Alpha Art Woes: Sex-Crazed Elves

[I didn't finish the blog post that was supposed to go up today, so here's some gripes about temporary art problems in the MMO I'm developing.]

A lot of the art in my game needs to be cheap prefabricated stuff. The monsters and animals and houses and so on are getting bought from websites like this one. The quality is usually very good, but no company has enough art to meet all my requirements, so there ends up being a bit of “art style clash” when using prefab art from multiple sources. I don’t like this, but I can’t really do anything about it. I’m trying to minimize it the best I can, and hope it isn’t too noticeable.

I do have a budget for custom 3D art, but it’s almost entirely allocated for the player characters. No prefab art seems even remotely usable for player characters. This is very frustrating. But I’m not buying custom art until after I get feedback from the first alpha version, so I know exactly what I need. In the mean time, I need a placeholder race!

The ideal player-character race meets these requirements:

  • Comes with lots of useful animations (like stabbing and sitting and picking up items)
  • Has both male and female models (and roughly identical animations for both)
  • Has different possible appearances (so I can code & optimize dynamically-streamed appearance skins)
  • Has detachable weapons and armor (so I can code all of that)

I never found anything that met all these requirements. The best I found were these male and female elf warriors. Here they are in my prototype character-generation screen:

Male alpha-version character

Male Hero

Female alpha-version character

Female hero

They meet all the requirements except one: they don’t have detachable armor. Their entire appearance is on one texture, so you pick the skin and clothes at the same time, and you can never change either. A pity.

However, the weapons are detachable. And they meet all my other requirements — I’ve found nothing else that meets more than two of the four requirements above.  So apparently this is what I’m using for my alpha version! (Unless somebody can point me to something better…)

Yes: this means that players who help me pre-test the game will have to be an elf in tacky battle gear, 24/7. That wasn’t precisely the vibe I had in mind for my game. I didn’t even have elves in my game’s back story, actually.

But being an indie means rolling with the punches. And sure… okay, yeah, I can work with this. And maybe they’ll even be a permanent part of the game. If my custom artwork turns out to have a roughly similar style, maybe these elves will stay in the game as an NPC race.

It’s actually pretty fun to work around art limitations — they create barriers to work around. So my back story changed quite dramatically and now includes elves… all because of this temporary artwork.

Sexy Sexy Elves

So all is good, right? Aside from never being able to see any difference when you switch armor, this meets all the expectations of a playable race. They can have different heights, weights, genders, skin tones, different weapons. That’s more than adequate for now.

But I do dislike that every single PC and NPC lives their entire life in armor. And even worse, apparently nobody told the females how to actually dress for combat. They only put armor on their arms. We have to call this what it is: classic old-school video game sexism.

It bugs me a lot. (It bugs me in WoW too, for the record, but I’m not making WoW. I’m making this game, and I want it to not suck.) But I can’t fix it, so I used lampshade hanging. Then I decided that maybe they don’t need armor: they’re elves, so magical jewelry is what protects them. In that case, the males’ armor is really just ceremonial, and probably made of some super lightweight material. There, problem solved. At least for alpha.

I knew I’d have to deal with the oversexed elves before I even bought the models. But when I got them into the game, I noticed something else about the females:

high heels

Oh come on, high heels?

They’re all wearing high heels. Come on! That’s a step too far for me. I can’t imagine a woman sitting down to play my game, creating a female elf character, and then getting in and realizing that she has to live her entire virtual life in high heels. This is why we can’t have nice players.

Argh!

Okay, okay. Sigh. I can’t change the art, and I don’t have better art that meets my requirements, so I have to just deal for now.

But it’s distracting. I’m making a city for the elves to live in, and over time this ridiculous sexualization has seeped into its culture. Whenever I create a female shopkeeper or a quest giver or anybody else, they’re hypersexualized. I know I should have ignored their appearance, but when writing dialog for a woman in a slut suit, it’s really hard not to write them as being really kinky.

So I finally decided to run with it. I decided the elven race as a whole is just really sex-addled. They constantly talk about sex. They have inappropriate conversations about it everywhere. They obsess about it. That’s why they never stop being sexy, even when cooking, even when fighting, even when sleeping.

While it’s instantly clear that females are walking sex symbols, the males might be able to go about their lives without having to feel too oversexed. So I fixed that with NPC dialog. Turns out male elves all have very long penises. Two of them. Oh, you can’t see it in the model because their clothes are on, but everybody talks about it (and about how odd those humans are, with their one-penis anatomy). Tada!

Yes, that’s real content. I made it mostly out of frustration. I kind of doubt it will stay in the game, because of how conservative the US culture is about this sort of thing. Heh… but weirder things have happened.

I guess the point of this pointless post is that it’s actually very hard for indies to not be sexist in a gaming culture that assumes sexism is mandatory. I’ve seen dozens of female models for sale; the number of those with appropriate clothes on can be counted on one hand. This obligatory sexualisation of women is not easy to fight as an indie.

The other point is that if you know of any art that meets the above requirements, I would love to hear about it. Even if it’s just temporary art for the alpha. Please drop me a line.

Posted in Design, Project Gorgon | 11 Comments

Permanent Character Choices in a Classless Game (or, “Werewolves!”)

Most modern MMOs require the player to make very few permanent choices. Permanent choices cause stress, especially in games where players feel they need to make “the right choice” in order to be successful (or “viable” or “allowed in groups” or “ungankable” or…). But on the other hand, permanent choices cause players to bond more closely with their characters. Every game has some amount of permanent choices…

Almost all MMOs force players to pick their character’s sex, appearance, and name before they play. That’s not very stressful because players assume these attributes have basically no effect on gameplay. Whether they name themselves “Atrigorn” and “StabMasta”, whether they’re nine feet tall or two feet tall, players know they’ll be having precisely the same adventures and experiences as other players. So these choices are considered fluffy, unimportant aesthetic decisions. (Ha ha, but boy won’t they be surprised to find out that in my game, female characters whose names begin with a vowel get a +15% damage boost from fire magic! (Just kidding.))

The choice of a playable race is usually the first stressful choice a game forces on players. The typical character-creation GUIs will make a big deal about how “elves make great archers, but are poor at cooking” or “dwarves have innate gem sense, but they’re afraid of true love” or whatever random abilities and modifiers this game has glommed onto their races. Then the player has to try to figure out which of these races is going to be the most fun for the way they want to play — typically impossible if they haven’t actually played the game before.

The irony is that race selection is usually stressful for no good reason: that +5 bonus to archery or that special “gem sense” ability may have an effect early in the game, but they’re almost always meaningless by the time you’ve been playing a while.

That’s why race selection is often a poor implementation of a “permanent choice”: it’s stressful, but it doesn’t have enough payoff.

A more successful permanent choice is class selection. Picking a class is usually stressful too, but players get a lot of benefit for having made that choice. Each class can have unique skills, combat styles, quests, tutorials, and so on. When the payoff for picking a class is a more structured game, it’s usually worth the pain because the game is better as a result.

Older games had many more choices on hand — allocating “attribute points” or selecting “skill proficiencies” or so on. Most designers nowadays will shy away from making players pick this stuff early on, unless the game is intentionally trying for an old school D&D vibe. Why? Because these decisions are stressful, and very complicated, and the payoff isn’t very big. In some games it may be as small as a few percent extra damage per second. Contrast that to the payoff for picking a class, and there’s no comparison.

If you’re going to make players choose something permanent, it should be important. But maybe we’re barking up the wrong tree. Why make anything permanent? Because psychology, that’s why.

We’re Happier When We Can’t Change Our Minds

We’ve seen games where every single element of your character can be changed. If we’re trying to avoid stress, isn’t that the best solution?

Not really, not in the long term, and the reason is that our brains are pretty sketchily put together. We feel less stress after making a permanent decision than after making a changeable decision, because when it’s permanent, we can easily rationalize any small flaws in our choices. When we’re stuck with one thing, and then realize it’s not quite ideal, our brains kick into overdrive to give us reasons why that’s not such a bad thing after all. “I like playing slightly gimpy characters,” you might say. “I picked skills to match my character’s personality, so who cares if they’re slightly non-optimal,” you might say. Or you might use the ever popular “actually this character has a lot of hidden power, and there’s not as big a difference between the choices as it seems anyway.”

These rationalizations are all going to be true, to some extent. But rationalizations also help us gloss over problem areas. Our brain’s rationalization gland works best when we can’t change our minds anymore. If you can change your mind, you’ll keep poking at the decision, second-guessing yourself, wondering if you made the right choice. (That’s on average, of course. This phenomenon affects different people to different amounts, and not all problems can be rationalized.)

And the “stress” of double-thinking your choices isn’t always bad. For some game decisions, the whole point is to create impermanent choices that cause a pleasant kind of stress. For instance, deck-building games derive much of their fun from the constant mental re-evaluation of whether you’ve made the best choices or not.

I’m not saying that all decisions should be permanent — far from it. But you should avoid the natural tendency to give people a way out of their important decision “just in case.” The majority of the decisions in the game should be changeable. The others should be permanent.

And don’t be fooled by what people say they want. If you poll people, nearly everyone will say they prefer being able to back out of all decisions, but really they’re often much happier without.

[This psychological tendency to rationalize things we can't change is becoming relatively well-researched; for more info, start with Stumbling on Happiness by Daniel Gilbert. It's an incredibly accessible book and should be required reading for any game designer.]

Join the Club

Another aspect of permanent decisions is that it creates a group of like-minded people that you instantly have something in common with. The more important the decision is to you, the stronger this cliquishness is.

For instance, most people who play a certain class in WoW don’t really feel a lot of camaraderie with others who picked the same class — it’s not a very important decision. But if you picked being a Hunter specifically because you love taming and collecting pets, you’ll find communities of likeminded people who want to talk and play with you.

You’re Different — Just Like The Other People In The Club

These cliques form in order to have like-minded people to talk to, but they can also form around any decisions that help a character stand out from the crowd. The more exclusive the decision is, the more valuable it is to be a member of the resulting clique.

In real life, we see this same logic in fraternity hazing rituals: the more painful it is to belong to a club, the more valuable it is to the people in it.

If your game is going to have permanent and meaningful character choices, it can be useful to make some of the choices more painful than the rest. Players that willingly suffer such a hazing process will feel special, and will tend to bond with other people who are special  just like them.

(Obviously this idea can be taken way too far. It has to be done pretty carefully in order to get good results.)

Project Gorgon: A Free-Form Classless Game…

When it comes to making permanent choices, I have a bit of a dilemma in my game. My game doesn’t have classes — it’s entirely skill based. And the skills are designed so that you can pick up lots and lots of them. I’m using skills as a tool to help structure the game’s content and lead people into it.

Here’s a real example: you might start out picking some mushrooms, which uses the Mushroom Picking skill. When you’ve reached a certain point in this skill, you discover an NPC that can teach you a new skill: one that lets you grow mushrooms in dark corners of caves and dungeons. From there you may branch off to the skill for creating fungus-based poisons, or maybe you’ll discover the ancient language of the long-lost fungus-people (which in turn will lead you to master their ancient art of growing to twice normal size). And so on.

All of these skills are under the “Mycology” super-skill. Anyone can dabble in any of these skills — after all, the skills are designed in tandem with the game’s content, and I only have so much time to create content, so I can’t really afford to block off big chunks of my game and say “oh no, you can’t experience this chunk of the game because you don’t have enough skill points.” That’s also antithetical to the target audience: the people I’m hoping to attract are the ones who want to discover a vast breadth of game mechanics (and won’t be too upset that most of those mechanics are pretty shallow). It’s aimed at explorers, in other words: people who want to explore the world, discovering new things, mastering new skills.

Okay, great. But what about differentiation? I mean if everyone can learn all skills, eventually everybody will be identical, right? That’s a classic worry, and generally pretty overblown due to how advancement curves and expansion packs work… but players will still worry about it. After some amount of time being “normal”, many people will feel the urge to be “different”.

They can do this by maxing out certain skills that have very steep progression curves — this is how people differentiate themselves in crafting skills in WoW, for instance: they push their chosen craft skill as far as it can go, which takes a lot more effort than most people are willing to put in. But that seems like only part of the answer.

So I’ve got another differentiation tool in mind: permanent game experiences that change and alter you. The ideal permanent decision is one that:

  • Players can research at their leisure
  • Can’t be undone, ever
  • Has significant meaning to gameplay
  • Isn’t something everybody would choose
  • Has a somewhat painful initiation process

With that in mind, I’m planning to implement several content-based choices for players. Let me give you an example.

Under a Full Moon…

In a village near a small forest, the townsfolk constantly worry about werewolves. They come out during the full moon, and if they bite you, you’ll be cursed with the dread disease! There is a cure, but it has to be administered quickly to be effective. Once someone becomes a werewolf under the light of the full moon, their fate is sealed.

Actual game mechanics:

  • “Werewolf” monsters appear in this forest, but only during the three days of the full moon (in real-world time).
  • Players that are bit by these monsters have a chance to contract “lycanthropy incubation”. This disease doesn’t do anything to them — it just sits in their status window. But it doesn’t go away, even if the player dies.
  • The NPC villagers can help a player create a cure for Lycanthropy Incubation. It takes an hour or so of effort to collect the herbs and ingredients. If they do this during the next month, the disease disappears completely.
  • If the player doesn’t cure it before the next full moon, the incubation period ends and they are werewolves forever more. Every month during the 3-day period of the full moon, they involuntarily shape-shift into wolves.
  • In wolf form, they have potent claw attacks, but they can’t wield most equipment. This makes it impossible to use many combat skills, such as swordsmanship or fire magic. Other skills are synergistic, though: players who have mastered ki healing can still use that skill as a wolf, for instance.
  • Townsfolk generally refuse to interact with wolves in any way.

For the next three days, the player is kind of screwed if he had other plans: he won’t be crafting any armor or weaving any cloth, that’s for sure. He’ll discover a small enclave of werewolves in the forest, where some primitive necessities are available — buying and selling supplies, perhaps access to an auction house — and there may be a simple kill-quest or two here, but mostly, he’ll have to spend the next few days discovering what he can accomplish as a wolf.

When the full moon ends, he’ll be able to revert to normal form, with a few improvements (for instance, perhaps his “improved sense of smell” gives him a bonus in combat even as a humanoid; that sort of thing).

He can also transform back into a wolf at will — turning into a wolf is easy, in fact. But it takes effort to get out of wolf form. Reverting to humanoid form requires a skill check, so until the player increases their Stop Being a Wolf skill, they’ll end up stuck as a wolf for a while each time they transform. In a similar vein, wolves have several different combat abilities, but at first they’re mostly inaccessible — they have to be trained up. So using your wolf form as a day-to-day combat technique it will take effort to master those skills.

And every 29 days, the full moon comes again — and once again the player is forced to be a wolf for three days.

Decisions with Permanent Repercussions

Lycanthropy is one of three such choices that I intend to launch the game with. I hope to eventually do more than that — in fact I have 12 different ones planned, but the time constraints are very tight. These work well in live updates, though, so I intend to add more after the game is launched.

You probably get the general idea by now, so I won’t go into much detail about the “becoming a druid” or “selling your soul to a demon” choices. They all follow the same formula: it’s something you have to willingly fall into, it has potent up-sides, and it also has debilitating down-sides.

The net result of these changes is an increase in power, but a decrease in versatility. The player is thus choosing to specialize themselves. By doing so they also join a “club” — the club of players who also made the same choices. Hopefully this will end up being a fun mechanic and a way to help create social bonds in the game. Hopefully. But I don’t know for sure.

The Plan So Far

It feels a bit odd to talk about game mechanics like this before I’ve implemented them to get a feel for how fun they are. (I haven’t even gotten the bugs out of the “turning into a wolf” code yet.)

I’ve left out pages and pages of details that help bring the idea to a coherent whole — I’ve already spent way too long on this blog post, and it’s way too wordy as it is! But I’m still worried I’m omitting some detail whose absence makes the plan sound completely insane. So if something sounds crazy, it’s probably due to details I’ve left out… but then again, it may be because it’s crazy.

I’m not really worried about the little details, because they’ll all change during implementation. But I do have concern that the overall balance won’t be obtainable. It may be impossible to counterbalance the down-side of being stuck as a wolf every month. The up-side can only be made so good before it becomes too good. If players feel that they “have to become a werewolf to be competitive”, that defeats the whole point. I can’t really tell if I can balance these concepts until I implement them and get players to test it out.

But flexibility is the key. I’m confident that if my original plan isn’t fun, I can find something that is fun and fits the same goals. As always, I want to stress that an indie MMORPG must take risks and try new things. You have to enter uncharted territory. You can’t recreate WoW. WoW already did that. Try something new and iterate on it until it works.

Posted in Design, Project Gorgon | 22 Comments

World vs. Game, Emergent Gameplay, and the Fun Loop

[This is part of a discussion of my indie MMO, codenamed "Gorgon" for no particular reason. This week is about some of the earliest questions you have to ask before you begin your MMO.]

Realistic or Gamey?

One of the first MMO design decisions is figuring out where your game falls in the “game” versus “world” spectrum. The idea here is that every MMO is a simulation of real life to some extent. However, it’s supposed to be a lot more fun than real life. So you have to make changes to the world that aren’t realistic.

If combat were realistic, a single sword-hit would maim or kill any human being. If travel were realistic, you would need to spend 80% of your time traveling between interesting spots. If commerce were realistic, … well you get the idea. Too much realism sucks. Every game has to find a point along this continuum.

For any given game, you make this choice based on who you imagine playing the game. And most MMO designers right now will tell you that the “casual audience” (by which they mean “nearly everybody in the whole world mwahahaha we’re gonna be so rich”) prefers an extremely directed game that drops realism by the wayside in order to focus on fun.

I generally agree with this sentiment: highly-directed games are more accessible, meaning they have more players. But my game isn’t designed for “everybody in the world” or even “everybody on Facebook” or even “everybody who loves Farmville” or even the rather pathetic demographic of “everybody who likes World of Warcraft”.

No, I’m making an indie MMO, and for once I don’t have to peg the world/game meter on “100% game”. I want my game to appeal to a niche of players who are willing to play those “100% game” games, maybe, but would prefer something a little further down the spectrum.

This doesn’t mean financial suicide, though, because there’s actually a ton of these people. And I don’t even need to find a ton of them in order for my indie game to be financially successful.

(Unfortunately, too many people think “more realism” means “more like EverQuest”, which is hilarious on so many levels that it makes me want to cry. So to be clear, I do not mean “realism” in the sense of forced grouping, not having a compass on screen, or camping monsters for hours or days on end. Stay with me here!)

The Tyranny of the Fun Loop

Normally, if I was contracted to do an MMO design, I would almost entirely ignore the “world” and focus on “making the most fun game possible.” A common successful approach to making a fun game is to divide and conquer: first you make the game fun in tiny 30-to-60 second chunks. When you’re confident that the lowest-level thing you do in your game is fun to do over and over and over, then you step back and make a fifteen-minute “fun loop” (or some similar time window). Thus in WoW, killing a monster might take 30 seconds, but completing a quest takes 15 minutes. These are loops: you are rewarded for completing them and are then pushed toward doing the loop again.

This is a very effective way to make a highly directed game. I’ve used it before with success, and I will no doubt use it again in the future. I’m not knocking this method. But it’s not a good approach if you want the game to have more “world” in it.

Consider the difference between WoW and Fallout 3: in the former, you always have numerous quests and have exceptionally clear directions on how to achieve said goals. In Fallout, you get quests, but they are often of the “big picture” variety, and you’re left on your own to figure out how to do them, or even if you want to do them at all.

I remember spending 30 minutes once I left the tutorial area of Fallout 3, doing basically nothing. I was picking over the post-apocalyptic remains, occasionally hitting a giant bug with a stick, and slowly getting my bearings. It was kind of boring at the minute-to-minute level. But it was lots of fun in the bigger picture.

Flash forward to a few hundred hours spent in Fallout 3, and I can confidently say that Fallout 3 doesn’t give a damn whether I have fun every 30 seconds or not. Sometimes I have fun for a straight hour, and sometimes I wander around being vaguely bored for an hour. It’s an inconsistent game.

(However, Fallout 3 does have a few long-term loops. Almost all games do! For instance, the inventory system causes you to return to town every hour or so of play, which causes you to shop, which causes you to spend money, which causes you to need more money, which causes you to go out and explore some more… a classic behavior loop.)

I’m not saying Fallout 3 was made carelessly, because it definitely had a ton of care put into the world. It just uses a different reward schedule than other games. It’s not chunked up or signposted nearly as orthogonally as Diablo or WoW.

This is one of the reasons that Fallout 3 feels more like a “real world” than WoW does. Without those directed loops to constantly guide you, you have to think about the world more and figure out what to do, and the more you think about the world, the more immersive it can be. However, lots of people find this lack of direction to be frustrating or boring. Fallout is certainly not for everybody.

But let’s do a quick reality check here: Fallout 3 sold 4.7 million copies. Even if that’s not “as big as WoW”, it’s incredibly big. Clearly there is room in the marketplace for games that don’t tell you what you should be doing every single moment of the game.

One of the neat things about a game that doesn’t try too hard to tell you what to do is that players find their own things to do. In fact this is often the most fun part of the game, and if it’s something the designer didn’t specifically think about when making the game, we call it “emergent gameplay” because we like fancy terminology.

Emergent Gameplay Comes From The Interaction of Game Systems

Many designers who hear “emergent gameplay” think it means “adaptive enemy AI”. That’s because FPS games use AI as the primary way to get unpredictable scenarios. But that’s just a common example. Actually, you get emergent gameplay whenever you have a complex set of interacting systems. Any systems.

I’ll give you an example from Asheron’s Call 1. There was a dungeon in the middle of nowhere that was full of mosswarts (your typical frog-like baddies). I don’t recall it being a very important dungeon, except for one thing: a few of the monsters dropped special loot. They would randomly drop either an “acid axe” or an “ice tachi”. These weapons were magical, but not particularly good. (Not even good to look at! The ice tachi’s “ice particles” were simple white triangles, so when you ran around with it, it looked like you were dropping tons of White Cheddar Doritos on the ground everywhere you went.)

But you could get lots of these weapons, and they were worth a lot of money! If you were a certain kind of gimpy character, at a certain level range, then this was the best money you could get.

So there I was, having filled my inventory with Dorito Swords and Green Jelly Axes, and wondering what to do next. I didn’t have the ability to teleport. I could barely move because I was so encumbered (each weapon weighed a ton, and the system penalized you for carrying too much weight). And I was scared to travel in this condition, because if I had to fight anything tougher than a mosswart on the way, I would probably be killed from the encumbrance penalties to my combat skills.

Fortunately, there was a small town relatively nearby, and the NPCs would gladly buy these weapons. However, money in Asheron’s Call had weight. That meant I couldn’t just convert all this stuff into money and be done: the weapons were literally worth more than their weight in gold, so selling them would make me even more weighted down, to the point that I wouldn’t be able to move at all.

The answer: I had to convert the money into bank notes, at a 10% fee. (Yes, those bastard designers implemented bank notes in their MMO.) But here’s the dilemma: the nearby town only sold tiny 100-coin banknotes.

Each of these weapons was worth thousands of coins. That would require a lot of 100-coin bank notes! And each bank note took up an inventory slot, so I couldn’t just buy a million notes. I had inventory slots for a few dozen, but not the hundreds I’d need.

So there I was with a complex dilemma: did I try to limp to the nearby town and exchange some of this stuff for crappy bank notes, or just go straight to a better city, which was more dangerous? Or should I drop a bunch of these weapons behind a tree somewhere and hope that I can get back to them before they disappeared? There were lots of other perfectly legitimate answers, too.

This was emergent gameplay. And it was fun! (That’s the thing about emergent gameplay: it doesn’t always sound like fun when you describe it.) This gameplay came about because the game implemented many extraneous systems: encumbrance penalties, item-count restrictions, bank notes, the ability to drop items on the ground without them instantly being destroyed, and so on. These various systems are why I had a dilemma.

“Fun Loops” Don’t Need Extra Game Systems, but Emergent Gameplay Does

If the designers were focusing on making the game fun in 15-minute loops, it would be a stretch for a designer to think “You know what this fifteen minute experience needs? It needs for money to have weight, so that if you pick up too much money you move slower.” Somebody would slap that designer.

When you’re making gameplay loops, it can be hard to take the time to make those extra systems. By themselves, they seem somewhat extraneous, until you’ve created enough of them to start to see interactions.

And even if you do make time for these systems, you’re kind of going against your goal! The reason you’re making loops is to ensure a consistently fun experience, and emergent gameplay isn’t reliably fun. Sometimes the gameplay that emerges is dumb and boring. If you’re making a game for a target audience that will wander away if they’re bored for 30 seconds, this is unacceptable.

Relying on emergent behavior means being willing to have bored players sometimes. But for the right demographic, the payoffs are quite pleasurable.

I’m not trying to recreate any particular experience in my MMO. I don’t think my MMO has any “weight” system at all, let alone “encumbrance penalties”. I think I can create systems that are a little more fun than that, maybe. But the point is that the game will have dozens of these simple systems in it, chosen for having a lot of interesting interaction points, which causes emergent gameplay to happen.

Emergent Gameplay and Realism

I’ve conflated some different things here. I talked about “realism” earlier, but you don’t need realistic systems in order to get emergent gameplay. Any systems that interact with each other can cause emergent behavior.

But for whatever reason, a game that models a bunch of real-world concepts will automatically seem more “realistic” to players, even if the concepts are modeled extremely unrealistically. (In Asheron’s Call 1, even with the “realistic” encumbrance system, I could carry more than fifty axes. How realistic is that?!) In other words, it’s purely an illusion, but it works in our favor!

So when creating  systems, it makes sense to use (and dramatically distort) real-world concepts like eating, sleeping, or banking rather than inventing systems that have no real-world analogue. You don’t have to go overboard and base every game system around the real world, though. A little bit goes a long way.

Emergent Gameplay = Fun Anecdotes

My favorite experiences in any PC roleplaying game come from emergent gameplay. Usually I don’t even remember the plots of those games, but I remember tons of anecdotes about being able to do some crazy thing by taking advantage of this other thing, and then this unpredictable thing happened, and it was so great. That’s the best-case scenario of emergent gameplay: a memorable anecdote where things came together and the player kicked ass by exploiting interacting systems.

Those anecdotes are very memorable because they happen on a random reward schedule rather than the minute-to-minute schedule of a loop-heavy game. Plus, they’re often entertaining enough to retell to others, which makes them all the more valuable to us. In a single-player game, those memories make it easier to sell sequels and add-ons. (The reason I was excited about Fallout 3 was because of my happy anecdotes from Fallout 1 and 2.) For MMOs, it means those memories can help improve your game’s rebound cycle.

Like I said before though, this design is not a mainstream choice. The game I’m making is much less directed than WoW, and WoW is like Realism City compared to most Facebook pseudo-MMOs. If you’re aiming for millions of players, the smart money’s on a directed game with tight controllable experience loops.

And just to be clear: I like those games. I enjoy playing WoW and even Facebook games. But that isn’t what I’m doing this time, because:

  1. I don’t think I can beat a major company at that design: they’ve been honing it to an art form.
  2. Facebook-style games are what I typically work on while contracting, so I’m kind of tired of making them.
  3. For an indie MMO, I need to stay self-motivated by making a game I’m excited about playing myself. And I do miss the systems-heavy MMOs of yore.

Hopefully a few thousand people per month will like the game enough to pay for it, and it will be a successful indie MMO. Perhaps a hundred thousand people will pay for my game each month and I will be rich beyond my wildest dreams. (I can’t even conceive of a scenario where a million or more people play my game.)

To be fair, there’s a very good chance the game will be a complete flop. But as an indie, I can afford to take that risk. And I can’t afford to play it safe.

Posted in Design, Project Gorgon | 12 Comments

Punditry is dumb. Switching to developer mode!

Tired of Punditry

Sandra and I have run out of steam as MMO pundits. Again. The problems are that 1) MMO punditry is basically saying the same things over and over, but, 2) nobody really knows the secret to making super amazing awesome games.

I recommend reading “Everything is Obvious *Once You Know the Answer”. It’s a great read about why pundits are so often wrong, and why blogging about common-sense things has serious flaws.

WoW Should Have Died

Let me put it another way: our industry’s “common sense” tells us that WoW should have flopped when it launched. It was the most expensive launch fiasco we’d ever seen!

Common sense says you don’t recover from mega-sized technical disasters. As evidence, we have a long slew of failed games before and after WoW, which we write off as “Oh, of course they failed, their launch was poor.” We still believe that getting the launch right is critically important to a AAA-level MMO’s success.

But WoW’s launch was horrible. Their server tech was a failure. An utter failure that got worse with every box they sold. Even six months after launch, more people were complaining about the game than enjoying it. It was hemorrhaging money and players and good will. Perhaps you remember when Penny-Arcade rescinded their Game of the Year award due to all of WoW’s technical problems and server instability?

The point is this: if WoW had died right there, we, the MMO industry would have just nodded and said, “Well of course it died! You can’t flub your launch! That’s just common knowledge.”

But WoW got better.

And now of course we nod and say “Well of course it did! That game was so well-polished, and the company was so well-respected, that players put up with even large amounts of failure!”

So hey, great. Guess what? We have a common-sense answer for anything that happens. Whether WoW flops or it succeeds, we can just nod our heads and give some reason why it happened. No matter what happens in the industry, we have a quick common-sense explanation as to why. We aren’t learning anything.

We Learn So Poorly

But make no mistake, WoW did in fact change our way of thinking about MMOs: the industry went “holy crap, everything we knew must be wrong, because look how successful WoW is!” Remember when the creative director of Warhammer Online got into a bit of punditry of his own?

“I can’t tell what is flaw and what is genius in WoW, so I don’t want to get sucked into copying things in case I get the wrong one,” the amusing Barnett continued. “‘No one’s going to play our game unless it also had elephants!’ No. Don’t be swayed. And stop playing World Of Warcraft.”

His answer was that we should largely ignore WoW because we don’t understand why it’s so successful. We MMO developers already know how to make successful MMOs, in our heart of hearts. Trust our instincts! Use the Force!

This common-sense advice was fairly widespread, but there was a different common-sense reaction that was even more common: all old MMOs are irrelevant now, so start your design by cloning WoW, then go from there if you have time left over.

Sadly, neither ignoring nor copying WoW has led to much success. And yet those were the common sense answers to what to do about WoW.

It seems that if we bother to learn anything from new information, we change too far: we flip from one truism to another, unable to see the gray in between. Before WoW happened, we believed that players needed to be forced into groups — that without hardcore group mechanisms, players wouldn’t create the strong social ties that kept them paying. After WoW launched, we completely threw that out. Baby, bathwater, sink, and house. Grouping went from a necessary evil to “wait, you’re making it easier to level in a group than to level by soloing? What the hell is wrong with you?!”

We made a complete reversal. And it was all “common sense.” It just seemed so obvious that we should do that, given what we saw in early WoW.

So Tired of Common Sense

Common sense, it turns out, is like those old aphorisms: we have “Look Before You Leap” and also “The Early Bird Gets The Worm”. These contradictory bits of truth can apply to anything we want. So no matter what we think, we can always convince ourselves that our decision is based on good solid common sense. Doh.

I’ve railed against a lot of these “common sense” answers for years. I like to think that my analyses are a little less lopsided than average. But do I really know that? No. And I’m sure my beliefs are riddled with different flaws.

So on the one hand, I’m confident that I know more about making MMOs than some random gamer, or even a newbie MMO developer. But I’m not confident I know so much about making MMOs that my advice is foolproof. I don’t believe there is anyone alive whose expertise with MMOs is foolproof. We do not have a Van Gogh of MMO making. Actually, if you use painting as a metaphor, we’re still figuring out the damned color spectrum. We don’t even have a full palette of paints!

I would encourage you to read that book — it’s very interesting stuff, if a little depressing. I think that book is what tipped us over the edge — we’d been only reluctantly punditizing for a long time, and this kind of made us go, “Our opinions are not really so valuable that we should feel obligated to push them on other people.”

And when you don’t think your opinions need to be shouted from the mountaintop, it kinda puts a slump in your punditry activities.

Punditry Mode Is Stop

So we’re taking a hiatus from long articles about how other games work and why they are so wrong. Oh, I’m sure there will be some snide remarks here and there, but <yawn> WoW did this blah blah blah Lotro did that, they’re so dumb blah blah blah. Let’s not do that anymore, okay?

However, I still want to talk about MMOs. Writing about MMOs helps me figure out what I actually think. And in fact, I have a lot to say about MMO design and coding right now because I’m making one from scratch. So Elder Game is now going to be a blog about my new indie MMO, currently code-named Project Gorgon.

This is bad news if you think Elder Game is at its best when talking about what WoW did  right and what ST:O did wrong. However, if you’ve liked the in-depth analyses of specific game systems, you’re in luck, because there’ll be lots of those, plus high-level discussions of coding pipelines, tools, and processes.

Developer Mode Is Go

Over the past four years, Sandra and I have actually prototyped quite a few MMOs and MMO-like entities. They all had the same pattern: we’d start them during a lull in our contracting, then we’d get a juicy game contract, and when the contract was over, the project had gotten cold. So we’d wait a while, then start a new project. Rinse, repeat.

Why did they die? Because when we got back to them, we realized they kinda sucked. Taking time away from them made it easy to see the major flaws. That is, up until the last one: it didn’t seem majorly flawed when we got back to it.

This last prototype, code-named Frontier, is the MMO we talked about on the blog before. Even after a long hiatus, it still feels fresh and interesting.

Gorgon!

So the Gorgon project picks up right where Frontier left off: it is still a 3D MMO with a Unity client and a Java server. (But it has enough differences in scope and design that it didn’t make sense to keep calling it by the same project name.)

What makes this one different? Why won’t “Gorgon” get mothballed like the other MMOs we’ve attempted in the past? Well, the number one reason is that this is no longer a side project to do while I’m bored. I’m now dedicating a full 50% of my time to this MMO, and I’m not taking any extra contracts on the side. (I’m still deeply involved with FlashGameLicense.com, though, which is why I’m only doing it half-time.)

Sandra’s Hiatus

My guess is that Sandra won’t be showing up on the blog for a while. She’s as tired of punditry as I am, and she’s only going to be occasionally helping out with the Gorgon code base. Gorgon is really my baby, because Sandra has her own insanely aggressive projects she’s focused on. (They tend not to be directly MMO-centric, so she doesn’t want to blog about them here.)

See You Friday…

So the plan is to have a new post each Friday about Gorgon — the design, the tools, the process, the hurdles, the anguish. Oh, the anguish. And I’m kinda keeping some of the financial details in the dark while they’re getting hammered out. But let’s just say I have many surprises planned.

The first Gorgon post will be on Friday, and will discuss what sort of game Project Gorgon is. (Hint: it does not contain any gorgons.)

Posted in Design | 18 Comments

You Can’t Bolster Your Newbie Hose With Self-Indulgence

The latest numbers are in for World of Warcraft, and as of March 1st they were down 600k subscribers. That would ruin any other subscription MMO on this continent, but for them it’s just a few percent.

That article goes on to talk about how their player base doesn’t rise and fall linearly. They’re referring to the rebound cycle: your hardest-core players leave periodically, and then come back later. But there’s something missing from this picture.

World of Warcraft has always had a huge newbie hose: a constant stream of brand new players that flood into the game every day. This stream appears to be dwindling — or at least getting more expensive to maintain.

I’m still incredibly impressed with their newbie hose. Can you imagine if your favorite non-WoW game got newbies at the same percentage as WoW has? What if multiplayer console games just kept getting huge waves of new players every week, for year after year, so you never had to keep playing against the same old people? A newbie hose is incredibly valuable — all those newbies make the game more fun for existing players, and when everybody’s having fun, the newbies are more likely to stick around, too. When a game’s newbie hose drops off, its overall retention rates can drop too. So getting new blood in is extremely valuable.

And most games fail at it, or don’t even try. Most MMOs that have been around a few years have basically no newbies coming in, and they are slowly, quietly shrinking.

As an MMO shrinks, the dynamics of its game systems change. For instance, the economy of WoW is just like most other MMO economies: it’s designed around the newbie hose. As long as a constant influx of new characters show up, there’s always going to be people to buy your herbs. But when the newbie hose runs dry, and everybody finally gets all the alts they want, suddenly the bottom falls out of the auction house. This is par for the course for pretty much every other MMO in existence.

Every other MMO has to constantly and aggressively address problems like this one. (For instance, by making herbs do an ever-larger and more valuable array of things, so that people keep buying them.) So one way to get a feel for how many newbies WoW is getting is to watch for changes like this. When fishing becomes a more and more valuable skill in order to keep the value of rare fish from dropping to 1 copper, that’s what you’re seeing: the newbie hose dwindling.

Now, to repeat, I’m not saying their newbie hose is even close to dry yet! But I do think it’s slowing down, and unless they do something really magical, it will continue to dwindle. That would mean a slow death by attrition, which I calculate will take… lesee… holy… well my guess is it will take about 9 years before it’s under a half-million subscribers. So unless they do something stupid (like stop making expansions, or stop advertising hard), they can keep this baby going for another decade. And if they change the game in some innovative new way, they can bring the newbies back too.

But while they aren’t in danger, they’re certainly very aware of their newbie hose.

Cataclysm’s Newbie Experience: Self-Indulgence

It seems like Cataclysm was designed specifically to revitalize the newbie hose. At least, I’m sure that’s how the live team pitched it to upper management. “By improving such-and-such areas, we’ll convert x% more newbies.”

But really, this was a self-indulgent move by the live team. What live team hasn’t wanted to just fix everything? And that urge isn’t unique to games… ask anybody who has to maintain something for years and years. Who wouldn’t want to start over, to apply the lessons they’ve learned?

Can you imagine a city planner that got a chance to completely re-design their city? Tighten the zoning, bolster the transportation structure, maybe get some high speed rail into downtown… sure, it means destroying everything that’s there, but the new stuff will be so much better! Who could resist such an opportunity?

The urge is near-universal, but it rarely makes sense to completely rewrite everything. While you’re busy rewriting things to make them 25% better, you could have been adding new content and features that made the game 35% better instead. Adding new stuff is usually just a lot more efficient. And rewriting stuff has its own dangers. Everybody makes mistakes, and nothing’s perfect the first time. So you’re inevitably going to throw out some time-tested stuff and introduce new stuff that has unforeseeable problems in it.

So gigantic rewrites are only worthwhile to the bottom line if they cause a tremendous amount of expansion when they’re done. Cataclysm’s re-envisioning of the old world did not accomplish that.

I’m not saying they should never change their old world. But most of the time they should be improving it incrementally. EQ2 did this pretty well, I think: some of their original zones were so bad that they actively caused players to quit. (Seriously.) So the live team redid all of those zones. But by “redid” I mean they refactored all the quests and adjusted monster placement. They left the terrain itself unchanged! And these were some very ugly zones. Let’s just say they could have stood a revamp. (If you contrast them to the later EQ2 zones, you won’t believe they’re in the same game.)

But SOE’s product-driven mindset protected them from falling into that trap. By default, SOE assumes “new” is always more valuable than “improved”, because “new” goes on store shelves. This might be short-sighted in today’s digital-download environment, but at least this mindset stopped EQ2′s live team from going overboard here. The EQ2 artists were so busy making new areas for expansion packs that they couldn’t take the time to redo old areas. Old stuff isn’t sexy, it doesn’t sell boxes. I’m sure the designers would have loved to do it, but the people with money kept them in check.

Nobody keeps WoW’s live team in check very much. So they went ahead with a total universe-wipe. This meant that vast chunks of everybody’s knowledge about Azeroth, their shared experiences, were wiped out.

Now you have to ask yourself two things:

Question #1: If I’m a new player, will this revised world make me significantly more likely to stick around?

Well, in the past, an amazing 30% of WoW free-trial players stuck with the game. This is so much higher than any other long-running MMO that it is frankly hard to take seriously. But of course they are interested in getting that number much higher.

To make this number go up, we’ve watched the WoW live team tighten their newbie experience dramatically over the past several years. They’ve said that if players got past level 10 in their free trial, those players were likely to stick around. So it made a ton of sense to make the first part of the game more fun and a bit shorter.

But before Cataclysm, they did this by iteratively tweaking and refining. Cataclysm let them completely redo the newbie experiences. So… the question remains: does Cataclysm’s newbie experience significantly increase the number of newbies that sign up?

I dunno that. But I do know that the new newbie zones are so graphically complex that old PCs can’t play them anymore, and many of the new zones are also over so quickly that some of the elements of “sense of place” are lost from the experience. Those problems are countered by tighter quests with more diverse and engaging activities, so for the most part it’s hard to argue that the new zones are worse. But how much better are they, really?

More specifically, in how many zones was the old content so clumsy, and/or the new content so amazing, that players will sign up when they would have quit before? There were some stinkers, but I suspect most zones could have just been revised, not rewritten.

And even if the content is amazing, WoW’s sign-up rate can only get so high from content alone. Sign-ups are affected by a million factors, from hardware requirements to how many of their friends are playing to whether the game seems popular, stigmatized, or the underdog. Different people want different things. There’s no way to get your acquisition rate up to 100% — that would mean that everybody who tries WoW likes it. No video game is that good.

So my guess is their newbie hose was improved, but only for a while. On the other hand…

Question #2: If I’m a returning player, will this revised world make me significantly more likely to stick around for a few months?

No. Simply put, no. It boils down to one thing: leveling has been sped way the heck up.

Leveling has been sped up, which means you don’t spend nearly as much time in these brand new areas as you did in the old areas you remember. You don’t have time to replace your old memories with new memories. Everything just seems like a blur: oh weird, the mailbox moved. Where was the bank again? Hmm, the whole city’s been redone…

If leveling took as long as it did five years ago, this would have worked a lot better. As it is, it just makes a jumble in returning players’ heads.

Mixed Messages

WoW seems to be mixing their messages here. On the one hand, they rewrote the entire first half of the game so that it would be stickier for new players and interesting to returning players.

But on the other hand, they sped the first half up so much that you fly right through it, right to the latter half, which is not better than before (and some argue is worse).

What was the point of rewriting the content if you’re going to reach level 10 in 2 hours? Why not just speed up leveling and be done with it?

Why? Oh yeah: because the live team really wanted to do it. And I don’t blame ‘em one bit. I would have tried to get to do that, too. It musta driven them crazy, knowing that players couldn’t fly in the old world, and not being able to fix it.

I don’t know how effective it really was, but from an outsider’s viewpoint, it didn’t seem to make the game a lot stickier.

Live teams have their own agendas, and those agendas aren’t always the best way to make money.

Newbie Hose vs. Holding On To Rebounding Players

You can now get a lot further in WoW in your 10-day trial than ever before, yet clearly this has not spiked their newbie acquisition rates to dizzying heights. I’m not saying there’s definitely a causal link here — for all I know, their newbie hose had dropped to 0% and now it’s back up to 30%. I’m just a stupid blogger.

But I just have to ask this: what if, instead of completely redoing twenty newbie zones, they had added twenty new zones to the end of the game? Hindsight is 20/20, but I’m sure that would have been a much bigger win for their retention.

Posted in Business, Design | 23 Comments

Evolving Quests

Side-quests are a classic game mechanic, as ancient as roleplaying. When playing D&D with friends, we’ll stumble upon a traveler being mauled by a bear and we’ll take swift action — if we’re a band of do-gooders, at least — because that’s what do-gooders do.

And if there was actually a “quest” to save the traveler, some guy down the road who begs us to save his bear-bitten daughter, perhaps, well, that’s fine. The game master will give us the reward whether we talk to him first or talk to him after we save the daughter. In fact, when we do it second, it feels a lot more heroic, and we feel a lot more clever.

We didn’t capture that experience in early MMORPGs like Asheron’s Call 2 because the quests needed to be repeatable. Every week you’d stop by and redo the handful of available quests. In the mean time, you’d just bash monsters for the fun of it. If we counted those monster-bashing activities toward the quests, you’d never have a directed experience at all.

WoW changed the thinking here. For the most part, it never even occurred to us in the MMO industry that it might be possible to create so much content that players could level entirely through quests and never repeat a single one. That was an inconceivable amount of work. It was a lack of vision, and it took Blizzard to show that it was possible. Blizzard evolved what had come before, and much for the better.

Players may talk disparagingly about a “theme park mentality” in WoW, but they never saw the theme parks of the past, where your hero would line up every week to save the same animatronic damsel. There’s degrees of “theme park”, and WoW upped the quality bar.

But if quests aren’t repeatable, there’s a lot less reason to make you talk to the quest-giver before you do the heroic deed. And there’s a neat psychological effect if you are able to do it the other way — it lets you be heroic for the sake of being heroic.

Are you evolving?

Well, WoW did its part: it evolved MMO game mechanics for the better. What’s your game doing to up the quality bar?

In the case of letting players complete quests in the wrong order, you might argue against me. You could show that there’s lots of good to be had in making players talk to an NPC before they do the quest. I would counter-argue about the fun of doing things in the other order, but that’s really beside the point, at the end of the day.

The fact that we’d have this conversation about the game mechanic, weighing the pros and cons: that is the point. That is what it means to be a system designer. A designer that doesn’t consciously consider the various facets of what they’re designing is just a muppet-like parody of a designer.

Imagine a surgeon who just mimics a training video exactly and can’t deviate from what they’ve seen. Would you want that surgeon, even if the video was very good, and they could mimic the video precisely? My guess is no. Every surgery will be different, so perfect mimicry doesn’t sound like a very safe plan for a surgeon. There’s some skill in mimicry, but that’s not what the word “surgeon” means. (Or the words “game designer”.)

For a few painful years, MMO companies were paralyzed by WoW. They were afraid to analyze it, because they suspected that WoW’s precise gameplay formula was the secret alchemy needed to get infinite players. There was no use arguing any mechanics changes, because game producers couldn’t hear your words over the imagined sound of millions of players thronging to their perfect replica of WoW.

That has not happened, and will not happen, and finally people are getting it through their thick skulls that WoW’s design can and must be improved. Yes! Finally, we can get back to evolving the state of the art.

So keep examining things, considering your choices. Keep improving things. A bunch of small improvements make the world of difference to your players, and to the art of MMO creation. And it’s not hard to find tons of things to improve: this is a genre that can and will still see dramatic evolution. It just takes thought and attention.

Do your part. This is the quest I give you. And if you’ve already been doing it, well, then you’ve already been getting your reward.

Posted in Design | 19 Comments

The Griefer With The Coin Bag

Got back from GDC week and still trying to get back into the swing of things… and here comes a funny story straight from GDC! Go ahead and read it, it’s pretty funny.

(Original story) (Cached version because it’s very popular and is hammering their server)

You didn’t read it, did you. Sigh. Fine, I’ll paraphrase a bit. Ryan from Untold Entertainment went to one of those dumb GDC “rant sessions” where you hear industry bigwigs rant for a while and then leave. (You usually don’t even get to comment back to them: it’s worse than even a blog! And you pay a lot for the privilege! Ugh.)

But anyway, as people shuffled in, they were given a coin. A projector slide explained:

The person who collected the most coins from the other players in the room by the halfway point of the session would be invited to the front to do a “guest rant” on social games.

So what did Ryan do? He went back to the entrance, lied to the volunteer giving out coins, and took the entire coin bag. Most people didn’t even get coins, and had no idea what the overhead projector was talking about.

So when the voting was tallied, he was the winner… by, uh, a very large margin. The panel vetoed his win. (But the moderator let him do a mini-rant later anyway, which he overstepped the bounds of also.)

It’s a funny story, and I’m leaving out the funniest bits, so if you haven’t read it, you won’t understand why I was laughing at the end of it. When (top-tier indie developer) Evan Miller commented that the panel should be ashamed of disallowing his win, I nodded along.

But the next day I read it again, and realized I’d been duped by his funny writing into not seeing the full picture. Ryan presented his story as one of sticking it to the big guys, breaking the rules that the industry giants arbitrarily made. It’s a good David and Goliath story. But it’s a terrible story to read much into.

Griefers are Griefers

Ryan was a griefer. The definition of a griefer is someone who keeps a significant number of other people from enjoying your game, and does so intentionally. Griefers are griefers regardless of whether they are “playing within the rules” or not. When you have a griefer, you have to take stock of your game: is your game designed for griefers?

Sometimes it is. EVE is a griefing hellhole whose other fun mechanics cannot redeem it. (Yes, that’s just my opinion. But guys, I sure would like to play a non-hellhole space-trading game like we had on BBSes… won’t somebody make that MMO?)

Even World of Warcraft had features that were intentionally designed to let you grief others. (Killing NPCs of other factions.) But this is widely seen as a mistake by the players I game with — and you can tell even WoW is backing away from the design in the newer expansions.

In general, if your game is about griefing, then your game is full of adolescents (and mental adolescents) who are happy to harm others in order to be clever, funny, or sadistic. There’s an audience for that. But sadly, griefers aren’t satisfied to stay in those sorts of games: the competition is too high. Griefers need suckers, because griefing other griefers is hard. So griefers show up everywhere. As a developer, they are a significant threat to your game’s lifespan. Unless your game is designed specifically for griefing (in which case, ugh!), you need to wipe them out.

Don’t Let Griefers Hide Behind Rules

Griefers mustn’t be allowed to profit from their behavior, or they’ll multiply. It doesn’t matter if they found a loophole in your game’s rules or not: if they are intentionally ruining the game for others, and they broke an implicit rule that your target audience should already know, then kick them out.

Don’t make the newb mistake of thinking you can say “ha ha, very cute, never do that again.” That never works. Even if the original person doesn’t do it again, others will. And you’ve set a precedent. You’re just making things worse by letting even one obvious manipulation of your game go by.

Just kick them out and never look back. It sounds draconian, because it is: it is also the only policy that works. You are a small team (at best) — your chances of writing a perfect set of rules for your game are pretty much nil, especially when a vast number of people are actively looking for loopholes. So unless you fancy being a lawyer instead of a game developer (or if you’re running money-based games where the other guy might be a lawyer), you simply have to kick the people out when they are obviously abusing the spirit of the game.

And not just games: any social system. These days I adamantly refuse to put up long lists of exact rules for forums or chatrooms or whatever. “Thou shalt not call people names or spit on them or make them feel uncomfortable or…” for chrissakes, if I have to spell this stuff out to you, I know you’re immature and I don’t want you around. And the only thing that happens if I list all those rules? People revel in finding where I failed to specify things exactly. “I said he should take the sticks out of his mangina. That’s not on the swear list and it’s not ‘making fun of gays’ because I was making fun of hermaphrodites, which are not listed in the rules! You can’t punish me!” Augh! Get out of here, griefer! (Admittedly, I’ve successfully avoided ever making or running games for 13 year old boys. Some audiences are going to be more miserable than others.)

Obvious versus Not-So-Obvious Rules

On the FGL forums, the discussion of this story boiled down to the key distinction of whether Ryan broke the “rules” or broke the “obvious social conventions” of the game. Most people said that he didn’t break the rules. (Although personally I think he did: the rules were to get as many coins as possible from other players; he didn’t do this. The coin-giver was not a player.) But for the sake of argument, let’s say he didn’t break the rules: he just broke the implicit conventions that anybody at the conference would have made.

But the thing is, you shouldn’t have to list every possible social norm that your game rules operate under. If you’re a big company, your lawyers will handle the key ones. Trust me, though: you do not want lawyers writing all the rules for your game. Players don’t want this, either. They just want to be asshats and get away with it.

But sometimes you do need to write out some rules. If your game has a lot of PvP, then it can be confusing what “griefing” is, exactly, and you’ll need to give some guidelines. The worst case scenario is when players who aren’t griefing are afraid of doing anything new because they don’t understand what is bannable or not. But in practice, this is not a hard line to find. (Normally when it seems like a gray area, it’s because the live team is intentionally muddying the line to keep people scared. I don’t think that’s a good long-term policy.) If your target demographic really won’t understand the rules you want them to abide by, you have to give them guidelines.

I also want to distinguish between banning “griefers” and banning people who cheat in a non-griefing way. Personally I’m much more lenient on the latter, because they don’t make other people’s experience miserable. You can patch things up, spank the player if they were obviously being jerks, and go on with life. I don’t want to give the impression that I think all things should be bannable offenses. Just the ones that affect other players significantly.

They’re Always There

No matter what sort of game it is, there’s always rules lawyers. There’s always griefers. These groups often overlap, and cause much misery. So Ryan’s behavior is a very useful lesson to developers: you will have these sorts of players and they will abuse your system and they will act holier-than-thou when you ban their ass, and lots of people will take their side because “he didn’t break the rules!”

That doesn’t mean you should let him get away with it: you just have to take the PR hit for banning him. It’s the less-expensive evil.

Indies are Bad Seeds?

In this story, the “social game” was pretty un-fun. (A popularity contest among nerdy game developers? Oh boy oh boy, sign me up!) So it can be hard to see Ryan’s activity as wrong. But the fact is he committed several misdemeanor crimes. If he’d stolen, say, coins for an arcade game, or something else the audience valued even a little bit, there would be a lot less sympathy for him. But in this case, yeah, who cares, stupid game, funny story. (Is it even griefing if the people you grief didn’t know they were playing the game?)

I think his behavior is eminently “indie”, and I don’t begrudge him being a jerk in order to try to get ahead in a game with stakes this low. But I also don’t begrudge the panel for disallowing his behavior.

In the end, I don’t care about the game per se, I’m just wary of Ryan’s takeaway lesson, which is “in short: break the rules, get the coins.”

Ryan is saying that as a small developer, you need to break existing conventions in order to make room for yourself: a lot of those conventions are there to make it harder for you to succeed. I completely agree with that. But if the end result means that everybody has to be a griefer, we’re setting ourselves up for an even worse industry than we have now: when everybody griefs, nobody wins.

Posted in Community, Design | 41 Comments

Please vote my game back up!

The first round of judging in the Kongregate/Unity game contest is by user rating — the 25 highest-rated games go on to the second round of judging. My game used to be very highly rated, but today it went plummeting down to 31st place — below the cutoff point.

It appears that other contestants are asking their friends to down-rate all the other games. This is incredibly lame. Please don’t artificially down-rate games! But, please do rate my game back up! :)

I would really appreciate it if you did so. It requires making a Kongregate account, but it’s pretty painless.

Play it here!

Here are some screenshots of the game. You can finish it in a lunch hour, so it’s not super long, but it’s got a lot of fun stuff packed into it.



Posted in News | 9 Comments

Try My New Game

If you like adventure games or survival-horror games, you might like The Premature Death of Christopher Combe. It’s a completely free indie title written in Unity. (So you will be prompted to download the Unity plug in to play it in your browser.)

I made this game for the Kongregate Unity Game Contest. It’s been a long time since I created something just for the fun of doing it, and it’s been a great reminder about what the point of making games is all about. I’ll have to make more time for crazy solo projects, even if it’s just short-form single player games like this one.
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Posted in News | 4 Comments

“The Dev Team” Footprint

Sanya Weathers at Eating Bees posted last month about “Things That Make Me /Facepalm When I See Them From Moderators“.

You should read and embrace the post in its entirely. But I wanted to expand on one of her points. Sanya posted:

The community does not, on an emotional level, differentiate between your red name and say, the creative director’s red name. So, even if your actual role at the company is mailboy or cube warrior or producer’s bitch, you still have the footprint of the most senior producer.

This is something that I have been struggling with – and trying to educate my teams about – for a decade.
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Posted in Community | 3 Comments