So very recently, I picked up and started playing Street Fighter 4 like about 2 million others. If you know me, you probably know that I follow the game fairly well. I really like it, because it has a bunch of stuff that I think is really good for games: A great intuitive control scheme, low barrier to entry, and a good way for skillful players to differentiate themselves in ways that aren't (usually) cheating. This got me thinking about games, and when I think about games I tend to come up with something to blog about. This is no different. When last we talked about accesibility, it was mostly about designing content. This time it's a bit different. The discussion is still about things like how much of a game can be played by people, but content isn't quite the right word to describe it. I'll explain after the jump.

( Yes, now you've gotten me all confused. )

So... in today's installment, I am revisiting the old "Why do bad games get made?" riff, and taking aim at a very specific subset of games that tend to be bad: Movie tie-ins. Now... on the outside, it would look extremely promising to have a good game that ties in with a movie. After all, if the movie is good, you've got a huge customer base that's probably hungry for more of what the movie was about, and a game is a perfect way to get them to spend their money to get more. It's got built in marketing, it's got a lot of buzz, and people will buy them. It has a solid story to build on,

( So then why do movie games tend to suck? )

Moving along in the FAQ series, one of the questions I get pretty regularly are variants of this:

"Why do publishers keep making sequels?"

Alongside this:

"Why don't they come up with new games, instead of keep rehashing stuff?"

Also, recently this has come up:

"Will publishers keep taking risks on triple-a games like Mirror's Edge after seeing them flop?"

These are all facets of the same issue that crops up from time to time, and it is quite true. Part of this stems from what makes a game a game, and part of it comes from customer confidence. Let's discuss this further, shall we?

( yes, let's )

So, as stated before, we've got iconic imagery, and iconic motion. When you combine the two, you have something that becomes instantly recognizable to players viewing it as "cool". Here's a good example of that:



Bayonetta is an upcoming 3rd person action game from Sega. Despite being a totally new IP and without much knowledge of how the game plays, just by watching the short video you get a good idea of who the main character is, and what her modus operandi is. She's essentially a sexy warrior who fires guns in every direction, reveling in her own strength and ability to kick ass. Her movements are lithe and graceful, she moves liberally in all 3 dimensions, and her combination of skin tight clothing and sexualized demeanor all contribute to this. Nobody would ever confuse her for a blushing bride or somebody who just wants to be normal. The confidence with which she speaks and moves is apparent, even in such a short amount of time.

But what happens when this sort of thing works against you?

( I think you're going to have to show me. )

So, in the second of a series (probably of 3), we're discussing iconography. Specifically, what it means to make something recognizable. Last time, we went over how a picture is worth a thousand words. That isn't sufficient though; a picture is a picture. A large part of this is because of the whole Uncanny Valley effect. When a human sees a still image, that person will be more forgiving of certain abnormalities than seeing the object in motion. Most of this has to do with subconscious acceptance of flaws.

( So what does this have to do with iconography? )

Apologies for the lack of updates. I'll try to be better about it.

A lot of people seem to think that there's really a sliding scale between realism and not realism. On one end, you'll see something like Gran Turismo, and on the other you'll see Mario Kart Wii, and you'll declare those two the opposite ends of the scale. But I don't really think that's how it goes. It's actually fully possible to just replace the cars, karts, sprites, models etc. with abstract shapes and such. Sometimes things get weird like that, but what it does is change the way you view things. What most people are thinking of isn't that things aren't realistic, but that they are iconic.

( Iconic? )

One of my friends sent me this video:



After watching it, I thought about it for a time, but I'm not sure I agree with him. I do think that there is some merit to what he says, but most of it isn't quite right.

( Prince of Persia transplanted, not innovated )

Occasionally, people will ask how the story for a game gets created. Realistically, story is another priority thing like many game development things are. You probably won't expect much of a story in Madden 2009. There wasn't much of a story for Quake 1 (if memory serves correctly, it was some hastily written .txt file that came with it). So where does the story come from, and how does that happen?

The answer of course, lies with the type of the game.

( Turn the page )

Hey all.

Once again, I've come to answer a question I get a lot: What does a game designer really do, and how do you become one?

( Please enlighten me, o wise one. )

So I've become aware of Ixobelle's raid encounter design challenge. I've decided to throw my hat in the ring, because I found it interesting. I had some ideas in my head from before regarding how to make scalable encounters feel epic. I think I've gotten something pretty decent, and it will be coming soon. However, as I wrote this, it started to get kind of long so I've decided to break it up into two separate posts. This one will go into the normal sort of things to think about while designing a raid encounter, and the next one will be my design.

( What's in a raid? )