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The Spirit (or at least skeleton) of Belief

Mon, 04 Jan 2010 10:27:19 +0100

Well. Another Christmas down, and I hope Santa came to visit you with lots of nice presents, as he sprinted in his own private, global race to visit everyone in 24 hours.

Speaking of red running things, or rather, things running red, I've been able to catch up with a favourite game of my past - albeit in digital - Blood Bowl.

The game itself is a fairly faithful reproduction of the board game, although some teams didn't make the cut - like my beloved Undead, and the Dark Elves (which have since been included in a free patch).

There are two basic modes of play: a real-time version which I've yet to try my hand at; and the classic turn-based version, reminiscent of the tabletop game.

For the uninitiated, Blood Bowl is one part American Football, one part RPG, and one part gladiatorial arena. The more you score, pass, or injure, the more experienced your players can become, picking up skills along the way.

You can create your own team from the races available, each with strengths and weaknesses. Generally the players start off fairly basic and standard. And you then (ideally) play against other people.

As a social event, the tabletop version at least, was great fun. My friends naturally rotated towards separate races. One friend like speed over substance, and so played the Skaven (rat-men), another liked strength and determination, and so played the Dwarves.

My brother-in-law liked the agile, sneaky, and treacherous Dark Elves. The best man at my wedding liked throwing his opponents about with wild abandon, and chose Chaos. Mind you, when his team wasn't winning, he threw his dice instead and they were often sacrificed to the Blood Bowl gods, who apparently lived a down the street.

I simply enjoyed perseverance - outlasting my opponents. Couple that with some reasonably strong offence, and you have the indomitable Undead.

During one competition, I innocently gave one of my skeletons (one of the weakest players in the league) an ability called Dirty Player, which is available to most players. This ability simply aids you a little when you strike other players who are already on the ground (i.e. fouling). No big deal.

One stomp on a prone player lead to another, and his activities met with some success.

Word of his deeds quickly spread to the other people in our little competition. I was asked more and more to point out which character he was in matches. People targeted this poor little skeleton, which quickly became infamous.

Players put bounties on his head. Stories of his exploits circulated, some real, some fictional. Artwork even began to crop up of this one skeleton from some of the other players - and I had nothing to do with it!

So what made this character, this one lowly skeleton, so special? Nothing really - he was a generic character who was given a generic skill, and as such he wasn't exceptional in any way.

What made him seem special was that someone started to believe in him, just a little. When that happened, the word-of-mouth began, and people started taking notice of this unremarkable little character. And the legend was born, at least among my small circle of friends.

I hadn't really thought about that lowly skeleton for a long time, and I didn't notice what was happening with him at the time - it was just a laugh for me, thinking that other people took the skeleton so seriously.

Now that I think more seriously about stories and their creation, this little character has highlighted for me just how important word-of-mouth is in building a legend (regardless of the size of the audience). It just takes someone to believe.

Quantifiable benefits of story

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 22:47:22 +0100

The good folks over at The Narrative Designers Network posted a link to a great article, where they were trying to observe the quantifiable benefits of story. In their research they came across the Significant Objects project, where a little piece of story, a 'narrative context', is given to normal objects.

The stories created are purely fictitious, but the value 80 or so objects sold rose by over an incredible 2000%!

How did this happen? Well, Hugh Macleod over at Gaping Void often talks about social objects, and that something in and of itself has little intrinsic value to people until people become involved and invested.

For example, an ordinary pen might have a street value of around $1, but how much would you pay for a pen that was used by, say, your favourite author (the most excellent Iain Banks, in my case)? The pen in question becomes so much more than a mere writing tool and becomes an interesting conversational piece, a source of pride, a desirable object (at least in some circles) and so on. Now the pen has become a social object. Hugh argues that good marketing must involve taking whatever it is you've got, and turning it into a social object.

So stories can do more than simply describe - they have the ability to turn something into a powerful social object - and that, in turn, adds worth and value.

A 2000% return on investment - amazing!

Pictures from GameJam 09

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 03:40:16 +0100

As mentioned previously, we've recently had a GameJam 09 event here in Sydney, which was a chance for some of us video game types to get together and discuss what we're working on, some of the popular trends, and also some current problems that this industry is facing.

Not many pictures have emerged at this stage, but there are some here, featuring yours truly giving the presentation featured in my previous bog entry. I'm the handsome bearded one with the microphone.

It was a great day, and fun was had by all.

GameJam 09 Presentation

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 10:59:03 +0100

I recently gave a short speech at Sydney AFTRS GameJam 09, which was great fun, not to mention a good opportunity to meet like-minded people. I was given the opportunity to talk about one of my favourite topics, story, which I'd like to present here for anyone interested:

"There were some early talks by some of my erstwhile IGDA peers, touching on story and narrative. Dan Graf looked at the anatomy of game story, Chris Lee delved into non-linearity, and Daniel Dresser talked about story vs game.

As a freelance creative writer looking to climb further and further into the field of Narrative Design, these types of topics are quite appealing. But I'd like to take a step back from the techniques of writing for the purposes of this session.

My good friend Chris lobbed an academic grenade at me the other day during a Skype session, and challenged me with the question of "why is narrative important in computer games?".

I wanted to laugh and dismiss such a comment and reply with a flippant, 'well of course everyone knows narrative is important in games, that's obvious!'.

But the important quantifier in Chris' wry yet torturous statement was the simple word, "WHY". And for the purposes of my discussion I'll use both 'story' and 'narrative' interchangeably. I hope no one falls over in spasms if I do.

The question of 'why' is a particularly difficult one to answer, especially for someone like myself who has always assumed that story, like breathing, is absolutely integral to survival, without knowing the full complex processes of oxygenisation.

After some consideration, I think that there are several main reasons why narrative is important.

The first is that it gets our imagination going.

In the early days of gaming, development teams didn't have a lot to work with in terms of graphics and audio, and games couldn't realistically compete with cinema or radio in terms of observable quality. A story was a necessity to get players to engage in playing.

They helped explain why a stick figure could force a hole in the ground, so that another stick figure could fall into it, as was the case in Lode Runner. My mind's eye could even see the looks on the enemies' faces as they fell helplessly to their doom, and their struggles to escape before said holes closed in around them. I chuckled mercilessly at their perceived suffering.

Narrative gave an Odyssean feel to Arkanoid, as we tried to help an otherwise lack-lustre cylinder break out of it's blocky, otherworldly prison.

Narrative transformed mere numerical digits into living, breathing, and fully functioning sentient robots, each with their own personalities, hell-bent on my destruction, in Paradroid.

And the background of Wizball helped convince me that a wizard could be a master mixer and exterior design extraordinaire, and that a cat was the most loyal creature in the universe. I could imagine, through the established narrative, that the planes represented in Wizball were whole worlds, and could even imagine myself exploring them someday as though they were corporeal and real, and merely waiting for an astronaut to land on them.

So Narrative added a layer of depth to the classics. I read what was presented either on the backs of game boxes, or in the manuals, or displayed on screen. Those words informed my imagination, and my imagination interacted with my gaming activities to create a whole new unique, complete, and thoroughly enjoyable subjective experience.

Ah, the golden age of the classics. Of course, narrative is by no means restricted to the classics, and is (ideally) used more creatively and constructively than ever, now with the current titles available.

The second reason why narrative is important is that it because it helps fill in the blanks, which is an enjoyable experience in and of itself. That is to say that games are informative, in different ways.

I'm sure that many of you enjoy a good murder-mystery. Whether we admit it or not, we all like to guess who the killer is, and leap to reasons why the killer did it.

Quite a few years ago I was blown away by a movie called 'The Usual Suspects', where I had no clue as to who the real villain was. Towards the very end of the movie, it was pretty-much forcible revealed to me who it was, and when all of the pieces fitted together - I remember the wonder and awe that washed over me (and of course, I had to watch the movie again straight away).

Another good cinema example was 'Fight Club'. Unfortunately in my first sitting of this movie I was distracted towards the end, and missed the last 20 minutes. I remember questioning what was so important about the movie; why had it received so many rave reviews? It seemed so very ho-hum to me at the time. Regardless, I forced myself to watch the movie a second time, all the way through to the end. My god, I finally got it! Again, all the pieces fit so well, I was dumb-founded. And again, I had to re-watch another movie immediately.

In the same way, narrative joins the dots in games, and I'm not just talking about the extreme 'holy shit, kaiser sozai was here in our office' moments, but there does seem to be a part of the human psyche that craves knowledge and understanding. And this is the part of us that story appeals to.

Story can inform us about possibilities and greater goings-on in the universe. It can help us to understand why we don't simply shoot all of the engineers in the head. It can help us to identify with artwork, to the point where we can say, 'hey, the crippled black-robed wizard defines me as a person, that's who I want to be'.

So gaining information, about ourselves, our universe, and other possibilities that we hadn't even considered before, can be very enjoyable activities.

Narrative also provides context for our digital actions. A knife can be plunged into flesh, but is that a 'good' or 'bad' action? It depends on the context of course - is a surgeon trying to save a life, or is a robber trying to despatch a victim?

Speaking of the classics, story made sure I was morally in the right as I was The Last Ninja, and not merely a bloodthirsty thug hell-bent on senseless mass murder, and as such it provided an appealing context.

I interacted with the narrative in both the first and second Knights of the Old Republic, where I even had some say in what actions I used, to mould contexts somewhat to my will. Especially as I was oft quick to reply with force lightning as often as allowed.

So narrative is also important in games because it provides context, and defines situations, characters, actions, and so much more, making them identifiable, relatable, desirable or detestable.

The three topics that I've touched on so far are imagination, information, and context. Which brings me to the last reason why narrative is important which I will discuss today.

And this is where you may call me a soulless, bitter bastard - because I believe in the almighty dollar - we are willing to pay for these experiences.

Even the most entertaining games in the universe may wither into obscurity unless they are marketable. And stories can go a long way towards increasing a game's marketability.

When was the last time you bought a game without reading a review? Or without looking at the back of a box? Or without hearing some favourable words from your friends or respected colleagues?

And how many of you have been let down by a game that had a poor ending, swearing to never go back to that game, or worse, blacklisting a developer because of a dissatisfying end sequence?

So narrative is important to games because it value-adds to the game product, hopefully providing a better ROI, or return on investment. And what makes a commercially viable story appealing enough to entice us to part with our hard-earned cash? It is because using our imagination, gaining information, and being supported by context, are all enjoyable pursuits, provided they are done correctly.

So when you are madly building your assets, your GDDs, your engines and so on, hurtling at break-neck speeds towards and through your milestones, spare a thought for the narrative; and not just whether you're using Myer-Briggs personality types, or the hero's journey, or the three-act structure.

Ask yourself whether your narrative and game are inviting the players to engage their imagination. Whether they add to the player's knowledge and understanding of themself and their inner universe. Ask if the game's context supports the player, so that the events you want to describe are accurately decoded by your players. Consider whether your story has mass appeal and marketable attributes. And lastly consider whether your story adds further enjoyment to the game. If you keep all of these things in mind, then your story is bound to."

Sorcerer of the Red Dawn

Wed, 30 Sep 2009 23:46:16 +0100

An amazing dust storm devoured Sydney last week, turning the harbour city into an orange, post-apocalyptic, nuclear wasteland. Except that it was full of people, and business as usual.

When I woke, at first there was a deep, blood-red colour, from horizon to horizon. Very ominous and cool. My heart quickened, wondering what such a dawn might herald. I'd been through dust storms in my home town, although I had never awoken to one so pervading and red.

I couldn't help but wonder what our campfire-gazing, storytelling ancestors would have thought. Would it be perceived as a herald of doom? Would they be joyous at the day's natural return, or bitterly disappointed that their reading of the situation may have been less than accurate?

Maybe, as afterthoughts, they would have conjured stories of heroic folk-legends who turned back the tide of the 'day of blood', saving creation from the teetering brink of doom, as celestial heroes had done in the night skies.

What magical tools would these day-saving folk-heroes have needed for their adventure? What villainous force of magic conjured the 'red mist'? How would the saviour have persevered against such a powerful enchantment? What morals would be espoused to young listeners?

Gets the imagination flowing, doesn't it? Far more entertaining than a meteorological explanation of merely dust and wind.

Technology may have won out over myth, but if I find the red dawn sorcerer responsible for this apocalypse, he's washing my car!

Welcome

Tue, 08 Sep 2009 12:05:31 +0100

Greetings and so forth.

Do you often buy a game without looking at the blurb on the box? Or a book without reading the outline on the cover? Or an unseen DVD without paying heed to the story on the case?

Well, maybe you've taken the gamble on the occasional DVD - sometimes a great list of cast or an amazingly grabbing picture may make you think it's worth the punt. And to be honest, they do say that a picture is worth a thousand words.

But words themselves are great, powerful, artistic magicks.

They can draw you into a world, painted in the most expressive and vibrant arena to date - your imagination!

Whether you overhear some juicy gossip from overly inquisitive neighbours, or come across a coded message of a certain Technological Terror (which is no mere moon), you can't help but want to know more of the story.

Games have become big, serious business. They are big players in the entertainment field, tackling proverbial media giants like a hammer-wielding, muscle bound, action poised, Norse god. So why should the stories in games be any less entertaining?

In terms of immersion, computer games require very active participation when compared to print and television. Mind you, I've definitely heard friends yell and attempt to interact with the television, especially when a big sport game is on. But they can no further influence the action on the screen than the supposed hurricane inducing butterfly wing-beat could effect the stars.

So, given that our players have the ability to become fully immersed and interactive, like with no other media, should we not treat them as special? Should they not have a meaningful relationship with the electronic people on the other side of the screen? Should they not be treated like royalty?

Of course - the player is king or queen when they play. Whole universes are at their feet, and they can command powers almost beyond human comprehension. Intriguing realms await, evil-doers are there to be thwarted, and young lasses are yearning to be rescued.

How can we further polish a game so that it not merely gleams, but is honed by stone, kevlar, waves, fire, breezes, and sunlight itself, to finally hue sub-atomic particles with its sharpness?

With grand and sweeping histories; with exquisitely detailed and described assets; with provocative and sinuous dialogue; with characters who have motivations, desires, and fears - layers upon layers of articulated narrative.

Then a game can grow even beyond itself and take on a culture of its own. It can gather a community, intrigue and appeal until it expands further, maybe to books, maybe even on to movies, to truly become an inspirational phenomenon unto itself!

Doesn't that sound wonderful? I'll see you there.