Discussion
It is important that whatever boundary type we use in a
game is done well. I'm going to go out on a limb here and outright say that
some we should never use are:
-
Invisible
walls
-
Non-understandable
barriers
-
Magically
appearing barricades
I personally
think these just remove any sense of realism within a game and should be
avoided at all costs. I know some out there will argue with me that they are necessary
but I am sure there are much better alternatives.
However, if you noticed I
deliberately put a space between the second and third entry. The reason for
this is that I believe the third type of boundary can still work, but only if
it is worked into the narrative of the game, instead of having something just
appear which halts the player's progress. This could even be another form of
macro boundary.
The problem with
games now, though, is that as technology progresses, then the games will become
more complex and as they become more complex then players will demand more
realism -- our games need to reflect this. If the player comes across something
like a small wall they cannot walk over for an unknown reason, then no matter
how technologically amazing the game is, it stumbles and fails in the simplest
of ways.
Our macro
boundaries should always be contextual within the game as they are the ones
that will keep the players where we want them to be. If we use incentive-based
boundaries then these will need to fit 100% into the narrative. It would be
easy to break this kind of boundary but, at the same time, it could end up
being the one viewed in the most positive light.
Micro boundaries
are the ones which will have the greatest influence on players -- as it is
those which they will encounter the most -- and, as such, are the ones which
need to abide and be most aware of the visibility and affordance rules.
Figure 5 attempts
to highlight the close relationships between the various versions. Our world
rules feed into the macro boundary, which is in turn made up of a close-linked
relationship between narrative- and incentive-based boundaries. Embedded within
the game we have our micro boundaries which will still follow the world rules
but will have their own set of ways to deal with them which must have a strong
link to both visibility and affordance.
Figure 5 - Relationship between macro and micro boundaries
Additionally, we
must always take into account that the micro boundary can also have a direct
influence on the macro one too -- as was given in the brief example of the boat
being unable to leave the island.
Conclusions
This article has
expanded on the previous one and has attempted to offer solutions to the
various boundaries that we come across in games. It has proposed that by
splitting the boundaries into two types we can get into a mindset from the
start what we will be dealing with.
Whatever type we
use, it is important that we always think of the player first. By creating
barriers that are believable and are worked into the game in a manner that
makes sense to the player, then the game will benefit.
While in the
game, we always want the player to have a sense of achievement and
satisfaction, which ultimately leads to (hopefully) fun. If there are things
that can directly reduce this in any way, then surely we should be careful not
to implement them. It may be that the player will not even notice the little
touches we put into these boundaries.
However, this is
probably what we are after, because if something is viewed in a negative light
then this usually has a tendency to stand out like a sore thumb and detract
from the game itself, whereas the "good" aspects often go unnoticed.
While this may annoy developers somewhat ("We spent days on that.... didn't
anybody notice it!?") it's a far better alternative to players going
"Oh man, that sucked!" or "Invisible walls again! Man, I hate
them".
I look forward to
discussing this with you all.
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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.