#98: The Virtue of Virtual Tabletops

As a child, I spent a lot of time playing tabletop games with family and friends. From the nearly universally reviled, yet still somehow popular Monopoly, to the card games like Yu-Gi-Oh, hours of my time were spent over a kitchen table. With the passage of time, however, things have changed. For many reason, I am no longer able to play these types of games as much as I want to. And like with most of my problems, I turned to the digital world for a solution.

Over the years, I've played a lot of “virtual tabletop games” as a substitute. Despite being extremely similar, they are unique compared to their low-tech brethren in quite a few ways. The most obvious of the differences is the ability to play online, on virtual tabletops. As we aged, the friends that I used to play games with grew apart. On top of that, many of those I am acquainted with today live in separate parts of the country, or even the world. Getting together in the same room to play with any of these guys is wildly impractical. However, it is possible to hang out virtually. Whether it's a large group playing an RPG-campaign through Roll20, a small gathering in a game of Armello, or just a friend and I on Dueling Network playing a children's card game, the physical distance that prevented in-person gaming has stopped being a concern. We can just get online, put a game on, and get on Skype, and we’re in for a pleasant evening together.

Of course, even if my friends were closer and more able to get together, I could still see us using virtual tabletop games in lieu of physical games for the aid of the computer. One thing I notice, especially in tabletop RPGs, is that there are a lot of numbers, calculations, and other tedious aspects that can be difficult to keep track of. Depending on the game and the players, this can detract from the experience. Moving into the virtual space allows for much of this to be automated. With a computer keeping track of health, damage, resources, and equipment, I found it a lot easier to focus on the interactions and role-playing when my friends got together or an RPG session over Roll20. This made it much easier to just play the game and enjoy the time we all spent together.

When tabletop games are brought into the virtual world, they can even make use of mechanics that would be completely impossible in meatspace. One of the most classic examples of this is the so-called “Fog of War” used in the X-Com games. If X-Com was a board game in real life, the player would have be able to see every single character and item on the field. However, because X-Com is a video game, it is able to conceal those elements. Every soldier the player commands has a range of sight, representing their visual range. The player can only see enemies and objects that are inside that radius. Everything else is hidden under the “Fog of War”. Armello also uses a variant of this mechanic to hide by allowing characters to be granted “Stealth”, making them invisible to other players under specific conditions. This type of obfuscation is just one example of what can be accomplished easily in the virtually, yet highly impractically when brought into the reality.

Even though it's become wildly impractical for me to play the tabletop games I used to love as a child, the video games that bring them into the digital space have helped to fill that void. And in many cases, their virtual nature allows them to surpass their origins. There are still practical concerns that can't be avoided no matter how one plays, like arranging a time period to play with friends who all lead busy lives with hectic schedules. Still, playing virtual tabletops instead of actual tabletops reduces the barrier of entry into something more manageable when arranging play sessions with my friends.

Impressions #3: Final Fantasy X HD

As a Final Fantasy fan, it would be against the law for me not to buy the HD remake of Final Fantasy X and X-2. Final Fantasy X in particular holds great significance to me. It was the game the introduced me to the RPG genre way back when it was released in 2001. Sure, I had played demos of other RPGs before on those old PS1 demo discs, but this was the game that cemented what would grow into a great love for the genre. With that in mind, I was eager to see both what additions the International release brought on, since that content was added to the HD version. Also, I was curious as to how the game holds up in the context of modern game design.

One of the most striking changes the International version of the game added was the new Expert Sphere Grid. As most people know, in all versions of Final Fantasy X, character development is handled by the Sphere Grid. Characters gain “Sphere Levels” by participating in battles and acquiring AP. With Sphere Levels, they can advance along the grid, spending Spheres in order to increase stats and acquire new abilities. The Sphere Grid that most Final Fantasy X players are familiar with in the “Standard” Sphere Grid that came with the North American release. While that grid is still in the International (and, by extension, the HD) release, the option exists to switch to a new “Expert” Sphere Grid at the start of the game. This grid allows for significantly more customization of the cast.

A problem with the Standard Sphere Grid everyone is familiar with is that it basically partitions the grid evenly between all the character, dividing them into very distinct character archetypes. It was less of a grid and more like a series of corridors, where each character had their own to traverse. Though it was technically possible for characters to go into other characters' sections of the grid, that would be rare and mostly occur towards the end of the game when players had high level Key Spheres to break the locks separating them. Each character would mostly stick to their defined roles.

While the cast still have their own classes in the Expert Sphere Grid, there are gray areas where some paths along the grid intersect. As an example, Lulu's and Yuna's paths in the Expert Sphere Grid frequently have points where the ladies can encroach on each others sections. This means that Yuna can gain a bit of Black Magic and Lulu can gain a bit of White Magic while they both still generally stay on their main paths. (In my current playthrough, Yuna currently has all first and second level elemental spells.) The physical fighters also have similar intersections along their grid paths, which leads to them all being able to visit and borrow from each other as much as the player wants/needs.

I personally like this a lot better as this seems to really utilize the full potential of the concept of the Sphere Grid. While the Standard Sphere Grid might as well have been a standard leveling system for all of the customization it allowed players, the Expert version delivers on the promise of using a grid to let players more strongly control how characters develop. However, it exacerbates the problem in vanilla Final Fantasy X where Kimahri was the most useless character by far. In the Standard Sphere Grid, Kimarhi's section is the center of the grid. His gimmick is that the starting points for all other characters Sphere Grids are right next to his and blocked by low-level locks. Therefore, he can gain the skills and assume the role of another character. However, in a game where every character is a specialist against a specific enemy type, this is not all the useful. With the extra customizability found in the Expert Sphere Grid, Kimahri's gimmick is even more useless.

Another minor addition was the addition of new “Distill” abilities. Like the “Distiller” items in vanilla Final Fantasy X, these skills force an enemy hit with them to drop a specific type of sphere. (For example, “Distill Power” forces an enemy to drop Power Spheres.) These skill cost 1MP, so they are inexpensive to use. New weapons found in the game are also imbued the the property to inflict Distill statuses on the enemy. This helps players better control the spheres that are dropped by enemies. This does not help much in the late game, since spheres of all types are very common. However, this is a great help in the early game, where specific sphere drops can be more/less scarce depending on how far the player is in the game.

Surprisingly enough, Final Fantasy X holds up surprisingly well, despite some clearly dated game design principals. I think part of the reason for this may be that while modern Final Fantasy games seem to be aiming for a more action-oriented, cinematic style of combat, this one is purely a turn-based game. I do not mean to imply that real-time combat systems are intrinsically bad. (I will defend the battle systems for Final Fantasy XIII, XIII-2, and Lightning Returns.) Rather, that a purely turn-based game in the context of modern RPGs is a refreshing change of pace.

One of the things that was best about Final Fantasy X was that players can switch between members of the party at any time, even during battle. This means that if the player finds that another party member would be better suited to a particular enemy, they can swap them in to better fight them. Thanks to the way combat works, this is necessary. With the exception of Kimarhi, every character has a set of foes that they are uniquely suited to fighting: Tidus can handle agile enemies. Wakka can take down flying enemies with his magic soccer ball. Lulu can dispatch elementals and flans. Yuna's summons can take on large, tough foes. Auron excels against armored monsters. And lastly, Rikku can easily disable machines. The fact that every character has specializes in taking down specific enemies helps to sell that every party member is necessary in order to complete the journey to Zanarkand. It is a nice, small touch that adds to the game.

However, there are negatives aspects of the game as well. One of the biggest complaints that I have regarding Final Fantasy X are the Cloisters of Trials. In the world of Spira, summoners acquire new summons, or Aeons as they are called in game, by praying to the fayth, souls trapped in stone. There is a temple for every fayth. In order to reach the fayth of a temple, the summoner must attempt the Cloister of Trials to get to their chamber. (These are mostly mandatory and required by the story.) Each Cloister takes the form of an annoying puzzle that both halts the flow of the game and wastes a large portion of the players time. Usually, the puzzles are pretty easy to solve. Unfortunately, they are usually so slow to solve because of the number of steps involved in the solution. Virtually every one of these puzzles feel unnecessary and halts the flow of the game.

As for the HD graphical upgrade, it is interesting to behold. Although it is certainly pretty, it seems incomplete in a way. Though the major characters have very nice models, the secondary case and the town NPCs all still use fairly low-resolution models. Since the environments have also received a nice upgrade, this makes all the minor characters stand out for the wrong reason. There are also some interesting results obtained from the HD upgrade. As an example, Yuna's model in particular makes her look surprised at everything, thanks to the wideness of her eyes. Also despite the new visuals, the game makes it clear that it is a PS2 game at its core because of the way the characters move on screen. This is not surprising, given that it is just a visual update. Overall, the game looks really good.

As of the time of writing, I have not yet finished the pilgrimage to Zanarkand. Because of this, I have not yet fought many of the new bosses like Penance or the Dark Aeons. Perhaps when I have finished a more through playthrough of Final Fantasy X HD, I will write an addendum piece to this describing any further thoughts I might have on new content. However, I do not hold me to that as I might change my mind. Based on what I have seen though, there is enough here for both old fans of Final Fantasy X and JRPG fans who never played the original game to give it a shot.

#68: Kingdoms of Amalur vs. Skyrim: The Intimidation Factor

Like many people out there in the gaming space, I like to try to play games to completion. Though I do that with fewer and fewer games as I grow older, those games that particularly interest me still fuel that urge to do everything I can before moving on. Because of this, I am all too familiar with some of the frustrations that come from such a playstyle. Open-world RPGs can be either great or horrible for people like myself. On one hand, we always have something to do, because those kinds of games will almost always have a quest or two hidden away for players to find. However, completions like me are never able to completely move on from them, because those kinds of games will almost always have a quest or two hidden away for players to find. Despite this problem, this genre can be implemented in ways that can either exacerbate this feeling or lessen it in people.

Two open-world RPGs in particular are the subjects of this weeks article: Kingdoms of Amalur, which I recently got finished playing, and The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, one of the most successful games in the Elder Scrolls franchise. I want to talk about these two games in particular for a very special reason. Both games have tons of content. So much so that players could spend hundreds of hours playing either game and still never be able to complete it all. However, when I think of trying to do everything in Kingdoms of Amalur, I can't help but be intimidated by the thought. Not because any one piece of content is particularly overwhelming, but because I feel that it will take so much time, become so boring, and progress will be so slow that I just lose any desire to keep playing the game. At the same time, the thought of exploring the land of Skyrim, despite all the criticisms I have levied at that game over its lifespan, fills me with delight. Just writing about it now makes me want to go back, reload my save, and keep exploring the land to look for all the things I undoubtedly missed. At this realization, I sat down and thought for a bit as to why that might be.

The first explanation I came to for this is that Kingdoms of Amalur makes the sheer wealth of content available much more obvious than Skyrim does. When traveling through a given area in Kingdoms of Amalur, players will often come across bright yellow question marks on the map. Each of those symbols represents a quest which the players can stop to complete. This means that a player can gauge exactly how many quests are in given area by just filling out the map and counting how many yellow question marks show up. This is in fairly stark contrast to Skyrim. In the latest installment to the Elder Scrolls series, players are not explicitly told where or how to find quests. Players need to talk with people in towns or settlements in order to obtain quests. While sometimes NPCs in the game world will come up and petition the player character for assistance, the player themselves will generally be the one who has to begin interactions in order to discover new content.

Though these two systems lead to the same end, in which the player discovers quests and content to do, they accomplish different things in the mind of the player. In the case of Kingdoms of Amalur, all the content is made readily apparent to the player. In Skyrim, the exact amount of content is obfuscated. So when I go into an new area in Kingdoms of Amalur, I think to myself that this could be a potential 6-7 hours sitting right here just doing missions completely unrelated to anything else in the game. Entering a new town in Skryim, I can complete whatever errands I need to run and talk to a few villagers to find some quests I need to do. Without the constant reminder that there is a new thing to do in the city, it is easier for me to trick myself into thinking that I have “completed” all the quests in town, when in truth I have barely scratched the surface. Nonetheless, I walk away with a feeling like I accomplished much. In Kingdoms of Amalur, when I finish a quest, I feel like it is just a drop in bucket because I can see another 3-4 quests just in this one grassy plane. It is a subtle shift in the way it makes players think, but a key one that affects the perception of the whole game.

Another contributing factor to the difference in feeling of intimidation in one of these games, but not the other is that contrast in how combat works in each of them. In Kingdoms of Amalur, the combat is very visceral. There is a surprising amount of depth to it. Players need to stay aware of their surroundings in order to dodge enemy attacks, while trying to create an opening to stagger the enemy. If they are not careful, then they themselves will be knocked down and on the defensive. Each weapon type has its own combo chain, with strength and speed unique to that type of weapon. Though not difficult, timing and planning are quite important, and even enemies of equal level can wear down the unprepared (especially when there are mages in the enemy formation). On the flip side, Skyrim's combat is quite bare bones. It is quite trivial to button mash one's way through most encounters the game will throw at the player. Magic and stealth characters can use spells and backstab to change things up, but the mechanics are fairly simple and do not need much knowledge to fully grasp.

Let me preface my next statement by saying that I enjoy the combat in Kingdoms of Amalur. In fact, the combat was one of the most enjoyable parts of the game. However, that kind of combat against dozens and dozens of encounters has a way of gradually draining the player's mental stamina and enthusiasm for playing. As fun and fairly easy as it is, the sheer number of enemies the game throws at the player are not quite compatible with the type of combat. Also, the foes in Kingdoms of Amalur are quite durable, so taking them down can be fairly time consuming. While Skyrim also tends to have a lot of enemies come the player's way, the simpler mechanics lend themselves to that more readily. Enemies tend to fall fast and easy. It is not as mentally draining to play through waves of enemies in Skyrim than it in Kingdoms of Amalur, so playing through it is more bearable, despite its combat being worse overall. As a result, it is much easier to play hours and hours of Skyrim than in is to do the same in Kingdoms of Amalur. I can also play the latter for an hour or two before I feel the need to save and shut it off.

I find it interesting to compare and contrast similar games, because there is much to learn from such analysis. Both games are likely in many ways, but the way they implement their systems can leave completely different impressions of the audience. What is even more interesting is that I know there will be people who disagree for many different reasons. I am sad that Kingdoms of Amalur did not do so well, because I think they could do so much better if given a second chance. Hopefully, people will be able to learn from what went wrong with the game in time. Until then, there will be guys like me out there to over-analyze games like it in the vain hopes that others will listen.

#63: CRPGs: Why are They Always so Terrible to Start?

Much of my time this summer has been spent playing games from a bygone era. Because I have only recently started gaming on the PC a few years ago, there is a whole backlog of games, both old and new, that demand my attention. Of those older games on my backlog, I have mostly been playing some of the classic RPGs (cRPGs) from the late 90s and early 2000s. These titles include games such as Baldur's Gate and it's sequel, Baldur's Gate 2: Shadows of Amn, Planescape: Torment, and Neverwinter Nights. All of these games used the Dungeons and Dragons license to create what were essentially virtual DnD campaigns, even using the same rules and systems. As a result of all the hours I have poured into them, these types of games have been occupying my mind and most of my thoughts lately. Although each of these games had their own way of utilizing old school RPG concepts, they mostly seem to have glaring flaws in one particular area: the beginning.

In almost every one of these games, the beginning is easily one of the worst aspects of it by far. This runs counter to what one might consider to be the logical way to design a video game. After all, the introduction to the game, including story and mechanics, is the point where the designer has the responsibility to hook the player and keep their attention. If the start of the game does little to generate interest and convince players to stick with it, than it has failed at its job. In my opinion, there are a number of contributing factors that led to this phenomenon. This week, I will discuss why I believe this happens and possible ways to help mitigate the problem, now that the genre is seeing a bit of a resurgence in the realm of Kickstarter.

One of the biggest reasons that the introductions to cRPGs can have problematic introductions is that often many of the most crucial choices a player will make in the game are done at the very beginning, before the player is even introduced to any aspects of gameplay. The Baldur's Gate series is a pretty good example of this. In both games, when the player selects “New Game”, they are immediately bombarded by a list of options. First, the gender of the protagonist character needs to be selected, followed by their race. After that, the player chooses which of the playable classes the protagonist will be (and if they wish to utilize any of the class kits made available). Next, the karmic alignment of the character is chosen among the axis of Law/Chaos and Good/Evil. It is then that the main character's statistics, include Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma need to be allocated from a static, finite pool of points. The same must also be done for weapon proficiencies (and Thief skills if that is the protagonist's chosen profession). Finally, the player is left with cosmetic choices like appearance and name.

As one can easily discern, that is quite the list of choices that need to be made. This alone can prove to be a daunting task for new players, but it is worsened by the fact that there is no real context with which to make those choices in beyond a typical DnD adventure. The player has no idea what kind of obstacles they will be facing along the way, which playstyle will suit them best, nor the amount/variety of situations they will be thrown into. At the very best, they can make an educated guess based on their own personality and possibly the track record of the company who developed the game. The player does not even know anything about the plot when making these decisions. Worst still, once they have been made, there is no going back and no way of correcting any mistakes aside from starting anew. If the player decides about 3-4 hours in that their character is no longer working for them for whatever reason, there is no way to mitigate the damage done and try to change tactics. (There is an exception if they are playing as a human, giving them the option to Dual-Class. However, since both games have a hard experience cap, this too may cause problems if not done early enough.)

However, not all cRPGs have this issue, despite its prevalence. Another, very well-loved game from this genre, Planescape: Torment, had a pretty interesting way of skirting around this issue. The only real significant choice players needed to make at the beginning of Planescape was which statistics to put points. Even that decision was partially made for the player, since no stat could be lower than 9 for the protagonist. Most other characteristics of the player character were either preselected or were emergently generated as a result of play. The player character of the game was a human male that had immortality, but no name and no memory of who he used to be. “The Nameless One”, as he was called by the game's text, starts out as True Neutral-alignment Fighter class. This can change depending on what actions he takes over the course of the game and whether or not he chooses to undertake training as a Mage or a Thief. As long as there is someone willing to train The Nameless One, he can always undergo a class change if his current profession no longer suits the current situation. Even if the player learns that he/she did not allocate his stat points favorably later on, leveling up to high enough levels of any class will grant them more stat points to allocate, so even then there are ways to “fix” any perceived damage done. All these elements combined give players the ability to react to the game and adapt to challenges as they progress as opposed to working around challenges based on what their party is capable of doing at the time.

Another very common problem I noticed in the introductory sequences to classic RPGs is that oftentimes the initial encounters are fairly difficult. Often, I found myself encountering enemies that I could not have been reasonably expected to defeat at the start of the game, even on the easiest difficulty setting. One example of this comes again from the Baldur's Gate franchise, although this time from the first game. I have a very distinct memory of the start of that game. After leaving the first town of Candlekeep and officially beginning the story, I explored the starting area of the game, just the very first zone. As with many games I play, I wanted to do as much as I can in a given area as possible before moving on. While looking around and making sure I did everything and talked to everyone, I encountered a brown bear. Thinking that this was the first zone, and therefore the designers could not possibly think to throw a challenge at me that a starting character could not be expected to overcome, I used my Thief skills to Hide in Shadows and go for the Backstab Critical. Despite landing a successful attack and dealing damage, the bear turned around and hit me, killing me in a single blow.

This was not the only such experience I had playing these types of games. In the first chapter of Neverwinter Nights, shortly after the prelude, players are task with locating four creatures important to the story scattered across the city of Neverwinter. I decided to check out the Prison District because that was my first lead. There, I defeated quite a few random thugs through Sneak Attacks and liberal use of ranged weaponry on my way. While exploring the area looking for clues as to where to go next, I was attacked by a Thug Leader and died when he landed a successful Sneak Attack. When reloading and successfully fending him off, at the cost of quite a few healing potions, I pressed on into the Prison District's sewer system. Shortly upon entry, I was felled by another Gang Leader and three of his henchmen. It took the use of console commands to boost my character's level a few times in order to defeat this foe. Only ten minutes later, I needed to utilize the console again in order to fight a Sorcerer whose spells kept defeating me in a single deadly blow.

This is a pretty simple problem with a pretty simple solution. All it requires is a better balance of enemies encountered throughout the adventure and a more clear communication of where tougher enemies are located. Although there is no way to be absolutely sure where players will go in these kinds of games, designers do have a general sense of what most players will do and in what order it is done. This can be used to better balance the encounters and provide a steady progression of more and more difficult opponents. Furthermore, since game designers know how much experience players can be typically expected to gain over the course of a given segment (through play testing and tuning the number of enemies and their positions), it is possible, though still admittedly difficult, to use that information to better tune the level and types of encounters throughout the game.

Though not exactly a classic RPG, and highly contentious among its audience, this is something that I found that Fallout: New Vegas did very well. At the start of New Vegas, players are explicitly directed to take the South path around to the town of Primm. However, the player is allowed to head north through Sloan if they choose. Should they do so, they will be warned that it is smarter to turn around and go the other way because deathclaws patrol the area. This clearly communicates to the player that the enemies they will encounter are well over their current abilities. With this information in hand, most will make the decision to go back and take the South path, which has weaker enemies that are designed for low-level players to fight. Some will undoubtedly go and fight the deathclaws anyway, but the intent and direction of the design has been made very clear. There is little in terms of ambiguity. As a result, the game has a steady progression such that players will rarely face a challenge that is too tough for their level unless they are deliberately making the choice to give themselves a tough challenge.

I am overall very pleasantly surprised by the coming resurgence of this particular genre of games. Though I have only recently begun to play them for myself, I find that there is a lot designers and players can do with it. However, I hope that the designers of this new wave of cRPGs learn from the mistakes of their predecessors. While many were of very high quality, they were far from perfect. There is clearly lots of room for improvement. The introduction is of particular importance to get right. Without a strong intro, players can find themselves quitting a game before it realizes its full potential. I hope that my advise will not fall on deaf ears.

#56: The Timeless Question: What is an RPG?

Most of you out there know that I love to talk about video games. I derive pleasure from discussing what makes certain games work, where they go wrong, whether or not their stories make sense, and so on. Out of all of the questions related to video games that one could asked, there exists two that I dread seeing. These two are “What is a game?” and “What is an Role Playing Game (RPG)?”. This week, I will be discussing the latter because the topic came up on Twitter the other day and the realization dawned on me that I would be unable to answer that question in a series of 140-character posts. The fact is that there are so many games under the umbrella term of RPG that a definition that is broad enough to include all of them, yet narrow enough to exclude other types of game. With that in mind, coming up with my own definition and then working it around all the kinds of games in the genre would be impossible. Instead, I think it would be best to analyze all the games, from Mass Effect, to Fallout, to Final Fantasy, to Kingdom Hearts, that people mostly agree fit under the term and create a definition of “RPG” based on what all of them have in common.

The first of these characteristics that I notice in all RPGs is an overall sense of progression. By that, I mean that as the game goes on, there is generally a sense that the protagonist is growing and getting better at certain feats. Most of these games accomplish this through an experience/leveling system. As players accomplish objectives and dispatch enemies, they gain experience. After enough experience, they level up and gain stats and/or skill points used to purchase abilities. This model is one of the most common, appearing in Final Fantasy, Persona, The Elder Scrolls, and many similar games. Other franchises like Fallout add perks to this to further a sense of growth. While this is the most common method of instilling a sense of progression, it is by no means the only way to go about it. Both Deus Ex and its modern sequel, Deus Ex: Human Revolution, employed different systems. The original Deus Ex gave players Ability Points directly, after completing objectives or finding certain locations, which they could spend on skills from different types of weaponry to more passive skills such as First Aid, Lockpicking, or Swimming (which I would not recommend). Deus Ex: Human Revolution had experience, but instead of ability points which increased certain skills, they allowed protagonist Adam Jensen to unlock the cybernetic augmentations he is equipped with. Regardless of what systems are in place to encourage it, an RPG always has some way to make the player feel like his/her character is growing in either skill or power.

Another very common characteristic in RPGs is that designers tend to place a very large focus on the world and its inhabitants when making them. If players take the time to talk to people and explore in an RPG, they can expect to learn about economies, cultures, society, geography, political struggles, and more regarding the world or region that it takes place in. Games like The Elder Scrolls and Fallout (both older and newer titles) can boast a very rich and detailed world just waiting to be explored. That is one of the biggest draws of those games, and a topic I have written about before. Also, Bioware games like Mass Effect, Baldur's Gate, or Knights of the Old Republic serve as good examples. Like it or hate it, a major part of what makes the Mass Effect franchise so popular is that Bioware took the time to envision and develop a very vivid lore that most of the fans fell in love with. Learning about all of the various races, their cultures, and beliefs is half the fun of the game to some players. This is also true for the Japanese side of the RPG moniker. While games like Final Fantasy and Persona do not necessarily need to have very detailed background information due to how linear those games tend to be, players of them are often treated to pretty interesting worlds like the land of Spira in Final Fantasy X or the rural town of Inaba in Persona 4. The people and places all have there own story. The church of Yevon and the story of its creation and internal corruption are as fascinating as the discovery of a world inside the TV and all of its mysteries. When it comes down to it, all RPGs have deep, interesting worlds to learn about and/or explore.

The last element that I have noticed in all Role Playing Games to some extent is a feeling that the player has some element of choice in how the player character/party develops. Admittedly, this one is going to be a bit of a hard sell, so hear me out. In most western-style RPGs, this characteristic is pretty obvious. Usually, the player gets to choose what skills the protagonist has and/or how they develop. This is usually tied into the development system, similarly to the sense of progression. Players can often be asked at the start what class they wish to play as, a tactic employed in Alpha Protocol and other games. This can either be used separately or in combination with a system that gives players Ability Points to spend on skills as they rank up. Another well known system in Western RPGs is Skyrim's system where skills develop as they are used. From the other side of the coin, in JRPGs, this characteristic may be less noticeable, but I feel that it is still present. Games like Final Fantasy usually have characters evolve on static and fairly predictable paths, at level X they acquire ability Y. However, all of these games have some form of customization. The very first Final Fantasy allowed players to choose their character classes at the start of the game. The second had abilities level up upon using them. The third and fifth had job class systems that allowed players to experiment with different classes and truly customize their characters to their own playstyle. And most others allowed players to pick their party from a very large group. All of these games have some element that allows players to pick their own way to play through the game. The other notable JRPG, Persona, is also extremely well known for this thanks to its system where the player character and hold and use different personae while the rest of the party can be chosen from a diverse cast of character, although earlier games in the franchise allowed all party members to switch personae. Every RPG allows for players to think for themselves and play through them in their own way.

To me, all of these elements are what separate an RPG from other genres of video games. A strong sense of progression and customization along with a detailed world are ultimately what binds all of the games under this heading together. While this is the definition that I have reached, I will not claim that this definition is absolute by any means. Feel free to dispute and criticize my opinion on this subject all you like. I would welcome the conversation gladly. Whatever your own opinion is, I encourage you to discuss and share it with others.

#41: The RPG Cultural Divide: East Versus West

It is no secret that there is a huge cultural divide between Western and Eastern styles of video game development. Due to the way each region of the world developed on similar, yet fundamentally different, lines over the centuries, the games developed by each regions cater to wildly different tastes and demographics. The most obvious divide we see is the one between Role Playing Games developed between the two regions of the world. Though both derive from the same RPG systems (like Dungeons and Dragons), they each took those systems in wildly different directions indicative of their cultures. We are all at least somewhat aware of this since we distinguish between Western style and Eastern Style RPGs, but what really separates the two? This week will be dedicated to answering that question.

The first key difference between the two styles of RPGs is that while Japanese RPGs generally tend to emphasize being part of a team, Western RPGs have a higher focus on the individual. We see this manifest in a variety of ways. In Eastern RPGs, like Final Fantasy, the player rarely takes the role of a single protagonist. Instead, they play as a group of people who are working together towards a common goal. While there is often a very clearly designated “lead character,” (Cecil in Final Fantasy IV or Cloud in Final Fantasy VII) they were always just the head of a group and not a significant figure that can do everything by themselves. Even in the later games of the Persona franchise, which borrows many tropes from Western RPGs, the player character is the team leader. Though exhibiting great power in their own right, they have party members and teammates to rely on. Their powers are even a direct result of connecting with others and forging bonds, still indicative of the team aspect of many Eastern RPGs. Compare this to RPGs developed in North America and Europe. In games like The Elder Scrolls or Mass Effect, the player is placed squarely in the center of the action. They are directly responsible for doing things. It is not a small team of individuals completing objectives and advances the plot, but rather one person. Even when the designers give the player squad-mates (like in Mass Effect) or companions (like in Skyrim or Fallout), the protagonist is clearly the driving force, the strongest character in the game, and the one who takes control at key story events. The lead character's individual contribution to the plot is highly valued over the contribution of other characters.

Another way in which Eastern and Western RPG design are separate is in the way they allow players to interact with the plot of the game. In an Eastern RPG, developers generally have a very tight reign on the narrative. There is a plot to the game, yet the player has limited ability, if any, to influence it. When they are given agency, it is only with regards to minor details. A good example of this is the blitzball tournament near the beginning of Final Fantasy X. The player is technically able to win the tournament. However, if they do, they will only receive a slight reward for it. Otherwise, the plot advances as the same way regardless of whether the player won or lost, and it is never mentioned again past that point. This is not a criticism of the game, but merely an observation of what JRPG developers expect of their players. On the opposite side of the world, Western RPGs have a very strong focus on player choice and how that choice influences the narrative. Players are given a higher degree of freedom to poke and prod. Developers ask players to look around, gather information, and make decisions that will directly affect the game experience, if not the overall plot of the game. While absolute freedom is impossible, since games are just programs and thus have constraints, they try to loosen the reigns as much as possible. The ability to make choices that affect the events of the plot is best exemplified in some of Obsidian Entertainment's latest works like Fallout: New Vegas and Alpha Protocol. These games force the player to choose between several factions, each with their own views on the events at hand, and pick sides. Another example of choice in games is the Mass Effect series, despite my criticisms. The plot itself will generally remain generally the same, but the player can impact events and change many of the series's key events in significant ways. Choices have consequences and the franchise forces the player to live with them. In essence, Eastern games took a few liberties with the concept of role playing while Western games tried to stay truer to the concept. Both are valid tactics, it all comes down to the designer's preference.

The final point I will make with regards to the difference between Eastern and Western RPGs is the JRPGs tend to be of a generally slower pace than their Western counterparts. Though there are exceptions to the rule (like the Star Ocean franchise), JRPGs are usually turn-based or semi-turn-based. Battles focus on taking in all the relevant information and making good moment to moment decisions into order to win. The speed and flow of battle is intentionally slowed in order to give players time before committing to certain actions. Tactical thinking and good strategy is much more important in these games than speedy inputs or reflexes. The Final Fantasy series is very well-known for this. They pioneered the Active Time Battle system that has become a staple of the franchise and one of the most enduring examples of turn-based gameplay. For a while, the West used turned based systems as well. They worked well for the isometric RPGs of old (and still do). Though even back then, those turn-based games had a faster pace than their Eastern counterparts. Now that we have come to modern gaming, Western-style RPGs have become more action-oriented. Instead of being an outside force directing a group of people in a turn-based fight, games like The Elder Scrolls and Mass Effect have the player actually play as the main character in a three-dimensional space, moving around and engaging enemies directly instead of being some omnipresent overlord directing from over the shoulder. While they are not always as quick and visceral as shooters and action games, Western RPGs were always significantly faster and more direct than their Eastern equivalents: It has just become more pronounced now. It is the player themselves, as the Dovahkin or Commander Shepard, who goes through and defeats hundreds of enemies. However, it is worth noting that this one is even less of a hard and fast rule than my previous two points. It is more of general trend and there are multiple games that deviate from it.

I must once again stress that this is not meant to criticize the style of either region. Like my earlier comparison of Fallout 3 to Fallout: New Vegas, it is more of a compare/contrast between development styles. Depending on the goal of the video game, be it in mechanics, plot, etc., both of them have benefits and drawbacks inherent to their design. Though unlike the Fallout comparison, these two styles could effectively be considered separate genres entirely because they are that different from each other. It is fascinating that two groups can take the exact same inspirations and achieve different, yet equally viable results from them. This speaks to the cultural differences between us all. It is not a bad thing by any means. In fact, I think it is to be celebrated. That is why games are treated as forms of expression and speech. They speak to us and to our sensibilities. All these different people and philosophies brought together by a love of entertaining the masses. Truly, I can think of few things better than that. :)

#38: The RPG Genre: Back to the Drawing Board

Most people who read this regularly are aware of how much I love Role Playing Games. I love them for their emphasis on story and player interaction with the story through their mechanic. It is fun to play through these games and be truly immersed in a brand new world and its story. However, these games are far from flawless. Being video games, they can only do so much in terms of simulating a world. Since all games are just computer programs, they have to be represented in ways that a computer can easily process and display. In the old days, the limitations caused by the technology of the time inspired a number of RPG genre conventions. That was way back then. In the modern day, many of these technical limitations no longer exist because of the way technology constantly evolves. Developers are no longer bound by the technological limits of that past and are capable of doing much more with their games.

However, many of the old conventions and styles that were seen back then, once used to abstract many of the things that were (and sometimes still are) difficult to represent any other way, are still present in the RPGs being created in the here and now. A few days ago, I had a conversation on Twitter with escapistmagazine.com contributor Grey Carter about some of these mechanics that have withstood the test of time. Specifically, whether or not it is worth it to keep these mechanics around. In this week's post, I will apply my analysis to the topic and see if video really did kill the radio star. Is it time we rethought RPGs and how they act in a mechanical sense?

As usual when writing an article like this, it helps to define what I am referring to so that we are all on the same page. When I refer to an RPG, I mean any story-focused game with a strong sense of character progression and/or customization. This can mean anything from the Final Fantasy games of old all the way to more modern games like Fallout: New Vegas or Mass Effect 3. I will be taking a look at how these games use old school mechanics and why they use them in the way that they do. Then, we will see if it is possible to do things differently now, either making the game either more immersive or improve them in terms of control, role-playing, or entertainment value.

One of the biggest conventions of the RPG genre is the use of skill points as a way to represent the player character's proficiency with regards to certain disciplines, both in and out of combat. In a (semi-)turned based RPG, it makes sense for characters to have stats that represent their ability to perform certain actions successfully, be it firing a gun, casting a spell, swinging a sword, hacking a computer, or talking their way out a dangerous situation. Since it is difficult to have much in the way of player input in a turn-based game, skill levels are the only way to differentiate one player's character and style from another player's. The only way to show player progression in a turn based game is to increase their character's stats and skills, which affect overall damage output and chance of success. Considering the technical and mechanical limitations of such games, implementing a system of stats and skills the determine how talented the player is makes total sense.

When we move into a three dimensional, action-oriented space, this quickly becomes irrelevant. In an action-RPG like the more recent installments in the Fallout franchise, shooting mechanics and player skill are now factors in the success of the player. However, in these games, there exists a system of stats and skills that influence the outcome of confrontations and events. Improving weapon skills increases the damage output and accuracy of weapons governed by it while doing the same to non-combat skills allows the player to do more with them via Speech checks and minigames. Sadly, I do not think any of this is necessary. Since we now have a fully realized world with combat comparable to (though not better than) many First Person Shooters and minigames that require player skill to execute properly, it makes less sense to abstract these elements. For RPGs like these, it may no longer make sense to even have skill levels and points for the character since the player's own skill, which will improve over the course of the game, can be taken into account. This can even be extended to non-combat scenarios. Lockpicking and hacking can be done through minigames as demonstrated by recent titles like Fallout 3, whose lockpicking is widely regarded as one of the best infiltration minigames of all time, and Deus Ex: Human Revolution, which had a very interesting and enjoyable hacking minigame (sadly marred by a few questionable design decisions in the game) and the best conversation mechanic I have ever played with. Fallout 3 also had a hand in proving that skill points in these non-combat aspects of an RPG are completely arbitrary. In the game, it was impossible to even make an attempt to pick a lock unless the player had a high enough Lockpicking skill to do so. This makes even less sense upon realization that these higher level locks are genuinely tougher to pick. It is more logical either make the game more difficult, or a have a skill that governs what locks the player can pick. Having both is excessive. Though I understand that many would be wary of introducing player skill as an element of play, since it has the potential to leave some players out due to a lack of it, this is why modern games have adjustable difficulty as a way to equilize the imbalance between skilled and unskilled players. In the end, it is a design choice to be made by the creators of the game. I just believe it is worth thinking about this decision when going forward, since some games simply have no use for these mechanics.

The other common trope used in RPGs that I will be going over is the concept of vendor trash. By vendor trash, I mean items the take up inventory space, yet only serve the purpose of being sold to merchants for money. I can understand why developers do this even today. It makes no sense for the player to kill a wolf and have it drop five gold coins. To facilitate immersion, they would instead have a wolf drop a pelt that the player can then sell to vendors to make money. Though this concept is immersive and makes sense for a world, it is not exactly fun for the player to have to carry around tons of loot that takes up valuable inventory space which could be used to carry more useful items like weapons, armor, medical supplies and food. While I am a fan of forcing players to make meaningful choices, it is hardly meaningful to force players to choose between picking up a new sword or picking up a gold ingot that can be sold for money used to purchase a new sword.

In my opinion, vendor trash still has a place in RPGs, but it should be handled differently. Since vendor trash is effectively just gold waiting to be cashed out, it should be in a separate category and take up no space. While some may argue that it is not immersive to carry all sorts of vendor trash and not have it weigh the player down, I would argue contrary to that. When a designer forces the player to interact too much with the underlying systems of a game world, they start to lose their immersion. Thus, it is important to balance ease of use with simulation, which is far easier said than done. Also, by that logic, it would be unimmersive to allow the player to store tens of thousands of gold coins in their inventory without taking up space.

It is also possible to use vendor trash in other ways. For example, in Final Fantasy XII, which has the unlimited inventory space that many JRPGs do (as an interesting side note), did away with random animals dropping gold coins when they die (as an abstraction of taking their pelts) in favor of vendor trash. What they also did was introduce a new type of good in the vaious shops called Bazaar Goods. How it worked was that when the player sold cetain combinations of vendor trash to dealers, it would unlock certain items and item packs in the Bazaar. The game explained that selling vendor trash to various stores introduced these component items into the economy, allowing people to use those items in the construction of new ones to be put up for sale. This was an interesting way of making seemingly useless items have more purpose beyond just being gold in item form. After all, people would start making items with the goods that adventurers would gather and sell. Designers should put more thought into systems like this because RPG players will usually end up interacting with the economy very often. It is worth it to make this experience as painless, yet interesting, as possible.

To be fair, both of these mechanics were in place well before RPGs existed in video game form. Old RPGs, both from the West and from the East, take inspiration from Dungeons and Dragons and other tabletop games in that vein and are, as such, deeply entreched in the way people think about RPGs. Back then, they had use as a gameplay abstraction to otherwise realistic events. While a healthy respect for tradition is always a valuable thing to have, I feel like it is necessary to analyze old ways of thinking to see if they are still necessary in the modern era. When technology and game design evolve, some of the old ways of thinking no long apply. In the cases I outlined above, both mechanics still have merit in modern games, but they may need to be tweaked a little in order to make them more palatable. Though I am sure there are other examples of outdated mechanics presisting longer than they should have, I cannot think of any more that need discussion. Nonetheless, it is important to do an analysis like this if we want to improve this medium as a whole.

#5: Why Horror in RPGs Doesn't Work

Horror is a unique beast amongst entertainment genres like movies and especially games. Everything has to be perfected in order for it to succeed. The visuals have to be compelling while simultaneously disturbing the viewer. The audio has to be suitably creepy. Any slight disturbances in sound can throw the viewer out of the experience and remind him/her that he/she is safe in secure in their chosen venue. Without either of these properties, a horror movie cannot succeed. For horror games, there is an added element: the gameplay must convey the feeling of helplessness and danger while at the same time keep the player immersed in the experience. Two semi-recent RPGs attempted to add horror to their game in the form of downloadable content: Mass Effect 2 with Project Overlord and Fallout 3 with Point Lookout. These two experiences conveyed one thing to me: It is impossible for RPGs to be compelling horror games by their very nature.

Before explaining why, I feel compelled to explain the overall premises of the stories in these two pieces if downloadable content that I am referring to. Mass Effect 2 is a hard science space opera revolving around Commander Sheppard's struggle to save the galaxy. In the Project Overlord DLC, Sheppard lands on a planet where a rogue AI has taken over a base, after an experiment went horribly wrong, and threatens to expand even further. The commander then has to stop the AI before bad things happen. On the other hand, Fallout 3 takes place in the Capital Wasteland, a post-apocalyptic Washington, D.C. that exists two-hundred years after a global thermonuclear war between the United States and China. The player character has spent his formative years in an underground vault and, due to events out of his/her control, had to leave. Point Lookout takes the player character to Point Lookout, Maryland. The land is filled with radioactive swamps, mutated and inbred citizens out for blood, and loads of other spooks. Both DLCs seek to add horror elements to their respective games, but both fail for differing reasons.

The reasons that Project Overlord failed were the due to the player character and the setting of the DLC. As previously stated, the player takes control of Commander Sheppard, as he/she does throughout the main game. The problem with this is that Commander Sheppard, no matter what the player does or what paths the player chooses, is a badass who regularly murders thousands of evil, corrupt aliens or mercenaries on a semi-regular basis. This kind of character is extremely difficult to pull off horror with. A player will go through the DLC unafraid because he/she knows that Sheppard will be able to easily trounce whatever enemies that impede his/her progress. But even if the player was not playing as an awesome space marine, the setting also detracts from the feeling of horror. Throughout the DLC, the rogue AI takes control of computers and watches you as you proceed through the levels. He often yells at you through the screen with an unintelligible squeal. While this seems like it would be scary, I was never even remotely frightened by him. In fact, I grew irritated because the squeals were so much louder than any other sound in the game. All it made me do is turn down the volume so that I would stop hearing it over and over again. The minute that a big scary villain becomes annoying, scary ceases to be part of the equation.

 

Point Lookout has similar reasons as to why the horror did not work at all. To begin, odds are that the player will begin the DLC after they hit level 20 or so. This means that the player has accumulated tons of skill points and equipment at that point. Most enemies, at this level, will be felled quickly by a semi-competent player. By the time I played Point Lookout, I was equipped with indestructible power armor, a sword that is covered by gasoline and on fire, and several high-powered energy weapons. Even if the player came into the DLC with bad equipment, the enemies drop their own powerful weapons. The level-action rifle from the DLC might be one of the most powerful small guns in the game. It also takes cheap and plentiful 10mm ammo, so odds are the player will have thousands of rounds for the weapon. So if the player entered weak and under-leveled, they will be extremely strong by the end of it. Another way they break the horror is by making the world extremely open for exploration. The player is allowed to roam freely, giving them leave to retreat if they need to and look for items they can use. All of this ruins any feeling of powerless and inability the player might experience. Helplessness is the key to creating compelling horror. The games own systems are what prevent Point Lookout from being truly scary.

Horror requires a high degree of subtlety and skill to successfully pull it off. RPGs, by their very nature, undermine any kind of horror. The ability to develop and strengthen the player character gives the player a sense of safety, which is counter-intuitive to horror. To clarify, I would not recommend Project Overlord even as an enhancement to Mass Effect 2. While the plot behind it and the end choice are both interesting, the gameplay was sub-par and the DLC became extremely boring by the mid-point of it. On the other hand, while Point Lookout fails at being scary at all, yet it was still an excellent expansion of Fallout 3 and probably one of my favorites. It has an interesting plot, new and interesting equipment, and while the open-world does not make it scary, it is conducive to Fallout 3 gameplay and strengthens the experience. I would recommend it to any fans of the vanilla game.