Why aren't there more games built around microbiology and chemistry? I may be a little biased in this regard, being a biochemistry major and all, but I've played great games about warfare, finance, medicine, and even ecology, and yet the only chemistry game I've played is actually a robot-programming game in a cheap disguise. You find the occasiona educational title, or shitty product that means well, but it is not as though these are non-viable themes for a game, it just seems like no designers have any interest. It's tempting to make one myself, but I really don't have the expertise to ensure it would wind up as anything other than one of the aforementioned well-meaning shitpiles.
I have no intention to ever play League of Legends, regardless of continuing prompts to change this policy. The primary reason I cannot be bothered, other than a general lack of satisfaction with online competitive environments, is the lack of apparent context in the game: The fiction and setting of LoL is a thin veneer to that exists only to justify the digital sporting event contained therein. I must confess that I find it hard to stay engaged in an event when I have no reason to care about it, and LoL is a game that, like Team Fortress 2 or Unreal Tournament, asks me to care because the game's bare mechanics are ostensibly fun. But in the absence of escapism, fantasy, or story? I might as well be playing a football game.
It would make a lot of sense for me to enjoy MMORPGs. I like other games that feature open worlds, character customization, and cooperative multiplayer, but the whole of the MMO genre can fuck right off. Even were I to generously ignore the absurd monthly tithe that playing such a game entails, the games themselves consist chiefly of experiments in behavioural conditioning; an unending, viciously cyclical grindfest of filling bars and accumulating incrementally better equipment. Supposedly, Instances can break up the grind with genuinely entertaining gameplay, but other games are composed entirely of entertaining gameplay, without the requirement that you perform chores during your leisure time to earn the privilege of having fun.
Since starting Brink: - I've had to forward ports to be able to host games - My characters now all speak with the same accent regardless of which one I chose during creation - The game has crashed during server or menu loading - I've been unable to join games for no clear reason - The sound has vanished entirely for entire matches - Enemy bots have turned invisible for entire matches - AI teammates won't even provide basic support to me while I'm finishing all the objectives they are too stupid to manage - I've sunk about 100+ hours into it and I'm having a blast
Most or all of the criticisms I've heard about Brink are completely accurate, and yet they just aren't inhibiting my fun with the game the way the metascore implies they are ruining everyone else's. Then again, maybe I'm just playing for different reasons – evaluating on different merits. While shopping for games in recent years, I set a few simple requirements, and found Brink to be the closest to realizing all of them at once:
1) Story. This is not why I got Brink, naturally, since it's story is more like a weak veneer than an actual reason to play, but the fact that it has any story at all is enough to vastly improve the immersion for me. It's just more satisfying to think that my actions are having some (albeit fictional) weight, rather than being wholly context-less sporting matches. Fulfilling a mission objective with previously established importance, rather than just killing the other team, capturing a flag, or holding a territory node, makes all the difference in the world.
2) Cooperative multiplayer. Multiplayer means that my friends will be able to fill in where the game falls apart (as they do in Brink more heavily than other titles like it). More importantly, Brink contains a cooperative mode, which is where I dwell almost exclusively, because cooperative is better. I understand that many gamers prefer killing an actual opponent rather than AI, but speaking as the person perpetually at the short end of that particular stick, I don't see the appeal. Co-operative modes mean that everyone wins or loses together, resulting in camaraderie instead of rivalry.
3) Character aggrandizement. Better known as "RPG mechanics". While Brink offers a fairly substantial amount of customization for the appearance of the characters, the more important thing is the ability to customize the perks, weapons, weapon loadout, the character build (i.e. silhouette size, health, mobility, and weapon accessibility). Messing with these kinds of variables and finding the preferred combinations thereof is perhaps my most favourite thing to do in any game, and without it I might never have noticed Brink in the first place.
In spite of more or less meeting my exact specifications, Brink is still far from a perfect product. I would, given the choice, play something better, something that doesn't have me oscillating between satisfaction and vexation - so what I want to know most of all is this: if Brink really isn't worth my time, then what mission-driven, cooperative multiplayer shooter with RPG mechanics ought I to play instead?
There was a time I wished I could be a game designer. Several unfinished projects later, and I am reasonably confident that I lack the patience and dedication for the job, but I still like to learn about game design and study the mechanics that make my favourite games so fun. If I am not cut out for actually building a game, though, what motivates me to absorb this kind of info? Well, apart from the whole inherent-curious-nature thing, I feel that being informed about why I am having fun with a given game makes me better able to predict whether a new game will also be fun, in turn informing my choices at the game shop.
I love first-person shooters: they are straightforward, intuitive, and yet never seem to get old or lack for gameplay potential in the form of different weapons, enemies, and tactical demands. The "first-person" part, however, I could take or leave. Pulling the game out to a third person perspective, even if it is as tight a view as directly over the character model's shoulder, does wonders for the player's peripheral vision and spatial awareness, and in no way inhibits the basic mechanics of aiming and shooting. It also opens up possibilities for gameplay types that normally demand the third person perspective, and gives the player a chance to enjoy the appearance of their character, all at little or no cost.
A transparent mechanic is one that allows the player to effectively reduce their actions to simple math or logic, being able to calculate either the optimal move, or at least the odds of achieving a desired outcome for any given action. Opaque mechanics raise the demands of computation beyond the reasonable ability of a player, forcing them to play based on the 'feel' of their actions. Neither type is always better than the other, but frustration can arise from translucent mechanics: when odds or optimal moves can be computed, but the calculations are disproportionately slow and annoying relative to the benefit they provide. Players are left frustrated, either because of the delay or having to guess in order to keep up the flow.
As a child, I thought that games were all meant to be simulations of one entertaining experience or another, so I was of a mind that the more accurate the simulation, the better the game. A realistic experience, I thought, was therefore better than a well-crafted though more blatantly fake one. And why not? Being in a believable situation facilitates immersion, and can be a big part of the fun – but reality is also unfair, harsh, cumbersome and even boring. Realism is even more problematic in tabletop games, where it is often achieved by burdening the player with complex rules and/or extensive math. Unless you happen to be a simulationist gamer, it pays to be wary of games that sacrifice your fun in favour of authenticity.
There are times I feel like an asshole for my appreciation of the aesthetics of darkness and grit, and fondness of shooter games above all others. I have listened to plenty of complaints about the epidemic of grey-brown shooters and action games clogging up the market, and I sympathize. No one wants the gaming medium to stagnate, innovation and new gameplay styles are great, and I certainly wouldn't argue that perpetual bleakness is a good thing - but dammit, many of my favourite games are those very same grimdark-saturated shooters. I cannot blame the developers for trying to make games that have the kind of aesthetics and gameplay that I honestly enjoy the most.
Aiming is better with a mouse than an analog stick. The movements of a mouse are directly correlated with the movements of the crosshairs: moving the mouse farther moves the view farther, and moving faster moves the view faster. The movements of an analog stick, by contrast, operate like a throttle: moving the stick farther moves the view faster, and (here is the important part) holding the stick away from the center for longer is what moves the view farther. This last trait of control stick motion means that it always takes longer to aim precisely than with the mouse, and necessitates a variety of aim-aids in console FPS games. Throttle is, however, perfect for controlling movement of the character model, but the mouse and keyboard configuration tragically maps movement control to the all-or-nothing keys, which cannot replicate the flexible speed of the analog stick.
The inclusion of re-spec's has been the single greatest improvement in modern RPGs.
I downloaded a free copy of MechWarrior 4 recently and had a go at tinkering in the old MechLab. I fondly remember the MechWarrior video game series because I spent hours at a time in there, tweaking my load outs to match my conception of an ideal war machine. There is no best way to deal with the barrage of options presented by chassis selection, weapon load-out, armour and engine tonnage - it is a matter of preference, strategy, and the demands of the mission.
Many games, especially RPGs, seek to provide a similar range of customization, the goal of which is to give the player freedom to overcome the obstacles in the game as they see fit by creating a character unique to them. Ironically, this is typically achieved by actually restricting the player's freedom. In an RPG, one often has to pick a character class, which pigeonholes the player into a specific style of play for the rest of the game. This isn't often bothersome to the player, who perceives the act of self-restriction as an expression of free choice.
In a game devoid of customization the player is given constant access to all of the possible play strategies (exempli gratia, the different guns of Half-Life) that they have acquired so far, and is never required to pick specialization. This makes the player much more free in how they wish to approach obstacles without ever requiring them to make an irreversible choice. Hypothetically, this is the same net effect as having a class system, but without the need for a player to replay the entire game in order to try new strategies.
However, requiring the player to make a self-restricting choice can cause them to become invested in the choice that they make. Having to pick one or a smaller selection of abilities to the exclusion of all others forces the player to think about the strengths and weaknesses of their build, making them strategize and making the decision of one method over another more meaningful.
The best customization occurs in games like MechWarrior, where there is a massive breadth and depth unmatched by the options of a customization-free title, and where your choices are never irreversible (as is often the case with RPGs). You can pick your BattleMech and it's load-out before every mission, meaning that if you want to change things up, it's easy to do so - but your choice remains ever-important to how the mission will proceed.
Left 4 Dead: Teamwork On its higher difficulties, Left 4 Dead may be the greatest team-building exercise yet conceived. In crews of four we strategized to overcome complex obstacles, assigned one another responsibilities according to our talents, communicated to adapt our tactics on the fly, and developed rules of conduct such that no one would disrupt the progress of the collective while ensuring that each of us had to pull his or her own weight. Even in the competitive mode of the game, the rapid coordination of the infected team's attacks is crucial to the efficient slaughter of an experienced, cooperating survivor band.
The Sims: Priorities After playing The Sims for a long time, I began to imagine my life in terms of the little bars that represent each Sim's energy, fun, hunger, and so on, and how they contribute to my total mood. In The Sims, you have to take care of your basic needs and your overall happiness before you can look to fulfilling greater aspirations and life goals, which I feel is a reasonably accurate representation of reality. A Sim stops studying or practicing useful skills if they are in a bad mood, much in the way a real person can burn themself out on their work when they neglect recreation and basic health. Primary goal: live happily by whatever means necessary. Secondary goal: everything else.
BioShock: Objectivity Anyone could predict that playing BioShock might teach a person a thing or two about the dangers of capitalism and absolute freedom. But for me, BioShock was an exposure, even if in a negative light, to such a radically different ideology that I was jarred out of the assumptions I had previously made about the nature of morality. When faced with Dr. Steinman, I found myself unable to explain why his insistence on beauty as a moral imperative was flawed without also undermining my own moral principles. Rapture, I found, was not an ideological failure but merely a practical one, in the sense that all ideology is simply irrelevant next to practical, objective reasoning.
Borderlands: Stoicism I made a sniper character in Borderlands, but during my late-game quest for optimization I found a shotgun that irrefutably outpaced all of my other guns in terms of damage over time. I felt annoyed that I had funneled so much of the character build toward sniper rifle bonuses, only to have the game tell me that, if I wanted to be DoT optimal, I should have made a shotgunner. Much as it sucked to see my bonuses go to waste, I just accepted that the optimal strategy was not what I had hoped and the shotgun became my DoT weapon anyway. Better to make the most with whatever one is handed than to get needlessly frustrated over it.
Video games often come with some kind of copy-protection software - typically an obstructive, pain in the ass load of bloatware. The copy-protection software attempts to ensure that only legitimate copies of the game are in use, which means that pirates are forced to first remove the copy protection from the game before playing and distributing it. The tragic irony of the whole situation is that the pirates, and only the pirates, get the bloatware-free copies of the games. Not only do pirates get the product for no cost, but they also get a better product! This, while the legitimate consumers are being shafted in exchange for their loyalty. Well played, game publishers.
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