Monthly Archives: December 2006

Note for the balconies

  • Reading time:2 mins read

I’m just going to say this here for posterity, so I can link back to it in a few years.

Both HD-DVD and Blu-Ray are going to bomb, people. Not as badly as UMD, though that should give you an idea what we’re dealing with. One or both will hobble on for a while as a high-end videophile format; there’s a hole to fill, now that laserdisc’s gone away. As a mass format, though, DVD’s not budging. Not so long as most people don’t even know if they’re watching a TV show in the right aspect ratio, and not so long as there’s nothing wrong with DVD.

People change their ways when they’ve damn good reason to, and not a moment before. Plain old DVD is going to stick around until it’s too unwieldy to maintain any longer — if for no other reason than that there’s too much personal and architectural investment in the format to arbitrarily pick up and switch to something that’s exactly the same except that guy you know who will scream at you for not hooking up your stereo correctly insists it’s somehow better.

For there to be a successor to a format as established and perfect, for its part, as DVD it will have to offer something so significantly different and so obviously better in just about every aspect of convenience, simplicity, and quality, that there is no comparison between the two. You create something that’s meant to be compared, and you’ve lost before you’ve begun — however nice your product in its own right. Nobody cares! At least, nobody outside the geek ghetto — and that’s the whole issue, in a nutshell.

In conclusion, Sony is fucked.

Changing Faces

  • Reading time:4 mins read

After dwelling a bit, I am surprised by the consistency of the Doctor’s character under Russel T. Davies (and within his scripts in particular). Once again the Doctor is left ambivalent about getting close to anyone — alternately clinging and avoiding — yet now has been advised as to his objective need for someone to watch over him, setting up a rather different framework for his upcoming meeting with Martha Jones.

When we first saw the Ninth Doctor, he was shellshocked from the Time War; from losing everyone and everything he perhaps never appreciated — so of course he was both emotionally needy and reluctant to get involved, especially with anyone who wouldn’t stick around and try to understand his world, his life. He became unhealthily attached to Rose, then was reborn healed — at least outwardly — from most of the demons. As he became more dashing and confident, Rose became unhealthily attached to him, placing her desire for him above his objective needs, thereby putting his ego in a strange place. By the end he didn’t subjectively need her so much as he was used to having her, and didn’t objectively need her in that she did little to keep him in line (as she generally had the Ninth Doctor). When he lost her, he was sad and dispossessed — yet more than anything struck again with a sense of failure, of emptiness. It was a different emptiness from the Ninth Doctor’s; in place of desperation was an arrogance. Subjectively he’d shifted from need to want, and he couldn’t step outside himself. Nobody could give him what he wants, everyone leaves in the end, so to hell with everybody. What’s the point.

What Donna does is kick him in the head. “Look, Bozo”, she says, “who gives a damn what you want; it’s obvious from here that you need someone who isn’t going to fawn over you, who’s going to challenge you, and keep you from slipping into your weird place. To keep you human, as far as that goes.” That’s not going to be her, because she’s got better things to do than flit around the universe, playing nanny to a thousand-year-old god; still, she says, go find someone. And right there is an interesting point; there’s a tangible argument for the Doctor not to get too involved with his assistants. It’s an unequal relationship, where the Doctor is in effect in the inferior position. It’s been this way ever since Ian and Barbara, teaching humanity to the Doctor’s veritably antisocial first incarnation (at least, in the first several stories). When Rose lowered herself to his level, that caused problems. She was supposed to be watching over him, and she failed him. In losing her, the Doctor felt failure for his own sake — which is bad enough. For the state she left him in, however, he felt betrayal from the universe in general. And that’s not a good position for a Time Lord to be in.

It sort of makes me wonder if the only real difference between the Doctor and the Master is that the Doctor met Ian and Barbara, and has since generally had the benefit of an emotional compass in some form or another, honed and calibrated by an endless stream of confidants-slash-secretaries-slash-nursemaids, each one adding another nuance, giving the Doctor another bit of self. (Heck, occasionally even giving him their accents.)

Martha seems calculated to both gently kick the Doctor’s ass and to take an active interest in his affairs, without the danger of girly crush to get in the way of business — in a way, a more traditional companion for a more traditional Doctor. The Watson role, as played by a posh ninja lesbian.

Who indeed

  • Reading time:1 mins read

And the show *is* called Doctor Who, not Rose.

This is something people keep pointing out, often mingled with displeasure at Rose’s prominence.

Thing is, the title is a question. It’s not called “The Doctor” or “The Amazing Adventures of the Doctor” or “The Doctor Saves the Day”. It’s called “Who the Hell Is This Guy?”. And for that to be the title, the implication is that the focus will be on whoever’s doing the asking — on the impression the Doctor makes on said inquirer. Rose’s role was to act as the audience’s eyes and voice, to explore and maybe to some extent answer the question — though even at the end she never really got a full answer. And we probably never will! He’s the enigma at the center of the series; his companions are in effect the protagonists.

While we’re jumping the gun…

  • Reading time:1 mins read

I hope for Dragon Quest X, for the Wii, to filter players’ Mii data though a library of stock Akira Toriyama face and body features, such as to produce customized Dragon Quest styled approximations of the players.

That would seem like something Yuji Horii would have on his “to do” list.

Hey, Tim. Any way you can suggest it to him next time you’re in the same room?

Gestures and Measures

  • Reading time:6 mins read

Yes, I think that’s a decent way of looking at it. All these new, supposedly more “friendly” control schemes aren’t really acting as such. They are still forcing new players to remove their preconcieved attachment to, say, swinging a tennis racket, and replacing it with a more standard video game approach in order to get anywhere. They’re essentially just pushing buttons, in the end.

That’s not an issue with the Wii as such, I don’t think, as much as it is with the dumb, overly abstract way things are being designed. What I’ve noticed is that few Wii games either detect the Wiimote in realspace and realtime (as Boxing and Baseball do) or simply use the Wiimote for what it’s worth in added nuance (like an analog stick or trigger, only way more so). Instead, they’re just replacing buttons with gestures and canned animations. It’s frustrating to see — and not even so much as an end product as in what that product shows about how unable game designers currently are, en masse, to wrap their heads around the bleedin’ obvious.

Red Steel is a pretty good example. Instead of giving the player a sword and a gun, and letting him gradually learn how to use them properly — teaching new techniques and whatnot as the game progresses, staggering out “assignments” of sorts (not literal ones) over the game’s story, to allow players to get accustomed to some key concepts of swordfighting or shooting or mixing the two — you tell him to move the controller like this to make this animation happen, and maybe earn new gestures as the game progresses. What the hell? How could you possibly screw this up?

Though this is one of the more obvious examples, you’ll see this problem in pretty much all Wii games currently available — and indeed, in Gamer and press discussion about the system. You can see people straining their imaginations to figure out something to do with the system, and it doesn’t work. Either you get gimmicks or you get phantom buttons. Digital do-or-don’t.

It’s… really not that hard! The Wii really suggests two things: added nuance to traditional games (instead of just doing X, you can do X in any number of ways; the way the game plays changes dynamicly to match your body language) and giving the player true first-person control, for all the subtlety that implies, with a minimum of abstraction, over a certain range of motions. The advantage here is the ability to explore concepts with an organicity impossible with just a digital player involvement — again, making people really learn how to use a sword (more or less) rather than simply pressing buttons or making gestures to cause an on-screen character to do something.

Instead of the player’s avatar developing and learning new things as an abstraction of progress, and instead of learning complex arbitrary and abstract gestures (like moves in a fighting game), the player himself or herself physically learns how to produce difficult, subtle actions that have a tangible result in the gameworld to whatever degree of skill the player posesses.

Imagine a fighting trainer. The wiimote is exchanged for four sensor bands, strapped to each of the player’s wrists and shins, as well as perhaps a belt to provide a center reference point (and perhaps force feedback for when the player receives a blow). The game gradually metes out concepts to the player — not just to improve mechanical technique and to teach new maneuvers; also to improve the way the player mentally contextualizes all of this. It could to some extent teach the art of fighting as well as the science — or at least a reasonable enough facimile for verisimilitude. Likewise, completely new skill sets with no real-world parallel could be devised for the player — so long as they were produced and could be reproduced in a believable and nuanced way.

Games that involve physical concepts would use the Wiimote physically, as above; games that involve more abstract or intellectual ones would use it more abstractly — closer to how we normally think about playing videogames, except with an added layer of capability. Press forward to walk; tilt the controller subtly forward to jog or run forward; tilt it subtly back to creep; tilt it left or right (while still holding forward) to sway or dodge in those directions. The way this should be balanced, the player shouldn’t be expected to physically, consciously tilt the controller so much as the game should respond to slight changes in the player’s posture — those little subvoluntary movements that we make when we want the avatar to behave in a certain way — go faster, hold back, watch out! Excite Truck sort of tries to do this, though it doesn’t seem to be executed as well as it could be.

Likewise, a whole range of related motions could easily be mapped to a single button — much like the state-shifting afforded by shoulder buttons, except intrinsicly analog. Press the button to execute a punch; when pressing the button, move or position the Wiimote this or the other way way to punch in different ways for a subtly different effect. Flick the tip up for an uppercut, say. Imagine the way a Silent Hill 2 or a Metal Gear Solid could take advantage of this subtlety and flexibility — the way it could read into the player’s body language and movement patterns and extrapolate a certain level of psychology from them, to make unseen behind-the-scenes decisions.

This is a pretty damned important breach we’re crossing, here — and we’ve been given a decent, if somewhat rickety, bridge. Yet so far people are just laying the bridge on the ground and using it as a replacement for a sidewalk or a new kind of a bed, or trying to figure out really clever pieces of playground equipment they could turn it into. I kind of hope people get more smart, before the novelty wears off.

Horii Himself, Out.

  • Reading time:6 mins read

Yeah. This doesn’t completely surprise me, except in the sense that it actually happened.

Handhelds are a better place for introverted, focused experiences. (See Metroid II.) In terms of the mindset involved, playing a handheld is like reading a book, whereas playing a console is like watching TV. Again, look how perfect Dragon Warrior is on the Game Boy — how much better it is than on the NES. Also: having a lengthy “novel” game makes more sense if you can pick it up and put it down at leisure, rather than being forced to sit in one place and stare at a screen for hundreds of hours. Leave the consoles for flash and fun; visceral stuff. Like the Wii, say.

Also to consider: as great as DQ8 is, there are two major abstractions left that seem kind of contrary to what Horii wants to do with the series. For one, the player controls more than one character. That’s a little weird. For another, it’s got random turn-based battles. Honestly, that doesn’t seem like part of Horii’s great plan for the series. It never has; it’s just been something he’s settled with until now.

So yeah. The DS seems like an ideal place to put the game. What’s really interesting is the multiplayer aspect — which I didn’t expect at all, yet which again sort of makes sense, depending on how it’s implemented. If players can come and go at will — join each other or set off on their own tasks, each with his or her own agenda — it’ll work. If there are too many constraints to the framework, keeping people from just playing the damned game whether their friends are around or not, it’ll be a bit of a downer.

I’m kind of undecided what this game means in the end. On the one hand it seems likely it’s meant as an intermediary step while Horii works on Dragon Quest X for the Wii. Considering how far along this game seems to be (implying it’s been in the works for at least months, maybe a year), it seems like it’s part of a long-term plan. Also considering that the sword game seems basically like a testing bed for a new battle system… well, do the math. And yet, there’s this issue about the DS actually being the most suitable system out there right now (in terms of market saturation, the nature of the format, and the qualities it has to offer).

Maybe it’s just the most suitable platform for Dragon Quest IX in particular, for everything he wants to do with the game. If X is going to work the way I think it might, it’s going to pretty visceral and showy — demanding a home system. One in particular (that being the most visceral available).

Basically, every game Horii makes appears to be just another approach to the same game he’s been trying to make for twenty years. He never quite winds up with what he wants — though lately he’s getting a little closer. From what I can see, this is just one more angle, allowing him to capture a certain aspect of his vision that he hadn’t been able to before (perhaps at the expense of some other elements, that he’s already explored). So, you know, right on. These details seem worth exploring.

The next game… maybe it’s time to assemble? See how all the pieces fit?

The thing that I dig about Dragon Quest is that, whatever the surface problems, the games are visionary. It’s a strong, uncluttered vision that all the games reflect even if they don’t always embody it. As “retro” as they seem, they’re not just crapped out according to a formula; they’re each trying to achieve something that’s way beyond them — meaning an endless pile of compromises.

I find that pretty encouraging. Not the placeholders; the way Horii isn’t afraid to use them, while he roughs out everything else. And that he doesn’t let them distract him; he just devises them, then discards them when they’re no longer of use. He keeps chugging along, going through draft after draft until he gets it exactly right. It’s a very classical disposition. Very honest, at least to my eye.

He’s a lot like Miyamoto, except Miyamoto sort of gave up a long time ago. And Miyamoto’s vision isn’t quite as focused (though in turn, it is broader than Horii’s).

The one problem I can see with going from turn-based to real-time battles is that the battles in Dragon Quest — I don’t think they’re really always meant to stand in for actual fighting, as much as they’re a stand-in for any number of hardships and growth experiences that a person like the player might encounter in a situation like the quest at hand. Some of that might be actual battle; some of it might be much subtler and harder to depict in a game like this.

Keeping the battles turn-based and separated from the wandering-around makes the metaphor a lot clearer as a compromise, rather than as something special or important in its own right. Changing to a system that makes the game actually about fighting loads of monsters… I’m not sure if this is precisely the point he’s looking for. Still, it’s a trade off. Get more specific somewhere, you have to lose a nuance somewhere else.

I wonder what other sorts of difficulties or experiences could be devised, besides semipermeable monster walls holding you back. Ones that would add to (or rather further clarify), rather than detract from (or muddy), the experience. And preferably that wouldn’t be too scripted.

I’m thinking a little of Lost in Blue, though I don’t know how appropriate its ideas would be, chopped out and inserted whole. Still, general survival issues seem relevant: having certain bodily needs (and maybe psychological ones — though who the hell knows how to address that) that, though not difficult to attend to, cause problems if you don’t. So in the occasions you do run into real immediate difficulty (battles, whatever), you’ll be in far greater danger if you’ve been pressing yourself too far; if you haven’t sufficiently prepared. Likewise, injury might be a real problem — so the player would have to think carefully, weigh cost and benefit, before charging into dangerous situations.

Not pressing out would mean you’d never learn more, get better, stretch your boundaries. Being foolhardy would get you killed. Same deal we’ve got now; just more nuanced.

I’m sure there are other ways to do it. Maybe more interesting ones.

It could be I’m reading in some things that aren’t overtly intended. Still, I’ve never felt the battles were as important as what they stood for. They’re too straightforward. They’re used too cannily, as a barrier. The trick, again, is whether there’s an interesting and functional way of more literally representing what they might stand for. I dunno. Maybe not! At least, not right now. So all right, violence. Fair enough.

Dragon Quest IX: Starry Sky

  • Reading time:2 mins read

It looks like it’s been announced for the Nintendo DS. Which is… pretty big news! I mean, this is one of the most important series in Japan — one of the things that effectively makes a console. Though to be fair, it’s also usually released for the console with the biggest (or projected so) user base. For that to be the DS, instead of a home system… hell. You want to see some paradigms shifted? Here you go.

I’m guessing that Yangus Mysterious Dungeon game was meant as a test for the system, to see if the DS could handle a game roughly on the scale of DQXIII. I’ve not played the former (I don’t think it’s even getting a release over here); I hear it’s pretty darned impressive, for what it is. I’m undecided if I think this DS game is in turn meant as a prototype for a Wii game (as Horii has hinted at in the past), or if he’s trying to say something by moving the series to a portable system. Considering how damned well earlier Dragon Quest games have worked on the Game Boy (way better than on home systems), and considering how much more free time Japanese salarymen have on the train than at home, I’m guessing this might be considered a more efficient format for “timesink” games of this sort. I know I’ve suggested as much in the past. (Hey, is the industry starting to catch up to me?)

Here’s another paradigm: it’s turning into a “communication” game (Wi-Fi enabled), and it seems it’s becoming real-time. So hell, there are a couple more abstractions out of the way — basically the last significant ones remaining in DQXIII. No more turns, and you only control one character. I wonder how this will work out in practice; if players can simply hop into and out of each other’s quests, or if it’s more restricted.

EDIT: Well, there we go. Someone’s writing about it already. And yeah, forgot to mention the Level-5 bit. It’s interesting they’re still tied to the series, considering how eager they are to break out and do their own thing!

Matsuno Ball

  • Reading time:6 mins read

Final Fantasy XII tries so hard not to be dumb — indeed, to actively address almost everything wrong with Japanese RPGs. The result of this effort (and of the general inspiration behind the package) is one of the most engrossing, sincere “big” games I’ve played in a while. I mean, I really, really enjoy this thing. Seriously! It’s a damned ballsy game, that I’d recommend to anyone. On the surface the only significant problems are thus:

  • The license board
  • That the gambit system isn’t more advanced
  • That the game still has these weird “turns” grafted in

The license board isn’t a bad idea in principle; it’s just in execution that it comes off as one more bizarre affectation. The idea is that any character can, in theory, learn to do anything so long as he or she has the training or experience to do so. Learning how to do one thing (say, to cast some simple white magic) makes it possible to learn similar skills, with just a little more investment. Learning to properly use a mace, on the other hand, won’t do much for your ability to cast Fire.

The way it’s implemented, though — urgh. Why can’t I wear a hat that I just picked off the ground, without first “purchasing” the ability to do so? If I know how to use one kind of sword, why am I wholly unable to use another unless I purchase the ability? And in typical RPG style, why am I all at once magically able to do these things, once I buy the ability? The way this should have been done is as follows:

  1. Call the damned things “proficiencies” instead of “licenses”. That makes it clearer what we’re getting into.
  2. For practical abilities (weapons, armor, use of items and accessories), allow anyone to equip and use those items to some percentage of skill. Those with no training in a bladed weapon would barely be able to do anything useful with a bastard sword, though they’d be able to swing it around and maybe, by chance, hit something for some amount of damage. Those with some training in swords would have a higher chance of using the thing well. Those with specific training in that type of sword would be able to use it perfectly. Likewise, there are some items (like a freakin’ hat) that anyone could wear to full, or almost full, ability — though maybe mastering the use would provide a subtle nuance. If there were any special bonus or benefit, maybe you’d only get that if you had the proficiency. For more intangible abilities — spells, techniques — allow anyone to at least attempt those to which your party has access, though there’s an extremely low chance of success unless they’ve mastered those categories. Anyone who has put in the effort to learn the abilities can do them flawlessly, every time.
  3. Choose the direction in which you’re going to study, rather than the licenses on which to spend your accrued points. If you want to learn how to cast “Cure”, peg it as your current goal; all points would go toward learning “cure”. Once you’ve learned the ability, an unobtrusive message pops up (much like a “level up” message) informing you of your success and reminding you to pick a new goal. (You can turn off the reminders in the option menu.)

There’s no real problem with gambits; this system is the main stroke of genius here. I just wish they were more nuanced. For instance, I’d like to be able to say “if [any enemy] is [within striking range], then [equip] [X melee weapon].” Then attack. Otherwise if they’re not in striking range, equip your range weapon and attack. Also, I don’t know why it’s not giving me the option to target enemies equal to or lower than X health; only greater than. You always want to beat the weakest enemies first, so you clear them away! Again, not a big problem; it’s just that I’m frustrated that I can’t always program my companions to act as I would act — which in theory is the point to the gambit system; to keep me from having to choose the same options over and over from a menu.

Finally, it’s a little strange that the game basically takes place in real time, yet everyone waits his turn to act. There’s no reason for this; it should instead be based on a sort of an initiative system (and retaining the ability to “pause” and issue new orders). Characters and monsters would act the moment they have the opening, and those actions would take a certain amount of time to execute. (Likewise, placement would matter a lot more; you can only hit someone if you’re rudimentarily within range.) The effect would be real-time battles to match the real-time maneuvering.

And on that note, I’d like direct control over my party leader. I want to be able to assign actions to my face buttons, and only have to call up a menu for my less common actions (or to send a command to my companions). This again can be an option — much as there is an option now to leave time running (instead of pausing) when you’ve the menu open. It would not significantly change the way the game played (at least, with the above initiative system), it would make me feel far more involved, and it would simply make more sense.

While we’re here, I wish the overworld would seamlessly stream instead of being broken into hunks of map. I realize this is due to the PS2’s famous memory limitations. Still, hey. Crystal Dynamics figured it out. Also: if it’s going to be forty-five minutes between save points, I’d like a quicksave option. That sounds reasonable to me.

I’d say that all of these alterations would be natural for any sequel to FFXII (especially now that Square is hot on sequels to individual FF games) — except Squenix (and millions of Square fans, and Penny-Arcade) seem to consider this game a failure best forgotten. Ah well. Grace wouldn’t be grace if it were self-evident.

It’s fun that the game pretty much sidelines the Nomura-chic protagonist (who I call Corey) and his “girl chum”, in favor of the more interesting supporting cast and their political drama. This might just be the first game I’ve ever admired for its spoken dialog.