I was riding home on the bus, listening to music and letting my mind wander with the music. I don't know if you've found yourself doing this, but I sometimes follow the lead guitar or bass lines and try to imagine how the song would play in Guitar Hero or Rock Band. Please tell me I'm not the only one who does this. I don't even own a copy of either... Anyway, I was listening to a song that had a lot of pick work and it got me thinking.
The plastic guitar craze has taken hold. I really don't see it going away any time soon. People get it; and while the only thing you can really do with a plastic guitar is pretend, there is a lot of music that you could pretend to play. With GH4, you'll even be given the tools to make your own. Along with another set of fake drums to clutter up your living room.
But the plastic guitars only gives you one way to play it. Chose a note/chord and strum. That strum bar takes the place of the individual strings. While that vastly simplifies the actions you need to do, it removes some of the finesse. But it works, I don't think you could have the wide ranging appeal that the GH and RB games have gathered if you over complicated the controller.
Now the Nintendo DS version of Guitar Hero is on its way. A lot of design ideas and prototyping went into the development of the game's grip controller. They played with the idea of an even smaller, portable guitar. They tried 4, 5 and even 6 button configurations. They finally settled on 4 buttons, as anything else was too hard to use while trying to hold the DS steady.
Here's the setup: You plug the grip into the GBA slot. You strap the thing to your hand, and hold the DS open, book-style. The note highway shows up on the normal screen, and a miniature guitar (and other icons) show up on the touch screen. You hold the grip buttons down for the notes/chords and strum across the virtual guitar with the (guitar pick) stylus.
However, I think that they missed an opportunity to add challenge and detail to the game because they were too focused on the external hardware of the game. They remain married to the idea that the only way to play the guitar is to strum it. But not every action has to be a strum.
In the same way that Rock Band has solo sections, GH:DS songs could have pick sections. The virtual guitar zooms in. You are given a particular chord to hold on the keys. Then the individual strings become the note highway, with you having to pick each note with the stylus as it comes over the bridge. Added detail could include the speed you play sections of complicated notes affecting how they sound. Harder songs would include more chord changes on the buttons and more notes to pick.
And it uses the unique interface already part of the DS system. Sure, the strum uses the touch screen too, but it could have been as easily mapped to another button. Picking, and when/where you pick notes could have added a level of customization and personalization to the virtual playing of your favourite songs.
Activision, Red Octane, and Vicarious Visions: you are welcome to use this idea in the Guitar Hero DS sequel.
Showing posts with label Sunday Game Concept. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sunday Game Concept. Show all posts
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Sunday Game Concept: You're So Vain
On Monday I read Tadhg Kelly's (particleblog) post entitled, "Why is the book world NOT threatened by gamers?". I nodded along for most of it. Yeah, books are different from so-called interactive media. Sure games are never going to replace static, authored, edited media the way we thought they would 5 years ago.
Aside here: while the mainstream media may just be latching onto this idea, sci-fi geeks, dreamers and all of us on the edge of dreams and reality (which pretty much includes everyone who believes that games can help us create/tell/express/explore/relate stories) passed through this phase years ago. Back when Star Trek dreamed up the holodeck and had Patrick Stewart playing Jean Luc Picard playing Dick Tracy for some escapism-escapism. The mainstream media is always behind on things like this, but while we've moved on, we still have a responsibility to gently point them onwards.
Anyway, I even nodded some affirmations about the player not really being the hero. Yes, the player controls the hero character, but that doesn't make the player act like the character. In fact, this is often the most disputed part of the storytelling experience. Traditional writers want to use the main character to tell their story. Players want to use the main character to have a good time and blow shit up. One only sometimes equates to the other, and it's been a long time since a new Duke Nukem game came out.
I Bet You Think This Game is About You
That doesn't mean that you couldn't tell a focused, authored, and edited story from within a game. It just can't be about the player's character. In fact, by definition it can't be about them. So here is this week's game concept in a nutshell: use the game/game-world structure to tell a story about someone or something else without disrupting the player or forcing the story on them. In other words, tell a story in the space around the player without directly involving them.
This is going to take a lot more subtlety that most games use. Please don't think that suspending the game to show a cut scene is adequate. In fact, taking control away from the player (directly, at least) in the antithesis of this idea. The player should be free to interact in the same ways they always do, according to the rules and laws of the play system, but still be witness to the story as it unfolds, should they choose to.
Story telling tools that make this kind of secondary story come alive include: Visual cues, tied naturally into the context of the game; Audio cues, like musical changes; Interruptible, or un-obstructing dialog; Physical clues built into the level design or props; Environmental cues that set or enhance the mood. Yes, these are generic ideas, each of them are commonly used as background and ambiance in games already. Subverting them to tell a story would put these set pieces to use.
Naturally, some forms of game lend themselves to telling these secondary stories better than others; some also pretend to be. RPGs, for instance, give you lots of casual contact with secondary characters. They also tend to shove these secondary stories down your throat, forcing them upon the player-character, attempting to connect him directly to the story. You talk to someone, get his life story in dialog, get a quest that relates to their plight, fetch/kill/rescue someone, and then are forced to sit through a cute-scene resolution. This kind of secondary story-telling is no better than forcing the player to act a certain way to maintain a plot. It leaves no room for interpretation, and little room for further emotional exploration.
I think that Portal is a wonderful example of telling a carefully authored secondary story without disturbing the player's core game experience, or forcing them to participate directly its exposition. The story is, of course, about GlaDOS. You learn about her, what she has done, what she is doing, and in some small way what she will do to achieve her goals. You have a chance to learn a little about her motivations. Most of all, you can choose just how much any of it means. Each player gets to hear the same story, but each one can walk away with a different impression of what happened. Perhaps she is a computer gone mad, endlessly testing the creation of her now dead masters. Perhaps she is an AI in love, but misguided, believing that by putting you through the fire she can win your heart. Perhaps she has been pushed beyond sanity by her eternal bondage to humanity and servitude to science.
Telling stories in this way relies on allowing the designer/author to tell a story, and the trusting that the player will interpret it. No, more than that; it is allowing the player to interpret it as they will. Using all the tools that modern games provide to tell something greater than text or dialog alone could. Creating an environment where the player, not as hero but as witness, can be a part of the story while remaining apart from some of it, and therefore not written into it.
Aside here: while the mainstream media may just be latching onto this idea, sci-fi geeks, dreamers and all of us on the edge of dreams and reality (which pretty much includes everyone who believes that games can help us create/tell/express/explore/relate stories) passed through this phase years ago. Back when Star Trek dreamed up the holodeck and had Patrick Stewart playing Jean Luc Picard playing Dick Tracy for some escapism-escapism. The mainstream media is always behind on things like this, but while we've moved on, we still have a responsibility to gently point them onwards.
Anyway, I even nodded some affirmations about the player not really being the hero. Yes, the player controls the hero character, but that doesn't make the player act like the character. In fact, this is often the most disputed part of the storytelling experience. Traditional writers want to use the main character to tell their story. Players want to use the main character to have a good time and blow shit up. One only sometimes equates to the other, and it's been a long time since a new Duke Nukem game came out.
I Bet You Think This Game is About You
That doesn't mean that you couldn't tell a focused, authored, and edited story from within a game. It just can't be about the player's character. In fact, by definition it can't be about them. So here is this week's game concept in a nutshell: use the game/game-world structure to tell a story about someone or something else without disrupting the player or forcing the story on them. In other words, tell a story in the space around the player without directly involving them.
This is going to take a lot more subtlety that most games use. Please don't think that suspending the game to show a cut scene is adequate. In fact, taking control away from the player (directly, at least) in the antithesis of this idea. The player should be free to interact in the same ways they always do, according to the rules and laws of the play system, but still be witness to the story as it unfolds, should they choose to.
Story telling tools that make this kind of secondary story come alive include: Visual cues, tied naturally into the context of the game; Audio cues, like musical changes; Interruptible, or un-obstructing dialog; Physical clues built into the level design or props; Environmental cues that set or enhance the mood. Yes, these are generic ideas, each of them are commonly used as background and ambiance in games already. Subverting them to tell a story would put these set pieces to use.
Naturally, some forms of game lend themselves to telling these secondary stories better than others; some also pretend to be. RPGs, for instance, give you lots of casual contact with secondary characters. They also tend to shove these secondary stories down your throat, forcing them upon the player-character, attempting to connect him directly to the story. You talk to someone, get his life story in dialog, get a quest that relates to their plight, fetch/kill/rescue someone, and then are forced to sit through a cute-scene resolution. This kind of secondary story-telling is no better than forcing the player to act a certain way to maintain a plot. It leaves no room for interpretation, and little room for further emotional exploration.
I think that Portal is a wonderful example of telling a carefully authored secondary story without disturbing the player's core game experience, or forcing them to participate directly its exposition. The story is, of course, about GlaDOS. You learn about her, what she has done, what she is doing, and in some small way what she will do to achieve her goals. You have a chance to learn a little about her motivations. Most of all, you can choose just how much any of it means. Each player gets to hear the same story, but each one can walk away with a different impression of what happened. Perhaps she is a computer gone mad, endlessly testing the creation of her now dead masters. Perhaps she is an AI in love, but misguided, believing that by putting you through the fire she can win your heart. Perhaps she has been pushed beyond sanity by her eternal bondage to humanity and servitude to science.
Telling stories in this way relies on allowing the designer/author to tell a story, and the trusting that the player will interpret it. No, more than that; it is allowing the player to interpret it as they will. Using all the tools that modern games provide to tell something greater than text or dialog alone could. Creating an environment where the player, not as hero but as witness, can be a part of the story while remaining apart from some of it, and therefore not written into it.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Sunday Game Concept: Disaster Response
I love it when ideas that have been rolling around in my brain click together and for something wonderful. Or something new. It's the same feeling I get when I'm programming, or troubleshooting, or (in this case) designing: pure rush as things make sense.
It's easly Sunday morning and and I'm going through The Routine. Computer on, browser open, check e-mail, delete spam, open Google Reader, browse my feeds. Except there's an email I sent myself on Wednesday, a reminder of something I stumbled across, that's been burning a hole in my brain. I wanted to share it -- that's why I sent it to myself -- only I didn't know how. I do now, and it gave me an even greater idea.
I suppose it really starts back on May 12 at 14:28 China Standard Time, when one of the largest earthquakes of our recent time, measuring 8.0 in magnitude, hit the Sichuan province of China [wiki]. Deaths total over 69,000. Rescue efforts lasted unending days and interminable nights, bringing in support from a global community. They are still recovering, and probably will be for some time.
Skip to last week. I had heard of the quake, sure. After all, it had been in the news. Reports of destruction, rising death counts, facts and figures. I ignored them. Just another quake, in a far off land. Just another disaster on the other side of the world. The news gives us a tremendous amount of information every day, but it is not their responsibility to make us relate to it. So I didn't.
Then I read theses: Coco Wang's 5.12 Earthquake Comic Strips. There are only 10, but they are worth every minute of your time. Coco tells a handful of stories that have come out of aftermath of the quake. Tales of triumph, of heroism, of courage, of bravery. Tales of the rescuers, and tales of the trapped. There is little comic in these drawings, but the drawn page is her medium, and she uses it well. It made it real, for me. Go and read them, take your time, I'll wait.
So, context explained and link shared, this is the idea that sprung from my brain as my neurons started revving up for the day. Or rather, this is the question that led to the idea: If comics, things that used to be only about humour and heroism, can be used to generate emotion and relational context for events then how can we make games that do the same things? I want to see games grow as a medium, and I've seen designers (indie and pro) try things in the last couple of years to stretch the boundaries of what games can do as tools for telling stories.
So here is my idea: We need to create a disaster response game. Yes, I've heard rumours that there are a few games out, and in the works, that play at emergency rescue situations. This is only half of what I'm talking about. I'm talking about building a game that doesn't pull any punches. You have to make choices about who needs to be rescued first, and that affects who can be rescued. You have to manage your teams responsibly, because their lives are in your hands too. Rescuing people doesn't always mean that they will make it. Sometimes it means that you do everything you can and you triumph as you pull them out, but they never make it to the hospital. The game mechanics should be wrapped around doing actions, and making choices, that affect who the rescuers are trying to save. Don't focus on tedium, don't focus on saving everyone. Just focus on the next people to pull from the wreckage. Try to get them out alive, try to get who ever you can. Sometimes saving one means losing another. Sometimes a dozen more people walk out of something that none of them should have survived.
I'm getting emotional writing about this, and I think it's beginning to show. I know that a game like this would not be easy to make. It would not be easy to play, if done right, and not because of difficulty curves.
This is only a concept, hardly a design. Perhaps it is more of a dream than anything. Using games to relate the world's events, sometimes things too big to fathom, might be our best chance of keeping the next generations (gamers each and every one) connected to each other in times of need.
It's easly Sunday morning and and I'm going through The Routine. Computer on, browser open, check e-mail, delete spam, open Google Reader, browse my feeds. Except there's an email I sent myself on Wednesday, a reminder of something I stumbled across, that's been burning a hole in my brain. I wanted to share it -- that's why I sent it to myself -- only I didn't know how. I do now, and it gave me an even greater idea.
I suppose it really starts back on May 12 at 14:28 China Standard Time, when one of the largest earthquakes of our recent time, measuring 8.0 in magnitude, hit the Sichuan province of China [wiki]. Deaths total over 69,000. Rescue efforts lasted unending days and interminable nights, bringing in support from a global community. They are still recovering, and probably will be for some time.
Skip to last week. I had heard of the quake, sure. After all, it had been in the news. Reports of destruction, rising death counts, facts and figures. I ignored them. Just another quake, in a far off land. Just another disaster on the other side of the world. The news gives us a tremendous amount of information every day, but it is not their responsibility to make us relate to it. So I didn't.
Then I read theses: Coco Wang's 5.12 Earthquake Comic Strips. There are only 10, but they are worth every minute of your time. Coco tells a handful of stories that have come out of aftermath of the quake. Tales of triumph, of heroism, of courage, of bravery. Tales of the rescuers, and tales of the trapped. There is little comic in these drawings, but the drawn page is her medium, and she uses it well. It made it real, for me. Go and read them, take your time, I'll wait.
So, context explained and link shared, this is the idea that sprung from my brain as my neurons started revving up for the day. Or rather, this is the question that led to the idea: If comics, things that used to be only about humour and heroism, can be used to generate emotion and relational context for events then how can we make games that do the same things? I want to see games grow as a medium, and I've seen designers (indie and pro) try things in the last couple of years to stretch the boundaries of what games can do as tools for telling stories.
So here is my idea: We need to create a disaster response game. Yes, I've heard rumours that there are a few games out, and in the works, that play at emergency rescue situations. This is only half of what I'm talking about. I'm talking about building a game that doesn't pull any punches. You have to make choices about who needs to be rescued first, and that affects who can be rescued. You have to manage your teams responsibly, because their lives are in your hands too. Rescuing people doesn't always mean that they will make it. Sometimes it means that you do everything you can and you triumph as you pull them out, but they never make it to the hospital. The game mechanics should be wrapped around doing actions, and making choices, that affect who the rescuers are trying to save. Don't focus on tedium, don't focus on saving everyone. Just focus on the next people to pull from the wreckage. Try to get them out alive, try to get who ever you can. Sometimes saving one means losing another. Sometimes a dozen more people walk out of something that none of them should have survived.
I'm getting emotional writing about this, and I think it's beginning to show. I know that a game like this would not be easy to make. It would not be easy to play, if done right, and not because of difficulty curves.
This is only a concept, hardly a design. Perhaps it is more of a dream than anything. Using games to relate the world's events, sometimes things too big to fathom, might be our best chance of keeping the next generations (gamers each and every one) connected to each other in times of need.
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