When facing a rough problem it is common to study similar environments, looking for potential solutions. Virtual worlds, being all the rage, should have been the first place academics turned to, looking for advice, but they didn't, so I have the honour to publish my findings first. What can we learn from videogame worlds that would help us get out of this supposed crisis? After carefull study I've found that, apart from "beating the bad guys with the biggest sword you can find", there's nothing for us in here.
Really, videogame worlds have it much worse than us. Capitalism's main flaw is in its reliance and dependence on inflation to prosper, but worlds like Hyrule, Hillys or Final Fantasy Land are burdened with the much, much worse phantom of hyperinflation, and each tries to decrease its effect the best they can.
Origins of the inflation
One common issue in RPG worlds is the recurrent monster invasion, which brings chaos and suffering. It happened in each of the Phantasy Star games, in Hyrule, the Mana world... everywhere. But its direct effects are not that bad. I can't remember many towns destroyed by the monsters in any of those games, but what I remember is that all monsters, from cacti to dragons, drop legal tender, be it Gil, Rupees or Meseta, in generous quantities.
The direct impact of this simple fact is staggering: in whole worlds, when travelling from empire to empire, or even between planets of the Algo System, you'll use the same currency everywhere. Monsters provide the common ground for a planetary economic system that the UN can only dream of, with almost free manufacturing costs and little rewards for forgers.
The catch is that there is always new currency being coined, at an uncontroleed rate. If you want to eat roast vegetables, you just need to go out, kill a Giant Onion or Carrot, pick the loot and use it to buy the roasted version of whatever you killed. And the same happens every morning, in every house, in every town. And the amount of coins in circulation increases constantly, maybe not too fast, but in a year you might find that it takes killing two Giant Onions to buy one roast onion. And in a hundred years, when the next monster invasion starts, the value of the currency will drop so fast that it won't be even funny.
So how do you control inflation in a chaotic system like this?
Showing posts with label essay. Show all posts
Showing posts with label essay. Show all posts
2011-07-10
2011-02-14
On OnLive
By now, every person even slightly interestedn in video-games should know about OnLive. Those who don't, would do well to read a bit on it and its competitors. Those in Nort America might even try it out, if their internet connection allows it.
In brief: OnLive is a remote gaming system. A player can start a game from the service in a not too powerful machine, and play, ideally, as if the computer was a modern monster. The game itself is executed on OnLive's computer cluster, in one of their machines. The player receives a video stream of the screen, and the input is sent back to OnLive to process inside the game. If the internet connection holds up, the experience should remain a close match to playing on your own PC.
The limitations this system imposes are in resolution (the stream is limited to 1280x720), the artifacts caused by the video compression and the time passed since the player sees an image (or hears a sound) and the game receives the player's response.
Then, what is so important about OnLive? It is, obvlously, an industry changing concept. The PC and console markets have been led by power hungry machines, paid for by the players. Now, costs can be sustained by an external party, theoretically reducing the cost of playing the latest and biggest games.
It is also relevant as an innovative distribution method: there is just no distribution. A client pays for the right to play a game. No installation files, disc, activation any more. And no more patching on the player's side. And you can play anywhere, on any PC.
Unfortunately, the games are associated to a single account, so you can no longer share a game with your brother, friend, partner... without sharing the whole account. Unless multi-person accounts are offered, obviously.
For developers, on the other hand, OnLive could imply a console like environment for PC games. OnLives machines can be tested, avoiding the hell of multi-configuration set-ups. And, at the same time, can always aim for the best possible graphics, without taking into account the number of high-end computers in the market. Of course, these points are irrelevant as of now, given the low penetration of OnLive in comparison to world wide PC games sales.
But what are the potential effects of such an environment on the whole industry? In the coming years, as internet connections improve, hardware gets more robust and OnLive and similar companies finetune their core systems, things will start changing. It might not be OnLive, but it is undeniable that someone, some day, will triumph with a similar scheme*.
Trying to predict future market movements is considered by many a great exercise, even if you get everything wrong. So, what are my predictions for gaming, in the light of this technology?
In brief: OnLive is a remote gaming system. A player can start a game from the service in a not too powerful machine, and play, ideally, as if the computer was a modern monster. The game itself is executed on OnLive's computer cluster, in one of their machines. The player receives a video stream of the screen, and the input is sent back to OnLive to process inside the game. If the internet connection holds up, the experience should remain a close match to playing on your own PC.
The limitations this system imposes are in resolution (the stream is limited to 1280x720), the artifacts caused by the video compression and the time passed since the player sees an image (or hears a sound) and the game receives the player's response.
Then, what is so important about OnLive? It is, obvlously, an industry changing concept. The PC and console markets have been led by power hungry machines, paid for by the players. Now, costs can be sustained by an external party, theoretically reducing the cost of playing the latest and biggest games.
It is also relevant as an innovative distribution method: there is just no distribution. A client pays for the right to play a game. No installation files, disc, activation any more. And no more patching on the player's side. And you can play anywhere, on any PC.
Unfortunately, the games are associated to a single account, so you can no longer share a game with your brother, friend, partner... without sharing the whole account. Unless multi-person accounts are offered, obviously.
For developers, on the other hand, OnLive could imply a console like environment for PC games. OnLives machines can be tested, avoiding the hell of multi-configuration set-ups. And, at the same time, can always aim for the best possible graphics, without taking into account the number of high-end computers in the market. Of course, these points are irrelevant as of now, given the low penetration of OnLive in comparison to world wide PC games sales.
But what are the potential effects of such an environment on the whole industry? In the coming years, as internet connections improve, hardware gets more robust and OnLive and similar companies finetune their core systems, things will start changing. It might not be OnLive, but it is undeniable that someone, some day, will triumph with a similar scheme*.
Trying to predict future market movements is considered by many a great exercise, even if you get everything wrong. So, what are my predictions for gaming, in the light of this technology?
2011-02-08
Review: The Legend of Zelda series
Link: one of the longest lasting and most beloved icons in the interactive media world. An almost eternal boy, constantly saving the world at the last moment from Ganondorf's evil schemes, in which Princess Zelda is always involved, to a varying extent. Most often, she is the recipient of some form of legendary power and the key to controlling the TriState Area Triforce.
We've heard this story six times already (counting only Nintendo home console versions), with different variations. However, in terms of gameplay, evolution was limited to the first four games. Zelda II was a significant departure from the original, Super Zelda improved Zelda's top-down exploration almost to perfection, and Zelda 64 changed the way 3D adventure games were built. However, from Zelda 64 on, little has changed. Each game in the series would get its defining characteristic/mechanic, but general story, controls, menus or items remained pretty much the same.
Late Beginnings
I love A Link to the Past as much as anyone, even though I never finished it. It had good puzzles, tricky dungeons and awesome dungeon bosses. What made boss fights so good was the fact that they were difficult, until you learnt the method. After attacking the enemy three or four times, each with a little higher difficulty, the game acknowledged you as the winner. No five minutes battles, no constant die and retry, no rinse and repeat. This, for me, is the defining mark in the Zelda genre, and its greatest gift to computer game design. It is recognizable in every Zelda game afterwards, but also in the Metroid saga, Soul Reaver or Beyond Good & Evil.
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| The Light World |
In other aspects, the game always felt quick, even when you were stuck. The moment you entered a room you easily identified every relevant item in seconds. Killed some minions, activated a switch and moved to the next area. Opened a chest, saw a 2 seconds description and moved on. Killed a boss, collected a heart and an object, got out of the dungeon in seconds and moved on. Every action was snappy and the game was constantly pushing you forward, with short conversations and a very streamlined interface.
Basically, Super Zelda kept the obstacles between the player and the actual Hyrulean struggle to a minimum.
2011-01-12
Graphic adventures demise rant
Before I start posting reviewes of graphic adventures, I find myself forced to write a state of the art, plus my opinion on the genre's slow death. Please, indulge me.
As you should know, in the 80s and early 90s, adventure games reigned supreme in the world of videogames. Their narrative had no equal, as did their ability to treat serious subjects and make people ponder about them. But, as the century approached its end, the genre lost its following and energy.
It is a recognized sport among adventure fans to look for culprits of this decline, and everyone has their favourite. I like to blame:
From time to time, a developer would discover a way to improve one of these (Alone in the Dark hybridation, Myst's lack of inventory, Gabriel Knight 3's navigation), and implement it in a succesful game. But other designers would rarely include other's ideas into their new game. Copying was not well regarded and, if it were, modifying the engine a studio had used for several titles was not that easy and/or economically viable.
But this blaming is of little relevance in the real world. What is important is not answering "why did graphic adventures dissappear", but "why did most gamers not care at all". You see, people still bought games, even bad ones, by the millions, but adventures only got a waning portion of that cake, no matter how good or praised they were. How can you explain that?
What had made graphic adventures shine over other genres was a mix of their depth in story, characters and humour. Another feature was their relative simplicity, when compared to space shooters, platformers, etc. Anyone with minimum computer expertise could pick up a graphic adventure and click around the screen, select verbs, objects, people and laugh for a while. Puzzles also were part of the magic formula: solving them felt great, and telling your friends when they were stuck was even better.
As you should know, in the 80s and early 90s, adventure games reigned supreme in the world of videogames. Their narrative had no equal, as did their ability to treat serious subjects and make people ponder about them. But, as the century approached its end, the genre lost its following and energy.
It is a recognized sport among adventure fans to look for culprits of this decline, and everyone has their favourite. I like to blame:
- The lack of evolution in the genre.
- The inability to properly embrace the new technologies and platforms (partially related to #1).
- The resignation of players and critics, who in the end welcomed almost any new graphic adventure, without regards to actual quality, sinking the standard for the genre and scaring new players away.
From time to time, a developer would discover a way to improve one of these (Alone in the Dark hybridation, Myst's lack of inventory, Gabriel Knight 3's navigation), and implement it in a succesful game. But other designers would rarely include other's ideas into their new game. Copying was not well regarded and, if it were, modifying the engine a studio had used for several titles was not that easy and/or economically viable.
But this blaming is of little relevance in the real world. What is important is not answering "why did graphic adventures dissappear", but "why did most gamers not care at all". You see, people still bought games, even bad ones, by the millions, but adventures only got a waning portion of that cake, no matter how good or praised they were. How can you explain that?
What had made graphic adventures shine over other genres was a mix of their depth in story, characters and humour. Another feature was their relative simplicity, when compared to space shooters, platformers, etc. Anyone with minimum computer expertise could pick up a graphic adventure and click around the screen, select verbs, objects, people and laugh for a while. Puzzles also were part of the magic formula: solving them felt great, and telling your friends when they were stuck was even better.
2010-12-26
Career Planning & The Knapsack Problem
A few days ago, in a students meeting, the Big Question for every game developer wanna-be was raised:
As of late, I have also given some thought to the knapsack problem. In my mind both met and produced a (mostly irrelevant) revelation:
Which [programming language/audio software/whatever] should I learn to work in the video-games industry?My relationship with game development is, at best, second hand*, as, although I know people who have made it into the business, I am myself trying to open that door. So I explained which would be the answer for me and which was for those I know who are now developing video-games as a job. Afterwards, I made clear that the actual response, although dependant on many factors, is in the end always a personal choice. But I kept trying to find a better answer for the future.
As of late, I have also given some thought to the knapsack problem. In my mind both met and produced a (mostly irrelevant) revelation:
A career path towards any desired position can be represented as a variation of the knapsack, known in gaming circles as the most common and recognizable of RPG mechanics: "the Diablo inventory system".Only that, instead of weapons, potions, robes and scrolls, you store subjects studied, software mastered and projects finished. Each takes a certain space and time, and has an associated value of "usefulness" towards reaching the goal.
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| What is the equivalent of a seal? Beating John Romero at Quake? |
2010-12-23
On Game reviews, part 1 - To Score or not to Score
Note: For an interestingly concise, yet deep analysis of the scoring system and its issues, as it is currently implemented in the video-game industry, you'd do yourself a favour checking this post entry I found by sheer chance.
Now you're done with that, I will add my two cents to this too-long-going clusterfuck. And, please, let me disregard the whole public relationships point of view and focus on the players. They are the target, the interested party, the beginning and end of games review. The review's sole purpose is to indicate whether a game is worth being played or not. Even the quality/price threshold must be left out of the review, as it changes from one person to another.
What are game reviews for?
In the previous draft of this post I went into a rant about how much I loved the old Insert Credit reviews and how no site comes close to them. But, in the end, I can answer the question without getting into that sad story: a review is only a way to tell a gamer if a game rocks or not.
And how do we know if we are going to like something? As with everything else, by comparing it to what we know already. This is the role the final score in a review plays. It charts a game against an perfect ideal, which would achieve succesfully everything it tried, while trying to do something interesting in similar terms than the reviewed game. The problem is that, really, nobody knows what this perfect game looks like, as it changes depending on the reviewer, the reader and the game. The decission of whether a game is actually any good or not is based on, first of all, trying to guess what the ideal it is being compared to is. Second, if the reviewer would like that ideal, or has even thought of the same image of perfection. And, then, determining what the score means in all that mess.
Now you're done with that, I will add my two cents to this too-long-going clusterfuck. And, please, let me disregard the whole public relationships point of view and focus on the players. They are the target, the interested party, the beginning and end of games review. The review's sole purpose is to indicate whether a game is worth being played or not. Even the quality/price threshold must be left out of the review, as it changes from one person to another.
What are game reviews for?
In the previous draft of this post I went into a rant about how much I loved the old Insert Credit reviews and how no site comes close to them. But, in the end, I can answer the question without getting into that sad story: a review is only a way to tell a gamer if a game rocks or not.
And how do we know if we are going to like something? As with everything else, by comparing it to what we know already. This is the role the final score in a review plays. It charts a game against an perfect ideal, which would achieve succesfully everything it tried, while trying to do something interesting in similar terms than the reviewed game. The problem is that, really, nobody knows what this perfect game looks like, as it changes depending on the reviewer, the reader and the game. The decission of whether a game is actually any good or not is based on, first of all, trying to guess what the ideal it is being compared to is. Second, if the reviewer would like that ideal, or has even thought of the same image of perfection. And, then, determining what the score means in all that mess.
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