'm tired. I'm tired of sending out an indeterminate number of resume copies, emails, and submissions. And I'm tired of being one small, but important smidgen of a qualification away from 'good enough'. I'm really tired of everyone suggesting to the English graduate: 'But why aren't you teaching?'

Are you partial to well-mashed, pre(post/perpetual/purple/whatever)-adolescent pie-filling? I have the most immense respect for those of my peers that went on to teach despite the miasma of underpaid, undervalued bullshit. I don't, however, share your courage. Or your patience. Teaching - at least in the traditional way - is not my mission.

I want to write; I want to build. I want to be an engineer of worlds. I want to walk on distant, untrod soils - the fantastic, the heroic, but ultimately, the familiar. I want to show people what it means to dream, to imagine; what it means to dig deep inside oneself by soaring the endless skies of Somewhere Else. This is what mastery of language, of ideas and thought, can allow. And though I am hardly a master of experience, I've taken many important steps in that direction, and I intend to keep going.

Let me tell you something, nay-sayers and jaded HR managers alike: English is an experience. English is not only what we speak, it is how we talk, it is what we say, and it is how we think. Yes, it is also what we teach, but, Christ, is it infinitely more than that.

Words are power. Tolkien and so many others have recognized this. Words demand reaction, elicit emotion, inspire, dissuade, anger, belittle. Create. Change. To understand how, why, is to have insight into how everyone around you constructs their very reality. And it allows you to construct your own. It is so much more than article writing, editing, and outdated, prescriptive grammar.

Of course, what do I have to show for all my aspirations? A big, fat, cudgel-wielding creative block. It may even channel Gibson in woad and wear a kilt. I don't care. I've been too tired to fight it. Tired of feeling like a cog. Tired of feeling like I don't matter; like my talents are a drop in an endless pool of ultimately small depth; that I should crave the golden hand of corporate acceptance like a love-starved pup. Then I froth a bit and feel ridiculous at having even indulged all of that needlessly poetic self-pitying nonsense. And then I feel tired. Again.

But what grates me the most? The silence.





Empty space? Yes, that. The nothing. No response. The definition of impersonal.

I realize academically that employers have to take their time with the sheer volume of interest they must receive, especially in the video game/arts industry. But talk about perpetuating cycles. No response? Tired. Tired? Less output. No response?

If this post seems inspired or creative, clearly it's because I'm angry and channeling the Dark Side. Or I'm simply fed up. Do I have what you want, game designers, writers, creative directors, community managers? After the advice, counseling, soul-searching, and prayers, I still have no idea. And I'm still tired.

So since my Jedi mind powers have yet to reveal themselves, and I can't read your minds, I suppose it's time to throw off the chains, dig into the trenches, and channel Macduff while I crosswire my allusions. I may still be tired, but I've got plenty of punch-drunk, job searching-inspired rage, two thumbtacks, and a wad of gum.

Bring it, Mr. Scottish Block. I've had way too much time to watch MacGyver.

MCH