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Designer's
Notebook

Defining the Physical Dimension
of a Game Setting
This month's column is another excerpt
from Andrew Rollings' and my long-awaited book on game design, Andrew
Rollings and Ernest Adams on Game Design (due out from New Riders
Publishing this May).
Game settings are almost always implemented
as some sort of physical space. The player moves his avatar in and
around this space, or moves other pieces, characters, or units in
it. The physical characteristics of this space determine a great
deal about the gameplay.
Even text adventures include a physical
dimension. The player moves from one abstract "room" or
other discrete location to another. Back when more people played
text adventures, the boxes used to carry proud boasts about the
number of rooms in the game. Gamers could take this as a very rough
measure of the size of the world they could explore in the game
and, therefore, the amount of gameplay that thegame offered.
The physical dimension of a game is itself
characterized by several different elements: dimensionality, scale,
and boundaries.
Dimensionality
One of the first questions you have to
ask yourself is how many dimensions your physical space is going
to have. A few years ago, the vast majority of games had only two
dimensions. This was especially noticeable in side-scrolling games
such as Super Mario Brothers. Mario could run left and right
and jump up and down, but he could not move toward the player ("out"
of the screen) or away from him ("into" the screen).
It is essential to understand that the dimensionality of the game's
physical space is not the same as how the game will display that
space or how it will implement the space in software. Ultimately,
all spaces must be displayed on the two-dimensional surface of the
monitor screen, but that's a problem for a programmer, not a designer.
How to implement and display the space are separate but related
questions. The former has to do with technical design, and the latter
has to do with user interface design.
Nowadays, a great many computer game settings
have a three-dimensional space, even though the game might implement
it in various ways. Starcraft, a war game, shows you plateaus
and lowlands, as well as aircraft that pass over obstacles and ground
units. Starcraft's setting is clearly three-dimensional,
but the space is actually implemented in a series of two-dimensional
planes or layers, one above another. Objects can be placed and moved
within a plane with a fine degree of precision, but vertically,
an object must be in one plane; there is no "in between."
Flying objects can't move up and down in the air; they're always
at the same altitude -- in the "air layer."
When first thinking about the dimensionality
of your game space, it's tempting to immediately assume that you
want it to be three-dimensional because that offers the greatest
flexibility or seems more real. But as with everything else, the
dimensionality of your physical space must serve the entertainment
value of the game. Make sure all the dimensions will contribute
meaningfully. Lemmings was a hit 2D game, but Lemmings
3D was nowhere near as successful because it was much more difficult
to play. The addition of a third dimension detracted from the player's
enjoyment rather than adding to it.
It's possible to have more than three
spatial dimensions, but, in general, we don't recommend it. A computer
can display a distorted approximation of four-dimensional space
in the two dimensions of the monitor screen, just as it can display
an approximation of three-dimensional space in two dimensions. However,
because humans are not used to dealing with 4D spaces, most of us
have a hard time navigating through them. If you want to include
a fourth dimension for some reason, you might consider doing it
as an "alternate plane of reality" rather than an actual
four-dimensional space. In other words, you have two three-dimensional
spaces that look similar, but there is something different about
them. For example, the game Legacy of Kain: Soul Reaver contained
two three-dimensional spaces, the spectral realm and the material
realm. The landscape was the same in each, but the spectral realm
was lit by a blue light while the material realm was lit by white
light; the actions available to the player were different in the
spectral real from the material realm. Although they were both implemented
in software by the same 3D models, they were functionally different
places governed by different laws. In the movie version of The
Lord of the Rings, the world that Frodo inhabits while he is
wearing the Ring can be thought of as an alternate plane of reality
as well, overlapping the real world but appearing and behaving differently.
Scale
By scale, we mean both the total size
of the physical space represented and the relative sizes of objects
in the game. If a game is purely abstract and doesn't correspond
to anything in the real world, the sizes of objects in its game
world don't really matter. You can adjust them to suit the game's
needs any way you like. But if you are designing a game that is
at least somewhat representational of the real world, you'll have
to address the question of how big everything should be to both
look real and play well. Some distortion is often necessary for
the sake of gameplay; the trick is to do it without harming the
player's suspension of disbelief too much.
With a sports game, a driving game, a
flight simulator, or any other kind of game in which the player
will expect a high degree of verisimilitude, you have little choice
but to scale things to their actual sizes. In old sports games,
it was not uncommon for the athletes to be depicted as twelve feet
tall to make them more visible, but nowadays players wouldn't tolerate
a game taking such liberties with reality. Serious simulations need
an accurate representation of the physical world.
Similarly, you should scale most of the
objects in first-person games accurately. Fortunately, almost all
first-person games are set indoors or within very limited areas
that are seldom larger than a few hundred feet in any dimension,
so this doesn't create implementation problems. Because the player's
perspective is that of a person walking through the space, objects
need to look right for their surrounding area. You might want to
slightly exaggerate the size of critical objects such as keys, weapons,
or ammunition to make them more visible, but most things, such as
doors and furniture, should be scaled normally. As screen resolutions
continue to improve, we'll no longer need to exaggerate objects
for visual clarity, unless we want to do so for a comic or cartoonlike
effect.
If you're designing a game with an aerial
or isometric perspective, you might need to fudge the scale of things
somewhat. The real world is so much larger and more detailed than
a game world that it's impossible to represent objects in their
true scale in such a perspective. For example, in modern mechanized
warfare, ground battles can easily take place over a 20-mile front,
with weapons that can fire that far or farther. If you were to map
an area this size onto a computer screen, an individual soldier
or even a tank would be smaller than a single pixel, completely
invisible. Although the player will normally be zoomed in on one
small area of the whole map, the scale of objects will have to be
somewhat exaggerated so that they're clearly identifiable on the
screen.
One of the most common distortions games
make is in the relative heights of people and the buildings or hills
in their environment. The buildings are often only a little taller
than the people who walk past them. To be able to see the roofs
of all the buildings or the tops of all the hills, the camera must
be positioned above the highest point on the ground; but if the
camera is too high, the people would hardly be visible at all. To
solve this problem, the game simply does not include tall buildings
or hills and exaggerates the height of the people. Because the vertical
dimension is seldom critical to the gameplay in things such as war
games and role-playing games, it doesn't matter if it's not accurate,
as long as it's not so inaccurate that it interferes with suspension
of disbelief.
Designers often make another scale distortion
between indoor and outdoor locations. When a character is walking
through a town, simply going from one place to another, the player
will want the character to get there reasonably quickly. The scale
of the town should be small enough that the character takes only
a few minutes to get from one end to another, unless the point of
the game play is to explore a richly detailed urban environment
When the character steps inside a building, however, and needs to
negotiate doors and furniture, you should expand the scale to show
these additional details. If you use the same animation for a character
walking indoors and outdoors, this will give the impression that
the character walks much faster outdoors than indoors. However,
this seldom bothers players-they'd much rather have the game proceed
quickly than have their avatar take hours to get anywhere, even
if that would be more accurate.
This brings up one final distortion, which
is also affected by the game's notion of time, and that is the relative
speeds of moving objects. In the real world, a supersonic jet fighter
can fly more than a hundred times faster than an infantry soldier
can walk on the ground. If you're designing a game that includes
both infantry soldiers and jet fighters, you're going to have a
problem. If the scale of the battlefield is suitable for jets, it
will take infantry weeks to walk across; if it's suitable for infantry,
a jet could pass over it in the blink of an eye. One solution to
this is to do what the real military does and implement transport
vehicles for ground troops. Another is simply to fudge it and pretend
that jets fly only four or five times as fast as people walk. As
long as the jet is the fastest thing in the game, it doesn't really
matter how much faster it is; the "strike and retreat"
tactic that jets are good at will still work. Setting these values
is all part of balancing the game.
Boundaries
In board games, the edge of the board
constitutes the edge of the game world. Because computers have a
finite size, the physical dimension of a computer game world must
have a finite size also. However, computer games are usually more
immersive than board games, and they often try to disguise or explain
away the fact that the world is limited, to maintain the player's
suspension of disbelief.
In some cases, the boundaries of a game
world arise naturally, and we don't have to disguise or explain
them. Sports games take place only in a stadium or an arena, and
no one expects or wants them to include the larger world. In most
driving games, the car is restricted to a track or a road, and this,
too, is reasonable enough.
Setting a game underground or indoors
helps to create natural boundaries for the game world. Everyone
expects indoor regions to be of a limited size, with walls defining
the edges. The problem occurs when games move outdoors, where people
expect large, open spaces without sharply defined edges. A common
solution in this case is to set the game on an island surrounded
by water or by some other kind of impassable terrain: mountains,
swamps, or deserts. These establish both a credible and a visually
distinctive "edge of the world."
In flight simulators, the boundaries of
the world are even more problematic. Most flight simulators restrict
the player to a particular area of the real world. Because there
are no walls in the air, there's nothing to stop the plane from
flying up to the edge of the game world, and the player can clearly
see when he has arrived there that there's nothing beyond. In some
games, the plane just stops there, hovering in midair, and won't
go any farther. In Battlefield 1942, the game tells the player
that he has left the scene of the action and forcibly returns him
to the runway.
A common solution to the edge-of-the-world
problem is to allow the flat world to "wrap" at the top,
bottom, and sides. Although the world is implemented as a rectangular
space in the software, objects that cross one edge appear at the
opposite edge-they wrap around the world. If the object remains
centered on the screen and the world appears to move beneath it,
you can create the impression that the world is spherical. This
was used to excellent effect in Bullfrog Productions' game Magic
Carpet. In another Bullfrog game, Populous: The Beginning,
the world was actually displayed graphically as a sphere on the
screen, not just a wrapping rectangle.
Questions
to Ask Yourself About the Physical Dimension
- Does my game require a physical dimension?
What is it used for? Is it an essential part of gameplay or merely
cosmetic?
- Leaving aside issues of implementation
or display, how many imaginary spatial dimensions does my game
require? If there are three or more, can objects move continuously
through the third and higher dimensions, or are these dimensions
partitioned into discrete "layers" or zones?
- How big is my game world, in light-years
or inches? Is accuracy of scale critical, as in a football game,
or not, as in a cartoonlike action game?
- Will my game need more than one scale,
for indoor versus outdoor areas, for example? How many will it
actually require?
- How am I going to handle the relative
sizes of objects and people? What about their relative speeds
of movement?
- How is my world bounded? Am I going
to make an effort to disguise the "edge of the world,"
and if so, with what? What happens if the player tries to go beyond
it?
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