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Analysis: Secret Languages In Game Playing
by James Portnow [PC, Console/PC, Exclusive]
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March 9, 2009
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[In an in-depth analysis, designer and Divide by Zero Games founder James Portnow surveys almost 300 people to discover the role of genre-specific language in games.]
Every discipline and specialization establishes its own power words, its own secret language. These languages serve a multiple of purposes: to establish mastery, to deliver specificity, to foster group identification, to create an artificial barrier to entry.
Nowhere is this more apparent than in our own industry and our culture. After all, to the outside world something that is "broken" is bad and a "mob" is a crowd of angry people...and gamer slang can't hold a candle to the mystic composition industry jargon.
It's a natural human thing to do. It's why lawyers and doctors pepper their speech with Latin, it's the reason that "goths" and "gangstas" can barely communicate -- but should we do it within games?
The Problem At Hand
Today almost every game establishes a specialized vocabulary to support its story or creative IP. That vocabulary is, for the most part, exclusive and non-transferable (that is to say, it doesn't apply to other games).
Does this make sense? Is this what we should be doing? Should we be creating common genre-wide vocabulary? Should we be using more familiar terms in order to lower the barrier to entry to our games?
Over the course of this article I will be addressing these questions and discussing an informal survey I took regarding this issue (don't use it for any term papers kids: it's pretty much just me asking questions to gamers).
What Does The User Get?
There is a designer who I very much admire who would always ask the question, "What does the user get?" as a metric of whether a design decision was good. This was the best tool I could think of for weighing whether our exclusive vocabularies make sense, so I simply asked groups of gamers how they felt about the terminology in their games.
Case Study 1 - MMOers
Whether you're walking around Norrath or Azeroth, MMOs present some of the most massive and intimidating blocks of jargon and 'creative language' presented to gamers. If you don't know what a Blood Elf is or where Tanaris is located you might as well go back to your real world home and play with a ball.
So how do gamers feel about acquiring this massive vocabulary that loses all meaning when the servers shut down?
Overall the response was amazingly positive from the MMO gamer community. Common themes were that the vocabulary reinforced the world (the most important element of the creative IP in an MMORPG, in my opinion) and gave them the flavor they lost by skipping the quest text.
There was almost universal agreement about place names: "You've got to call them something, so they might as well be unique."
Equipment names were more split. There was a sizable minority who wanted equipment names to tell more about what a piece of equipment did. In general the amount of terminology was generally considered manageable given the amount of time players spent on a single MMO:
"By the time you've been playing for forty hours you just learn it, you know. It's not like I had to go out of my way to figure out what a Moonkin was."
Perhaps the most interesting part of my study of MMO players was around how MMO terminology related to the social experience. A fair number of the respondents stated that jargon enhanced the social experience, especially the out of game social experience.
"If I'm like at a Denny's and I hear somebody go '...Sunwell,' I'm like totally in."
(I wasn't entirely sure what he meant by this at first; he meant that he would go join their real life conversation.)
On the other hand a slightly smaller number said that the terminology ruined their out of game social interaction, some going so far as to say they wouldn't talk about the game in public, even to other people who they knew played.
"I hate that I can't talk about my game without sounding completely dorky."
"I feel silly saying Blood Elf Paladin. I'm uncomfortable every time someone tries to talk to me about WoW outside of my home."
Case Study 2 - FPSers
FPS games often have a more modest amount of jargon to pick up. It is almost entirely limited to the player's weapons/gear. So how do FPS players respond to this more limited jargon pool?
Well, first I found FPS players fall into two categories: those who play historical/real world games, and those who don't. For those who play "real world" games, there is at least a subset to whom the jargon matters a lot.
They will chew your ear off about how the Mosin-Nagant rifle isn't historically accurate or the M4A1 "just doesn't shoot like that." As for the rest of the community, they pretty much couldn't care less if you called a nail gun a nail gun or a machine gun.
Interestingly enough, I found that map names could be a real source of vitriol for some players.
"I think Deck 17 but we're playing on Deck 16 and it's all sorts of different, and that's some stupid fuckin' bullshit if you ask me."
(I'll admit, "Deck #" doesn't make for a very good naming convention.)
It was interesting to note that FPS players were at least somewhat displeased by how rapidly their knowledge of map names became obsolete. I don't think this is actually related to the larger question of exclusive vocabulary and secret languages, but it's a noteworthy sidelight.
Case Study 3 - Strategy Gamers
This one surprised me the most. Strategy gamers were all for invented names -- so long as they were good. Complaints came in when players had to remember the difference between a TU-34 and a TU-37 or a series of nondescript tanks.
I think my favorite strategy gamer comment on the subject was:
"If names weren't carefully chosen, how could you make sure everything hotkeyed right?"
The most common complaint from strategy gamers related to not having enough variety and breadth in their game terminology. Their principle desire was to have enough differentiation that unit names were clear and distinct, allowing for easy recognition and recall:
"MkV, Sherman, M1, Gladiator, Centurion; those names mean anything to you? Is a Sherman or a MkV better? Is one better against infantry and another better against other tanks? Maybe a Centurion's actually just a roman era foot unit!"
"I really like Dawn of War's names. They sound like what they do and they're all really different."
Case Study 4 - Parents
Here's one group that universally hates exclusive vocabulary.
"It's like my kid's speaking a different language."
"I can't keep up. He comes to the dinner table and I try to be involved, but one week it's a 'dwarf enchanter' and the next it's 'Solid Snake.'"
"I don't know if he's talking to his friends about doing drugs or playing a game."
"I've got a job and three kids. How am I supposed to learn all the Pokemon?"
I received several indifferent responses and no positive responses from parents about the exclusive vocabulary in games. At the least it was viewed as a tragic waste of a child's brainspace, at the worst it was an active impediment to the parent's relationship with their children.
Casual and Sports
I left sports games and casual games out of my survey entirely. Sports games usually translate their vocabulary from the real world sport they simulate, and so don't have IP-supportive vocabulary.
Casual games have little to no exclusive vocabulary, and when they do it's rarely integral to the user's experience (you don't need to know what a Tetris is to play Tetris).
Conclusions
I conducted this study to aid my own efforts in the work I am currently doing. Below are the conclusions I've drawn from the study and my own reasoning as I've wrestled with the project at hand.
Vocabulary Of The Mundane
I've come to believe that games would suffer from homogeny if we were to lower the barrier to entry by making game vocabulary more prosaic; we would lose part of what lets our players cross into the magic circle.
Part of what allows them to escape their mundane, ordinary, everyday lives and slip into this secret other world of "game" is the hidden language they adopt when they begin to play.
As words that had no meaning before reaching for the controller take on significance and gain import the player becomes part of an exclusive society: they know what no one else knows, they are special, unique.
This transformation prepares a player to adopt the role of a great warrior or a brilliant commander or a deadeye mercenary -- it is in becoming more special than the ordinary person that we come to more easily accept the fantastic roles we often adopt in games.
Unnecessary Complexities
While creative terminology is good, creating good creative terms is in and of itself an art. I've found that there is, at times, a tendency for some designers to want players to prove their devotion by learning an overly complex set of vocabulary.
I could write an entire article on this topic, but to keep it brief I've found the following rules of thumb useful:
1. Whether it's the Black Bow of the Betrayer or a Firebat, names should still hint at what something is in your game.
2. Use real roots. Whether it's English, Latin, German, or Japanese doesn't matter, just try to draw your names from something recognizable. While this might help clue your player in on what your names mean, the real reason is that it's hard to remember whether Qlgeshmahn is the healing potion and Mqklema is your torch or if it's the other way around…
3. Numbers are bad. If they correlate to power they're boring and if they don't correlate to power they are confusing.
4. Use invented vocabulary only for things that are unique to your world. Don't replace the names of things the player already has words for without some very good justification.
Genre-Wide Vocabulary?
We have already established a group of conventions (HP, EXP, bot, frag) that carry over between games in a genre. These terms are usually related to common mechanics found in the genre.
I've become convinced that you should not try to replace these with cool IP-related words. This simply confuses players and leads them to refer to things in your world by the better known corollary terms anyway. Of respondents who played RPGs, I often asked them what the currency in the Final Fantasy series was; slightly over half inaccurately responded, "Gold."
On the flip side, anything not related to common game mechanics seems to be fair game.
Familial Understanding
This study brought to light the larger question of how the non-gamer relates to someone immersed in one of our fantasy settings. This is a moral question and a social question but, I believe this to be a monetary question as well.
Often our customer is not actually the one consuming our products; they are a relative or a friend of the person who will, in the end, play our games. If we can improve their tangential experience, that is to say if we can make buying a game a positive and connecting experience, they are more likely to be willing to purchase other of our products in the future.
Unfortunately I don't have any suggestions on how to do this except on a case by case basis.
Notes on the Study
I began taking this survey in furtherance of my own work. I refined it over time, adding and subtracting questions as I began to discover what questions elicited useful data.
This survey is a combination of email questionnaires and face to face conversations. Not all of the respondents knew they were being surveyed at the time. In short, this study was in no way statistically rigorous.
I am publishing this summary because I felt as though the results benefited my own work and may benefit the community as a whole. I believe the data acquired here to be good, regardless of its lack of rigor…just be aware of how it came to be.
For those, the sample size was just under 300 people (I have 238 gamers and 43 parents marked on my tally sheet with a handful of results discarded for various reasons). I tried to target gamers of all ilk from the hardcore to the more casual, although due to the categories investigated and the nature of the survey I believe the respondent pool leaned more towards the "core."
[James Portnow is a game designer, formerly of Activision, and now at Divide by Zero Games, where he is also the founder and CCO. He received his master's degree in Entertainment Technology from Carnegie Mellon University.]
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The first one relates to something concrete. It includes basic technical information that help translate abstracts into something quantifiable for players (Hp, mana, mob, bot, DOT (damage over time), DPS (damage per second), etc), specific roles to play in-game (tank, ranged support, healer, etc..) and other such information. This level of gaming language is starting to become more and more uniform across games simply because it relates to standard elements of most games. I believe that game should support this language as a standard form as it makes easy for a player to reorient itself when switching games. Additionally this is the easiest level of language to learn for new players or non-players (such as parents) because it describe tangible technical concepts.
The second secret language is also spread across games and very much alive within the online player community, whether they are MMO players or plays online through game console's online features. Words such as pwn, noob and such are in the very sense parts of a secret language. They are known and understood only by the initiated and the level of mastery of this language help the player define his social standing within the gaming community. If you don't want to look like a noob, you better learn the language quickly. Since this language is in all respects a secret language, it is not meant to be understood by the non-initiated. It does evolve from year to year and I don't believe any effort of standardization is either possible or even a good idea. Speaking this language, l33t, define the player as a part of a special group, offering a sense of belonging. It's an important part of the human social experience. It does replace the secret handshakes or old.
The third secret language is the only one that is IP-related. It's uses is a bit similar to the first two: it is use to define game-related realities (such as enemies, locations and such) as well as a way to distinguish inexperienced players from masters of the games. In WOW, asking what a Tanaris is will brand you as a noob, while discussing the finer strategies of capital raiding will mark you as an experienced player, not matter what your character's level is. This language should stay IP-specific, as it reinforce the sentiment of community for this specific game's players. Of course that doesn't means that games that are meant to be played for a few months and then put aside need extensive or overly complex specific terminology.
All in all secret languages in gaming does serve specific purposes, from technical realities to community identification to social ranking. The number of languages known and the extant of their mastery define an individual player position within the general gaming community. You find this kind of use of language in many profession/trade or social groups. It fulfill the basic human need of belonging and of exerting power over his environment by naming things. The power of naming things is the earliest form of magic, but maybe its a discussion for another time.
To me, this highlighted an important aspect of level design in FPS games. Even when you've got the same repetitive textures and props, there has to be iconic landmarks so the player won't get lost. Even if it's subtle as changing the light color. So when someone says "Rush bomb site A!" you know exactly what that means.
in a way, everyone has a multitude of 'secret languages'. particle physists talk about about quarks, gravitons and anti-particles philosophers debate existenialism,stoicism and agnostism. when ever you enter a new area you need some time or someone to 'show you the ropes' in reagrds to the language. Honestly you just have to get in there and learn stuff if you want to get it; tehre is no way around it. if you want to learn all 150 pokemon, you just have to put time into it.
Hands down, greatest quote I've ever read. This, my friends is the question all parents should be asking.
http://starcraft.burningblade.org/zerg/build.html
I think names are important for their ability to communicate ideas and concepts quickly to the player. It'd be an interesting experiment to take a simple game and mess up the labels on everything to see how disconcerting it will be. Like playing Monopoly on a set localized for a foreign country. My copy of Monopoly has Nassim road as one of the purple properties and Geylang as the brown ones.
In general, I find no problem with creative labels upon a game's content. However, as with all points of design contention, the content is often not the problem, it's the processes used to achieve it.
Common sense, consistency and accessibility are paramount in ensuring sound naming conventions across all forms of content (characters, weapons, game-modes, abilities, etc, etc). I feel the checkpoints would be;
a) Ease of Pronunciation - There is no point having an object in-game if gamers will never reach a consensus on its correct pronunciation. Names are a personal thing, the first thing you ask someone when you meet them is their name. It helps bring you closer. Phonetically ambiguous names and labels alienate your gamers through uncertainty.
Bad: G’hro Ilgh’our
Good: Gro Illgor
b) Relativity - We've all picked up a 'Sword of Rending' at one point in our gaming career. We know what it does, but is it exciting, does it carry a story of its own? Would the legend of Excalibur be quite as legendary if it was called 'The King's Sword'...? Be imaginative, be creative, link your creature, NPC, weapon with the world you've created... but also make it believable. We can believe in Excalibur, because it is relative to the universe in which it was created.
Good: ‘Sting’
Bad: ‘Sword of Blue Luminescence’
c) Don't Fix What Ain't Broke - The amount of times I've heard the term 'Deathmatch' reimagined. Grrr. It boils my blood. As developers it is our duty to ensure (as best we can) maximum ease of use in our product. We need to build upon (and support) the conventions provided to us by our peers (both past and present), it's what the film industry has been doing for years. Does renaming your Deathmatch mode, better your IP in any way? No. If it has the same rules, why not sacrifice some weak link to your narrative for a little accessibility. The word Deathmatch has the wondrous ability to convey all match rules to millions of gamers worldwide in a split second, replacing that with 'Bot War' or 'Slaughterfest' taints this beautiful occurrence of player confidence with ambiguity.
Good: Deathmatch
Bad: Slaughterfest
Staying true to these three rules can ensure we, as developers, continue to build fantastically original IP, whilst still retaining high levels of player immersion through maximum accessibility. For it is not the worlds we create that engage people, it is the suspension of disbelief gamers choose to impose upon themselves… let’s help them out a bit.
"I think names are important for their ability to communicate ideas and concepts quickly to the player. It'd be an interesting experiment to take a simple game and mess up the labels on everything to see how disconcerting it will be."
Great point! It's funny that you bring up Monopoly also. I own a Star Wars Episode 1 Monopoly Board. Mayfair and Park Lane are replaced with notable Coruscant locations, Jedi Council and Galactic Senate (respectively). One thing I always found interesting about this was that all friends that played, upon reading the new 'labels' would turn to me and ask "So these two are Mayfair and Park Lane, yeah?"
They would then often call the new Star Wars locations, Mayfair or Park Lane by accident. It was because they see Mayfair and Park Lane as the absolute labels for those two spaces on the board (game assets). If someone who had played many shooters was playing Halo for the first time and they asked you, a Halo veteran, what the rules of Slayer were, you would simply reply... "It's the same as Deathmatch." All of us assign labels, it is what our brains do. Recognise and internalise patterns, and then proceed to assign a label to that pattern.
The problem with the Slayer example, is that there is now a generation who were introduced to shooters and their absolute label for the Deathmatch game-mode model is now 'Slayer'. This confuses and taints the convention, ultimately muddying the convention pool developers and gamers from all around the world utilise.
In saying this, we MUST continue to push out old conventions in the hopes of securing better, more accessible, conventions, but only ever for the player's sake... not the IP's.
This does have the downside of creating something of a wall, especially when dealing with established franchises. How, for example, do you describe warp drive or a phaser to someone who doesn't watch or care for Star Trek? More importantly, how important are these terms to the setting, and are they worth the trouble of inscrutablity? Even as a sci-fi fan, I find my eyes boggling at some of the terms used conversationally in the Star Wars setting.
I would have liked to have seen a section on fighting games and their language. As a reader of various fighting game forums and a longtime player of fighters, I can understand when someone types 236+P what they mean, or when someone writes "cr.mk xx knightmare scissors is a B&B combo". However, as I teach some friends how to play fighters, they can glean nothing without me there to translate. It's an impregnable terminology deliberately set up to be obtuse to the uninitated, and a thing in which developers themselves had little say.
In every hobby or profession there are technical terms and names, which might come over as a secret language.
Also the FPS example is just laughable, "Deck 17" and "Deck 16" refer to maps, or locations if you will. When I say I took the train from Enschede to Hengelo the majority of the world has no idea what I'm talking about, not even other people that take the train. It's not part of some secret language. They are just names for locations. You shouldn't reuse names across IP because it creates confusion.
Sports game language raises the issue of differentiating between sports fan players and general game players. I've recently designed several sports games, and the goal for each one was to bring in general game players (while still appealing to sports players). As such, the design document for each contained almost no sports language in it, and I'm very proud that in each game the player need not learn the sport and its language in order to play, understand the game, and have fun. In contrast, hardcore sports fans may have the same reaction as the MMO players in your article -- that is, perhaps the sports language draws them into the world of that sport more and gives them a common dialogue. I'm not sure but in any case the omission was unfortunate.
Similarly casual game players are becoming more and more niche and as such their language has evolved and I think it's worth noting to explore how deep that evolution goes. I think most casual players with some kind of "Game Club" subscription (or casual players hardcore enough to post on portals' forums) know what a "click management" game is or a "HOG" whereas that is totally foreign language to an MMO or sports player.
1) The in-game language
Games tend to invent new names and terms for the simple reason that they need to ensure product differentiation - apart from reducing the risk of legal action, it also helps to promote brand loyalty and reduce the risk of negative perceptions. That's why you'll find yourself firing a phaser in one game and a laser in another, using med-packs instead of nano-goop, mana instead of magic and so on
2) The player language
This is something which grows up as players try to find ways of interpreting in-game actions: tanks, campers, mobs, drops, ganking, etc. There's no real way to control and predict this: there's likely to be several variations floating around until one gains traction.
In the end, the point of both these variations is simple: people need a unique and concise way to describe something, which can be easily interpreted by other people with similar experiences. It's the same elsewhere - in science or sports, for example. The key thing to understand is that the description has to be unique: it's often no good trying to reuse terminology from elsewhere, as this is liable to not map exactly to the current situation.
The interesting thing with games is that the languages both evolve and die a lot quicker than in other arenas. So I'm sure there's some potential for a Social Studies paper or two there :)
So, to answer the original "problem": yes, the use of unique terminology does make sense, both for the developer and the gamer - and it's unlikely to ever change!
One of the things I've noticed is that many peculiarities of gamer jargon are first born out of necessity. Efficient large group raiding in WoW needs a specialised kind of language to discuss and plan events. This is especially evident in the vocabulary used, which does not only cover unique places and entities in the virtual world but also the mechanics underlying the game. "Damage per second (dps)" or "area of effect (aoe)" are examples of this. Since the battle system is not (or not primarily) twitch based but based on mathematical values and their comparison. Talking about and optimising the use of these values needs a specialised language. In this respect MMO language resembles other professional languages. And just like with other professional languages, certain elements are also used as social markers, strengthening community or setting the community apart from others.
I believe that most of the time the gamers' setting themselves apart from their social environment is not deliberate act. It is probably more deliberate among gamers in their youth, but this may be a general characteristic of youth groups and youth language, not of gamer language per se.