I was playing Starcraft 2 the other day, and going throught he process of carrying out what may have been the greatest strategy ever concocted against the AI in it's story mode. In fact, I was very nearly done filling my fighting force with nothing but marines when the AI got tired of waiting and rolled right in. From there, things went as you'd expect (I.E. Not well for me) and I was quite a huge number of marines as a result. My immediate response? Rage, of course (I started planning vengeance but that never went anywhere, and isn't really relevant anyway).

A few days later, I was playing through Pikmin. Once again, I was readying a massive force in an attempt to crush one of the bosses. Then things went wrong again, as they are wont to do, after a mis-timed rush. In a matter of moments, I had lost nearly fifty Pikmin, at least a few dead from each color. My response this time? I was on the verge of tears.

Now, theoretically these two scenarios should produce more or less the same outcome. Either way, a dumb move on my part got a ton of my soldiers killed. The fact is, though, that they didn't, and I know I'm not the only one that thinks so. So, why did people dying in Starcraft get me angry when Pikmin dying got me sad? There has to be a reason that one game has units people find to be cannon fodder while the other has units that have no-death runs associated with them.

Lets look at the obvious answers. First off: Pikmin are adorable Seriously, look at them. They look adorable, they move adorably, even when they go and pose they're adorable. They make cute sounds, they have stubby little arms, and they're always ready to do what you need them to.

Human beings are notorious for making cute things take greater importance than ugly things. If you hurt a person, you're a criminal and some people dislike you, but most don't really care. Hurt a cute animal, and the whole world turns on you. I don't know the exact psychology behind it, but I don't think anybody can doubt that in most cases, cute things are treated a bit better than other, uglier things.

Now the second, not quite as obvious as the first but still pretty big answer: Their personality. Now, the Starcraft marines have a sort of personality. They can talk, say funny lines, and respond to you when you send them places. However, especially considering the fact that you very rarely ever get up close to any of them, you rarely see anything more from them.

Pikmin on the other hand seem almost crafted to exude charm and personality. From the different sounds they make as things happen to them, to the little things they do when they get away from you, to the way that they will straight up sing for you , they seem more like living, breathing creatures than the marines ever did for me.

And third, the also obvious answer that I've been holding onto because third is where the good stuff goes: What happens when they die

It's a small thing, yes, but can you honestly tell me that the combination of tiny-floating Pikmin ghost and that little death noise they make just cuts me to the bone.

Now, ask most people who get sad when Pikmin die, and it's likely that they'll give you one of these three answers. However, there's a few more points I'd like to put forward that are a bit less obvious than the others.

In most RTS games, you tend to get units wholesale: you build them, they pop out, all done. TAfter that, you use them for the remainder of the match and forget about them afterwords.

Pikmin have a different process. In fact, I daresay they have a lifespan. Everything starts when you personally pluck them out of the ground and they start following you around. From then on, they're yours, and will follow you everywhere you go (unless you tell them otherwise, of course). You take them around, you conquer monsters and challenges with them, you grow them into flower pikmin, and so on and so forth. All this creates something of a bond between you and the Pikmin. You were there when they were born, you're around for everything they do for you, and you're most likely going to be there when they die. In fact, chances are you are the reason that they die.

If a Pikmin drowns, nine times out of ten it's because of something you did. If they are burnt or electrified or crushed, it's usually because you put them in that sort of situation. Worst of all, if they're eaten, it's usually because you personally gave the order for them to attack. Taking everything above into account, whenever you issue commands to the Pikmin, it becomes a very personal thing; you are taking the creatures that have done so much for you and are likely sending them to their deaths.

(As a side note, I personally hate it when Pikmin die due to negligence on my part. I can still accept losing twenty Pikmin during a hard fought battle, but I will go far out of my way to keep a singe Pikmin from being away from the ship at the end of the day.)

All that said, the fact that Pikmin can elicit an actual emotional response from people just based on the lives of it's basic units likely has other factors that I simply am incapable of seeing (I very nearly compared it to being a parent, but A. I'm not a parent, so I wouldn't actually know, and B. Some people might find comparing being a parent to commanding hordes of tiny cute creatures to fight and work for your sake a little offensive). Does analyzing this sort of thing have any practical use? Maybe, maybe not. All I really know is that Pikmin is one of the few games that can actually make me cry, and that's pretty impressive.

Now go listen to this song and cry yourself for a bit.

I play a lot of JRPGs, and I mean a LOT of them. While admittedly not as many as some people, the actual number could still make people think I'm a little nuts. State of my mind aside, though, the genre has provided me with many hours of interesting stories, creative characters, and all around enjoyment.

And frustration. A VERY good deal of frustration.

See, JRPGs are not without their problems (some may say that problem one is being a JRPG, but I disagree and digress). Most of them require a hefty time commitment, as well as a willingness to go along with certain foibles and elements you may not enjoy in order to get to the parts you will. Put these two things together, and you can imagine why game overs are both something I have hated, and something I have not thought much about.

Elsewhere, autosaves, quicksaves and checkpoints have alleviated the problem of losing, and even besides that, death usually isn't that bad in other genres. When you die in a fps, it's usually not that far back to where you were and you can take on the situation in a new way. When you die in a platformer you have found out about the layout and are likely to take things a bit slower now. Even most western RPGs have incorporated some way of keeping a track of your progress so not much is lost should you kick the bucket.

Yet, dying in a JRPG is often quite harsh. Many games in the genre tend to hand losing in one of two ways:

A: You are forced to reload your last save, or

B: You are sent back to a town, inn, or healing device of some sort, usually missing money, experience, health, or all three.

These deaths are, quite simply, infuriating. This is made worse by the fact that most JRPGs handle saving either through scarcely placed points or though saving the game so slowly that it becomes a hassle to save, leading to people not doing so as much as they should. And although B is a better consequence than A, neither leaves you with a good taste in your mouth. In fact, there are many times when death will cause a player to just put the game down and never come back, and the reason is simple. Or, rather, the reasons are simple.

Reason 1: Lost Effort

One of the main pulls of a JRPG (and indeed RPGs in general), besides story (If you happen to like those stories) is the concept of accruing strength, resources, and progress. Gaining experience to level up, gain abilities, and tackle things you couldn't before, and making your way past challenges to the end of a difficult dungeon are so key to the experience that the very idea of losing these things becomes an almost traumatic experience.

And, of course, losing these things is exactly what happens when you die. You wind up having to do everything you've already done, gain the levels you've already gotten, hit story beats you've already seen, open boxes you already know the contents of all over again, and again, and again...

And this is made worse by...

Reason 2: Lost Time

JRPGs usually take a while to get through, largely due to combat taking forever, dungeons taking forever, and story parts taking forever (so, all in all, everything). This is why, when you've already put in a large amount of time to complete a task, or get through a dungeon, the last thing you want to do is be told "Whoops, sorry bout that, go and do it all again".

Where as other games usually have you redoing minutes of gameplay, JRPGs can force you to redo HOURS. This is why the sentiment of "I already did this, I don't want to do it again" is more common here than anywhere else. Some games have, admittedly, tried to soften this blow, but it not usually addressed outright, or at least not that I've seen.

And then there's

Reason 3: The Above Two in Conjunction

I... I don't have a reason three. I felt like I should though, rule of three and all that. Just... Suffice to say that the above two are bad.

So What?

Now at this point, you may be wondering "Hey, you just detailed how much you hate these things, why are you saying you didn't realize this was a problem in the title?" If so, good on you. If not, then think that, so I can answer it.

See, it's like I said before: there are foibles in these games that you put up with, things that you don't necessarily like that you deal with so that you can keep playing. Now, it might also mean bad voice acting, or a dull combat system, but how these games handled death was just so commonplace that I never thought much about it. It's like saying "Hey, why does it have to rain? Rain sucks, so lets get rid of it". That's just plain silly, and it's not the sort of thing that bears much though.

But Shin Megami Tensei IV has stopped the rain.

(and don't go digging too deep into the long-term effects topping the rain would have on the world. It's a silly thought, not an uneducated statement)

Shin Megami Tensei IV

Let me preface this bit by saying that this game is tough. Quite tough. Quite "I am level thirty now, but these level eight guys can still pose a threat and kill me" tough, and yes that has happened to me once. As such, death is a constant companion in these games (in the metaphorical sense, he's not actually a companion, though I do enjoy the fact that I have to clarify this). That's why it pleases me that the game has handled dying so well, striking the perfect balance between being something that isn't just a slap on the wrist, and being something that will make you quit the game.

Early on, when you die (Not if, when. This game is, as stated, tough, and casting the wrong thing at the wrong guy can and will kill you) you are taken to the after life, where you meet a rather grumpy old fellow by the name of Charon. Everybody Say Hi to Charon!

This guy is the person in charge of getting people across the river to the actual afterlife. Problem is, there's a line. A long line. This means he is a busy man, far too busy to put up with your shenanigans. Thus, he offers an ultimatum: Give him some money (or, as I take advantage of, playcoins) and he will bring you back to life, saving him some extra paperwork, and you, er, your life. Accept and you will be brought back to right before you got into the deadly fight. Deny, and it's an actual game over.

Now, his prices aren't cheap: early on at least the financial cost of coming back can take almost everything you have, and playcoins don't pile up that quickly for them to always be an option (and you might want to use them elsewhere), and that's what makes this such a clever solution.

You see, not only does it fit in with the feel of the game, but it provides people a choice: are you willing to pay the price in order to keep the progress from the last time you saved, or have you done so recently enough that you are fine with going back and trying from a save point? This choice, though simple, is actually quite clever (at least, I feel so, though I admit I am simple and not clever).

While the most obvious effect of this is just getting a second chance in combat, it also gives you a second chance to save (You know, that thing you should do more often), as this game does allow for saving anywhere. If you do save and die soon after, you can just reload, keeping your hard earned money out of Charon's grubby kind hands. It almost feels like the game is chastising you for not saving enough, but still gives you a chance to make up for it, something so many other games don't do.

Even if a player doesn't decide to come back and instead decides to fight back from their last save point, simply by giving the player this choice lets them feel like they're still in control. The game didn't MAKE you redo everything, you CHOSE to do so. You had a choice to come back, but you wanted to do it the other way and for as small a thing that is, it can make the world of difference in whether or not you keep going. Few things can make a player mad like forcing them into something they don't want to do. In these cases, even the illusion of choice can make things better, so an actual choice is practically a godsend.

Somehow, SMT IV manages to take the worst part of many JRPGs and, while keeping the fear of it occurring alive, manages to relieve the frustration associated with it, and now that I'm used to it, it could be difficult going back to games where dying means redoing several hours of my life. Still, awareness is good. I mean, just because something isn't always at the forefront of your mind doesn't mean it isn't a problem. And you can't fix something if you don't know it's there. And knowledge is valuable under any circumstances.

I could keep going with pithy phrases and sayings, but it really all just boils down to the fact that, in a genre that is often accused of being stagnant, and having some very deeply rooted problems, finding a solution to such a frustrating thing is just plain great.