Phalanx–Now in 3D

At the beginning of the summer I decided to re-reimplement Phalanx, both to resolve some code architecture problems and to practice some 3D modeling. Since then I’ve been working on it part-time, investing a few hours into the game each week when not on other projects.

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I’m broadly pleased with how things are coming along, but have found the camera to be a real struggle. At high angles the game loses a lot of visceral appeal; too low and it’s impossible to take in the playing field. The camera angle you see here is a functional, but unexciting, compromise.

Currently Phalanx‘s new incarnation is to be released at the end of August, with an appearance on the arcade cabinets at the NYU Game Center. In the service of that goal, it’s time to go back to the grindstone . . . .

Royal Wedding

Royal Wedding (a name that really needs to be changed) draws loose inspiration from the fascinating Crusader Kings IICKII is what Civilization would be if, instead of playing as an eternal and effectively-omnipotent ruler, you played as a specific person with no more than about 40 years of rulership in you. If you want to keep playing after that, you need to arrange to have an heir.

Manipulating royal lines of succession is one of the best parts of CKIIRoyal Wedding runs with that idea of political marriages, following up on CKII‘s example (and a great conversation with my Game Center colleague Alexander King) by putting intense focus on the question of who’s related to who. Your ability to carry out key game functions increases or is constrained depending on whom you have marriage ties with, and how closely those ties bind.

In play, Royal Wedding is to Diplomacy what Dark Moon is to Battlestar Galactica–or at least, I hope so. The intent was to provide the Machiavellian calculation that Diplomacy inspires in a much shorter timeframe. I’ll leave it to the player to decide whether the game succeeds. 🙂

The rules for Royal Wedding can be found here. Print-and-play elements amount only to a few cards, so this is an easy one to assemble. I hope you enjoy it!

Portfolio Updates

A dream job was posted earlier this week, so I’ve been doing another round of portfolio updates here and on the Game Center’s website as I put my application together. Feel free, as always, to take a look!

This Friday I’ll be off to a wedding; I’ll get the post ready tomorrow so that there are no delays in updating. Expect it to be a prototype of a new game.

Lest there be no game design thinking in this post, I’ll leave you with Frank Lantz, director of the NYU Game Center, talking about Pokemon Go.

Playful: No Plan Survives Contact With the Playtesters

One of Playful‘s core ideas is a steady powering-up over the course of the game. The longer the hide-and-seek goes on, the easier it is for the knight to capture the dragon, and the more the dragon can do to avoid the knight. Since the player needs a final powerup to win, she has to keep the match going even as the stakes rise.

I was aware of one challenge that structure demanded I confront:

1. What should the powerups be? They need to feel powerful and rewarding, be interesting to work with, and yet not unbalance the game.

Frank Lantz brought another one to my attention in testing this evening:

2. How does the game feel without the powerups? In order to make the first powerup–a dash move–impressive, I had made the player really slow without it. While this had the intended effect, it made the early game miserable. Players understood very quickly what they were meant to do, but making it happen took an unnecessarily long time.

I’m grateful for the feedback; this is an issue I hadn’t thought to consider, but it’s vital to players’ first impressions of the game. I’ve now changed the first powerup to a smoke screen rather than a dash, which enabled me to give the dragon more speed at the outset. Hopefully that will improve the experience; of course, only more testing will tell!

 

Playful

There’ve been a couple of posts alluding to the current thesis prototype. Now it has a name:

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Playful is a game about hide-and-seek. Two little kids, who happen to be a dragon and a knight, are chasing each other through a forest. Since the dragon has some natural advantages (most notably the ability to breathe fire), they agree that the dragon can’t go for the win until the knight has spotted the dragon twice. If the dragon can avoid getting tagged in those moments of risk, it’ll be possible to breathe fire on the knight and win the game.

One of my goals with Playful was to explore a form of conflict that isn’t within the violent norm of video games. We as humans compete all the time, but only a very small number of those forms of competition appear in games. I’ve been enjoying bringing kids’ makeshift, balanced-on-the-fly competitions into video gaming.

Playful is also meant to capture the notion of engaging with the risk posed by an opponent rather than controlling the opponent to negate risk; a few of my classmates summarize the idea as “honorable competition,” and I think that’s a good way to put it. Again, this is something we routinely do, giving one player small advantages or imposing limitations to ensure that a game is fun for everyone. Capturing that negotiation has been a lot of fun.

I’ve enjoyed working on Playful enough to want to polish it into something releasable, even if just as an interesting proof of concept. That process is ongoing now. Look forward to it in the coming weeks . . . .

Theory: Don’t Get Captured by Game Feel

There’s an interesting difference in decisions in video games versus those in tabletop games—one with huge implications for designers. Choices on the tabletop are usually discrete; we can quickly identify the exact point where the choice is made, and so it’s relatively easy to ask whether that decision was complex, deep, etc.* By contrast, we emphasize the “feel” of video games because that’s a sensible way to evaluate the many little decisions that go into playing most digital titles. One of the challenges in designing video games is zooming out, locating the decisions that really matter and making sure that they’re as rich as those of a good board game.

We tend not to ask whether video game decisions are difficult or interesting. That’s not surprising, because most of the choices one makes when playing most video games aren’t. I want Mario to go left; to achieve that, I hold down the left button (or hold the joystick to the left, etc.). A huge number of decisions go into that movement, since I am constantly making a binary choice between holding or letting go, and it’s not always easy to be sure which decisions among the infinity of little ones are really impacting the player’s success.

Tabletop board games work differently. The moment-to-moment is abstracted away. Every decision the player makes is weighty. Choices are limited in number, and their import is clear.

Unfortunately, the challenge involved in figuring out just where the big, meaningful decisions are in video games sometimes means that we don’t ever get around to locating them. As a result, we never check on their quality. We get caught up in polishing the infinite tiny choices—an important thing to do, given how many there are!—and fail to ask which ones are the most meaningful, or how meaningful they really are.

I ran into this issue personally with my most recent thesis prototype. Many hours in, having carefully picked out suitable 3D models and hooked up animations and tuned the movement speeds, I realized that the game wasn’t any fun. Early on the player made one choice, and then spent a long time executing that choice through a bunch of movements that had great feel but weren’t significantly changing the game state. If the player’s single important choice had been made correctly, she was rewarded with a power-up which effectively reset the game. To put it directly: the player got to do one meaningful thing, and if she did it well, she was rewarded by having it invalidated!

Several playtests later, I think the problem is (mostly, hopefully) resolved. Alas, I could’ve been here sooner had I begun by considering, not game feel, but the number and quality of interesting decisions I wanted the player to make. Emphasize sifting out and evaluating the truly meaningful decisions in your video games; they’ll be better for it.

 

* Answering that question might, of course, be very hard!

Link: Shigeru Miyamoto on Game Feel

First and foremost, my apologies for the update schedule last week. I thought I had resolved all of the issues involved in posting while traveling; I was mistaken. Next time I’ll just queue up some posts rather than try to get them online while on the road.

While we get back on a reasonable schedule, check out this interview with Shigeru Miyamoto. It’s hard to find a more compelling argument for the importance of game feel than the image of playing the original Super Mario Bros. with a block on the screen, completely focused on trying to get the jumping to be compelling.

Little Lessons

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  • Maze-like levels get more interesting when there are plenty of paths through them. Dead ends create binary spaces where the only options are “there’s no enemy here, everything is fine” or “an enemy blocks my exit, I’m doomed.”  Interconnected areas invite maneuver.
  • If you want the player to interact with the antagonist, the antagonist must be where the player wants to be. Otherwise, the best strategy is always to go where the antagonist is not. In the picture above, the waypoints the knight uses for its AI pathing are not particularly close to the piles of gold coins the player-dragon wants to dig through; this means the player can usually dig in near-complete safety.
  • Even a little bit of power can be very exciting. It’s not necessary to immediately ramp the player to a balance-destroying level, even if the thrill of powering up is a goal.
  • Always keep in mind why you made a decision in the first place. When a technical problem forces you to revisit that decision, don’t jump to the most technically feasible option. Remind yourself why the design was as it was, and ask how you can get that same result.