#oneaday, Day 197: Blind Girl

The Xbox Indie Games Marketplace is, at best, a mixed bag, as the vast majority of community-led games portals tend to be. There are some extreme examples of awfulness in there—the most notable that I’ve tried recently being Dossun Island, an 8-bit style platformer with dreadful animation that was clearly designed by someone who has no concept of how parallax scrolling is supposed to work. But then there’s some excellent stuff in there too—stuff which would be worthwhile on Xbox LIVE Arcade. Anyone who’s played games such as Beat Hazard will be aware that there are some genuine gems amongst the millions of massage apps and video-based crap.

And then there’s the “creative” games. For some time now, the term “indie game” has been associated with creativity, artistic experimentation and, of course, that overused word “pretentiousness”. Ever since Braid came along and either charmed or irritated everyone, the term “indie game” has been synonymous with doing things that little bit differently.

One such example of this creativity that I had the good fortune to stumble across tonight was an 80-point game called Blind Girl. In it, you play the titular blind girl and, via some very interesting game mechanics, have to collect musical notes.

Blind Girl, being blind, can’t see anything. So when you enter a level with her all you can see is her face, sitting there in inky blackness with her eyes closed. Moving around causes her face to change into some bare footprints, and the sound of her footsteps causes red “sound waves” to emanate from wherever she is. These sound waves bounce off walls, so by her making noise, the player is able to “see” the layout of the level.

As the game progresses, Blind Girl starts learning a tune. By tapping A, she can sing the part of the tune she has learned so far. This sends out green sound waves which, as the tune grows in length, travel a much greater distance and reveal much more than her footsteps alone.

As a simple maze game, it would be interesting enough. But it’s the twists and puzzles created with these simple mechanics that make Blind Girl such an intriguing game to play. “Enemies”, in the form of sinister floating eyes, are introduced a few levels in. There are red and green variants of these eyes. The red ones will chase Blind Girl if they hear her footsteps, but she can sneak past noiselessly by the player using the analog stick more lightly. The green ones will chase Blind Girl if they hear her singing. However, you can also only see where these eyes are if you hit them with the respectively-coloured sound wave, or if you’re right up close to them you can see “Z”s floating, indicating that they are asleep. Many of the puzzles revolve around manipulating the behaviour of these eyes to clear a path to the musical note, and there’s quite a few examples of creative solutions required.

Following the tradition of Braid, between levels there is some text that makes some attempt to tell a story about our titular heroine. The writers made the strange decision to do this all in rhyme, too, and the “titles” to each level are also in verse. Some of them are a bit clumsy, and it comes across as a very self-conscious attempt to be “arty”. It doesn’t detract from the game at all, though. Just be aware that if Braid‘s books irritated you, Blind Girl‘s poetry might rub you up the wrong way too.

Blind Girl is a pleasure to play. It’s pretty short, so it can easily be played through in one sitting. But the simple game mechanics, which are introduced gradually and paced well without the need for a fourth-wall breaking tutorial, work so well that it’s well worth doing that playthrough. There are times when it’s challenging, but it’s never so difficult that you want to throw the controller down and never play it again (something I experienced with Braid, and something many people have experienced more recently with Limbo). It’s a simple, polished, creative game that is a fine example of someone creating a game which doesn’t easily fit into the traditional “niches” and genres. I guess it’s a puzzle game at heart. But like many other indie games, it’s treated more as a free-flowing, interactive piece of art rather than a “game”.

Check it out. The trial allows you to play about a third of the way through the game, but the full thing is only 80 points. If you’re the slightest bit interested in creative game design, you could do far worse than check it out.

#oneaday, Day 90: Ebert in the Lions’ Den

Art is the process or product of deliberately arranging elements in a way to affect the senses or emotions. It encompasses a diverse range of human activities, creations, and modes of expression.

Wikipedia

Roger Ebert gently and gracefully lowered his gazelle-scented testicles into the lions’ den that is the world of video games a couple of days ago. It’s pretty fair to say that he got a reaction. But was it the one he was after?

His contention was that “Video games can never be art”. A strong opening hypothesis. One which has been debated amongst gamers many a time too, with little agreement on the subject. Some feel that yes, games can be art, others feel that no, games can not be art – yet. There are very few people I know who are interested in the world of games – whether or not they think there is currently any evidence of artistic creativity in the medium right now – who would stand up and proudly announce that their chosen form of entertainment will never be art. As Ebert points out in his own article, Rick Wakeman once reminded us that “never is a long, long time”.

So how is Ebert, a respected film critic, so sure on this subject? Well, of course, he’s played some games to back this up, right?

Given the substance of the article, I’m not entirely convinced. He certainly talks about a few games – specifically Waco Resurrection (which I’d never heard of), Braid and Flower. I can’t comment on Waco, having never heard of this game until today, but Braid and Flower are both games that I have played and enjoyed, and I take exception to the manner in which Ebert responds to them – or doesn’t, as the case may be.

When discussing Braid, he mentions the game’s unique selling point – the time rewind mechanic. He even cites the justification for it – the thematic concept of “what if you could go back and fix your own mistakes?” He then spectacularly misses the point by comparing it to cheating in chess… or rather, “negating the discipline” of chess. I agree that taking back moves in chess is counter-productive in developing your own skills, but Braid is a game that is designed around that whole concept. Rather than being a sore loser’s way out, the time rewind mechanic in Braid is a key part of the experience. More to the point, it’s not used purely as a way of avoiding death, as he seems to believe. Instead, use of time and your past self is key to solving the puzzles in Braid, making apt and clever use of the main theme of the story in a practical sense.

It’s his comments on Flower that got me, though. It’s immediately apparent that he hasn’t even played the game at all from this:

We come to Example 3, “Flower”.  A run-down city apartment has a single flower on the sill, which leads the player into a natural landscape. The game is “about trying to find a balance between elements of urban and the natural.” Nothing she shows from this game seemed of more than decorative interest on the level of a greeting card. Is the game scored? She doesn’t say. Do you win if you’re the first to find the balance between the urban and the natural? Can you control the flower? Does the game know what the ideal balance is?

“Can you control the flower?” Seriously? I would have thought that a respected critic would bother to actually experience the things he is commenting on before judging them. Flower is one of the most unique experiences there is on a games console – love it or hate it – and it eschews most traditional game mechanics in favour of being a piece of experiential entertainment. The experience you have playing Flower is entirely what you make of it. If you want to play it as a “game” and try to beat the levels as quickly as possible, you can. But most people who have spent any time floating on the wind and listening to that game’s gorgeous soundtrack will agree that there is definitely a sense of narrative to the whole thing. But unlike most games, this sense of narrative is entirely personal to the person playing it. I played it feeling enormously melancholy, feeling an inexplicable sense that someone or something had died. Nothing on the screen suggested that, but that’s what I felt while playing, to an almost overwhelming degree. Others have taken the rather more simplistic – but just as valid – interpretation that “flowers hate steel”.

The problem with Ebert’s comments is that they smack of condescension and arrogance. Ebert is a respected expert in his own field – justifiably so, I might add – and he clearly knows it. Therefore he seems to feel that this gives him the right to judge something which he very obviously knows very little about and has very little interest in pursuing further thanks to his own preconceptions.

Are games art? I don’t have an answer for you, but Justin McElroy’s excellent response to Ebert’s piece raises a very good point – the medium of “games” has evolved so much in such a short space of time that to call the diverse experiences we have with our computers and consoles today simply “games” is a complete misnomer. We interact with these pieces of electronic entertainment for a variety of reasons. Sometimes it’s escapist fantasy. Sometimes it’s role-playing. Sometimes it’s wish-fulfilment. Sometimes it’s a social activity. Sometimes it’s competition. Sometimes it’s to feel an emotional response.

There are as many reasons to “play” as there are “games”, so to damn the entire medium with a blanket statement – “games will never be art” – is misguided and short-sighted. They may not be art now in the eyes of some people, but that is not to say that they will not be in the future. If you take Wiki’s rather broad definition of “art”, listed at the top of this post, games (or whatever you want to call them) are already there.

I will leave you with two tweets from Cody “NintendoTheory” Winn, whom I think sums up the problem with debating this whole question pretty succinctly in the space of 280 characters: