Editorial: Of Chess and Calvinball

2010.06.04

I never took games seriously until I became a student of philosophy in college.

For those of my readers unfamiliar with my educational pedigree, I hold a bachelor’s in philosophy from the University of Texas at Austin.  One of my professors, Daniel Braybrooke, held an awesome seminar on Utopia and utopian philosophy, comparing visions of the “ideal” society from Plato onward through Thomas More  (who wrote a fictional travelogue of the ideal society of Utopia that is the basis for so many of our modern expressions) and Niccolo Machiavelli, on through modern-day political philosophers like Karl Marx, Frederich Engels, and the various Dworkins of Dwork End in the town of Dworkington in the Dworkshire (something about that name makes one want to restructure society; also, possibly, cast gold rings into molten lava).

One of the philosophers we studied quite in depth was this guy Bernard Suits.  He held the notable distinction of being one of the only philosophers we studied who was not dead.  He also came and spoke to the class on two separate occasions, discussing his work, “The Grasshopper:  Games, Life and Utopia.”

It was Suits who showed a young, impressionable Lane that games held relevance to academia beyond the application of game theory, which has about it the stench of mathematics and other forms of wizardry.

Since Suits’ lectures, I look at games not only as interesting diversions, but as windows to my own psyche and even some of the more promising metaphysical puzzles of the universe.  The game is the only activity that a human might be said to engage in for its own sake. Strictly speaking, a game serves no other purpose greater than itself.  It is enjoyment reified.  Even a child’s play is a “game” in the broader sense of the term.  Certainly, such play is not a formal game like a sport or a contest, but play is structured, however loosely, and that structure gives rise to rules and what is and what is not allowed.

Kids with guns

This probably would have shot through someone's "cover" in a neighborhood war.

Like many young boys, I received a bounty of fake weaponry as a child.  Swords, knifes, guns, and clubs were regular participants in neighborhood games as a child, whether epic water gun battles waged in the heat of summer or the decidedly more insidious and universal game of “war” played between roving gangs of neighborhood children turned mercenary.  Even in these simple games, there were “rules” to follow, such as having to “die” when one was “shot.”  Failure to observe these rules could get one labeled a cheater, after all, and then no one would want to play with you any more (the analogy to international war crimes is apt and unsurprising).

The joke is that all philosophers do to engage in philosophy is take an everyday occurrence and ask, “why?” about it.  This joke is funny because it is true.  Suits, like many other before him, and others I hope that come after, looked at this activity of engaging in games, something that is universal to the human condition, and asked, “why do we do it?”

The trite answer, “because it is fun!” is trite only because it is entirely satisfactory as an explanation yet woefully inadequate to express the poetic wonder the philosopher encounters when she considers the phenomenon of games.

Yes, games are fun… but they are also a test of our abilities, a way of establishing hierarchies, methods for sharpening our skills at everything from flight to war to surgery to vocabulary.  Games make like worth living because they impose a consequence on doing something ordinary.  Where else but a game could one find the ability of moving an inflated bladder past an imaginary line on the ground something not only worthwhile but fun and exciting?  It is a ball being moved past a line.

An alien anthropologist encountering such behavior might think us mad… unless, as I suspect, the drive to play games is an outgrowth of sentience itself.  The sentient mind, the consciousness that drives and animates all thinking beings, requires stimulation, exercise, and diversion, the same as the body does.  Games are unique in being able to provide us this kind of mental stimulation so necessary to our enjoyment of life, because they take the everyday, the boring, and the mundane, and transform it into a puzzle for our minds.

Chess Pieces

Of Chess...

The greatest game ever invented is chess, and its many cultural variants.  Chess is, in short, a stand-in for war.  It is an antique, but not antiquated, method of teaching humans how better to beat their rivals.  To play chess is not merely to engage in a session of playing a game, but rather to engage with strategy in its pure form.  Speaking for myself, nothing is more calming and relaxing than studying a chess board and analyzing each move in terms of its strategic advantage.

Within this seemingly simple game of proscribed movements over a regular geometrical surface, endless possibilities arise with every move.  Chess moves, from the opening to the endgame, have been rigorously analyzed for centuries. Probabilities have been calculated, and we have even taught machines to play.  Yet it is still impossible to play “perfectly;” human grandmasters can beat machines, and machines can beat grandmasters.  That is because chess changes with every move made; no piece may move in such a way that does not influence the overall development of the game, from the lowliest pawn left in the back rank to the mighty queen herself.

I recently began tracking my strategic decisions in chess.  I am prone to stick to convention, playing 1. e4… as my white opening and using the Sicilian defense as black.  True to philosophy geek form, I asked myself, “Why?”

Strategy is strategy for a reason; things that work in games tend to usually work because games are creatures of limitation.  Any time a limit is imposed via rules, there will be “better” and “worse” ways of achieving the goal within those rules.  This upsets some players, who feel that their “creativity” is somehow dampened if there is a “cookie-cutter” or “ceteris paribus, best way” to play the game. I liken these people to the eponymous Calvin of “Calvin and Hobbes” and his game of Calvinball.  For those philistines out there, Calvinball was a game where a new rule was invented at every turn.  To the unsophisticated, Calvinball hardly seems like a game because the rules keep changing.  However,  to the people who feel constrained by such things as “cookie-cutter strategies,” Calvinball, with its sandbox and open-ended appeal, represents all that is good and right with the world.

What fools we be.

The “rules” of Calvinball are not strictly comparable to the “rules” of chess, which are, Bobby Fischer and chess variants be damned, inviolable.  Rather, the rules of Calvinball are like pieces in chess:  mutable at the will of the single “meta-rule” of Calvinball that a new rule may be adopted on declarative fiat of the players.  The “game” of Calvinball is not to do something with the titular Calvinball, but rather to make up new rules to confound one’s opponent.  The game evolves as new rules are expounded, true, but the basic method of play, the invention of new rules, remains constant.

Calvinball

and Calvinball...

One of the hot topics in the World of Warcraft community of late is whether the game has been ruined by the staggering proliferation of information about boss fights before hand, and the literal megabytes of data that can be collected and processed in the form of add-ons to assist in playing.  In my guild, for instance, no one raids with us who does not have certain add-ons installed.  These add-ons will not “play the game” for you, but they do provide on-screen representation of game mechanics that could just as easily have been hidden.  This got me thinking:  what if such things were hidden?  How would we process strategy if certain information were blocked off from us?

Which leads me back to chess and Calvinball:  in each game, there are hidden mechanics.  I cannot, despite my attempts at mesmerism, divine the thoughts of my chess opponent.  Nor can I predict the new rules that Calvin will adopt and plan accordingly.  In a traditional, tabletop RPG, the goings-on behind the dungeon master’s screen are shut off from my prying eyes.  But not so in World of Warcraft.  Omen proudly displays whether my damage output is so high that I risk drawing the ire of the boss from the tank to myself.  Skada provides real-time feedback on my damage output, so that I know how to adjust my performance.  Deadly Boss Mods provides on-screen visual timers for core fight mechanics, so that my timing is never off.  Raid frames and buff frames let me manage every aspect of my play, from the distance I am from my party members, to the specific moves I need to use and when to maximize my utility.

Until recently, I also used the add-on “Augmented Virtual Reality,” which let me draw directions to fellow raid members on screen and then publish them to the group, providing real-time direction to every player in the raid.  Blizzard eventually nixed this add-on as too much of an interference, a move I understand:  it really did feel like I was having my hand held throughout the entire encounter.

But is it really so different than the host of other mini-programs I have running to display things that, should they so desire, Blizzard could effectively lock me out of?  With regularity in encounters and the ability to see all of these “behind the scenes” mechanics, strategy has become a matter of math and common knowledge.  Not only can I give fellow players a winning strategy for every fight in the game, I can theoretically do so without ever actually playing the game.

AVR in action

AVR -- strategy laid bare

Of course, in the actual execution of this strategy, much is left to be desired.  There is still a large gap between theory and practice, and more often than not, that evil beast known as “human error” kills me.  Still, I wondered if my enjoyment of the game would not be heightened by hiding some of these mechanics.

And that is when it struck me:  the answer to the problem of MMO gaming, the next step in MMO evolution, had to appear like a regression.

Developers need to hide the ball from players more.

If it is possible to tightly control an encounter, where there is no true randomness, then it is possible to create the sorts of rote, mechanical types of execution needed to succeed as a WoW player.  A  few add-on installs later and a handy, how-to-win guide can be on the screen at any time during a boss fight.

If an encounter is too random, however, it is difficult to make it enjoyable, since the difference between success and failure might depend on something entirely out of the players’ control.  Imagine if, for instance, the concept of “threat” was abandoned and a boss could attack whichever party member he felt like (or, since it is a game, the random number generated dictated).  This would mean that players would always have to be on their toes, and no one would be able to settle in to tunnel vision.

Or, better yet, what if we made enemy AI in MMOs much more like the “AI” that plays chess against grand masters.  Instead of having bosses work like clockwork machines throwing out special attacks on regular timers and requiring players to respond, what if we programmed bosses with pre-set tactics and strategies in mind?   One boss might always target the person with the lowest armor value in the game with high-damage attacks, while another might randomly pick on any player with a set of melee-based talents.  Except that these facts would not be disclosed in any way to the players:  no matter what other information could be gleaned from data-mining game mechanics data, some things (the strategy of the computer AI) would always be off-limits to the player.

Now, strategy is not simply a matter of overcoming a set of pre-defined and regular environmental conditions, but rather reacting and responding to an opposing mind (however simplistic and mechanical) and that mind’s strategy.

One encounter in the previous WoW raid, the Trial of the Crusader, actually began down this path.  And I hated it at first.  I am speaking, of course, of the Faction Champions encounter.  I hated it because it felt too much like a player-versus-player fight (which I also enjoy) in the middle of a player-versus-environment setting.  But
the concept was sound; at least before everyone started to outgear the fight and it simply became a matter of “bum rush the healers!” However, is this not a valid strategy?  One type of chess opening is very aggressive and focuses on early development of major pieces. Sure, even a good player will lose a bishop or a rook here and there in such a fast game, but checkmate can also come faster as well because black has to defend against a fast-moving onslaught of white pieces.  It is a gambit, but sometimes it pays off.

What I want to see is that sort of flexibility in game design in the future:  possible to play conservatively and have slow and steady win the race, or to throw caution to the wind and hope the enemy is dead before we are.  Is this sort of game design feasible in the context of computer games?


Editorial: Stuff. How Does That Work?

2010.05.25

There are topics that pretty much write themselves. I have been writing professionally for over ten years now. I have had columns in every publication from my local newspaper (I covered sports!) to my high school paper (I was editor!) to my college paper (I was a loudmouth) to the Internet (I am the least-popular columnist on a moderately successful gaming blog!) and in the future, I have no doubt that I will be the most prolific article writer for my firm’s newsletter.

No words on whether I will still cover World of Warcraft. Is Blizzard an evil empire built on world domination? Yes? Oh, well I suppose I will then.

This week, Greater Nerddom lost one of its stalwarts — the television show LOST. Now, whether one was a “mainstream” geek with shreds of social respectability, or a basement dweller coated in the neon orange of Cheeto dust and blogging on Internet game sites, LOST was a topic for discussion. Some liked it, many hated it, most were confused by it, but for those of us that promote the art of speculative fiction, LOST represented a strange success: mainstream acceptance of genre fiction.

True, most people stopped watching when LOST ceased to be a soap opera with occasional flashes of sf, but more of us really got into the show when it conveniently forgot that love triangles are cliche and boring and started getting in to deep mythology and fuckin’ smoke monsters… how do they work?

This seems like it would be the opportune time for me to talk about storytelling in a non-linear fashion, unbounded by the limits of temporality or coherence, that LOST was famous for, and wonder if there were any lessons for game developers to take away from this popular TV series.

But I am not going there; if anything over a decade of writing has taught me, it is that low-hanging fruit is popular, generates lots of discussion, and leaves everyone feeling refreshed and hopeful for the future. It sounds nice, no?

Unfortunately, I hate everything with the fire of a thousand darkened suns of nether dimensions, and so people must suffer.

The optimal way to make my readers suffer of course would be to try to out-loli my fellow columnists, but I am sadly unequal to the task. I even combed the barren wastelands of 4chan, but all I got was a few phone calls from the Secret Service, a questionable look from my wife, and a newfound hatred for the “dick nipple.”

Therefore, everyone will have to wait until Friday for their dose of loliriousness, and I will slink back to my cave, defeated, and talk about storytelling.

LOST! Just like half of America!

Imagine if LOST were reshot by the Japanese. With Lolis. Lolilost. Ew.

Cracked magazine, not known for its humor, intelligence, or tact, had a decent article today. In it, a gamer lamented the reasons why gaming is not taken seriously, namely: misogyny, immaturity, racism, immaturity, misogyny, and Peter Molyneaux. Which is a good point — games are in their troubled teenage years. They are finally growing up, out of childishness and childish things (despite Nintendo’s best efforts), and in to maturity. But how, how can we shepherd these fragile young things into the sort of hardened, jaded, drunkenly sad adulthood we all experience?

No, for the love of God Nate, do not try and slip God of War a roofie and “make it a man.” Bad Nate, bad.

The point of this rather long, disjointed and frankly insulting diatribe is that we must abandon convention in game mechanics and storytelling. In more traditional narratives, a convention is called a “MacGuffin device,” something that does not exist for any independent purpose, but only to propel a story forward. The big MacGuffin of LOST is the Island, a place that exists for no other reason than to bring the characters together. I will not spoil it for anyone, but trust me, the fucking Island is a MacGuffin.

Using a MacGuffin is generally considered bad storytelling; it’s the deus ex machine of the modern narrative. It is lazy storytelling.

That is not to say that good storytellers always avoid MacGuffins. Many times the plot requires the use of a MacGuffin to propel something forward. It is the central artificiality of fiction writing that something improbable must occur in order to make the story interesting. Without it, stories are literally about the everyday, the blah, the boring.

MacGuffins frequently appear in game as a side-effect of the mechanics. Why do we feel the need to plow through faceless hordes of goons in an action game, or fight endless random encounters in an RPG? It is because these encounters exist to add an element of challenge and nothing more. Even advances in storytelling like Heavy Rain that make player input incidental to the storyline ultimately do not advance the story: it advances whether I shake the controller a certain way or no.

One of the best storytelling experiences I have had with a game in a while was Assassin’s Creed II, which, for all its typical ultraviolent shallowness (the modern day story reads like one of Dan Brown’s abortions) manages to weave gameplay and learning game mechanics in to the storyline. It is still a MacGuffin, but as far as breaking the fourth wall goes, it is far less intrusive than the damn Final Fantasy shake and sound blast that triggers a random encounter.

Assassin's Creed II

Wolverine in Renaissance Italy, coming soon from Joss Whedon

How can games advance beyond this point? One way that developers have been going (and will probably fail at, miserably) is to make games more immersive and responsive to real actions. See, e.g., Project Natal, Move, or that abomination the Wii. However, natural motions are generally preferable, in theory, to button presses. They add immersion. 3D, another terrible idea, would aid to the immersion. I fear, however, that until the virtual reality envisioned by luminaries like William Gibson or Neal Stephenson is made a reality, that true storytelling will forever take a back seat to convention.

Should, then, developers attempt to hide their MacGuffins behind artifice, in the vein of Assassin’s Creed II? It was certainly an enjoyable game, but are cheap kludges preferable to real solutions? Or do they just work to delay real progress? Fuckin’ stories, how do they work?


Editorial: Aging Gamers and Japanese Weirdness

2010.05.18

Gamers, I may be getting old.

Not in the conventional sense; I am still spry enough not to go on a final, 1980s sci-fi inspired run. But I think rather that in my maturity I am no longer able to dismiss as merely conventional to the artform that which my younger self might. I am speaking, of course, of the convoluted story that permeates modern RPGs, many of them falling from that increasingly senile Square Enix.

Like many of us, I have the nostalgic love of SE that could only be fostered by a nerdy NES/SNES addict. My first exposure to role-playing games came from a console, not a pen and paper, and as such, my love of fantasy grew from the Oriental, rather than the Occidental, tradition. This continues to shape my vision of fantasy today, as the fantasy I write owes much less to Tolkien and his imitators and more to the Eastern standards like Final Fantasy or Record of Lodoss War. As my appreciation for Western fantasy tropes has evolved through engagement with good fantasy literature, however, my tolerance for Eastern weirdness has slackened some.

I begin to wonder: is it me? Or have the major Japanese/Korean studios just lost it?

Monkeys!

Haha... monkeys.

Consider the first Final Fantasy game: my juvenile mind found no complications in its paper-thin plot. After all, bad guys need killing and worlds need saving, so hand me a sword and get out of my way. I was astounded by the relative depth of Final Fantasy IV in regard to its earlier cousin: named characters, progression, romance (what my younger self would have called “mushy stuff”), family betrayals. This was real story!

But by modern standards, even that august game’s story is showing its long teeth.

Somewhere around Final Fantasy VI, however, the series began its descent. Final Fantasy II introduced gamers to the aspect of a plucky group of rebels sticking it out against the evil empire, but VI was the one (and only) game in the series that gave that theme some actual gravitas. Rather than the empire being cartoonishly bad, it was merely a greedy empire… only a certain laughing lieutenant was really “evil” in the cosmic sense, and all he wanted to do was exploit a non-human race’s powers to become a god. Gotta love that subtext!

Final Fantasy VII attempted to continue this theme of Othering and colonialization by ham-fisting its way into the arena of environmentalism, telling us that it was not groovy to drain the planet’s lifestream (oil? Mother Earth has oil for blood?) and unleash cosmic mayhem upon the world through genetic manipulation and cloning. Or something.

I wonder how much is lost in translation (since my Japanese language skills are not on par to tackling a video game) and how much of if the story really is muddled and badly-told.

The successive iterations of this theme through the ages of Final Fantasy (and Square’s numerous other games) have only further solidified that I have no idea what the hell is going on in the writer’s heads.

At the same time, Western studios, once purveyors of material not worthy to grace the tables of cheeto-bedusted Dungeon Masters basement-wide, have started producing modern material that is not only moving and significant, but feels like it can meaningfully engage the minds of players (see the Mass Effect series). Why the difference?

It bothers me on a deep level; I feel at once driven by a sense of brand loyalty to defend Square, and indeed, I do not need much prompting. I can feel the edifice of story surrounding recent releases (XII and XIII come to mind) but I cannot find a way to engage with it, to interface with the game in such a way that the story becomes meaningful and personal to me again. I wish to share the triumphs and sorrows of the characters; I wish to feel elated when they (I) succed, and crushed when one of our own falls.

Monkeys

Monkeys... monkeys... MONKEYS!!!

But with recent news that gaming giant Capcom might be shutting off its Western operations to anything but ports and translations, what does this mean for the East/West split in games? Are we forever bound to be one demographic divided by a large cultural and language barrier? Does the terminal weirdness of everything Japan mean that only those who engage with its pop art (anime, manga, video games) on a very deep level will be able to “get” its games? Is the reverse true? Will we ever see a normalization of game styles and the gaming life between the sometimes creepily obsessive video gaming population of the East (I am looking squarely at you, Korea, and your crazy Starcraft obsession) and the more laconic West?

Or am I just being paranoid? Does this post have too many rhetorical questions? Are they really rhetorical? Do I expect readers to attempt to answer them? Does anyone even read this? Or could I just talk about silly monkeys? Haha… monkeys.


Editorial: Leveled Out

2010.05.11

Is leveling an outmoded concept?

The idea of “levels” in an RPG comes from that old progenitor of our art, Dungeons and Dragons. Leveling exists as a way of keeping players from starting out with more power than they can handle. Even in modern games like MMOs or console RPGs, players start out relatively weak (level one) and progress to gradually more powerful by accumulating a virtual representation of time spent in game (experience points). This (badly) mirrors real-world skill acquisition, where time and effort can be put in to learn any specific skill.

Games like EVE Online eschew much of the traditional notions of leveling, preferring instead to focus on emergent gameplay or a “sandbox” style of gaming where players write their own rules and conditions for victory. While this open-ended approach has its definite bonuses as far as satisfaction goes, it is more difficult to break into at a much more visceral level. Consider the difference between a game like Tetris and one like Super Mario Bros. The former is technically challenging, requires enormous amounts of strategy, but is ultimately endless and rewards the player with nothing more than some arbitrary metric of success. The latter, while much more constrained, has more defined conditions for victory and as such is more capable of rewarding the player forthright.

Still, perhaps we are too quick to segregate sandbox versus limited games. Maybe each game can learn from the other.

The focus of this column will be on how traditional MMOs, in the vein of Everquest and World of Warcraft, can learn from sandbox games.

The most basic problem to deal with is the concept of the level. Take the current situation of World of Warcraft. A new player picking up the game today has eighty “levels” of content to get through before beginning the process of obtaining the required gear to begin endgame play. For those of us playing the expansion at the level cap since its release, this is trivial: our professions are all maxed out in terms of skill, our gear is climbing toward the best available, all quests and achievements have been secured, and we are winding down to prepare for a new adventure.

It is, in short, too daunting a prospect to try and bring up someone new now.

The problem is the level. Currently, levels 1-79 are a minor hiccup along the way to the true meat and potatoes of the game, which is a shame, because there is so much in that wide expansive pre-endgame world that is worthwhile. But it gets seen and experienced maybe once.

Leveling comes to us from D&D

The character sheet is the effigy of leveling... burn it!

How is the problem of level solved? Two things must be achieved in order to adequately solve this problem: (1) progression must still be gated enough to extend playtime and lessen burnout and (2) player reward cannot be a function of time spent in-game.

To meet each of these criteria, I propose the following three changes.

3. Skill, Not Time

Player skill ought to count for more in MMOs. The current model of button-pressing and movement is far too simplistic to be effective at gauging skill. Platformers and action games have far surpassed RPGs in terms of actual skill required. If games are restructured to reward skill, solo viability goes up. Currently, it’s possible to do anything in a game as long as player power outweighs the content; it trivializes old content. Consider the case of the Ulduar raid in WoW. Take any 10 or 25 people and the vast majority of the fights are laughable in terms of difficulty… unless one attempts the “hard modes” where skill, more than the ability to use gear to achieve “big enough numbers,” is required.

How is this applied to our level-less game? Currently, a level two fighter character may gain some basic stat increases and a new attack. What if, instead of simply gaining that at level two, a player had to work and achieve specific goals? Instead of simply pressing “learn attack two” from a trainer, the player actually had to take take her character out into the wilderness, meet the ancient swordmaster, and perfect a series of button presses in order to learn a new attack?

In this way, players “progress” to the endgame not by spending the required amount of time doing endless “kill six snow moose!” quests, but by learning the intricacies of their class.

Knowledge, Not Gear

The current system (again, imported from Dungeons and Dragons) of new armor and weapons granting more powerful abilities also acts as an artificial gate to progression, but all too often, “good gear” becomes a substitute for “good skill.” The obvious fix (make good gear hard to get) does not alleviate the problem: then only good players with lots of time can get good gear. This leads to an artificial limitation of good gear and good players at the top, but excludes the masses.

The other extreme is equally unpalatable: when even the worst of the worst have access to good gear, it creates a false sense of achievement.

A controller

Manual dexterity is not something that is the province of the console any longer; now MMO players must familiarize themselves with the button combo

Instead of tying player potency to gear, a good designer could instead tie potency to how well a class synergizes with the others in the group. New armor and weapons could provide unique effects that are not necessarily directly related to the main skills. Instead, a more powerful sword swing could be achieved by properly timing the button combination necessary to activate it. Knowing which attacks go well with a player’s fellow members could provide group buffs. Instead of forcing players to go all-out seeking “big numbers,” strategy could come in to play. One player could distract a boss by a quick hit followed by running away, while others ambushed that boss.

In this way, even new players could attempt the higher levels of content, provided they (1) had the skills and (2) knew what they were doing.

People, Not Mechanics

Current top-end players achieve what they do by spending lots of time getting to know their class and playstyle intimately, then spending a lot of time practicing the encounters, and finally by attempting to exploit the rules of the game in such a way as to maximize the chance of victory while minimizing liabilities. While this is well and good for large, dedicated groups, more casual players will often have to sacrifice “ideal” party setups for the party setups available.

The easy fix is again the wrong one: homogenization takes the flavor and fun out of the game, and forces players into narrowly defined roles for the sake of encounter tuning. If developers tune the encounter to a perfectly-balanced group, then it is impossible without such a group. If they tune it down from that kind of group, a well-balanced group can power through the encounter.

A Party!

If rigid party make-up is necessary, developers should force party designs, like in FFIV. Otherwise, more flexibility must be built in to the game.

Instead of then giving each class a toolset that sometimes counters certain types of effects and denying those effects to others, each class needs to be able to do a certain amount of times: each class needs to provide a buff to like classes (a synergy), a buff unique to its role (a group buff), a specific debuff to place on the enemy, and two or three abilities tailored to its role. For instance, all tanks need some way of generating both single-target and area-of-effect threat, and to mitigate damage. All damage dealers need both single-target and area-of-effect damage abilities, and healers likewise need both single-target and group heals.

Now, within this basic framework is a large amount of room for innovation, particularly in the focus of the class. There is nothing wrong, from a design perspective, with one spellcaster having an area-of-effect focus, while another has a single-target focus… as long as these “niche” roles do not exclude them from performing other roles.

Conclusions

As long as the game is focused around forcing players to earn their abilities through skill and perseverance; performance is based on knowledge of class, environment and encounter; and people are allowed to form parties with some flexibility, traditional games can extend their playability and player base by providing an easier entry point, but still provide sufficient challenge that those who are truly excellent players can distinguish themselves from those with merely a lot of time.


Editorial: Nothing Is New Under The Sun… Or The Monitor

2010.04.30

A common feature of video game developers is that they are greedy and do things that they should not. Occasionally, this is the brutal and savage despoiling of classic works of literature. Other times it is an affront to humanity, sanity and good taste.

However, sometimes the naked greed and opportunism takes on a different shade… a shade of blue.

A discerning reader might ask, “Why not an Avatar MMO? Avatar was a very popular movie that redefined the term spectacle. The first thought of many upon seeing a world of floating rocks, aerial waterfalls, and strange beasts was that they would like to liv…

Oh, fuck it. They thought it was Thor-damned Nagrand, and started looking for Hemet Bloody Nesingwary.

Nagrand:  Home of Orcs, Ogres, and A Weird Crystal Ship

If only there was some indigenous blue-skinned race tha... holy shit! James Cameron ripped of "World of Warcraft!"

There is a persistent problem with unoriginality in games. Occasionally, riffs on the familiar come out awesome (see the review of Torchlight posted on this blog a few weeks back), but most of the time, they feel crass and unwelcome, like the cold touch of a doctor’s stethoscope against one’s nethers.

What?

Looking back at some of the best games of the last twelve months, more than a few have been sequels: Mass Effect 2, God of War III, etc. A few have been pretty repackaging of common stories, such as Dragon Age…. which in a way was just a fancy graphics update of Baldur’s Gate!

Have we reached the point where innovation in games is not possible until some technological revolution comes along that changes the basic, organic rules from which games can be drawn? Or have I just missed the really cool stuff because I am still attempting to “Get Lich or Die Tryin’?”*

*PS: We have been working on the Lich King for freakin’ weeks at this point. WHY WON’T HE DIE?**

**PPS: Yes, Lusipurr, I know that is a contraction. You can sue me. No, literally. You can. I will win, but you could. And that is what is important.


Editorial: Them Thar Vidja Games ‘n Art

2010.04.23

Are video games art?

Roger Ebert, cantankerous old man, sly philosopher, and part-time movie critic, says no, quite famously. Video gamers and developers have been trying ever since. Ebert’s rebuttal has some gaming eggheads in a tizzy.

As a fellow egghead (BA in Philosophy from the University of Texas, represent!) I must find myself respectfully on the side of the garrulous geriatric, for part of the way, at least.

Art, that is, human endeavor that has as its primary purpose the stirring of emotions within the subject, has a tenuous connection to what we call art most of the time. Chalk this up to a few bits etymology, sprinkled with philosophy and theory to taste.

We have the “arts of war” and the “liberal arts,” but neither of these uses of the term “art” is precisely equivalent to “art” qua what Ebert is talking about. Is a painting art? Probably. Is me painting my wall art? No. Graffiti? Maybe.

A lot of it depends on the intent of the maker; the vandal who spray paints a giant penis on a billboard is not intending to make art but to deface a billboard. The clandestine muralist that reclaims a dilapidated urban space by spray painting a giant mural, on the other hand, can be said to be engaging in some form of artistry.

The common conception of “art proper” includes all of the visual arts, such as painting, sculpture, and architecture, and probably now also includes literature, film (and other broadcast media) as well as music. But is all music “art?” Should we grant the status of “true art” to Nickelback?

You can literally hear the suck from a silent picture

Sorry, Ginia... Nickelback is awful and a justification for pre-emptive nuclear strike.

To some degree, the precise circumference of “art” is a political game, and that is where Tycho is absolutely correct. The “old guard” (consisting on anachronists like Lusipurr and apparently Ebert) will suggest that the circle be drawn small, so as to avoid unfairly elevating dreck to the status of art. Radicals like Tycho, on the other hand, will enlarge it so that DeviantArt gets included, against all better sense of judgment and taste.

It is hard to say that, given the standard definition of art as an object whose purpose is to inspire an emotional reaction, DeviantArt/video games/Nickelback do not fit the definition. Perhaps as a matter of taste they should be excluded, but taste is irrational and will not suffice to ground a theory of art.

We might then compensate by discriminating between “pop art” (which is low-brow and can include tasteless things like Nickelback) and “high art,” which is reserved for really high-minded things like Reubens obsession with chubby girls (I wonder by former President Clinton did not decorate the West Wing in Reubens paintings). Art might include outstanding works of literature, like Thomas Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow, while Twilight (a… piece of writing… that certainly inspires strong emotions) gets to be pop art, but all this is doing is drawing two circles and saying, “some circles are more equal than others.”

Ebert, however, seeks to avoid this (at least when it comes to video games; no word on his views on Nickelback) by stating that because a game is a distinct activity with a goal in mind (winning, or at least no losing), it does not have the evocation of emotion as its primary purpose, and it cannot, a fortiori, be art.

LOLCATS? IN MY BLOG?

This is an example of "pop art." If it can be a type of art, why not video games? At some point, the art label itself becomes too broad to be meaningful. Like furry "art."

If we grant the “traditional” definition of art, Ebert is entirely correct. A game is not art, though it may contain art and artistry, because it requires play between the gamer and the game system. However elegant and beautiful it is, then, it fails that litmus test.

But we have already identified the traditional definition as somewhat problematic. A straightforward logical application of the criterion reaches many things that are not art (e.g., Nickelback, Twilight) and might potentially exclude something that is art.

To that end, I propose a cessation of hostilities between the gamers and the fuddy-duddies. Who cares if video games are art, if ultimately, the name and prestige of being “art” is preserved only by political wrangling and the exclusion from that term things that lack serious emotional and intellectual value (like Twilight)? What benefit to gamers and game developers is being hailed as “art” if all it means is that developers get invited to swankier parties?

Humans love to find value in their work; they love to have their work recognized by external, social indicia of achievement. “Art” is one such trophy that any creative person might strive toward. But in the end, if all striving of art is toward nothing more than peer recognition, does not that taint the title itself? The high-minded nobility of art is supposed to be found in its purity, its elevation from the tangled mass of “viewpoint” that so clutters human experience. In this way, art is much like “objectivity” or “reason” or any other phantasy of the human mind. It is a good way of making us feel like we are more than we are, and in lying to ourselves about its nature, we tarnish an act of greatness by placing it on too high a pedestal.

Greatness in creative achievement can apply to all forms of creativity, from the rude clay sculptor, to a cave painter, to a caffeine-fueled code monkey grinding away at a video game. The difference is not between art and non-art, but between Chopin and Nickelback: one represents true excellence at an endeavor, and the other, a muddled jumble of sound strung together to make money off of gullible youth. To that end, I propose we celebrate not art but greatness, in all its forms, as something that might temporarily illuminate some small facet of the human condition.


Review: Torchlight

2010.04.16

Torchlight is an odd game.

That is not to say that it is bad; it is, by most respects, an awesome Diablo clone. It ought to be, as the developer, Runic Games, is comprised of some of the development staff from the original Diablo game.

Diablo itself is merely an update to the Rogue-like formula: an adventurer starts out in a town and descends to the depths in search of treasure and to vanquish evil. This genre has spawned several timeless games, like Sword of Fargoal, Nethack, and Angband. These games are lightweight, can run on even the oldest, non-graphical systems, and almost every electronic device out there. One day, we will see Nethack played on blenders. Mark my words.

Torchlight does not mess with this formula: it plops the player down in a mixed-tech, quasi-steampunk setting, gives them a weapon, and says, “Off to the Ember mines with you!” As is to be expected from former Blizzard employees, the story is quick, engaging, and even a little light-hearted at times.

Gameplay is surprisingly deep, with mechanics for combining and enchanting the weapons the player buys, socketing of weapons and armor with gems, and multiple talent trees that allow for a high degree of customization of the three basic classes — a melee fighter, a ranger markswoman, and a caster-type.

The user interface is clean and easy to use. Movement is controlled via simple point and click interface, and standard attacks are performed with the right and left mouse buttons. It is simple enough to work on a laptop trackpad or a pro-grade gaming mouse (this reviewer has used both).

Graphically, the game uses very stylized, cartoonish graphics. Most of the game happens from an isometric viewpoint. At higher resolutiuons, the game looks like a painting. At lower ones, it looks like the average free-to-play MMO. One interesting technological quirk is that it is capable of running on netbooks, those tiny glorified smartphones. And this is not some, “Oh, we can jam it on there!” hack. The developers included a “netbook” mode in the configuration utility specifically for this purpose. It has been optimized to run on the most basic of systems.

Mac and Linux users need not feel left out; although the developers promise native clients (the game avoids the dreaded DirectX) for these systems, the wonderful people at CodeWeavers and their “Crossover Games” WINE implementation support it almost out of the box. For my Macbook Pro, all I had to do was install Crossover Games, install Steam from within the Crossover Games menu, and then install Torchlight from Steam. Aside from minor graphical issues with some of the fire and shadows rendering far larger than they should, the game runs flawlessly in windowed mode with no slowdown, no interface lag, and without causing my laptop to heat up noticeably, which is saying something for a Macbook.

More savvy Linux users could likely avoid even the modest price of Crossover Games, provided their WINE skills are up to the test.

For an excellent game with absolutely stunning production values, high replayability, and the ability to have lots of fun across nearly all of the electrical devices in a person’s collection, a typical Gamestop®™© price tag would be justified. However, Runic is charging only a paltry $19.95 US for this game. That’s right; for the price of feeding a family of four at any fast-food restaurant, anyone can own Torchlight.

BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE!!!

The developers, in a display of magnanimity rarely seen outside of the halls of charity, have made the game skinnable and modable, and even encourage player-created content. That is what makes Torchlight so odd: no big-studio budget, but very solid production values outstripping many big-box games. Runic’s developers clearly care about their product, but have not locked it down. Although it lacks stunning graphics, as a concession, the game is playable on an amazing variety devices. With its autosave feature, it can even be played in very short bites.

I would not be entirely surprised if iPad/iPhone/iPod versions were not at least being discussed around Runic’s offices.

This is the sort of game development that deserves the supoprt of game fans. Should you find yourself with a spare $20 here or there, drop it on Torchlight (via Steam!). If you do not have $20, well, Lusipurr and I still have our crushed velvet suits, and there is a lot of money to be made out there. Pimpin’ ain’t easy, but that is the sacrifice we are willing to make for you.


Editorial: An In-Depth Analysis of Proposed Warrior Changes in World of Warcraft

2010.04.09

Rage is all the rage in World of Warcraft these days.

Blizzard has begun to release their updated class previews for this fall’s expansion, Cataclysm. As Warriors are classically superior to all other classes, especially do-gooder paladins and wimpy magi, the topic for today’s discussion will be how Blizzard is about to RUIN THE WARRIOR CLASS ONCE AND FOR ALL. *cue maniacal laughter*

All Warcraft classes perform their functions via resource management. For healers and spellcasters, this is mana management. Use a big spell, run the risk of depleting your mana too soon. Spam too many small spells, run the risk of the same problem. Finding an efficient balance of both low- and high-mana spells in the proper order is key to maximizing utility from those spells. This is largely true of all RPG-type games. Consider the D&D action rules: you have a certain number of actions that can be performed in a turn, and the best use of those, including your associated feats or spells, is determined by encounter context.

World of Warcraft, on the other hand, has always been a game subject to intense mathematical and statistical analysis called “theorycrafting.” Because it is a computer game, and therefore subject to rote and mechanical conventions of programming, savvy thinkers/players are capable of understanding (to a high degree) exactly how these conventions and rules work together to create the gameplay, and hypothesize the most efficient and economical methods of playing a class. This leaves dreadfully little room for innovation, as all top players will play with some variation of the same strategy. The depth one might expect to find in a more complex game, such as chess, is lacking.

Part of this is due to the aforementioned computerized game nature. The other part of it is due to an overall philosophy of game design: if you control the available “winning” strategies, then it is easy to balance the game around those strategies since playing outside those strategies is effectively “punished” in the form of a nerf.

An example: a particularly enterprising player discovers a novel way two of his abilities work together. By meticulously selecting gear so that certain stats are emphasized, picking up a few odd talent choices, in a certain limited area of the game that player can become dominant by using an unforeseen combination of skills, gear and talent choices. This causes the game to be unbalanced as, because the playstyle is emergent, class balancing developers did not take it in to consideration. But, this is not a small game played by isolated individuals. At least this player’s guild, if not her opponents or her readers on blogs and fora, will begin to copy this playstyle. Because articles like this one, the official Warcraft forums, and other sites like Tankspot or Elitist Jerks provide encyclopedias’ worth of WoW information, this isolated incident of innovation quickly becomes the “new norm,” requiring a rebalancing back to where the developers wanted it.

The general consensus among developers is “enjoy it while it is good, because it is going away soon.”

Come out and play!

Warriors! Come out and play!

However, some classes have mechanics which exacerbate this problem. The vast majority of WoW classes are easy to balance because they all work on the same resource system. Mages, Warlocks, Hunters, Priests, Paladins, two types of Druids and Shaman all use the mana system of resources.

Only the Death Knight, Rogue, Feral Druid and Warrior have different resource systems, and the Feral Druid copies note for note the systems of Warriors and Rogues. This makes, in effect, four* resource systems shared between ten classes.

*NB: Hunters are getting a new resource system in Cataclysm, and details are sparse on how it works.

Death Knights, being the newest class, have an interesting two-phase resource system. They have a static amount of “Runes,” two Frost, two Blood, and two Unholy, that renew on a regular “cooldown” after being used. The use of certain baseline abilities is done via combinations of runes, meaning that at the start of a fight, a Death Knight has instant access to most of her abilities. As the Death Knight expends Runes and attacks an opponent, a secondary resource known as Runic Power is built, allowing for more complex and powerful attacks as it builds. This allows a Death Knight player to play very strategically, to have pre-planned combinations of attacks ready to deploy as the conditions of the fight dictate.

Similarly, Rogues and cat-form Druids use Energy as a resource system, with a secondary resource system of “Combo Points.” Energy is a guage which starts at 100, is expended via basic attacks that build Combo Points, and refills based on a standard time coefficient modified by gear-based statistics. Because Energy refills at a regular rate not based on anything environmental, Rogues and cat-form Druids can also anticipate exactly what attacks will be available when. This allows for more strategic gameplay, with openers, building moves, and then finally, finishing moves that expend the previously-built Combo Points for large bursts of damage.

Bear-form Druids and Warriors, on the other hand, have Rage. A Rage bar starts at 0 (meaning no special attacks are possible) and then slowly fills as either of two conditions are met: the Warrior/Druid takes damage or deals damage. Talents in either the tank or DPS trees modify whether more Rage is gained from taking or dealing damage, respectively.

The downsides to this are obvious: Warriors/Druids are the only class that start off with zero resources and gain them over the course of a fight. While this means that they have effectively an unlimited resource, so do Rogues and Death Knights, although both Rogues and Death Knights start a fight off with at least some resources.

The kludge to fix this has always been to give Warriors and Druids an ability to generate free Rage that is not on the global cooldown. In practice, however, this becomes just another button to press for the sake of pressing it. No strategy is involved whatsoever with the choice to use Bloodrage. One simply does it, any time the ability is not on cooldown, because Rage matters.

To make matters worse, Rage scales on a parabolic curve. At low levels of gear, where not much damage is done and not much damage can be taken, Warriors are often resource-bankrupt, or Rage-starved. Admittedly, mana-based classes also suffer from low mana pools at this level.

At the beginning of endgame playing, however, Warriors and Druids are at a significant disadvantage. Our resource pools are lower, our resource gaining rate much slower, and consequently, our effectiveness quite hampered. However, simply increasing the rate at which Rage is gained (Rage normalization) proved to be disastrous during the start of The Burning Crusade. Likewise, buffs to Warrior/Druid abilities so that Rage starvation was less of an issue resulted in Warriors being overpowered when they had top-end gear, due to the way in which Rage scales. At high levels of gear in endgame content, Warrior/Druid tanks and DPS Warriors were in effective “unlimited Rage” situations, meaning that resource management was no longer a factor in playstyle, leading to imbalance. To further muddy the waters, a Warrior in excellent gear playing through old content would be hampered by being literally too good for the encounter. A Warrior/Druid tank in raid gear in a heroic 5-man dungeon, for instance, would be Rage-starved because she would not be taking enough damage due to the presence of too many powerful defensive stats on gear!

Many top Warrior bloggers, like WoW.com’s Matthew Rossi, as well as notable and noble Warrior forumites have said that the only solution is to fix the Rage mechanic once and for all. But a new wrinkle creeps in: if the Rage mechanic itself goes away, what distinguishes Warriors from being Rogues in plate armor, or Paladins without the holy goofiness?

Enter Blizzard’s first ham-handed suggestions. I do not write this in mere disgust, because these are just proposed design changes. I write instead hoping that Blizzard will take the pulse of community opinions, and veer from this course.

The Rage change as Blizzard has suggested it so far is a dumbed-down version of Energy. It lacks the principal strengths of Energy: predictability, secondary resources, and high starting amounts. It carries with it the same problems that plague the current version of Rage: spikiness, high-end gear will always be at infinite Rage, and the only way to generate instant Rage is by mashing pointless off-the-GCD buttons before every fight.

Dwarf Warrior

I am not sure what the story with this statute is, but it is awesome, just like Warriors can be.

Breaking it down, Warriors will gain a set amount of Rage with every normal swing. They will gain 50% of that amount with each off-hand Rage hit, meaning Fury Warriors will presumably gain Rage faster than Arms Warriors, which does not bode well for raiding Arms Warriors. Critical strikes will gain 200% of the base amount of Rage for that strike, meaning Warriors in high levels of gear will crit more often and have a fuller Rage bar more often.

This is problematic if the ideal is careful management of Rage so that not a drop is wasted. Saturating the Warrior with resources removes strategy and leads to imbalanced classes, which in turn brings ridiculous things like flat 10% damage penalties on the Fury 51-point talent. That Fury still tops the meters while laboring under a permanent handicap is telling that something is broken.

Tanking Warriors/Druids, on the other hand, will gain a set amount of Rage based on a multiplication factor by an unknown constant for damage taken, regardless of mitigating effects. This is a rather smart change: each enemy hit will generate a certain amount of Rage. Little hits will generate little Rage, and big hits big Rage.

The only problem with this is that non-melee bosses and monsters present permanent Rage problems to Rage-based tanks, forcing Warriors to once again dip into their ever-growing toolbox of abilities that generate free Rage for free Rage’s sake. No other class has to push buttons just to generate resources with no other tangible benefit.

Currently, the Warrior playstyle rewards high amounts of manual dexterity, fast reaction time to changing environmental conditions, and the ability to process several different visual sources of information at once and coordinate that with the aforementioned dexterity. I find it impossible to play a Warrior without the benefit of a specialized MMO gamepad and mouse, as well as several additional UI modifications to time my ability cooldowns and monitor my damage output for special processes (procs) that let me use my abilities. As such, Warriors (especially Arms and Protection Warriors) do not have set rotations so much as “ability priority lists” that are difficult to master and use effectively. This translates in to: good Warriors play their class competitively with all others, but there is a much steeper learning curve and greater penalties for mistakes for the Warrior than there are for other plate-based melee and tank classes. Ceteris paribus, a Warrior, Death Knight, and Paladin are roughly equal as melee DPS or tanks. But a well-geared, well-played Warrior is not necessarily as good as a well-geared, well-played Death Knight or Paladin due to the differences in class mechanics that make Death Knights and Paladins more forgiving of the occasional mistake.

To many in the Warrior community (myself included) this is a badge of honor and pride, because it has to be. Well-played and good Warriors make me smile for showing off what my preferred class can do in the hands of someone that enjoys the class. But from a long-term game development standpoint, it is bad to make a class so difficult and iconoclastic that it becomes an irrelevance for future balancing decisions.

Although some of the proposed Warrior changes, such as the elimination of the “on next swing” abilities Heroic Strike and Cleave, are genuinely excellent ideas that need to happen, much more is necessary to fix a class that, while not broken, is certainly more cumbersome than it needs to be. To that end, I suggest these things:

    1. Eliminate free Rage abilties — these blights upon the class make us push buttons for their own sake, rather than to achieve something in the game. Either provide a benefit to pressing these buttons (damage buffs, survivability buffs, etc.) or remove them and find some other way to give Warriors a starting amount of Rage.

    2. Make Rage management strategic — Blizzard has promised that Warriors will get a new ability that grants a bonus for a full rage bar, but this is counter-intuitive to the DPS warrior philosophy (though it will be welcome for tanks). Currently, and even with the buff, there is no incentive to forego using special abilities to build up a full Rage pool, and there will not be in Cataclysm either unless full Rage is a condition that will be unavoidable from Rage gain mechanics.

    3. Change the way the resource is built — as long as gear scaling affects how the resource is built (not merely the speed at which it is built, like Energy, or the total pool that exists, like Mana) class balance will always be done around hypothetically-best gear in the hands of top players, leaving us mere mortals in the dark.

    4. Remove ridiculous Stance penalties — damage tax for Defensive Stance needs to die in 2010. The way Battle Stance and Berserker Stance work now is great: improve on that.

    5. Fix the movement abilites — Juggernaut and Warbringer were necessary to provide Protection and Arms the mobility of Fury. But Fury’s Intercept ability is usesless compared against a Charge. Make Charge usable in all stances and in combat, and remove the need to drop a point for Juggernaut or Warbringer. Remove Intercept altogether. Keep Intervene because of its use on friendly targets, as part of the tank’s toolbox. Let talented Charges do things like break roots or stuns, so that they have the PVP utility people want, while keeping the baseline movement abilities the same for PVErs.

    6. Give warriors a secondary resource — if our closest relatives in the class world are Rogues and Death Knights, why do Warriors not have a secondary resource system to manage? Warrior damage is all physical, all the time. We have great situational abilities, but our class is always in danger of being too similar to other classes because we lack something unique and warrior-y to differentiate us. What I think needs to happen is that Warriors need a secondary resource (like DKs or rogues), something like “Willpower.” Warriors expend Willpower-based abilities (our strikes, shouts, etc.) that do moderate damage or provide a buff but cause high rage gain. Then, we burn off that rage with special moves like Overpower, Bloodthirst, Whirlwind, Execute or Devastate. Our rage starts at 0 and can go up to 100, but it can also go down to -100. If we are at 100, we get an “Enraged” buff. If we are -100, we get an “Exhausted” debuff, and have that scale between the two extremes. Therefore, there is a cost associated to over-expending Rage, but running out of Rage will not punish us by shutting us down completely. Willpower could regenerate at a regular rate like Death Knight Runes or Rogue Energy. That way, Fury could be a class based on stoking up lots of Rage and expending it for high damage. Arms could be based on carefully controlling Rage, gradually building it higher, until a “kill shot” was needed, and then massive burst could be unleashed (for both PvP and PvE utility). Protection would burn off Rage to keep up threat but use Willpower to avoid being Exhausted and losing survivability and threat.

Warriors are not a broken class; they continue to (and I suspect, always will) be well-represented in the end-game due to the dogged persistence of many Warriors at playing the class and the few unique buffs they provide. However, for such an important lore-based class to the game, in order to maintain longevity of the class and to entice new people to play it, substantial modifications are needed. Please, Blizzard, listen to your players.


Editorial: Of JRPGs and Nerds… and Nerd Love

2010.04.02

Wii Gets a JRPG That… Seems Familiar

It is no secret that 99.99% of all Wii titles are absolute, barely-warmed gorilla shit served up in chintzy plastic packages meant to entice young people into a life of degradation, filth and kawaiiiiiii!

It is Japan’s masterstroke in return for the sins of DARUBIN AND WHAAARRUUU.

Slightly more mature anime fans and die-hard JRPG freaks can rejoice, but not too much, because that much physical activity is dangerous in the basement. Xenoblade appears to be getting the North America localization treatment, meaning a few out of work voice actors will get a contract that will shatter their lives and careers forever.

It is tempting to hate all Wii RPGs on principle alone: they degrade the genre as a whole just by appearing on the console. Still, one cannot help but shake the feeling that this is all too familiar, that this territory has been covered before. Then again, this author remains convinced that there are exactly two JRPG stories that get constantly recycled, and giant robots fighting an ancient war filled with ancient powers of ancient darkness where only a hero foretold in an ancient prophecy can…

Upcoming JRPG for the Wii -- Xenoblade

I do not think the Japanese know what the prefix "xeno" means.

You know, I cannot bring myself to write it. It is like TV Tropes threw up in here.

Speaking of Throwing Up — Gamer Love!

I am married; this was not an easy feat to accomplish, bookish and awkward as I am. The curse of the appellate attorney is that we are like Gollum. We live our lives locked away from civilization in dusty, dank caves formed from the towering stacks of law books we must have memorized. Our constant association with the most cacogenic and evil forms of life in the universe (other lawyers and judges) leaves us inept, unable to recognize emotional and social cues in others, and somewhat pale and moist.

In other words, we are just the kind of fine specimen that you want to bring home to meet the fam… if you want them to disown you.

My wife is a beautiful, talented and long-suffering, putting up with my endless obsessions with the pixellated world, books with lurid covers and titles like “The Shadow of the Torturer,” and of course “raid night.” I attribute this to the fact that she can mop up the ring with my ass in Tekken. She understands the primal joy that takes one at the moment of total domination and pwnage, and for that, I shall love her to the end of time.

So I get the fact that other nerds might need assistance, from time to time, in the dating arena. But… well… no. Just no. This idea was so bad Blizzard used it as an April Fool’s Joke. Penny Arcade did their best to sum it up in three panels, and as usual, succeeded.

This is wrong, just wrong

If you are a model, and would like to beat boys at video games (because no one but boys plays them), have we got a service for you! *Note: all misogyny in this service is completely intentional. We think men and women are both too stupid to fend for themselves.

Social networking meant for gamers will have the same problem that social games have: the only people actively engaging in seeking companionship will be in entirely the wrong proportions. That is, the available, non-sociopathic, non-creeps will be vastly outnumbered, and any likely suitors/suitoresses will be frightened off by the crawling, grasping misogynist hordes.

Mixing pleasure and, well… pleasure is a bad idea. The virtual world of games is divorced from the reality of what a relationship takes, and what seems safe and appropriate when you are slaying a giant, cartoon dragon is very different when attending a public function together. As a rule, your boss is not a fan of you pelting him with dinner rolls while yelling “HAMMER OF THE RIGHTEOUS!” Fuckin’ Paladins.

No, good singles of Gamer-land, there is no substitute for the old-fashioned way of meeting a suitable person or person of your preferred gender: clean yourself up, make yourself presentable (that means a shower, with actual soap, a little grooming, and some clean clothing) and showing up at a public place where people with similar interests and start striking up general, pleasant and non-creepy conversation.

And as always, remember, when the inevitable role-playing comes up in an intimate situation, paladins cannot wear the Helm of Disintegration.


Editorial: Gamestop Gonna Get Sued

2010.03.26

If it may please my constant readers…

Ladies, gentlemen, and assorted nether creatures of the Internet, we have gathered today to discuss a matter of grave legal important to the gaming community: that of the threat of Gamestop.

Gamestop’s business model has never been… model. Now, some disgruntled consumers (does Gamestop have any gruntled consumers?) have decided to sue over Gamestop’s used-game model.

The discerning reader may ask, “why is this a lawsuit? Surely no one could have actually lost a jurisdictional minimum amount to bring suit in even the lowest county courts of a state. And you would be correct. You might even ask: sure, a consumer could be fooled once by Gamestop’s insidious sales pitch, but twice? Thrice? Enough to develop a claim that any but the most destitute and starving lawyer would deign to take without a sizable retainer?

The answer, my dear Watson, is the class action lawsuit. A class action is where a definable group of people bring a claim through a class representative (in this case, James Collins). The reason a class is used is because the total number of people with standing (that is, those who have suffered actual injury) is so large that it would be impractical and difficult to satisfy everyone’s rights without trying everything together in a single, massive action.

Abandon hope all ye who enter here

Abandon hope, all ye who enter here!

Collins’ complaint is simple: various games sold by Gamestop in the original packaging promise downloadable content, such as extra levels, weapons, armor, or other non-essential yet valuable content. Much of this content is redeemable only with a single code, which presumably would have been used by the original owner. The purchaser of a used game has no claim on this content… but it is still advertised.

But is that really a valid suit? After all, should consumers have a reasonable expectation that they are buying a full game when they buy it used and at a discount, especially when disclaimers appear on the packaging that downloadable content is available only to first-time purchasers? Would a consumer expect a used car, for example, to still be under the manufacturer’s warranty?

On the other hand, electronic media is quite different. A person that buys a used DVD expects to get the full DVD experience… but what about a DVD that contains a single-use code for a digital download? Does a second-time purchaser have the same rights to make a digital copy as the original purchaser?

These are not unimportant questions: in a changing world, where distribution is moving away from hard copies to digital, what does it mean for people that purchase a used copy of something? Cases like this are how those issues are shaped and litigated. How would you decide this issue?