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The weapons system in Dead Space 3 is actually pretty solid. By introducing crafting and customization they managed to both retain the existing depth and strategy of the staple Dead Space weapons and upgrades AND add a new layer of customization depth. Most importantly, they've eliminated the annoyance of a multitude of ammo types and streamlined the inventory experience by having all their weapons share one type of ammo. It feels both more powerful and more elegant.
The old system already had hints of this unity and customization in the form of Power Nodes: a powerful item that could be used to both upgrade equipment and unlock loot-filled rooms. Power Nodes were mostly found around the world and could also be bought with game credits that Isaac would find by stomping on dead necromorph torsos. Which made no sense. Which is why an economy based on a crafting system makes much more sense for a game where the protagonist is an engineer.
To keep the balancing sane, though, something had to take the place of the Power Nodes. All crafting resources in Dead Space 3 serve a specific purpose and are thematically tied to the items they can be mixed to produce - yet no resource is as special as Tungsten. Like the Power Nodes of yore, Tungsten is tightly tied to the production of pretty much any key item that is worth crafting. Extremely rare to find, Tungsten is a strategic resource that drives most meaningful crafting choices. By rationing the reward rate of Tungsten, developers can effectively balance the main upgrade path for Isaac's weapons and armor. Tungsten is Power Nodes is premium currency.
And like most premium virtual currency, Tungsten can be bought with some of your finest real-world dollars.
Tungsten is an ugly pimple on the awkward face of a teenager in the developing industry of microtransactions. It sticks out and is quite hard to look at. It lurks in a corner of the Dead Space 3 resource shop, waving its $ flag shyly but resolutely. Tungsten vandalized the fourth wall by graffitiing a dollar sign onto it. And the other three walls, by definition, could only watch.
I can understand the arguments for Tungsten. I get that spending $$ is not critical path in the game and so I don't need to worry about it as a player. Yet it's there, staring at me, and so I worry about it. I get that nobody is forcing me to spend my $$. And yet the resource I can buy with real money is the one resource I can use to craft all the items I want. And I super-get that we are living in a time of microtransactions and so we should welcome our new $$ overlords. But there's a time and place for everything, and this hardly seems like the right time and place for Tungsten.
I grew to love the Dead Space franchise because of its atmosphere. While playing Dead Space you never feel safe - anything can happen at any time. Necromorphs attack you at save points, while unarmed, in elevators, in rooms too small for two people, while you're wearing a straitjacket… you name it, Dead Space has it. This game is frickin' creepy, and it keeps you on edge because, at the end of the day, you're role-playing a regular dude who is impaling and mutilating zombies with a line of mining tools that he has fashioned into weaponry. Weaponry that functions with a limited amount of resources that must be carefully rationed.
But here, take my $$ and give me a fully loaded Monster Impaler 3000 please.
I don't (just) have a gripe against Tungsten because it's asking me to leave a 50% tip on an expensive meal. I have a gripe with it because in a game where I give myself into the atmosphere, it's asking me to suspend my belief and take out my credit card. But yes, just as I value immersion, I also value respect for my spent dollars. And so Tungsten offends me because we have grown used to a way of crafting these experiences that doesn't involve any monetary contract other than the one we sign up front. And so when the waiter asks if I want to add extra cheese for $2 I respond that no, that I paid for the carefully crafted 5-course chef's tasting and so why would I even consider adding cheese? Just bring me what I paid for.
The truth is that Tungsten, more than angry, makes me sad. Because out of all the potentially great things that are currently happening in gaming, microtransactions are the one that make me feel most icky. I am literally on record saying that "if Dead Space 2, at the end of a chapter, asked me if I want to send ammo to a friend, I would say yes". But instead it asked me to buy Tungsten. And I said no.
Edit: grammar and correct form of Dead Space.
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I can see what you mean about the immersion issue too. It is one of the things I've always loved about the DS franchise and to have something that takes the player away from that is a terrible idea.
That's one way to look at it... Pretty hard one to share.
Offhand I can only name two exceptions where I'm quite sure microtransactions have no negative effect for those who choose to ignore them: World of Warcraft, and Virtua Fighter 5 Final Showdown.
Although you don't discuss this, I believe there are reasons why any mechanic that (however meekly) introduces pay-to-win breaks immersion. According to a well-known definition by Jane McGonigal and others, games are about "overcoming non-necessary obstacles in a voluntary manner". So a good game makes us *want* to work hard to win/level-up/whatever, although we could just as well clean our kitchen instead. This concept works for Angry Birds, CoD, Journey or Deadspace.
So when a game introduces a mechanic that allows us to circumvent its own incentive structure, it renders the act of "overcoming non-necessary obstacles" meaningless. For a few dollars, you rid yourself of the possibility of failure, or at least you decrease the odds. But then, what point is there in playing and failing?
Actually, things only get worse if pay-to-win is *optional* (as it almost always is). In a hard game without pay-to-win, the reason why you choose to overcome voluntary obstacles is obvious: you want to feel the joy of winning. But if the game has any kind of pay-to-win component, the reason becomes ambiguous. Did you avoid paying because you're stingy? I think thats why such games make you feel cheap.
The classic (PDF via Google Scholar): AP Fiske, 1992, The four elementary forms of sociality: framework for a unified theory of social relations. Psychological Review.
A broader review of how money affects how people think and how they see their relationships is found in Dan Ariely's popular books: Predictably Irrational and The Upside of Rationality. Great reads.
Further references:
- S Pinker, 2007. The evolutionary social psychology of off-record indirect speech acts. Intercultural Pragmatics. (PDF via Google; the second half of this article contains a great explanation of Fiske's theory).
- V Zelizer, 1997. The social meaning of money: Pin money, paychecks, poor relief, and other currencies. (A sociological book on the subject).
It's two words; Dead Space.
Not Deadspace.
(Ok, apologies for that)
Another way of putting it is: can the "magic circle" that allows the enjoyable suspension of disbelief survive being broken by real-money transactions? Does letting lots of people buy in-game benefits with real-world money make an MMORPG feel much less like a plausible world? How about a single-player RPG? And what about DLC, which is like a microtransaction on steroids?
The people for whom these things are "just a game" won't care about any of this. But it definitely does matter to the people for whom investing in the *feel* of a world is a critical part of what they're paying for.
Allowing the magic circle to be broken by design doesn't matter to every gamer, but it matters a lot to some. So whose preference should be respected more, and under what circumstances? Do people who want their games treated like worlds just have to give up on RPGs when all monetization moves to microtransactions?
Folks were debating this in 2005, if not earlier: http://terranova.blogs.com/terra_nova/2005/08/yabbcaarmt.html . It's even more pressing today.
That said, I think you're missing something: pay-to-win oriented microtransactions don't just break immersion (you could argue that HUD's, pause-buttons, controllers etc. all do the same). They render your choice meaningless because their very existence implies that you don't really have to play the game - you can just buy your way through it.
If you really do forget that you're playing a game, why do optional microtransactions break it anymore than any menu, on screen stat, points, HUD, title screen, pause menu, or the fact that you're using a controller or mouse/keyboard does?
Immersion is not the same thing as "forget[ting] that you're playing a game." Performing violent acts in a game doesn't make everyone become a mass murderer in real life. Similarly, enjoying the pretense of acting as a character in a well-rendered imaginary world doesn't cause everyone to somehow lose their grip on reality and believe they actually *are* that character.
Immersion is not about interface (although an intrusive interface can reduce immersion). The pleasure of feeling immersed in a secondary reality -- just like reading a good fiction novel, or getting caught up in a play or a movie -- is about accepting the secondary reality as though it was a real place in order to let it reveal something about human nature.
Immersion is fun for people who like having those insights. Not everyone does, and there's nothing wrong with that. There are plenty of games for gamers who just want to manipulate abstract things for a high score, and that's exactly as it should be.
But some gamers (and I'm one of them) also like games that try to emphasize the fictional reality so that it's easier to pretend to be "in" that world. When the visuals and dialogue and audio and story and architecture and lore and objects and mechanics all come together in a way that is coherent and plausible and unique... that's a special kind of play that just can't be found anywhere else but a computer game. So I think it's also important that games like that get made, too.
Immersion doesn't mean forgetting that it's still only a game, and isn't real. Immersiveness just makes it easier to temporarily treat the world of the game as though it were real, because that's fun.
By that thinking, microtransactions directly oppose that unique kind of fun because they puncture immersiveness. They breach the magic circle and let the magic out. It's like Hamlet suddenly turning to the audience to say, "For another $10, I'll give you more of my real father's backstory."
I'm honestly not entirely sure what to think about that. The interruption to the fiction bugs me... but can I cope with that if it's a way to increase the amount of immersive lore in the gameworld?
A better way to put it would be 'in the zone'. When you're in the zone and focused on the game to the exclusion of everything else, everything that's not the monitor fades to irrelevance, the controls become almost an extension of your body, you're often doing extremely well (for you) in the game, and if someone taps you on the shoulder you may jump out of your seat because you are not prepared to deal with any external inputs.
I've been in the zone on a game like Waves where I rang up a score 10x anything I have managed since. I was untouchable, one with the ship.
The only problem with the zone is that it's very easy to get bumped out of. Stimulus, response, stimulus, response, all your neural pathways are set up... suddenly you need to pull out your credit card? It's shot. Hands off the controller(s)? Shot. Having it aggressively rubbed in your face that you're ONLY playing a game (which is not at all the same as knowing that you're playing a game)? Certainly degrades it.
In your examples, everything on screen are just part of the stimulus. But pausing would definitely hurt. When you unpause you're going to have to (try to) get back in.