Fresh Lick of Paint

Finally got around to updating ihobo.com to the Responsive Template that I'd already implemented over at Only a Game. It should now work better for everyone - let me know what you think of the new look!

Update 1
Just so you know, I will be rebuilding the banner without the blue bar as soon as I can find the original source image!

Update 2
Fixed a few issues with the stylesheet. Still having problems with Safari. Do let me know if you are having problems, and which browser is giving you the hassle.

Update 3
Changed the dark blue sidebar text from #0F64C1 to #01B0F1, for greater legibility.

Update 4
Rebuilt the banner without the blue bar. That should be everything for now!

 


Game Inventories (1): Minecraft and Dungeon Master

Minecraft 2009

Look at this screenshot from 2009’s Minecraft, one of the most successful games to be built upon the player practices of the role-playing game lineages. What can immediately be seen are a set of armour slots and an image of how they look upon the character, a crafting area, a grid inventory, and a quickbar. There is nothing new in this design, and neither should there be; Minecraft’s innovations are primarily in its customisable regimes of play, not in its interface. What I want to draw attention to here is the way that every single element of Minecraft’s inventory descends directly from a lineage of videogames rooted at its base in the original tabletop role-playing game (RPG), Dungeons & Dragons in 1974. Even its ‘mouselook’ control scheme, which originates in the First Person Shooter (FPS) lineage, has its roots in the RPG lineage.

This serial takes pairs of games in key lineages that descend from Dungeons & Dragons (D&D), either looking at the relationship between a newer game’s design and an older game that developed or popularised the interface practice being examined, or otherwise drawing historical parallels. This first piece looks at the grid inventory of Minecraft and shows how this originates with 1987’s Dungeon Master, itself a direct descendant of D&D. Future pieces cover all the other elements we see here in Minecraft, as well as a few other aspects of inventory practices in games. Alongside this retrospective analysis I will also be espousing a different philosophy for understanding and practicing game design, one that I have been writing and presenting about more or less since I finished writing Imaginary Games. This perspective is focussed upon continuities in the practices of players, which become in turn the practices that inform game designers, who pass those practices onto new players.

The prevailing tendency when examining the design of games is to break down the functional elements of the design as mere atomic entities that can be freely combined. This is how most game designers, myself included, think about the game design process – as selecting options from an imaginary bag of game design elements. Despite its efficacy, my claim here is that this model risks utterly misunderstanding the importance of both history and practice for game design, and only works because the game designer is so deeply embedded in the existing player practices that they knowingly or unknowingly reproduce them. In contrast to the ‘atomic theory’ of game design, I advocate understanding how the conservation of player practices (which are highly variable in commercially unsuccessful games, but not in successful ones) is in itself the key to successful game design.

Understanding games and game design in this way does not entail any dramatic sea change to the way games are made, it only involves foregrounding what is commonly just dismissed: that games are connected by historical lineages that are sustained by common player practices, which is to say, things the player learns to do consistently. The game designer, as a player themselves, recreates the player practices they have learned from other games. When a game designer thinks they are pulling together isolatable atomic elements of a game design, they are simply ignoring the practices those elements belong to. But success at game design is attained most effectively by understanding how player practices function. As I’ve argued before, the tremendous success of Minecraft was not just down to its original elements, which were small but significant. It was largely down to the way that it leveraged well-established player practices.

 

Dungeon Master (1987)

Dungeon Master 1987The grid inventory, so prominent in Minecraft and the backbone of game inventories for nearly thirty years now, is part of a series of player practices that owe their origins to the influential Dungeon Master, by FTL. This remarkable game came about through the co-operation of two designers who were intimately embedded in the player practices of tabletop role-playing games and their early computer descendants – Doug Bell and Andy Jaros. SirTech’s Wizardry had been their direct inspiration; they wanted to make a dungeon crawl in that vein, and set to work on what was then called Crystal Dragon. However, they didn’t have the funds to complete the project alone.

Six letters to software companies in the Los Angeles and San Diego area eventually hooked them up with Wayne Holder, husband of fantasy and horror novelist Nancy Holder. The combination of a pair of designers rooted in the player practices of role playing games, a professional writer, and a business-savvy company owner was to prove immensely productive. Bell and Jaros, like most game designers, enacted the conservation of player practices in their work, but were repeatedly challenged by the Holders to push past the usual assumptions. In particular, Nancy Holder was responsible for contributing one of the first – and greatest – plot twists in any videogame ever written, and Wayne Holder’s outsider perspective on role-playing helped remake the menu systems of the game to bring them up to the standards then coming together in Graphical User Interfaces at the dawn of the WIMP era (Windows Icons Mice Pointers).

The core vision that guided the project was giving the player a powerful sense of immersive presence. Jimmy Maher, in an outstanding summary of the circumstances behind the game, characterises their goal as “an embodied CRPG experience”, and quotes Nancy Holder as asking: “How do you go from being a player to being ‘in’ a game?” Thus the agency practices of Dungeon Master involved breaking down the sense of separation between the world and the character sheet that earlier games in this lineage had inherited from Dungeons & Dragons. In Dungeon Master (itself obviously named in reference to its tabletop progenitor), the player can find a sword on the floor of the rendered three dimensional dungeon, move their pointer (styled as a hand) and grasp it, delivering it into inventory slots in the grid inventory (Wayne Holder’s WIMP-inspired innovation) or into the ‘paper doll’ slots representing each character’s personal equipment. The widespread deployment of both these practices descend from this game, and they are massively conserved from this point – just compare the screenshot of Minecraft with that of Dungeon Master’s inventory: the key difference is that Minecraft’s is notably more shoddy in terms of presentation values.

In setting out to evoke real-time immersive presence, and thus ending the turn-based practices that were both a natural consequence of tabletop practices and a pragmatic option for early computer hardware, Dungeon Master in effect sets up both the shape of forthcoming computer RPGs and heralds the imminent arrival of the First Person Shooter (FPS). Such games are called ‘first person’ in contrast to the arcade shooter, or shoot ‘em up, which was not rendered in 3D, but as a ‘flat’ 2D space. Yet all the dungeon crawl games were in 3D yet did not acquire the appellation ‘first person’. What this term attempts to capture is the very sense of immersive presence that Dungeon Master pioneered; that’s what ‘first person’ is intended to describe. In Maher’s retrospective, he describes this game as “just as obviously a progenitor of Doom as it is a successor to Wizardry.”

Here, we run up against the vagaries of historical research, since while id Software admit to being influenced by dungeon crawl games, no-one will name which. If Dungeon Master were one of them, it would arguably make it the second most influential game after D&D, having set up both the later Western RPG lineage and the FPS lineage. It’s hard to solve this mystery. That Wolfenstein 3D and Doom were both built upon the player practices of computer RPGs is apparent from their interface practices using cursor keys for navigation ('mouselook' emerging only later in Quake, and even then only as an option). But The Bard's Tale (which we’ll look at next week) is an equally plausible point of influence, and there’s a certain sense in which John Carmack’s confidence in the innovation of his first person engine undermines the idea that Dungeon Master was his muse. In an interview for the New York Times he remarked in respect of the sense of fear that the immersive presence of Catacomb 3-D evoked that it was “a reaction that we’d never seen in any other form of video-gaming.” He could not have reasonably have thought that if he’d played Dungeon Master.

Next week: The Bard's Tale and Dungeons & Dragons


No Man's Sky Roundup

Not Really NoctisYou might have noticed a little game came out recently called No Man’s Sky. If you didn’t, you must be trawling a different part of the internet from me because I have been invaded, cajoled, frustrated, and panhandled by No Man’s Sky ads so much at this point that I’m pretty committed to not buying it. Mind you, I had already swayed against since it’s not at all what I wanted – which is just a slightly more polished Noctis. For those of you looking to read something about No Man’s Sky, however, here’s the roundup:

  • Don’t know what the game is? Start with Gareth Damian Martin’s rather reasonable review, which is let down by never mentioning Noctis.
  • Heard about its technical problems? Well the developers say that “Less than one percent” of players have reported issues. They mean ‘have raised a support ticket’. Most players report issues by bitching into Twitter.
  • Lewie Procter, on the other hand, complains about the “lack of multiplayer”, which was at least (he says) implied, if not outright promised.
  • Brendan Caldwell skips straight to ballistic and wades in with accusations of “broken promises”.
  • Brendan Keogh offers a counter-Brendan, trying to drum up sanity from the internet.
  • …and the same kind of “seriously you guys?” with a lot more amusing swearing can be found in Rob’s rambling retort.
  • Lastly, if (like me) you just wish No Man’s Sky was actually a buffed-up Noctis, there’s Dylan Roberts’ piece, Before No Man’s Sky there was Noctis, which might explain why that was what I personally wanted.

Is the opening image from No Man’s Sky or Noctis? Actually, neither, it’s Frig’s mock ups of Noctis V, the sequel that doesn’t exist, as posted to Anynowhere. If you’re making a Noctis-style game, please do let me know, because No Man’s Sky just isn’t Noctis enough for my tastes.


Coming Soon: Game Inventories

lolAs part of my work on the lineages of player practices, I’m beavering away on a five part serial looking at game inventories. It was originally going to be just one post entitled The Joy of Sets, but it has predictably spun out of control and has turned into a bigger project. I will be taking pairs of games and looking at the lineage connections between them, which is not simply a matter of saying what influenced what directly. For instance, Notch never played Dungeon Master to my knowledge – but the design of Minecraft inherits almost the entirety of its inventory practices from it. This will be my big serial for this year, and I hope to kick it off soon. Stay tuned!


Prezi: No-one Plays Alone

For those of you who have brought a suitable device to DiGRA-FDG (and for those not able to make the conference), here's my Prezi for No-one Plays Alone

The timeline in particularly has a lot to offer an errant explorer... go take a look!

Looking for research partners!

I'm always looking for people with similar research interests for possible collaboration on papers, contributions to edited volumes, or possible formation of new sub-disciplines. Please get in touch using the Contact link if your research interests are in any of the following areas:

  • Player Practices: my main Game Studies research subject right now, and I'm interested in allying with anyone who broadly agrees with the following statements, regardless of how they choose to describe their research:
    "no player can play or design a game in complete isolation from the practices of others"
    "an artefactual reading of a game is always an incomplete reading"

    "the history of games is the history of the way players engaged with them" or equivalently "emulation is at-best reincarnation"
  • Philosophy of Imagination: also interested in anyone applying Walton's make-believe theory (or another theory of representation) to any and all aspects of human life. This was the background to my 'imaginative investigations' i.e. the trilogy Imaginary Games, The Mythology of Evolution, and Chaos Ethics. If your work crosses over anywhere near mine here, I'm interested in talking to you.
  • Multiverse/Pluriverse/Ecology of Practices: related to the above, I'd love to hook up with researchers who are pursuing Stengers' ecology of practices, William James' pluriverse/multiverse, or anything similar to my adaptation of Moorcock's multiverse to ethics and politics. If you are working on ways to understand our diversity of being as a manifold of practices or an inclusive set of mythos, please get in touch.

Many thanks to everyone who came to my talk!


The Ignorant Dogmatist

Over at Ice Water Games, Kevin Maxon provides another glorious rebuttal to my firestarter. Here’s an extract:

In some sense, ignorance might be an appropriate word for what I’m advocating: for creators to intentionally ignore with greater diligence the pressures to be similar, to follow fashion or money or power, pressures to use objective, scientific methods of art production. And similarly, I think part of what I’m advocating for could be called dogmatism: for creators to hold firm in their values and goals in order to create works that are more distinct, more filled with themselves, more honest and interesting and worth talking about.

Please rush over to his blog to read the entirety of The Ignorant Dogmatist right away!

The original firestarter makes one of its targets the kind of self-focussed indie game design method Kevin defends here. Yet I cannot do anything but respect Kevin’s commitment to exploring his own creative vision in games. For me, what Kevin is doing is making what I call artgames, and the moment you’re committed to art you are no longer practicing a commercial craft. You’ve gone down a marvellous rabbit hole, one where money may be tight but that worthwhile things get made. Almost everything I’ve thought worthwhile in games in the past five years has been an artgame… This is largely what I choose to play these days.

Why sell out artists in The Craft of Game Design Cannot Be Measured By Any Metric, then? When I look at Kevin’s output, which includes Eidolon and The Absence of Is, I see someone pursuing their vision for its own sake, which is the mark of an artist – a way of life I greatly respect, not least because it now feels closed to me. But when I look at the indie market, I see people pursuing a similar kind of self-focussed process and making yet more-of-the-same violent, repetitive ordinariness. Such indies are, I presume, trying to make a living – and they’re doing it badly. It was these indies I wanted to lambast.

If my piece in any way discourages someone from accepting the role of the starving artist, with all that entails, I apologise unreservedly. Art is one of the greatest ways to add value to life beyond money. But most indies aren’t making art. They’re masturbating into a codebase and thinking they’ll hit big doing so. Maybe I should respect that as a kind of art, but I just see it as bad commercial practice.

With my philosopher-hat on (I wear many, conflicting hats), I can only smile with an inner warmth at this line:

I think that often, the non-mechanical components of a game are more important than the mechanical ones, and so I tend to work on visuals and writing at least as early as mechanics.

I wrote Imaginary Games in part to defend this philosophy, and next week I’ll present to a hundred game academics about how games are more than their merely artefactual machinery. Kevin describes himself as willingly ‘ignorant’… his ignorance, though, is closer to the kind praised in Jacques Rancière’s The Ignorant Schoolmaster – it is a freedom from stultifying conformity. I could never oppose this, especially not when it is done in the pursuit of art. Everyone must discover who they are, sometimes over and over again… and never let someone like me tell you otherwise.


Bateman and Bartle on Pokémon Go

Asia WiredDelighted to announce that Dr Richard Bartle and I came the closest yet to actually meeting as we were both guests on Afzal Ahmed’s Asia Wired TV show. We’re discussing Pokémon Go, including the reasons that the game has been so late to release in Asia, why it's garnered such attention, and a little bit of the history behind it. Despite Richard writing a chapter for one of my books, and our occasional email exchanges about player modelling, we’re never actually met in person – this is our first real time conversation. Check it out!

Airs this Sunday (31st July) at 11 am on the Islam Channel in the UK. Also available via YouTube.


Defending Game Metrics

In a comment replying to The Craft of Game Design Cannot Be Measured By Any Metric, game designer and Chief Creative Officer at Spryfox Dan Cook gave such a sterling, thorough rebuttal that I’ve reposted it here in full.

 

Dan CookEmpiricism in Game Design

When I design I have a mental model of how I imagine my game will be played by players. This includes predictions about player emotions, learning, buying behaviors and a dozen other factors necessary to make a self-sustaining game in one of today’s various markets. I also make predictions about how markets will act. Platform desires, player designers, press desires.

Then we build the game, or at least we build an initial version of it.

Then we playtest the game to see if the my predictions worked out. Most of the time they don’t. In the best cases I’m only off by a factor or two. In the worse cases I’m off by several orders of magnitude. However, I may also find that players behaved in a manner that was actually more interesting than I predicted.

So we build another iteration of the game. Somehow, we need to connect the empirical reality of what the playtest suggests with what we predict will happen. This usually involves updating our models, sometimes radically. Often incrementally.

For some designers, this process can be frustrating. The reality of player behavior imposes constraints on their mostly imaginary vision. But I tend to see constraints as necessary to the process of design. And constraints based off observing real people playing the game tends to more often than not yield opportunities to impact the real shared world of many people vs the isolated imaginary world of a single person. We find new ways of playing that are more vibrant and interesting.

 

How are metrics useful when iterated on a game?

Game designers are information starved. With writing, we have an imperfect but competent mechanism for imagining how someone might feel reading a bit of text. In order to write, you must read. And thus you are forced to process a work in a somewhat similar fashion to how a potential reader might process. Game developers do not have this luxury. We build systems multiple times removed from a player’s experience. Write some code. Do a dozen other steps. Build an executable that someone somewhere runs. Knowing how people with react to what we make is hard.

So we use crutches. We create complex models of how players think. We use ‘proven’ patterns. We watch players and try to imagine what they are feeling. Then we try to backtrack all far removed information to whether or not a number in the bowels of a broken machine should be 2 or 4.

There are certainly classes of information we can extract more easily. Surface player emotions on individual playthroughs. Awesome. We can do that. But human behavior is broad. We see the need to sample behaviors across populations and discover central tendencies or outliers.

So metrics or analytics are that tool. They let us understand statistical patterns of behavior. Do they let us see inside the minds of our players? No. Nothing does yet. Do they replace in person playtests? No. Smart designers use multiple sources of insight.

But metrics do provide an amazing range of insight by allowing us to look at hard problems from a different direction. If players in an MMO are flooding forums with complaints about a change, how many people are impacted? How did playstyles change?

When balancing economies and progression systems, metrics are essential. You can’t do an in-person playtest of someone playing a game for 90 days. The old tools don’t work. And various forms of data collection do.


Maybe all this doesn’t need to be said. Maybe you are worried about something else entirely.

Are you worried about how metrics shines a light on bullshit design? Because a lot of design is unsubstantiated bullshit. We imagine people will play a game a certain way and then they don’t. Such an ego buster. Metrics beat us with bully numbers. They bluntly state our initial idea was flawed. Or even worse, the thing that people have been praising us for years doesn’t actually apply to anyone but some weird elite group of outliers that happens to give out chintzy feel good awards. Reality can be cruel when you live in a fantasy. But it also acts as a constraint that forces us to up our game and make something that works. Versus wandering blindly off a cliff in a feel good haze. Which I’ve done. (Lovely until you fall).

Are you worried that Bad Men use metrics in a reductive fashion to emphasize making money over art? Bad Men have been emphasizing making money over art for a very long time. For any golden era of games there were penny pinchers micromanaging creative decisions at a level that destroyed souls. Might I suggest that a new tool for getting data is not the actual problem. The team sets their goals. The tools just get them there.

Are you worried that we are using Dumb Metrics? That the dumb patterns dumbly followed by dumb practitioners result in dumb ideas and dumb games? Well it is true. And the solution is one that applies to all complex instruments used in the pursuit of art and beauty: Get Good.


I actually see metrics, competent design and building something positive that meets player needs as three complementary pursuits. I’ve asked “Well, what do players want and how does that align with business? And how does that align with art or craft?”

Here’s one answer. Many players want connection with meaning and community. They want mastery and agency. This leads to them enjoying an activity for a long period of time. That results in great retention metrics. And when deep needs are being met, people are willing to spend. Will I spend a buck on Pokemon lures to enhance a relaxing afternoon with my wife at the coffee shop? Yes. It makes for joyful light conversation. The game improves our relationship by creating a shared playful space.

Metrics track and tune all this. Is that evil? Just the opposite. I consider it doing great good for the world through competent design practices.

I have made minor edits to the text to make it read as a standalone post: the original comment is still available under the original post.


The Purpose of Metrics in a Game

Brian Green (AKA Psychochild) has a piece responding to last week’s firestarter and arguing that there is a purpose for metrics in a game. Here’s an extract:

I dislike the absolutist nature of the argument, and prefer the more nuanced version. As a creative person, I still like things like food, a roof, and perhaps air conditioning when the temperature and humidity get high outside. But, I think it is important to realize that there is a decision to be made. One can choose to pure creative energy to create experiences on one extreme, pandering to tastes and maximizing for profit on the other, and a lot of room between the two extremes. And, as much as we might lionize the indie iconoclasts, the reality is that sometimes it takes a lot of work and understanding what people actually want to survive as an indie.

The argument Brian refers to here is art vs. commerce. Personally, I don’t accept a significant divide between art and commerce here… the vast majority of art is commercial in the sense that this term is used today: music recordings and performances are sold, paintings are auctioned, theatre and cinemas charge an entry fee. Knowing that games are artworks doesn’t mean the people who make them don’t deserve to be fed. I absolutely agree with Brian that game developers are no different in this regard: part of my argument in The Craft of Game Design Cannot Be Measured By Any Metric is precisely that indies, in rejecting commercial design considerations, are gambling on their livelihood.

So I accept Brian’s point that metrics can be used responsibly, at least in principle. My argument is only that there is a tension between the craft of game design, and engineering systems for commercial exploitation. Developers who can use metrics to assist their game design practices ought to make clear how this can be achieved without it becoming exploitative. I welcome the discussion here – it is this discourse that I feel is substantially missing.

You can read the entirety of The purpose of metrics in a game over on Psychochild’s Blog – check it out!