New Tumblr

I created a new tumblr at http://willhubbell.tumblr.com/. Like this blog I will probably neglect it and update it infrequently.

It's where I'm going to start putting any of my writing about specific media: games, comics, movies, music, books, etc. I'll be writing mostly about stuff I like. The first post is about Bioshock Infinite, which I liked.

This blog (the one you're reading right now) will be about more abstract concepts, like game design, culture, and electronic communication. I'm planning on doing some actual journalism as well, which will probably end up here or wherever will take the stories.

Hi ho hi ho.

The Oculus Rift and Receiver

Yesterday I went with a friend to a SXSW panel about the Oculus Rift, comprised of creator Palmer Lucky and legendary game designers Cliff Bleszinski and Chris Roberts.

One of my biggest takeaways (aside from "this thing is going to be really cool!") was that the Rift was going to necessitate changes in both game design and interfaces. Everybody on the panel at one point remarked how inadequate controllers and mouse/keyboard are for the immersive experience the Rift provides. While the panel was filled with speculation about various devices that could be used to enhance virtual reality ("omni-directional treadmills" were mentioned more than once), less was spoken of the kind of experiences users could expect. This lack of specifics isn't surprising given that the product is still in development, but the subject of game design for the Rift is the most interesting one for me.

One panelist mentioned that Bleszinski's classic Unreal Tournament (1999) is a poor fit for the Oculus Rift, primarily because the players simply move too fast. The Rift is designed for slower, more engaging experiences. Receiver (2012) is such an experience.

Receiver was a game created during a one-week game jam. As such, it feels more like a proof-of-concept project than a full game, though it isn't incomplete. Its most notable and exciting feature is the way it handles guns, which is different from nearly every FPS out there. Receiver simulates the mechanics of its three different guns, which means a few things: the gun isn't locked to a reticle fixed to the center of the screen, ammo can be manipulated down to individual bullets in magazine and cylinders, and the player must be aware of the hammer, chamber, and safety. Overall, it's a more involved experience than clicking a mouse button to shoot from the hip and pressing 'R' every once in a while to reload.

While the story and setting of Receiver is somewhat bland, the moment-to-moment experience (the plot) is quite exciting. Having to deal with the mechanics of the gun changes its role from a purely power-granting object to an occasional obstacle. Usually a game will give you a tool that you can manipulate the environment with, but this is the first time I've had to actually manipulate the tool. The dynamic here is more intimate than most game experiences.

There are two types of enemies in Receiver: stationary turrets and floating drones. Both will kill you within seconds of seeing you. Because the game has perma-death, the pressure to avoid being killed is high. A good player will walk cautiously through the game's hallways, listening for enemies. In these pauses between enemy encounters, the player must make sure their weapon is ready - magazine or cylinder full, a round in the chamber, safety off. This down-time is crucial, giving the player time to regroup and reload.

When shooting finally goes down, it's usually over pretty quickly. Either the player or the enemy will be shot and killed. It's almost as simple as that. There are other factors involved: who gets the drop on who? Who has the better shot? The winner of a shoot-out in this game is determined less by who has better aim and more by positioning and readiness. Because a single shot disables an enemy (as in real life), the action is over nearly immediately. These interactions are very exciting, and oftentimes frustrating (luckily, the ability to restart immediately makes the game addicting instead of annoying).

The sort of methodological gameplay that Receiver offers will be right at home in the Oculus Rift. The strength of the rift will lie in players "being" in an environment, taking everything in carefully. Receiver encourages - actually requires - just that sort of gameplay.

I think the Rift may actually improve the game. One of my biggest problems with it is the relationship between movement and gun-aiming. Receiver treats in-game aiming similarly to how the Wii treated FPS aiming. In both, there's an imaginary box in the middle of the screen in which the player can aim their weapon freely. If the player aims outside the box, the camera will move in the direction the player is aiming. Such a technique attempts to simulate the separation between hand and eye/head movement, but sacrifices speed of the latter.

The Oculus Rift may solve this problem with its head-tracking technology. Because the Rift tracks where your head is looking in 3D space, the camera in-game can move with it. This technology allows the player to control the movement of their body separately from the camera, potentially allowing keyboard/mouse to focus solely on weapon aiming while the Rift takes care of looking at stuff.

Receiver is going to be available to play with the Oculus Rift, so color me stoked.

"YAT" is a better genre name than "Immersive Sim"

This year, Dishonored brought the Looking Glass lineage back into the mainstream. Heavily influenced by Thief (1998) and Deus Ex (2000), Dishonored (2012) shares the qualities of those games that made them special: systems-based design, a comprehensive, immersive world, emergent play, and meaningful player choice. Next year, Bioshock: Infinite will presumably provide another solid entry into this vein of game. On a much smaller scale, the Fullbright Company's Gone Home will attempt the same thing.

The name "immersive sim" has come to label these games. A cursory Google search reveals that the term, in this context, has been used since at least 2007, though it hasn't entered common parlance until somewhat recently. It's a name with solid roots - Looking Glass studios not only made Ultima Underworld (1992), System Shock (1994) and Thief (1998), but it also made plenty of actual simulations, including flight and driving sims.

I have a few problems with the name "immersive sim." A simulation, as it's usually thought of, is a model of a system that develops according to the rules of that system. The mechanisms of a car, airplane, or even the development of a city can be simulated and drawn out. However, when referring to a game like Dishonored or Gone Home, that definition doesn't hold up. What's being simulated? A unique situation. The name "immersive sim" when applied to these games asks us to imagine that each element in them acts according to consistent rules. When a game also tells a linear narrative, such a belief is impossible.

While Dishonored provides multiple narrative outcomes based on player decisions, the player will always encounter the same story beats each play-through: the empress is killed, Emily is kidnapped, Emily is saved, each assassination target is taken care of, etc. Such a linear narrative negates the idea of a full simulation. If all of Dishonored was really an immersive simulation, the player might be able to kill "the conspirators", or any of the main characters at any time, including Emily. The player might be able to team up with one of the assassination targets in their own bid for the throne. The player would be able to have a full conversation with any of the characters in the game. To get around this, the game uses the contrivance of the silent protagonist. Dunwall is a rich world filled with interesting characters and motives - yet none of them are truly interactive. The non-simulated system here is the motivation and agency of the each non-player-character in the story. This (reasonable) limitation is abstracted away through writing and two-dimensional characters.

Steve Gaynor is up front about Gone Home's pseudo-simulation: "'simulation' in our case is not a literal term. ...What it means is allowing the player to do whatever their character might logically do within the game’s context, and ensuring that the gameworld reacts in the way you expect." The important part of Gone Home is that you are in the house, interacting with it according to consistent rules. That consistency is part of what makes the game immersive.

To take a momentary detour into psychology: Spatial Presence Theory is the theory that describes the nature of immersion in media. There's a pretty good breakdown of it at The Psychology of Video Games. Briefly summarizing, and I quote:

"1. Players form a representation in their minds of the space or world with which the game is presenting them. 

2. Players begin to favor the media-based space (I.e., the game world) as their point of reference for where they 'are' (or to put it in psychological gobblety-gook, their 'primary ego reference frame')." 

The author goes on to say that there are two groups of characteristics that make games immersive:

3. One group, which he calls "richness," includes environment, world, and sensory detail. 

4. The other group is more important to us right now, and includes in the game world "lack of incongruous visual cues, consistent behavior from things, an unbroken presentation" and "interactivity with items."

Those four requirements for immersion are the hallmark of Looking Glass games and those of the lineage. Most important to these games is the idea of "consistent behavior from things." Austin Grossman, a game designer and former Looking Glass employee, described the studio's design philosophy as having "a notion that immersive gameplay emerges from an object-rich world governed by high-quality, self-consistent simulation systems." These systems form the backbone of gameplay in the genre. Gone Home has a system that allows the player to pick up and turn objects over, looking at them from every angle. Dishonored (2012) is chock full of simulated, interactive systems, including plague rats, guards that walk around and can spot/attack you, explosive whale oil canisters, hackable machines that run on said canisters, and plenty more.

Simulating systems in a game allows it to be consistent and, therefore, immersive. A game that isn't consistent is any that uses internal objects in anomalous ways - such as in scripted or quicktime events. Dishonored (2012) and its ilk eschew such events in favor of emergent gameplay, which occurs through dynamics between systems. For example, the following scenario can happen organically in Dishonored:

Corvo sits in a roof overlooking a courtyard. At the opposite end is a "wall of light," a deadly barrier that only guards can pass through. Three guards stand in front of it, guarding the whale oil canister that powers it. Corvo teleports behind the guards, grabbing the whale oil canister (which turns off the wall of light) and throwing it at them. It explodes, killing the guards. Guards on the other side of the "wall" hear the noise and come running. A passing rat pack eats them all.

At least six different simulated systems are engaged to make that moment possible. Each system interacts dynamically with another to make an exciting, unique, "emergent" meaning. This game design falls neatly into the Mechanics, Dynamics, Aesthetics Framework, developed by former Looking Glass employee Marc Leblanc. The MDA Framework states that "mechanics give rise to dynamic system behavior, which in turn leads to particular aesthetic experiences." Basically: rules make up systems, and interacting systems create experiences.

While it may not be right to call these games simulations, or even "immersive sims," their immersion is a by-product of simulated systems within the games. "Immersive" and "simulation" are two concepts that these games revolve around from a design perspective - but is it the best thing to call them? As I said before, none of these games are simulations in and of themselves, but do simulate various systems internally.

Gone Home doesn't seem to have too many dynamic systems or emergent gameplay (it is too early for me to say for sure), yet adheres to the same design concepts that make games in this genre immersive. "Simulation" doesn't seem to apply here heavily. Yet, simulated systems abound in recent Rockstar games, which are in a decidedly different genre (open-world third person action). Remember, the important part about Gone Home is that "the player [can] do whatever their character might logically do within the game’s context." That context happens to be an empty house, and the player actions consist largely of looking at stuff.

I think I have a better name for this genre, one that would encompass Gone Home, Dishonored (2012), Far Cry 2 (2008), System Shock 2 (1999) and the like: "YAT." It's an acronym, standing for "You Are There." I like it, but of course I like it, I made it up. But here's why:

1. It gets to the point. "Immersive sim" is fairly self descriptive, but says nothing about the type of experience you'll be having. By contrast, "You Are There" implies immersion without the claim of simulation. When you play a YAT, you know you'll really feel like you're there. "Sim" in "immersive sim" is confusing.
2. It replaces FPS or RPG. Games like System Shock 2 (1999) have long been alternately, awkwardly labeled "FPS," "RPG," or even "FPS-RPG." "YAT" is a separate acronym that distinguishes the genre from two of its influences.
3. It's concise and catchy. "Immersive sim" is somewhat clinical.
4. It speaks to the potential of the genre. Gone Home is trying something new by being non-violent. Seeing the term "you are there" in conjunction with Gone Home and the world of Dishonored makes one wonder "where else can I be?"
5. It respects the legacy of the genre. In a 1994 interview with Doug Church, lead developer on System Shock, he used the phrase "you are there" twice, elaborating thusly: "We wanted to concentrate on making a really immersive 3-D world that you can interact with. The emphasis is on giving you a feeling of being there, in this rich, exciting, active environment you can work with."
   
   That sounds like a genre description to me.

Game Segmenting

Analogies and resemblances cannot be pursued too far - they lose conviction and charm. They begin to take on the air of machination or card-tricks.

-Sergei Eisenstein

In my Screen Theory class this semester I'm required to dissect a film over the course of a few months. The chosen film is Harakiri (1962). My first step was to segment the film into its different parts (a "segment" of film is a unit of plot). Each segment can be further dissected by plot, mise-en-scene, editing, cinematography, and sound. The analysis and comparison of segments in film can point to its mechanisms for creating meaning.

It makes me wonder if we can dissect games in a similar, comprehensive way. In movies, "plot" is thought of as everything that happens on screen, while "story" is everything that happens in the universe of the movie. The distinction is important, and also useful in games. Narrative games have story universes, but the plot of the game is everything the player does and has happen to them.

While film segments are units of plot ("Tsugomu meets with a member of the Iyi clan"), how can game segments be defined? Games already segment themselves into levels, so that may seem like an obvious choice. But when you think about how designers create maps for games, especially narrative ones, it makes more sense to segment games into rooms. Well: rooms, hallways, stretches of road between tunnels, tunnels themselves, any space that is separated from other spaces, usually by doors. Sometimes there are rooms within rooms. A room is a designed segment of gameplay, where mechanics are arranged so that certain outcomes may occur.

For example, when Samus steps into a room in Norfair, not only is she bringing all the mechanics she has with her, she's also interacting with all the mechanics present in the room. The designer anticipates what abilities Samus may have, and creates a scenario in which those abilities will be engaged in a certain way. Samus can jump high. Some platforms can break when you jump on them. When Samus jumps on a platform and it breaks, she'll need to use her high jump to escape the lava.

The elements in a room are comparable to mise-en-scene in movies. Mise-en-scene refers to everything in front of the camera in a shot: objects, actors, sets, the color, lighting, and configuration of each. Games also have these elements. One of the key difference between games and film in this area is that film decides how long to show you a scene, and from what angle, while games let you explore an area on your own terms. Not to say that rooms in games aren't, or cant be, similarly restricted. Plenty of games restrict you from seeing everything in a room without attaining certain powers or progress elsewhere.

To go back to the example of Samus jumping on and breaking the platform: this is a perfect example of a dynamic, or an interaction between mechanics. The two mechanics in this example are 1. Samus's ability to jump and 2. the platform's obligation to crumble. The dynamic created causes Samus to fall into the lava. Here there is another dynamic: Samus's aversion to lava, and her ability to jump. She will jump to avoid the lava, or die because of it. These dynamics evoke meaning and ideally an emotional reaction in the mind of the player: "oh no I'm falling" and "oh no I need to get out of this lava."

This process of meaning created through interacting mechanics is similar to Sergei Eisentein's theory of montage in film. His theory posited that the dynamic between two shots created a new meaning, independent of either one, in the mind of the viewer. In a famous and blatant example from the movie Strike (1925), striking factory workers are shot by the military while the film inter-cuts footage of cows being slaughtered. The meaning in this scene is clear and effective.

I don't think it's too much of a stretch to compare Eisenstein's montage to Mechanics, Dynamics, Aesthetics (MDA). I've been taught that shots are a basic unit of a film. Perhaps mechanics, or rules, are the basic units of a game. This comparison, however, may not hold up well today, as editing in most mainstream movies is meant to be invisible (and certainly not as on-the-nose as in Strike). I do think it is useful to separate game design (creation of rules and dynamics) from level design, as one would shots and editing. I'm not too sure about comparing rules and shots, but level design and editing specifically are the language of how the player/viewer experiences the world.

Of course, in both media the entertainee is shown only what the camera sees. Cinematography in film has its roots in photography, a separate art form. But in film the camera not only frames, but it pans, zooms, and sometimes rides on tracks. Games also have cameras. The camera in a game is the player's window into the world, and takes different perspectives for different experiences. First person games position the camera as the eyes of the player character, so that the player can easily fit into the role of a person in the game world, seeing everything a person would see. Third person games pull back to show the player character itself, and all the actions they take. A game like Resident Evil (2002) uses fixed camera angles to attempt to convey a more cinematic experience.

It could be said that the camera in games is more functional than artistic. Giving the player camera control, however, gives them the opportunity to frame their own shots, which gives them intrinsic meaning. Level design also controls a lot of what the player sees, and from what angle. In cinematography a high angle shot looks upwards at a subject, giving it power. In a game, the same effect can be achieved by forcing the player to be grounded in front of a towering object (or being). Such "forcing" is often the result of lack of movement choices for the player. Deus Ex: Human Revolution (2011), Dear Esther (2012) and Dishonored (2012) all utilize level design to "frame" environments and subjects, with often stunning results.


A worthwhile comparison to film would be lacking without mention of sound. While level design sets much of the mood in a game, sound takes it the rest of the way. As in film, sound gives a game a sense of space and life. Sounds from off-screen signal something nearby. Bangs and booms give gunshots their heft. Music in games is also often dynamic, changing to fit the mood of the action as music fits the action in movies.

It occurs to me that there should be a "why" posed to this dissection. Though if you've read this far, I assume you have your own "why." Why is segmenting a game like this useful? Why go through the trouble?

Critical theory is my primary motivation here. Criticism of video games is in its infancy, especially compared to film. A big reason I took this screen theory class is so I could learn critical approaches to art. I think as you can loosely segment a film into plot points and then dissect those segments into plot, mise-en-scene, editing, cinematography, and sound, you can do similarly for games. Games (or really, a lot of narrative games) can be segmented into rooms with mechanics, mise-en-scene, level design (mechanical), camera, and sound. Just as "segments" in film are wishy-washy on boundaries, so are "rooms" in games. Being able to segment a game like this is an exercise in seeing its multidimensionality, and invites close analysis of all the game's elements and their dynamics.

I will do a game segmenting soon to see how it works. I'll post it here. I also just remembered that I completely forgot about UI, so I have failed in my quest to be comprehensive. I'll figure it out.

For the Dead

Hello everybody from ANUS.

I guess it's about time I updated this blog with details on my radio show. I do a brutal radio show on KVRX Austin, UT's student-run radio station.

My show is called FOR THE DEAD, and as of now it comes on every Tuesday (as in today) night at 11pm central as of 8/30, I'll be on the air every Thursday night from midnight until 1AM. You can listen to it at KVRX.ORG or on 91.7fm. Right now it's two hours long, but it'll be cut down to one when KVRX has more students in the fall.

For The Dead and Ruptured Signal aren't currently on Thursday Nights

 FOR THE DEAD, the name of which comes from an Autopsy song, is a meditation on brutality. While it started as a purely metal show, over time I have refined both its scope and my tastes. I'm not interested in genre so much as I am certain songs and styles of songwriting. I like downtuned guitars, blastbeats, fat riffs, d-beats, throaty screams, all sorts of noise, and concise songwriting. I can't rightly say this is either a punk or a metal show - it sits somewhere at the bottom of the chasm in between, taking in all the ugly misfits on the fringes of both.

I do focus on a few underground genres: death metal, grindcore, and power violence are easily the top three. Black metal often makes an appearance in its more raw and primitive forms. I play some noise rock as well. Last episode I had a half-hour stretch dedicated to songs influenced by early Swans.

It's important to me that everything you hear in FOR THE DEAD sounds immediate and overwhelming. Listening to the full hour (let alone two!) of my show is like running some insane gauntlet. That's the point. Yes, I will throw in an odd song to change the pace and keep people on their toes, but mostly you're listening to a straight hour of people pounding on things while screaming about things.

Don't get me wrong though, I'm not broadcasting any old noise. Every song you hear is hand-picked and high quality. I sift through a lot of music every week to find songs I know my listeners will enjoy, or at least find interesting. I play classics like Napalm Death and Incantation every once in a while as well. And I love taking requests, especially from people who get it. Call in! 512-495-5879 (KVRX).

If you like, you can see all my playlists here, on the kvrx website. If you're into social media, you can like the show on facebook here, or follow it on twitter.

Esclavo

In addition to my regular show, every once in a while I bring in guests to KVRX's Local Live. So far I've brought (in chronological order):

• Descendents of Erdrick
• Sungod
• Decayed Race
• Esclavo
• Chest Pain
• Hatred Surge

And there's a good chance War Master is going to play in August.

Descendants of Erdrick

I'll be on tonight at 11 playing the new Column of Heaven vinyl. Be stoked! Tune in. Tune in early if you like, the DJ before me has a great noise rock show.

Games and Value

With the start of every new game, the player is reborn. They accept a new reality paradigm, and take on the goals ascribed to them. They do this unquestioningly - else why play the game? The motivation is in reaping the rewards of action.

The player values the act of affecting anything. The game's response to the player, a disturbance in its realm, shows its character.

How can one find meaning in a video game? How can one find meaning in any piece of art, whether it be a book, movie or video game? And how can we judge these, and say one is better than the other?

A piece of art must be true to itself. We don't judge art based solely on what it says, but also how it says it.

In a game, a player finds value in seeing the consequences of their actions. A game must be consistent with these consequences.

But how can we find meaning in a video game? We may value the consequences of our actions, but what do we take away from them?

This may be a question that only the player can answer. But a good video game provokes the question, makes the player look for the answer. The player engages with the game, and its secrets (not all of them!) spill forth.

Over-The-Shoulder

I’ve been playing Grasshopper Manufacture’s Shadows of the Damned recently. It’s the latest in a series of third-person action games inspired by Resident Evil 4 that my Gamefly account has been dishing up.

            I do like these games, though I think some definitely do it better than others. Dead Space 2 was a wonderful blockbuster “popcorn” game, very story driven but none the worse for it. On the other hand, Alan Wake’s gameplay was a tiresome chore, and the story’s ham-fisted references to Stephen King and Twin Peaks were much the same.

            One of the debates in the world of video games has been about how to properly implement story, or whether or not to do so at all. I think there’s certainly a good way to do it, as long as you accept the limitations. That’s what these aforementioned games specialize in – limitations.

They’re all based on Shinji Mikami’s “over-the-shoulder” system presented in RE: 4, which freezes the player in place while enemies slowly (or not so slowly) stalk toward them, claws outstretched. This is a great mechanic for horror games or action games because it builds suspense, an emotion you want to express in those genres.

Gears of War presented a mutated version of the same mechanic, injecting more FPS-style action. However, the game took control of your character more than an FPS would have, with A-triggered dives for cover and Mortal Kombat-style brutalities.

These mechanics are about presenting smooth action pacing and flashy visuals – attributes you typically look for in cinema. And AAA games, having been adopting more cinematic styles for a while now, are adapting these game mechanics in stride. Halo: Reach had more mini-quicktime events than previous games, offering GoW-style brutalities. Those brief moments where the game takes control away from you are where they cram in all the game’s presentation and character. It’s a clever dash of Hollywood Movie Magic.

So game designers have finally found ways to corner players into serving themselves their own cinematic experiences. In SotD, I’m constantly backed against a wall having to press B and push demons back, much like in Left for Dead. When I do this the camera zooms out a little bit and shows me what my character is doing: bonking a zombie on the noggin.

That’s all well and good but what about this debate? Some developers and players have been bemoaning the rise of cinematic elements in video games for a while now, though it’s obvious that they sell. Just ask Batman Arkham Asylum. Or RE: 4. Or Gears of War.

I think we already know what the worst-case scenario looks like. It’s called Metal Gear Solid. I’m not saying they’re bad games, but they are the best examples of games where play is crowded out by story. I also touched on this issue when I talked about Castlevania: Lords of Shadow. The style/substance ratio was just off.

There are games that can do it right though: Dead Space 2 brought a lot of characterization to Isaac Clark (Gunner Wright) and Ellie Langford (Sonita Henry) with impressive voice acting and visual technology. Additionally, they got the pacing right, deciding not to repeat the first game’s slow reveal; Dead Space 2 is an action game. It’s also short, not pretending to be anything more than a deadly romp through the Dead Space universe. Grand Theft Auto 4, Gears of War, and to an extent Mass Effect 2 also got it right in their own ways.

The key to making these games correctly is to admit what they are – cinema/video game hybrids – and Direct/Design accordingly. Gameplay elements need to complement the mood and story of the game. Shadows of the Damned is doing this well so far. Executive Director Goichi Suda (AKA Suda51) labels the game a “Suda Joint,” making reference to film director Spike Lee’s tendency to labels his movies “Spike Lee Joint”s.

Suda51’s cinema aspirations are obvious enough throughout the game. Dialogue is flowing constantly, and the camera is always cutting away to objectives, enemies, and cut scenes. The style – undoubtably Japanese, extremely raunchy – injects itself as often as possible, through obstacles (strange goat heads that emit light), enemies (a variety of demons) and the main character’s Swiss Army Ex Machina, Johnson (a floating skull that turns into weapons, a motorcycle, and a variety of other things). Everything talks. It’s like Pee-Wee’s playhouse mixed with Tenacious D.

           As to where that leaves us in the debate, I’m not sure. I need to play the game more. In general, these games are Triple A or sub-Triple A titles (Triple B?), so I don’t think this style of game is likely to be adopted by the indie community, which is more happy programming procedural worlds and rivers made of voxels. Which is fine. We can have both. I like my Terminator as much as I like my Wall-E. I just want to know who’s going to make my Goodfellas.