When you sit down to work, do you feel confident in yourself and assured that you will eventually create something that you and others will appreciate? Or do you feel intimidated at the prospect of all the external forces that will eventually judge you and your work?

I’ve been dwelling on this difference for some time, because I alternate between experiencing both of these powerful motivators.

Continued after the break…

Faith is what gives us the ability to persevere through difficult situations. One of the reasons humans are around today is because we have the ability to effectively ignore all the potential things that could harm us. When we can suspend our doubts about our own abilities, we find it easier to pick up the pen and continue drawing or place our fingers back on the keyboard to keep programming.

The problem with faith is that it’s blind to skepticism. If one moves too far in the direction of faith, they may become conceited, self-absorbed and unwilling to take criticism. Without the ability to have humility about one’s views, it becomes very difficult to learn anything new.

Fear is what drives us to question everything we do. One of the reasons humans are alive today is because we have instinctual fears that help us avoid the many dangerous situations that might have wiped us out.

When we’re coasting along blindly, assuming everything will go well with our project, the occasional very negative testing feedback can send chills down our spines and force us to reconsider naive design choices.

My fascination with emotional context in games is very much tied into my interest in the emotional context of game development. I find, when creating a game that I care about, that I experience both great peaks of joy, exalting the thrill of creating – and deep valleys of self-loathing, regret and paranoia, fearing that I may be misleading myself.

While talking to James and Lisanne of Blink-Works (who created the video profile mentioned here last week) I realized that although they created a series of videos that have been universally praised for their production values and storytelling, they had experienced serious internal doubts about the quality of their work during its creation. I think this is an experience that most of us share – when we work on something for a long time, we start to hate it. And we start to fear that it’s not as good as we thought it was.

It is true that we would never get anything done if we didn’t believe in ourselves to some degree. It is also true that we would all be pretentious hacks if we believed ourselves to always be perfectly suited for every task.

Is it possible to strike a comfortable balance between these two extremes?

Personally, I feel I’ve been getting closer to some kind of median. Highly mean-spirited (often comical) criticism of my work does not illicit an emotional response from me beyond amusement. Valuable critical assessments, whether negative or positive, don’t seem to play with my feelings as much as they used to. I hope that I’m getting better at separating the wheat from the chaff in terms of negative feedback.

One of the things that helped me in this regard is realizing that there is no objective measure of the quality of a particular game. Sure, we have Metacritic, forums, blogs, user rankings… but each of these is limited to telling us average of the subjective opinions of a certain group of people. Within that group there may well be individuals who absolutely love the game in question and others that abhor it.

This makes me curious of what creators think of their own completed work, and how it compares to what they felt while they were making it. Did Miyamoto ever wonder what would happen if Donkey Kong flopped?

Perhaps the greatest fear of all is our own demise. We’re all born with a countdown, the remaining time with which we try to make something of our brief lives here on this planet. This constantly ticking clock is what drives us to complete things – without it, we would be much less likely to produce completed works. It also ensures that nothing will ever be perfect. We will not have the time necessary to make every pixel align in just the right way. And we will not have the time to survey everyone to determine if a majority enjoy our output.

All these fears, doubts, hopes and – ultimately – shortcomings are what make art what it is. It is a temporary bit of chaos caught on canvas. It is a personal expression of our experiences as human beings. And it is inevitably a statement on our brief existence.

What do we want to say in the time that we have?

What dreams do we want to leave behind when we’re gone?

What are Games?

We all believe we know what games are, although our definitions probably vary greatly. I would argue that “games” are a new form of multimedia, that combine existing mediums with the new element of interaction. They’re not specifically only about interaction, they’re also not specifically about their individual components. What is truly interesting to me about games is how all the different components work together as a unified whole.

This definition of games opens up interesting possibility, for example: making a game that has limited interaction for a specific purpose, or creating a game that has no visuals or no audio but still works as a whole.

Instead of picking apart games and ranking them based on their individual components, let’s think about games as whole. Let’s look at the connections between the different mediums.

This (rather lengthy) Rant is Continued after the Break…

Are Games Art?

Yes. That is my opinion, and if you disagree with me that’s great. However, I think there is far more value in choosing to consider games to be art than choosing not to call them art.

Isn’t that Pretentious?

I don’t see the word “art” as a pretentious label. In my opinion, “art” is something that all humans do in some form or another. Your friend might make up a tune on the piano once in a while, and it might not sound that great, but I’d argue that it is still art. I think I’m firmly in the camp of Scott McCloud and David Byrne – creators who are able to see art in unusual places.

People may squabble about what is “good art” and what is “bad art”, but in my opinion “art” is a “good” thing whether or not it has certain aesthetic qualities that are admired by others. The scaled ranking of it is not as important as the truth that was put into it at conception.

Truth in Art

Art is able to open doors in people’s minds that would in other circumstances stay shut. Part of what makes art work is the truth (or untruth) that the creator infuses into the piece when it is created. There is a distinct flavour to work that has been created by an artist who has taken a piece of themselves and put it in the work. That flavour is distinctly lacking in a lot of mainstream games.

It is still possible to create a mainstream game that has that flavour, take for example the beloved “Shadow of the Colossus”. However, its a lot easier to taste these flavours in the indie games scene.

Why the Indie Game Scene?

The Indie Game scene, when it works, encourages the unique expression of very differing individuals. This freedom and encouragement to be oneself, and to explore one’s own creative voice is what allows these auteur-driven flavours to rise to public awareness. The promise of the indie games scene, is a buffet of delicious, unique tastes that anyone can sample for $20 or less. (in most cases)

There is also a promise of less competition. Since most developers are following their passions, they aren’t all trying to mimic the latest trend – therefore they rarely step on each other’s toes, and if they do tend to make games that are similar, they’re often still different enough that an intelligent consumer would not be confused between the two.

The reality is a bit different, as developers are forced to conform slightly to the Microsofts, Sonys and NIntendos of the world in order to get distribution deals to stay alive. Right now the indie scene is a hot item – but that may soon fade. Whether or not the indie scene grows to become more accepted and integrated into the mainstream, or fades back into obscurity, I still think it will have value as a place where creators can be themselves.

When the indie community doesn’t work is when the group mentality turns away from celebrating the new and the unique and transforms into gatekeeping or outright bashing of differing game concepts. I’ve seen this happen on forums, real life conversations, mailing lists – some developers think that their approach is the only right way to make a game, and they ram their opinions down the throat of others regardless of whether there might be merits to considering an alternate viewpoint or not.

We’re also at the point where “indie” may transform from meaning “an open, positive scene where unique expression is encouraged” to meaning a corporate mandated “label” that gets applied to products to help sell them to a niche audience. (witness the recent rebranding of XBLA Community Games to XBLA Indie)

I believe that if “indie” does become just a label, as it has in many respects for indie music and indie film, that the Technicolor dreamcoat of creators, fans and frankly love that we see in the scene right now will disperse. I think the only way to keep the scene as a positive force is to ensure that the “powers” that influence it are kept decentralized. If those in the scene are always open to newcomers and willing to step aside to allow the indie pie to be shared, we may see this strange and wondrous beast last longer than its predecessors. However, if “indie” becomes a label, I fear we will see the creativity evaporate, the fans disillusioned and the spark that makes what we have right now “a pretty cool thing” will be lost. The word “indie” will atrophy and become as meaningless in the context of innovation in games as “action adventure” or “sports title”.

Mechanics vs. Story

This leads me to my main point, which is how do we make games. Do we make games because of some inner desire to share an experience? Or do we make them because we are fascinated with the intricacies of game structure?

Imagine the difference between sitting down at your piano or with your guitar and randomly playing a tune that you invent on the spot. Whether or not its good, you can often feel a “flow” to what you’re doing… there’s some sense that there’s a direction in which you’re moving, some might employ a bit of poetry and describe it as a “muse”. Phil Fish remarked to me once that he regretted that video games don’t have the equivalent of a “live performance” – there’s no “jamming on stage” with game creation.

I find that a lot of developers engineer more than they write. I believe this comes partially from the large amount of game developers who also happen to be, in some part, computer scientists. Now I have nothing against computer scientists, I am one, and I have a great respect for my peers. But there is a certain flavour to games that have been built with game structure, mechanics and in some cases even the game engine in mind over games that have been built around other ideas.

Take for example, Braid. The game was a hit (in both indie and mainstream terms), and it managed to gain a lot of attention through its innovative use of its time-rewinding mechanic. The game is entirely based around time manipulation, and it creates some clever puzzles around these mechanics. The way that the game was created was by prototyping a series of different gameplay mechanics, until those that were considered good enough to base a game around emerged.

On the other hand we have The Graveyard, a game that has little to no gameplay, and it based more around a very short story concept: an old lady sits on a bench, in the graveyard.

What can we say about both of these games? In my personal opinion, Braid fails to hold my interest for long periods of time because it is almost purely driven by mechanics and engineered design. (for example, specific puzzles arose from analyzing the game system and still feel like elements of a game system) In the case of The Graveyard, the game fails to hold my interest because it is mostly driven by a very short and forced narrative.

I would like to talk a bit about how I’d like to see each game done differently. I’m not presuming to say that this would make the games objectively better, and I’m not presuming the arrogance to suggest that you should agree with my subjective opinion. (In fact, I would love to hear your opinions about what you like to see emphasized in games – feel free to opine as such in the comments) What is provided here is for your own consideration, to open up a discussion about what we like to see in games.

How would I do Braid differently? I would like to see the storyline and world tied more directly into the game and for the game to allow for more organic exploration of its world and mechanics. Rather than everything being based around a series of puzzles, I would prefer to have more of a sense of “this is a place that could actually exist somewhere”. As it is, the game’s ecosystem seems to me to be a collection of video game references mixed with environments created mainly around the mechanics. The gameplay itself is fairly impeccable when taken on its own, but without the larger context of an integrated game world or a character or a more meaningful or unique consistency, I find myself less involved.

In the case of The Graveyard, I would like to see the a version of the game that focused on the experience of being old. Maybe the game would be about how time slows down, and how the elderly may notice details that younger people do not. The graveyard could be something that people could explore. They could enter a first person view to simply look up at the sky and see birds passing overhead. They could pick flowers and move them to a grave. The character of the old lady could react differently upon seeing other graves.

I’m reminded of taking trips to visit my grampa’s grave with my Baba. There is a poignant, yet subtle and interesting theme to play with there. With a more open-ended, exploration-based gameplay structure, the game could encourage players to recall memories like this one and read their own meaning into the game. In fact, focusing art assets towards developing a myriad of small details that are not normally experienced in most games would set this game apart even further and prove the point quite handily that games can explore other themes in compelling ways without having to feature the violent destruction of opposing forces.

The game could still come to a similar conclusion, that death is (eventually) inevitable and one must eventually “sit on the bench” for the cycle of life to continue. But if you were allowed to actually “live” a bit in the game first, this point would hit me a lot more effectively. If the interactive nature of the game was explored more fully while still following the same basic concept, I think the game would become something that I would love to come back to experience multiple times.

Now you may prefer Braid the way it is, and I’m sure a lot of people would – and that’s great. You may also be a big fan of The Graveyard, and I completely respect that. I also have a lot of respect for the creators of Braid and The Graveyard, and I admire their tenacity for following their creative vision and bringing it to fruition.

In fact, I’d prefer that they didn’t do things as I suggested, because I like experiencing different creative voices through indie games. The above is simply a personal opinion and provided here to illustrate a point.

What is Your Point?

My point is simply about what I’m most interested in, and that is exploring the area between mechanics-based games and story/concept-based games. I have a story that I want to tell with “Marian”, but I want to tell it by employing game mechanics that further the storytelling rather than fight with it. I want the elements of the game to support each other so that the end result is more compelling than each piece taken on its own.

I’m not professing to be an expert on this by any means (“Aquaria” illustrates some things that work well and some things that really don’t work), but it is something I care about deeply and I hope I’m able to achieve something that moves me forward in terms of integrating the different mediums of a game into a cohesive experience. I may also completely fail, but I’m not really afraid of that. If I fail, I feel like my failure will at least be of some value to myself and other developers who want to explore this path.

And to Wrap it Up, You Would Say…?

We should all explore our own creative voice. Don’t be intimidated by those who try to silence you because you may be attempting something outside of the accepted “norm”. Don’t be a dick about what you do either. We’re all in this scene together, and we have to peacefully coexist or it will not last.

And I want to see this scene sustained as a positive force. I want to see even more creative ideas. I want to see ideas that nobody is even dreaming about right now.

Let’s make that happen, and let’s keep indie – indie.

Thank you for your time!

(now i will shut up and get back to working on games)

I decided to propose a talk about something that had been on my mind for a long time – stories in games.

Read More…

What ensued was an epic trip to Austin, Texas – to live in a house with about 8 other indie game developers, who also happen to be some of my best friends.

While there I also organized the Marian teaser in several days by drawing on some very talented artists from Winnipeg and the US. (I’m going to make a separate post about how that was done, because it was pretty intense!)

I ended up having the last time slot of the IGS, which is both a blessing and curse. It meant that I got the opportunity to wrap up the entire summit with my own little message, but it also means that a fair chunk of people would be tired or already on their way out the door.

Fortunately, a decent sized crowd stuck around and I ended up happy with how it went. I debuted the Marian teaser during the talk, and it was fun to see it on the “big screen” and hear it boom out of the sound system.

If you didn’t make it in person and you’re interested in finding out exactly what I was yammering on about, it turns out that Ashley Davis of Destructoid has written a pretty detailed and more-or-less accurate account. (can you spot the typos?)

I’m going to work on editing my slides and I’ll post them here eventually!

• → “Storytelling through Indie Games” Summary on Destructoid
• → Austin GDC 2009 Photo Set

The ideal way for most indie developers to start a game project is to prototype different core gameplay concepts until a really original, fun idea pops out. Once the wild gameplay has been captured, its mined into a full game with appropriate visual and audial dressing and a narrative structured around the gameplay.

I can’t argue that this is probably the most efficient and proven way to discover and develop a new game concept, especially for a small team.

Unfortunately, I always start by imagining a character and the world in which they live. Then I build a basic narrative and gameplay mechanics around who that character is, and what I would be most interested in experiencing from inside that character.

The thing is, I have a hard time – as a player – connecting to game ideas that are purely gameplay motivated. I love games with good, deep, responsive gameplay, but the experience hits a whole other level of immersion when fused with a compelling atmosphere and narrative.

(read more)

The problem with a lot of mainstream games is that narrative and gameplay become two separate systems. Any time a game jumps to a cut scene, you feel like you’re being pulled out of the game so it can tell a story. Any time the game blocks you with a gameplay mechanic that defies the rules established by the narrative, you feel cheated.

I’m in love with games that create a whole new world for the player to experience. I also like it when the game takes the step of creating the outline of a persona for you to inhabit. I like the emotional connection that can arise in some games when you are more aware of who the character that you become responsible for controlling – actually is.

This is where games can become exceptionally powerful – they can unite gameplay with a story outline to provide the player with an emotional journey to explore from inside the main character. They now have the opportunity to immerse themselves not only in another world, but in this character. By linking gameplay and story effectively, the player will be encouraged to not only explore a physical game space and a game mechanical possibility space – but also an emotional space.

Linear stories are rejected by some game developers as being too much like movies, as if game developers are aping what the last giant medium did successfully because they have not fully explored the potential for games. This is true in a lot of cases, but that doesn’t negate the potential of stories linked with gameplay.

In Aquaria, I dipped my toe into the story/gameplay pool for the first (somewhat successful) time. The first concept for the game was the world and the character of “Naija”. Though she went through many iterations, she always had a certain quality about her that stuck all the way through to final release. There are moments in the game that are simple trigger-able events that the player can chose to experience – that serve no “hard” gameplay purpose. You receive no power-up or health bonus by doing them, but they allow the player to experience a little bit more what Naija’s life would be like in the world of Aquaria. Naija could sit on a mossy rock inside her home and stare out the window. The camera would pan out slowly, and everything would slow down for a moment. Naija has the ability to sing to launch into an attack mode, or solve puzzles – but the player can also choose to sing for fun, or interact peacefully with other creatures. To my taste, these small moments can add a lot to a game’s experience by making the world and character feel well-rounded.

I also found moments where my experience of playing the game influenced the narrative. I put some of my own thoughts into Naija’s narration, thinking they would provide an interesting framework for the player’s imagination. In one instance, the player is going through a fairly long and gross cathedral. The overwhelming atmosphere becomes dark, and the player is forced to use their attack mode more often than usual. As a player, I missed the freedom of the open areas and wondered if I was actually doing anything good by fighting for so long. As a developer, I decided to put this doubt into the character’s thoughts.

In some cases, players may feel as I did and find Naija’s dialog unexpectedly mirroring how they feel. in other cases, the players may be enjoying the combat and may feel gently reminded that the game didn’t start out that way – that their style of play and the character of Naija have changed from that simpler, more innocent time. Some players may simply ignore the dialog or find it unnecessary – but I don’t think this negates the impact that it can have on the players who have become attached to the character.

Another interesting moment comes when the player breaks through the surface of the water for the first time – after much exploring and combat. Everything slows down gradually and Naija narrates briefly… then the music is changed and the speed of time is returned to normal – Naija falls back into the water. Players of Aquaria have repeatedly mentioned this moment as touching them emotionally in some way. Because it directly reflects the player’s journey and is presented succinctly, players are more willing to accept it and are open to feeling something.

There are moments in Aquaria that I feel didn’t work this well, and could have if I’d thought to do them differently. At the time, I don’t think I was as consciously aware of the potential links between story and gameplay as I am now.

Effective characters and stories in games are difficult to pull off properly – but I believe they can be very powerful. They make development difficult, because the focus becomes not only finding a fun gameplay concept, but discovering a story and gameplay that compliment each other. Its not a question of creating one before the other, but of being aware of how they effect each other and being open to cross-pollination of the two.

This is something I intend to explore more thoroughly in the future.