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[Recently, Sidhe
usability expert Gareth Griffiths examined a number of styles of boundaries in games for their
visibility and affordance -- interface-design terms that describe how easy they
are to comprehend and use -- and found them lacking. That's the bad news.
What's the good news? Griffiths has synthesized the comments from the original piece into a
follow-up which looks at potential solutions.]
Previously, we looked at the various types of boundaries
that a game player often collides with when in a game world. The article
examined the invisible barrier, multitudes of inoperable doors and those other
barriers that magically appear and disappear -- to name a few.
From the comments
it received, it was plain that while many agreed with the point put forward, it
was clear that more thinking would be needed that could maybe offer viable
solutions to the situations that were put forward. In order to do this, I
decided to go back to the drawing board. Armed with a bucket-load of information
from the numerous comments, I decided to sit back and ponder this question.
The first
stumbling block in this process, though, was that whenever I'd come to a
seemingly viable solution, the devil's advocate would pop into my head and
whisper ways it would break.
What was
continually bothering me was that, while what we are playing is called a
"game", we still struggle with the issue of reality versus fantasy.
On the one hand, if a game goes beyond the bounds of reality too much then you
often hear players saying "Oh man, there is no way that would happen in
real life!" But then, on the other hand, you're just as likely to hear
someone say, "Why won't the game let me do that? It's a game! I should be
able to so what I want!"
Because of this we need to tread carefully and
somehow incorporate some fantasy into the reality -- standards whereby the
player can do crazy stuff that basically adheres to the boundaries that would
exist in the real world.
Now, I'm not
saying that we shouldn't use things like doors, walls or other kinds of
barricades, but it is important that they are consistent, fair, and conceptual,
and that they follow the visibility and affordance guidelines I discussed
previously.
For example, take
a game that sees you walking alongside a cliff, that won't allow you to fall
off the edge, no matter how hard you try. This is probably a good thing, isn't
it? There's probably nothing worse than running along when all of a sudden you
make one slip-up and down you go. And yet, if you can just hug the edge and no
matter how hard you try it will just be impossible to fall off, will this break
the immersion more?
A good example of
this was the chasm that appears as a result of an earthquake in Gears of War. This blatantly stops you
from going anywhere because you cannot fall off the cliff, as shown in Figure
1. So is this good or bad? Does it tear the player away from the game in some
way?
Figure 1 - Gears of War chasm
In order to look
at the various types of boundaries, I decided it would be easier if I could
first place them into some kind of category that way I would be able to
organize things easier.
Firstly we have a
"macro" boundary, which would be described as the world area. This is
the limit of your game world: we will not come across this that often -- the
cliffs in Gears are an example.
Secondly, we have a "micro" boundary, which the player will come
across often within the game -- doors, for instance.
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http://yayitsandrew.com/2008/03/15/fake-doors-and-invisible-walls/
I decided to categorize my obstacles into three groups. The first is doors, which falls under your micro category. The second is invisible walls, your macro category.
I talk briefly about a third category though that your article doesn't cover and this is an implausible boundary. Things like a low pile of rubble that the player feels his or her character should be able to climb over with relative ease yet the game does not let them. This is another type of obstacle perception failure that is common in video games.
The challenges faced in a fantasy universe like Mario's can be tackled more creatively than in a "realistic" universe like Call of Duty or even Gears of War. On the other hand, Mario has much more mobility than most FPS heroes, so the developers cannot have as many internally-consistent micro barriers. This makes each stage in Mario games like a small sandbox that is perfectly executed.
Perhaps the problem of integrating barriers into a game is more one of the execution of the title exceeding the technical capability of the console. Building smaller, denser "sandboxes" would allow developers to make worlds that were believable, justified and consistent until technology advances to the point that larger spaces can be more accurately simulated.
But Shadow of the Colossus did it all very beauitfully. Cliffs which couldn't be climbed, with very normal boundaries on. Ofcourse the exception was moss/hair which could be used.
So not only does the narrative explain you are in the 'forbidden land' Soemthign that needs to be difficult to enter/exit to keep it's respective inhabitants seperate.
It's also huge, and extensive, boasting many areas, you wouldn't find without searching, so the game never feels restricted.
Even the most obvious element that should be impossible to scale is the huge tower in the middle, and that, if you work for it, is even possible. Tehn you ahve to travel a very long thin bridge across to the other side.
The only thing that keeps you from escaping is a very strogn wind, whipping through a tiny canyon passge. Very fitting considering you need to keep black smokey peoples from escaping.
The point i would like to make is that there could be boundaries in a game which, in the perception of the player, might appear to be insurmountable at first, but were meant to be overcome in the first place - see Braid for an example, where the player really has to overcome his own perceived limitations of plausible actions before he can truly master all of the puzzles.
Another example might be the classic game Adventure for the Atari 2600, whose ultimate goal (and source of fun) to many people was to find the hidden easter egg - a task involving many counterintuitive and hardly attainable actions..
What I found most interested was something that you hinted at, but didn't really explore in great detail here: The divide between our desire for unrealistic abilities in games but our bemoaning of unrealistic obstacles.
Player's don't complain about games being "unrealistic" when they can double-jump, but they do when they meet an un-crossable waist-high fence. It's not because the gamer is greedy, and it's not even because the game is "unrealistic," it's because the game is contradicting its own laws of common sense.
In a game where I'm able to jump 30 feet into the air, don't tell me I can't hop over a simple wall, because there are other, taller objects in the game that I have to hop over in order to win. Don't give me destructible barriers I have to break through yet wooden doors I can't even scratch.
Whenever you construct a barrier, make sure it's something that makes sense within the game's universe. No barrier should be comparable to an obstacle that the player can overcome, else the sense of reality (whatever reality is built) will come crashing down.
Obviously, the advantage of this method is that the character tells the Player that this is not the way to go but the Player maintains the option of forcing the issue and is rewarded with the choice to die.
In the event that the barrier is more mundane and does not necessarily lead to death, the character can still express simple disinterest in going that way with easy statements like, “I don’t have time to snoop around here,” or “There’s no time, I’ve got to press on,” or even, “…so many doors, so little time…”
We, as players, expect our avatars to communicate so much and yet more often than not they remain mute when faced with barriers and limitations that need to be communicated. The most obvious solution to me is to have the very conduit into any given game world be the source of our information about said world.
As you mentioned, more often than not, doors that can be opened are marked, either by a light or different kind of frame. Artwork, such as a long shadow, for instance, can do a lot towards directing a player towards the right direction.
Barriers that visually denote their function at a distance permit the player to make split-second decisions without having to approach the barrier.
Personally, I'm not keen on the COD4 approach - if I have to walk to within a few feet of a barrier to determine whether I can cross it or not I may already be dead before I've had the chance to make my escape, or I may arrive to find I'm trapped.
Plus, I consider text/icons on the screen a greater immersion breaker than strong art cues such as highlights around a usable door or making all impassable doors appear broken or boarded up.
-=B
I agree with some of you; strong, leading and informative artwork, level design that leads the player, even tricky camera work can all serve to guide the player where you want them to go instead of telling them.
I recently replayed Ico. In this game the camera is always moving and active; it doesn't stay in third person or first person or overhead view, but always tries to give you the best vantage point of what the game wants you to look at. You have some control over the camera, swiveling it one way or another to get a better view, but often times you'll know the way you need to go even without this, simply because it will look at the object of the next puzzle (of course it doesn't tell you how to solve the puzzle), or the exit, or where the shadow demons are appearing. This kind of active, directive camera work does much to keep the player from getting confused, while at the same time encouraging certain direction.
As for artwork, as was mentioned above, if some doors are meant to be opened and some are not, subtle changes can do much to clue the player as to which door they should go towards. A light over the door, different frame (both mentioned above), perhaps a different shade, level of quality; maybe the doors you aren't supposed to open are clearly locked or blocked or otherwise shown to be the wrong way without ever having to stand next to one and hit the "action" button.
Player Interest.
What can be a player's desire to surpass a barrier?
As Designers, are we doing our job correctly if the player (knowing the correct path upon which progression is furthered) wishes to surpass a (sometimes obvious) barrier, simply for the purpose of investigating what is perhaps place beyond said barrier?
A great example; the game Goldeneye 64. As an avid fan of the game I, naturally, played it to death. If you remember, in the final stages of the first level ‘Dam’, where you are atop the Dam itself, when you looked further down the river there was another guard tower in the distance. This ignited my exploratory persona and… I was off, albeit trying to defeat the game at its very clear and concise world rules and ‘macro-boundaries’, which in this case was water.
Upon further thought, many years later, I had concluded that knowing the game was (although fundamentally groundbreaking in many ways) highly exploitable, due to various glitches and bugs, I had taken it upon myself to ‘hope’ these exploits would work in my favour whereupon I would be able to traverse water and great distance to be united with this intriguing and mysterious tower.
The solution; unless a barrier has been proven 100% impassable previously in the game, the environment/world beyond barriers – both ‘macro’ and ‘micro’ – should ultimately be less interesting than the environment we provide our player.
For example, if a player cannot enter a room (for whatever reason), yet are able to view its contents, those contents should be uninteresting and most importantly, of no importance to the player.
Bad example; if said room had a previously unseen weapon and an ammo cache, or alternatively, a flickering light and a soft tune emitting from a radio.
Good example; if said room was mainly bare, or vaguely populated with meaningless objects (paint tins, cardboard boxes, etc, etc), with no distinct sound and/or out-of-the-ordinary lighting.
I know we’ve all had gaming experiences where our interest has been stolen away from the game’s progression and spent the next 15 minutes assessing the environment around us, attempting every remotely plausible exploit that enters our mind.
I’d love to hear your thoughts on this, Gareth.
In response to Trent Kusters.
When you mentioned "What is a player's desire to pass a boundary?"Does this fit somewhat with the conceptual type of boundary mentioned in the article? By making the boundary such an intrinsic part of the game, then we are hopefully nudging the player in such a way that they wish to explore it further.
One of the things you mentioned was if we had a room which the player cannot enter yet is able to view its contents. The problem I would have with this is that I am sure a lot of players will still feel drawn to this room, simply because there are objects there. The problem they will then face is that even though the room holds nothing for them that will aid them through the game, the fact remains that they do not know this and therefore will potentially get frustrated by being blocked in this way.
This is something I think is both fascinating and frustrating when developing games. If we saw something which did not spark our interest in real-life then chances are we would instantly ignore it, walk past without a care in the world. However, what is it about games that makes people want to try every little thing? What makes gamers think that there could be something behind this door, or over that cliff, or out at sea which will help them during the game? So how can we translate this into a game?
In the work done by Richard Bartle he classified gamers into killers, socialisers, achievers and explorers. The thing is though, I have ran playtesting sessions on players who would fall into each of those categories and the thing is, is that each and every one of them tried out lots of different things in the game; things that you think would hold no interest at all, only to have them go ahead and explore anyway.
I also agree with what Brian stated about the barriers in COD4. However, while messages and such can detract from immersion, I found that players lose immersion quicker when they are frustrated by something. So when they get stuck they complained more and looked away from the screen whereas a simple message which appeared in the game had no loss in immersion. What also happens is that messages in COD4 that inform the player a barrier can be passed always appears in the same location. After a while the player won't actually read the message anymore. They will only register that the "Jump message" is there and thus know they can jump over the boundary, immersion in tact.
This is actually a topic which really interests me (i'm not THAT sad, I promise! :) ) and I'd really like to discuss this further with anyone, so please drop me a line and maybe our back and forth discussions can come up with viable solutions.
Enforcing boundaries via invisible walls is basically utilizing the most complex rule of all: Completely random. To the player, it is completely random and arbitrary where s/he can go, and the only way to find out is to try. That's not a very simple rule.
So the best barriers are consistent, affordable, appropriate, visible, and simple.