Why is the book world NOT threatened by gamers?

I don't normally do this, but I am moved to write a response to a post on the Guardian Tech blog by the journalist Aleks Krotoski on the subject of book publishing, computer games, and asking generally why is it that the publishing industry seems so behind the times. Her point is effectively an argument for the oncoming wonders of interactive storytelling.

I have written about this before (here) and made the basic point that the differences between games and storytelling are not simply a matter of one being a restrictive version of the other, but rather that there are key differences. Editing being one, and the role of the hero being another. So-called "interactive storytelling" isn't, in my view, something that is practically achievable because of these two key traits.

She writes: "In computer games, for example, the player is the hero."

No, she isn't. This is an essential and oft-misunderstood point. The player appears to be a hero because in a movie the hero is a walking talking thing with arms and legs that does stuff, and if I play a videogame I am also a walking talking thing that does stuff. QED? No. A hero in a story is an essential part of the structure of the story. Their personality and character, bad decisions and good are what make them as much a part of the story as the setting and the incidental characters. In a videogame, the player is not a hero. The game character that they manipulate is simply a doll, a suit of clothes, a projection of themselves into a game world. The player's mind is immersed in a world through that doll, but they do not become the doll (as in adopt their actual personality, motivations and whatever).

The publishing industry really doesn't have any cause to be afraid of what's going on in computer games. While there are many fans of the idea that games represents some great departure into a branching new age of multiple stories and generative solutions, there aren't any good games that back this notion up. One of the most recent (Grand Theft Auto IV, which is fantastic, play it) is a great example of how gaming and sliced story segments can work really well together, but it isn't a threat for an author of a novel.

Hanif Kureshi has it right. From Aleks's article: "At a recent literary event, I asked author Hanif Kureshi what he makes of interactive literature - the kind emerging across blogs, social networking sites and in the virtual sprawl of computer games. He poo-pooed the idea of co-authorship with unknowns, unless he could ensure that collaboration was with someone "good", and appeared reluctant to relinquish the control he has over the narrative experience."

The implication being that Kureshi is simply being a fraidy cat. He's not, what he's voicing is experience: Authorship is hard, and it's a mostly internal process. While there is some virtue in the idea that the wisdom of crowds might be applied to editing or offering constructive criticism, the authoring doesn't really scale. One only needs to look at various efforts across Facebook and Penguin's experiments to realise that crowd-writing of fiction is generally bloody awful (whereas crowd writing and editing of fact like Wikipedia is great). It's not simply because most people who write are bad writers; it's because the fiction process requires structured imagination and experimentation to work.

In Aleks's piece, she writes "Books are the equivalent of single-player games and old-school websites. They are snapshots of information at a single point in time, where stories are created and navigated from the point of view of one person. Social media has changed the nature of information gathering and production, and multiplayer games have re-inspired collaborative play. Static media which insists on remaining static is on its way to becoming a curiosity."

Except it isn't. Games sales may be on the rise but so are book sales. We may be using utilites such as the internet to have great big global conversations, but we are usually conversing about the supposedly-boring static media. What the interactive-set hope for is essentially a future where the novel, the album or the painting becomes a fluid thing, but realistically it's just a fantasy borne from reading a bit too much William Gibson. There is no global conversation without topics of conversation. Mashups need starting points. Fan pages need something coherent to be a fan of.

We really are at the limit of where games and stories meet, and it turns out that they just don't have a lot in common. Games in reality have much more in common with architecture, the visual arts and mathematical systems than they do with stories. What I find interesting is this idea that has gotten into many journalists (and developers) that their goal is to take on Hollywood, or Big Publishing, when I think they should be looking much more at the world of modern art for their cues and inspiration.

Immersion does not have to be (and usually is not) achieved through storytelling-ish or even quasi-storytelling-ish means. It's all about ambience, vibe, triggers, music, good game controls, and true fluidity. GTA IV's genius is, and this has always been the case, that it embraces fluidity right down to the gameplay by dispensing with trying to be storytellers and instead using story snippets simply as a part of the ambience. In GTA, story is basically the thing that gives context to the missions, adds to the vibe, and generally stays very far away from trying to impose, inspire or whatever.

It's not interactive storytelling, it's interactive architecture. Kureshi need not worry.

Particleblog's comments have moved to The Play Room.

A Method ... part two: Understanding the Paradigm

In this, the second of my articles on a method of game design, I talk about understanding the most basic structure of video games, that being the playing paradigm. You can read the first article here if you like before proceeding.

The reason for starting with talk of paradigms in what I billed as a results-oriented method is that it helps to frame the conversation. You may think that many of the basic ideas of game design are well understood and agreed-upon by all, but you would be mistaken. Actually, even in the basics there is a great deal of disagreement, a confusing number of terms and counter-terms. Even trying to gain a simple shared understanding of a term like game-play, which everyone uses, is almost impossible.

So that means I have to start at the start, if you like.

Starting with the basics
A fashion designer cannot design effective fashion without knowing the basics of fabric and its uses, and also how the user relates to fabric. What might be described as the paradigm of the fashion literally means understanding the basic units of clothing and also how the wearers relate to clothing. Do they see clothing as primarily functional, or as a statement, do they perceive the need for clothing to cover certain parts of the body, is their experience of clothing transformational or simply stuff they wear? How does gender play into that?

Know the paradigm and you know where the useful limits of a creative subject lie, and how to work with those limits. A fashion designer, knowing the ins and outs of clothes, knows that there is likely no point trying to design a suit that builds a narrative because that is beyond the useful limits of clothing. Clothing defines an image, not a narrative, and so the best effort is likely put into creating different images and looks. Fashion is like painting, it is a presentation with impact and subtlety that encapsulates one instant.

Video games have a paradigm just like anything else. As the paradigm of watching a film rules out substantive audience interaction, so the paradigm of video games rules out certain kinds of relationships. Video games have limits just like anything else. They are physically limited, their basic mode of operation is limited and their audience relationship to it is also limiting. These are the physical basics to be grasped:

1.
Video games consist of two physical aspects: Input and output. The input device can vary from as little as a single button to a complicated multi-joystick affair, a motion sensor controller or a dance mat.

There are only so many buttons, and therefore only so many kinds of distinct action (either through one button press or a compound of multiple buttons held at once) which the player can perform. The input device always forms the basis of the physical constraints of the game.

Likewise, players can only really use some of their body parts for playing at any one time. A theoretical game that uses the player's full body and is also strategic and engaging all at once is a nice fantasy, but in all likelihood is simply over-complicated. Even in modern games, there are those which are very complicated in terms of input, and player fatigue is a problem in those games.

2.
The output device is usually a screen of some kind, along with sound capability and, in some instances, controller feedback. Output devices vary in size from the screens of a DS to a 60-inch HDTV, but their function remains the same. They pass information back to the eyes and ears of the player, which in turn informs his next action using the input device.

The screen also frames the action of the game. All video games have a limited area in which to operate, a conceptual distance that separates the player from the game, and that is defined by the screen. What happens in the game must occur on the screen because that is where the player's attention lies.

3.
As a result, all video games work in loops. Player takes action, player receives information that alters the context of his next action, player takes next action. A loop can be of any length, from fractions of a second for an action game to days or weeks for a turn-based strategy game, and the length of the loop is very important in determining whether game is strategic or tactical. A greater distance between loops creates more opportunity for a player to think.

4.
The physical component of the paradigm also creates a strong need in games for visible cause and effect. This is the principle whereby if I take an action, it should produce a visible result. If it yields no visible reaction in the output device, then it's breaking the paradigm. Paradigm breaks are usually indicative of poor design.

Some games have experimented with the idea of invisible cause and effect, but they often flounder in the territory of players feeling frustrated, or that their actions seem to be pointless. While experimentation and discovery are desirable in a game, players have a very low tolerance for experimentation with interfaces. They like learning a beat 'em up move, provided they know that the face buttons on a joypad each do something predictable.

What they dislike is a game where an obscure interface makes it hard for them to know that their actions are actually doing anything at all. Cause and effect must be apparent in any game, and it must be consistent. Because the video game is constrained with a loop of pushing buttons and interpreting results, the player has to be able to filter information in a logical fashion. Consistent behaviour is therefore a huge part of the game because it re-enforces the player's ability to filter information. Another term for cause is 'game mechanic' and another term for effect is 'game rule'. My method separates mechanics and rules and regards them as distinct.

5.
The video game needs to be controllable in terms of predictable contact points. A contact point is the element of the game with which the player can do something, and through which things can be done to them. The contact point is the player's presence inside the game. It may be consistent, such as a game character, or it may shift, such as the next active block in Tetris, but the principle of it is that this is the point in the contact through which game mechanic and rule are interpreted for the player.

6.
The above physical elements serve to frame all games in terms of a logically consistent universe with which the player can interact in specified, logical patterns that allow them to perceive action and information efficiently and play with a loop. This is what we call a game world. The contact point is what we often call the character or the bat or whatever and signifies the player's presence in the game. The upshot of these elements is that the player needs to have a consistent perspective on the game, whether that be first person perspective or high isometric. Shifting perspective is generally bad design


Result?
The result of all these elements is to establish a psychological relationship between the player and the game which is fairly consistent throughout games, and that relationship is as follows:

Video games frame a player's attention and transport it, via contact points, into a game world. Because it requires efficient transmission of information to overcome the physical input and output limits of the game, all game worlds must be composed of consistent perspectives, mechanics, rules, internal logic, loop structures and respect that the player can only handle so many controls at any one time. Within these limits, the player's psychological mode places them in the game world, so we can say that the player gets into the game, and their contact point is a conduit between the two.

Players play themselves inside a video game, they do not play characters, and they are playing inside worlds, not stories.

I can't emphasise this point enough.


Confusion
It is important to distinguish between the paradigm of games and context, genres and so on. The genre of a game is not a part of the paradigm of games. Game genres work within the constraints of the paradigm, but they don't define it. The paradigm is a consistent set of ground rules under which all games operate under, whereas genre is a set of stylistic conventions that limit the game along even further lines. Game genres shift, but the paradigm is consistent.

What does shift is the context of a paradigm. For example, there are several key differences between the paradigms of film and television. Both are similar, but film operates in a mostly single-serving theatrical setting, whereas television is episodic. And film is also usually paid-for entertainment whereas television is perceived as free, but with advertising breaks. These subtle differences constrain the writing and direction of both in different ways. I assume that the advent of Youtube is creating yet another new paradigm distinct from both the cinema and the TV, and we'll grow to know what that is in time.

By the same token, it is entirely possible that other paradigms will arise out of the video game paradigm. At the moment there is really only one, but some of the more interesting work in the field involves really trying to redefine the paradigm in other terms. I'm thinking of Habbo Hotel and Second Life here, which really ditch the 'game' aspect of the framed interaction of the game, and therefore may be able to ditch cause and effect for other paradigm rules.

These innovations will lead to other forms of entertainment in time. As we understand film and television to be different things, I think we will eventually stop trying to shoehorn everything into the one "video game" box, and instead accept that different paradigms can develop here. Maybe we'll call them "Video toys" instead.

Particleblog's comments have moved to The Play Room.

A Method of Game Design, part one

I've decided to write up a method of creating games from the ground up for a few reasons. One is that while debate is all well and good, translating it into action is the step almost never taken. Over the last three or so years I've talked about all manner of ideas, from removing the document from the design process to naming issues, breaking down the story barrier, the language barrier, the importance of the creator figure and other areas. These are all, in their way, fine talk, but they do not constitute anything coherent.

My second reason is that there are a lot of people out there, working in the field of game design and level design, for whom the whole debate over games has grown so vague and abstract that it disconnects from an actual method. As a result, a whole host of ad hoc methods have been adopted across the industry (especially in the West) that have no business being anywhere near the creative and innovative processes and are actively destructive.

Lastly, because I fundamentally disagree with many of the official methods that have received the stamp and seal of approval. It annoys me greatly to see a tome of supposed game wisdom talk in-depth about a method which actually doesn't work, because the stamp of officialdom in print is such that those methods become accepted practise without any real evaluation. Many design books sit on many shelves, lending the air of wisdom and finality to many a designer or producer, but in practise they are usually very far off the beaten track.

Central to this method are four simple tenets:

1. Fiction is important
2. Constraints are important
3. Elegance is important
4. Results are what matter

Fiction
Fiction is an important part of the game design process because without fiction, all you have is abstract elements. Abstract elements alone do not usually make for an interesting game because we have all played Tetris etc, the most abstract game of them all, and so all abstract games inevitably have the same overriding feel of Tetris etc. Once you have played a few purely abstract physical simulations, you have played them all. Aside from all the basic abstractions and their deceptively purist character, all games need a fiction.

Fiction breaks down into two constituent components: inner fiction and outer fiction. Inner fiction is basically the root defining idea of the game. Outer fiction is the mythology, characters, names, dates and background of the game. While almost all games need an inner fiction, an outer fiction is optional. I'll explain their relationship to the method more fully in a later post.

Constraints
The most common problem that I have seen in game design over the years is a lack of appreciation of the need for constraints. Many well-intentioned designers have traveled down the road of writing lots of idea documentation and creating large levels in 3D tools, only to find that these ideas and levels actually don't work in-game. What these designers are failing to do is to fully consider the constraints of their project. There are five general kinds of constraint:

1. Physical constraints
2. Situational constraints
   
3. Client constraints
4. Fictional constraints
5. Adopted constraints

Constraints are often perceived as limits to the designer's imagination. They are that, but the ability to work within limits is what distinguishes a designer from someone who just has a vibrant imagination. Constraints are hard limits on what can be done, but in so doing they are also enablers. The reason why so many great games come from the past of gaming is the same reason why so many great books come from cultures of poverty, and so much great music comes from the streets. Those environments naturally constrain those artists, and the same is true of constraints within the game workplace.

Elegance
Another common problem that many designers (and others) regularly fumble is the problem of special-case thinking. Special-case thinking is the practice of thinking "Wouldn't it be cool if" without considering the ramifications. Bad design is usually full of special-case ideas that don't sit well together and don't produce either cohesion or progression. A special-case idea is easily identifiable as one which the game design then has to prevent from being abused by artificial means.

General-case thinking, on the other hand, is a sign of good game design. Most special-case ideas are in fact able to be replicated in a general context, provided the constraints and fiction permit them, and the ramifications do not produce any artificial restrictions. A game design should be based on enough general-case ideas to produce results that engender cohesion and progression. General-case ideas form the basis of game mechanics and rules, and general-case thinking is elegant.

Elegance is extremely important in any project. Players relate to elegance because it means that they do not have to spend a lot of time understanding how to play the game and instead can focus on how to play the game well. Elegance is also a key factor in determining how much effort is actually involved in the project as it makes the permutations of the project easy to comprehend. Lastly, elegance helps convey the core reason to play the game and highlights its strong selling points. Most videogames are not at all elegant, and they suffer greatly for it.

Results
Lastly, you'll see me talking a lot about results-oriented design. The problem with theory is that it is all theoretical, meaning that everything sounds good in theory until you bring it into the real world. A game design document as a large repository of knowledge about the project sounds like a good idea in theory until you come up against the reality that most people do not read game design documents.

A designer must have results in mind at all times. They typically have intended results in mind but intention and actual result are two very different things. Having a results-oriented disposition means that you have the ability not only to see what an idea or constraint is intended to achieve but also how it specifically works in the game, what it will take to get it to work, and what the drawbacks of not getting it to work actually mean.

Intention, on the other hand, gets you nowhere because everyone reads intentions in different ways. A competent designer knows full well that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Follow-through and the ability to think in terms of results, plan for them and execute them is what counts.

Next week: Understanding the paradigm.

Particleblog's comments have moved to The Play Room.