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Features

Postcard from GDC Europe 2005:
Seeing What Sticks: Developing a Katamari Sequel
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Keita
Takahashi and the Prince. |
Before
the keynote, the defining memory of Keita Takahashi from the conference
comes earlier at the Robin Hunicke’s Game Design Mash-up.
While the other panelists were greeted well enough, the softly-spoken,
slightly-scruffy man received open adulation from the audience which
only intensified as he described his cat-peripheral-based game for
Grandma idea.
It’s
true: We Love Katamari.
Creator
of one game, he’s become something of an icon and his popularity
is in proportion to the dissatisfaction of many developers with
the mainstream games industry. By creating something so obviously
novel, he’s attracted to him anyone who feels similar. In
other words, Katamari Damacy’s critical standing has
actually become a katamari in itself, snowballing onwards, bigger,
ever bigger as it picks up all the waifs and strays of the game
design world.
Which
leads us to this fascinating, openly personal, keynote, where Keita
describes the stress and his thoughts about conceiving a sequel
to a game which, as he fully admits, was never conceived to have
one.
Speaking
through a be-suited translator, Keita is alternates between being
gleefully provocative and self-effacing. The sense of humor all
too apparent in Katamari is equally noticeable here, with even the
translator stopping to laugh before telling the audience what Keita
actually says. Like, for example, thinking he was offered the keynote
by mistake.
He
starts by describing the pre-history to Katamari. Working
at Namco, looking around at what they had in development and there
wasn’t anything he could bear to work on. The vast majority
of games were too similar. They all seemed to be aimed at a similar
demographic, and mystifying to new users. He couldn’t see
what he’d get from working on any of the games.
He
found his attention wandering to the Namco motto, lifted from Confucius:
“Knowledge is not equal to Devotion. Devotion is not equal
to joy.” That is, to know what something is isn’t the
same as actually liking it, and to like it isn’t actually
to enjoy it. He decided to not ignore this core message Namco
and Confucius were telling him, and try and find something he believed
in. Or, as he puts it: If you don’t enjoy something, you may
as well be dead.
To
get a flavor of the keynote, it’s probably important to note
that halfway through his tale he stopped, stood up and wandered
to the center of the stage where he seated a plush-doll of the Prince
lead-character from Katamari before wandering back.
Fast-forward
three years from the game’s conception to launch, his GDC
presentation in March and now, finally, a release in Europe.
But
why a sequel? The concept came as a direct reaction to sequels and
“boring games”. When the idea was suggested to him by
Namco, he wasn’t originally into making it.
He
pauses then stresses this: “I really, really wasn’t”.
He’s
aware that a sequel is actually a contradiction to his original
statements. After deliberation, he eventually relented. He had lots
of reasons, but he doesn’t share them as “They’ll
sound like excuses”.
He
also notes that “I’m not sure that someone who didn’t
have the courage of their convictions should be standing here giving
a keynote… but I wanted to see what London was like”.
Having
decided to drink from this particularly bitter cup, he looked at
what he wanted to change. The original game was constricted, based
tightly on the basic idea of the game. Starting with a small katamari,
you roll until you get a universe-sized ball. For the sequel, they
were far less controlled, lobbing in anything which would amuse
them. It’s a point which Keita returns to repeatedly: that
if you’re not amused when making the game, he doesn’t
believe the game will be any fun at all. Or, as he puts it memorably
later in the presentation, making a game is a game too.
Since
the sequel would be more diffuse, he would aim to create less of
the stressful rush of the first game and a more like zen-like relaxing
approach. Later in the presentation, when he demonstrates a few
levels from We Love Katamari. The snowman level is a tranquil
world full of sledgers, ice-skaters and a world of snow. Your task
is to make the head for an enormous snowman in the center of the
land. You can make your capstone as small or large as you wish before
rolling it into place. This is so simple that Keita considers it
may not even be a “game” at all. In the two-player mode,
it’s perhaps even more pronounced, with one player rolling
the head and the other the body. The level ends whenever the two
press together and create the finished icy edifice. Maybe not a
traditional game, yes. But in terms of atmosphere or zen-relaxation,
you suspect that Keita has hit his goal.
Keita
also examines the importance of packaging to him, describing how
when as a child he played videogames he would pore over manuals
which extended the pleasure of experience by re-living it in his
mind. The lavishly illustrated Japanese manual of We Love Katamari
and the playful cover of the outside of Namco building, with the
design team holding up signs and a Giraffe on the roof is a world
away from Inevitable Sequel VII. While Keita admits some would critique
this and the game’s title as self-indulgence, he views it
as an attack on the stupefying seriousness. And it’s fun.
Fun for him, his team and hopefully everyone else.
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We
Love Katamari introduced a two-player co-op mode.
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He
dwells on areas and elements they hoped to get into the sequel,
but proved impossible for either time or technical reasons. On the
technical side, a worms-eye view of the katamari to let you understand
how big you’ve managed to make the enormous bolus proved unachievable.
More esoteric urges to try and make the decreasing of katamari size
not be a negative, fail-state aspect in the game were equally unachievable.
His
esoteric – in fact, you may suspect deliberately esoteric
– approach to influences are almost telling. The never-released
game "Densen", which he only has a screenshot of, which
involved sliding with a coat-hanger down electric wires was one.
Because, like Katamari, it turns a normal world into something
strange – in his case, skyscrapers and people into material
for an enormous ball. Even more obscure, a fairground water-target
game where you aimed a jet at vegetable-themed targets, such as
a smiling aubergine. He liked its directness and the way that water
bubbles went into the stream as the time ran out and the power slackened
off… especially as he suspected that was an engineering fault
rather than an actual deliberate design.
Concluding,
he admits he’s expressed a confused message of a man who’s
“walking forwards while facing backwards”. He believes
that silliness is essential for life, but still finds himself returning
to two questions. Firstly, is it okay to go on making superfluous
games forever. And secondly, because games are essentially meaningless,
shouldn’t they embrace this transitory nature in a punk-rock
style.
He
knows games are interesting… but life is interesting. From
feeling the rush of air in your face while riding a bike, to the
joy of skipping or the heart-beating in your chest when you stop.
These may not be particularly punk rock, but they all stimulate,
and all make life worth living.
“You
don’t need games to have fun,” he considers, “possibly
you don’t need games at all”. He gets frustrated of
his inability to communicate these simple aspects of life in a game,
and stresses that all developers should remember to not think what
the Next Gen can do… but what you can do with the Next Gen.
The thoughts and feelings of a game are all that matters.
He
concludes doubting that he’ll ever be able to put these frustrating
questions aside, and promising that now he hopes to put Katamari
aside and return to his first love: something new: “Suspend
your expectation and wait and see what happens”.
Something
in the Q&A section stands out, and seems to capture something
of the psychedelic lament which ran through the keynote. Someone
asks why he doesn’t play many games anymore. He answers simply:
“Because there are no fun ones.”
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