2407: Looking Again at World of Warcraft After a Good Few Years

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I last played World of Warcraft in the Wrath of the Lich King era. I played it off and on ever since launch, to be honest, but it was Wrath of the Lich King that saw me finally get to the level cap, although looking back on my time with the game through the eyes of an experienced Final Fantasy XIV endgame player, I now realise that I barely scratched the surface of what WoW had to offer.

World of Warcraft is one of those games that I consider to be part of the ill-defined, amorphous "gaming canon" — it's a game that I thoroughly believe everyone should play for at least a short time to understand what an impact it's had on the games industry as a whole: its importance to popular game design, the influence it's had on other games, and the aspects that it's drawn from its successors back into itself to evolve and adapt.

Like most MMOs, it's fascinating to chart how WoW has changed over the years because it's virtually unrecognisable from when it first hit the market. This most recent time I've been taking a look at it represents probably the biggest change I've seen to the overall game structure and experience, and among other things it's put certain aspects of my Final Fantasy XIV experience into a broader context.

My time with Wrath of the Lich King was spent primarily playing PvE (Player vs Environment) in the game's open world. This is still an entirely viable way to play World of Warcraft right the way through until level cap, unlike something like Final Fantasy XIV, which gates significant portions of the main story behind group content, albeit only of the most casual, straightforward variety right up until you reach the original level cap of 50.

The pacing of WoW is also very different to Final Fantasy XIV. While Final Fantasy XIV is relatively slow-paced with an almost turn-based feel thanks to its long "global cooldown" — the period of time between which you can use most of your abilities — WoW is relatively fast-paced and frantic. This comes at a slight cost, though: whereas Final Fantasy XIV's encounters are, for my money, much more interesting thanks to their strong emphasis on dodging and being in the right place at the right time — a distinctly Japanese approach to encounter design — World of Warcraft appears to be, to my limited experience, much more about gearing up and overpowering your enemies as much as possible. There's still an element of "don't stand in the shit" at times, but not to anywhere near the same degree as Final Fantasy XIV.

The two approaches are both valid, although the fact that it's possible to WoW-style overpower some of what used to be Final Fantasy XIV's most formidable encounters leads to a certain feeling of dissonance at times; there's always that feeling of conflict between the beautifully paced and choreographed encounter that the designers of Final Fantasy XIV put together, and the players' desire to bulldoze their way through it as quickly as possible. It's sort of a shame to see what a mockery modern groups make of fights like Garuda Extreme, although when you take this in the context of Final Fantasy XIV being a JRPG at core, it could simply be likened to the experience of level-grinding to a ridiculous degree, then steamrollering everything that once gave you grief into oblivion.

WoW also feels a lot more "free" than Final Fantasy XIV thanks to its diminished focus on storytelling — something which I always used to regard as a bit of a drawback to Blizzard's game, but which with more seasoned eyes I can see allows it to feel much more explicitly "game-like" than Final Fantasy XIV. This may sound odd, but it's true: FFXIV very much likes to put everything in some sort of narrative context, necessitating unlocking everything manually by completing various quests, whereas modern WoW simply unlocks things automatically and organically as you level up; you can jump into a dungeon as soon as you hit level 15 without having made prerequisite progress through a questline, whereas Final Fantasy XIV brings you to your first dungeon as part of its main scenario.

Modern WoW also features something I like very much, but which further contributes to its "game-like" feel: the Adventure Guide. This screen can be popped up at any time after level 10 and gives you suggestions of what to do next, allowing you to automatically start questlines without having to manually go to the location first, jump into dungeon queues the moment you've unlocked them, and even review strategy guides for dungeon bosses to save the tedious cries of "go watch a youtube video, noob" when a more inexperienced player enters group content for the first time.

WoW also seems to have taken some inspiration from Final Fantasy XIV's FATE (Full Active Time Event) system in the form of its pre-expansion Invasions. These are events that occur in the open world and require the cooperation of multiple players (albeit not in an organised manner) to accomplish various challenges. WoW's Invasions are much larger in scale than FFXIV's FATEs, however; an Invasion typically encompasses an entire zone, with objectives scattered around the place, whereas FFXIV's FATEs are constrained to a smaller area.

WoW also makes use of an incredibly elegant scaling system for these Invasions, where the monsters that appear as part of the event appear at different levels according to each player's own level. For example, I was participating in one earlier tonight as a level 12 character, so the enemies were appearing as level 12 with appropriate amounts of health and damage. Meanwhile, my friend Cat came to join me on her level 100 character, and the enemies appeared to her as level 100, with appropriately inflated amounts of health and outgoing damage. The higher-level characters still have an advantage due to better gear and a wider selection of available abilities, but it's nice that it's so simple for people of different levels to be able to cooperate on something and get meaningful rewards from it — it's a bit more elegant than FFXIV's slightly clunky Level Sync system in that you're not artifically gimping yourself to participate; the encounter gimps itself to lower-level players.

One thing where I've felt WoW has always had the edge over Final Fantasy XIV is in terms of gear. FFXIV has a strictly vertical gear progression system, with very little in the way of variety within each tier of equipment. As you're levelling, you get a new set of gear roughly every 5 levels or so until you reach level 50, at which point a few dungeon runs will allow you to purchase gear that will take you to about level 58 before you need to replace it. Once you hit 60, there are generally two or three "tiers" of gear that are "relevant" at any one time — one that is available with the endgame currency that has no weekly cap on it, one that is available with the endgame currency that does have a weekly cap on it, and, depending on what stage in the patch cycle the game is at, one or more tiers of raid gear from either the 24-player "casual" raid or the 8-player super-difficult "Savage" raid. In other words, everyone at an equivalent gear level in FFXIV will be wearing the exact same stuff as other people playing that class, though the last set to be introduced did at least encourage the insertion of Materia for limited customisation of secondary stats.

WoW, meanwhile, has a huge variety of gear right from the get-go. Shitty grey gear, poor white gear, slightly more exciting green gear, very exciting blue gear, mega-exciting purple gear and OMG I GOT IT Legendary gear. (And possibly some more tiers besides.) WoW throws a lot more loot at the player than FFXIV, particularly during dungeon runs, with green gear in particular taking an almost Diablo-esque approach to itemisation with prefixes and suffixes denoting variations on a particular item level's gear.

FFXIV does have an item "rarity" system along these lines — there are white, pink, green, blue and purple items — but in practice, getting a blue item simply means that you've acquired some level-cap gear, and purple items are, so far as I know, exclusively for the grind-tastic Relic and Anima weapons at levels 50 and 60 respectively. The only items that have any real variety to them are the pink items you find in dungeons while levelling up; these have standardised basic stats for the item level, but randomised secondary stats. In practice, though, it never really feels like the secondary stats make that much difference; perhaps this will change at higher item levels, but at the moment, adding 5 points of Determination on to your armour doesn't feel like it has a big impact on how powerful you are, and this is, I feel, a real weakness of FFXIV that should be addressed in future expansions.

Do I like one better than the other? No, I actually like them both for different reasons, and can quite feasibly see myself playing both, since they're both enjoyable and distinct experiences from one another. Oddly enough, spending a few hours playing WoW and getting to level 20 has made me appreciate the things that FFXIV does better, and also given me a certain amount of understanding as to why some players are the way they are. That doesn't excuse their behaviour at times, of course, but if you look at how they play in the context of having had previous experience with how WoW does things, certain behaviours like the desire for speedruns or overpowering encounters start to make a little more sense.

All in all, it's been a positive experience — and if you're a lapsed WoW player who has been thinking about checking out what the game looks like in 2016, I'd encourage you to do so. The experience for new players has been made a whole lot smoother, and the whole package is significantly slicker than it once was. Plus, regardless of whether or not you bought any of the previous expansions, all WoW players now get all the expansions up to Warlords of Draenor completely free, with only the impending Legion requiring you to spend any additional money. The game as a whole seems much more friendly to short, casual sessions than it used to be, and that can only be a good thing — though naturally once you hit endgame, it doubtless won't be long before the desire to raid kicks in… and that's when things get a bit time-consuming!

2405: Revisiting One Way Heroics

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Upon realising that the Spike Chunsoft enhanced remake of One Way Heroics was, in fact, coming out in just three weeks' time, I decided to revisit the original game, which has long been one of my favourite takes on the roguelike genre thanks to it being quite unlike pretty much any other game I've ever played.

For the unfamiliar, One Way Heroics places you in a randomly generated world map that continuously scrolls, like those old Super Mario World levels that everyone hated. This being a turn-based roguelike, however, One Way Heroics only scrolls when you take an action, be this moving, attacking or fiddling around with something in your inventory.

The aim of the game is ostensibly to defeat the Demon Lord and save the remaining part of the world from being consumed by the mysterious darkness that is just out of shot on the left side of the screen. More often than not, you will fail in your task, either by yourself being caught in said mysterious darkness by miscalculating how many turns it would take you to cross the mountain range you found yourself stuck in the middle of, by dying embarrassingly to a nearby feral dog who gave you a nasty nip right in your most sensitive areas, or by forgetting you had a bag full of highly flammable (and explosive) items and then going toe-to-toe with a fire-breathing imp.

It's not an insurmountable challenge, though. In fact, defeating the Demon Lord is more a matter of persistence than anything else; she (yes, spoiler, she's a she) appears at regular intervals throughout your journey, sticks around for a few in-game hours during which you can either attempt to do some damage or run away from her, then she disappears again for a bit. Damage you deal persists from encounter to encounter, though she does have the chance to heal a few HP and erect a few magical barriers in between your various clashes. As such, so long as you can keep yourself alive, you can eventually wear her down bit by bit rather than having to defeat her all in one go.

Except, if you look a bit deeper into the game, defeating the Demon Lord isn't the only way to finish the game. In fact, it's arguably the easiest way to clear the game, since the other endings mostly require all manner of convoluted requirements and lucky rolls on the ol' random number generator. That said, the game's "Dimensional Vault" system does at least allow you to carry useful items over from playthrough to playthrough, so you can effectively prepare for the more complex conclusions a bit at a time, much like preparing to fight the Demon Lord, only over the course of several playthroughs instead of just one.

The other ways to beat the game vary from defeating the Darkness itself (which requires a Holy weapon, a very rare find indeed) to reaching the End of the World at the 2000km mark. The subsequently released One Way Heroics Plus expansion also added a number of other ways to clear the game, including finding your way into a whole other dimension to discover who or what is really behind this whole creeping darkness thing, and then either surviving until the end of that dimension or defeating said ne'er do well once and for all.

On top of all that, there are character-specific endings, too. During each playthrough, you have a chance of encountering a number of different non-player characters who, assuming you meet the prerequisite requirements to recruit them (usually some combination of cash and charisma levels) can join your party. As they fight alongside you and you meet various conditions (different for each character), they gain affection for you, and after having had three separate conversations with them, revealing their backstory and the truth about themselves — including, in many cases, why there appears to be a version of them in each and every dimension out there, more than aware of what you're up to — clearing the game gives you their unique ending on top of whichever particular finale you went for.

These little stories that are attached to the party members are one of the most interesting things about One Way Heroics, because they elevate it above being a simple mechanics-based roguelike and give it a touch of narrative. Not enough to be obtrusive — the emphasis is still very much on preparing your character to clear the game in whichever way you deem most appropriate — but enough to give you a real feel for who these people are and what their place in the entire mystery of One Way Heroics is.

One particularly interesting thing about them is that you can go a very long time without encountering any of them at all, and thus assume that One Way Heroics is entirely mechanics-based. Another is that their storylines are all pretty dark in tone right up until the end, which is all the more effective due to the fairly breezy tone the rest of the game has going on. I defy anyone not to shed a tear at Queen Frieda's ending in particular, though I shan't spoil it here.

Replaying One Way Heroics over the last few days has reminded me quite how much I like this quirky little game, and I'm extremely excited to see how the new version pans out in comparison. From the looks of things, it takes the basic mechanics of the original and gives it a fresh coat of paint along with a new setting and storyline, plus a number of guest characters from other games including Danganronpa and Shiren the Wanderer.

All being well, I'm probably going to devote next month on MoeGamer to this game, its expansion and its new version, which will be out partway through the month. It's an underappreciated gem, for sure, and one which everyone the slightest bit interested in the more unusual side of RPGs owes it to themselves to check out.

2404: No Man's Sky and the Case for "Games for Grown-Ups"

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Back in the '90s, MicroProse, a software company that already produced a number of the most complex computer games on the market thanks to their near-exclusive focus on military simulators, launched a spin-off label called "MicroStyle". MicroStyle's "thing" was that they produced "games for adults". This did not mean "adult" as in "porn"; rather, it meant games about things that — supposedly, anyway — older gamers would be interested in. No cutesy platformers with rainbow colours here; MicroStyle was all about motorbikes, fast cars and, err, Rick Dangerous, the latter of which perhaps erred a little more towards the side of cutesy platformers than its stablemates.

The reason this largely pointless piece of gaming history trivia is at the forefront of my mind right now is due to the recently released No Man's Sky, and the bafflingly negative reaction it has received from many online commentators. I had been asking myself why there was so very much whining going on about this game, when it occurred to me, partly after a bit of reflection on my own part and partly after a discussion with my friend Chris.

No Man's Sky is a game for grown-ups. And some people don't know how to deal with that.

The reason I say this is that there's a very obvious dichotomy when it comes to this game between those who have sat down and spent time with it — and then, crucially, reflected on the experience — and those who take it at face value, judge it against the frankly unreasonable expectations they set for it in their head and consequently respond rather negatively towards it.

There are two particularly good pieces on the subject of No Man's Sky that I invite you to read right now before we go any further.

The first, from The Guardian's Keith Stuart, explores the game from the perspective of someone who grew up playing the original Elite on 8-bit computers. Stuart describes how invested he was in the virtual galaxy that Elite allowed him to explore; how he went so far as to buy a particular joystick to play it with because it looked suitably futuristic, and to make copious notes about profitable trading routes and sectors to avoid. His prose reminded me of my own youth with computer games, when I'd actually go so far as to dress up in a bomber jacket, home-made "oxygen mask" (made from a bit of cardboard and an old vacuum cleaner hose) and balaclava (the closest I could get to an actual crash helmet at the time) when playing games like F-15 Strike Eagle II and F-19 Stealth Fighter on the Atari ST. The use of imagination was key; these games were thrilling not because they presented the most impressive visual spectacles on screen, but because they truly allowed you to become someone else for a short time. The idea that you could sit down in front of your computer monitor and become a space traveller or fighter pilot was intoxicating, and even though at the time I was far too young to really understand those games properly, those experiences still stuck with me.

Stuart describes No Man's Sky as an Elite for the modern age. He also notes that we already have an Elite for the modern age in the form of Elite: Dangerous, but makes the crucial distinction that Elite: Dangerous has gone heavily down the path of complex simulation, while No Man's Sky eschews some of the more "unnecessary" aspects of realism in favour of providing an experience that stokes the fires of the imagination.

Stuart's piece is complemented nicely by this piece in Rolling Stone/Glixel from Star Wars novel author Chuck Wendig. Wendig describes No Man's Sky as "boring", but notes that this isn't actually a bad thing.

"We often play games for the destination," says Wendig, "but I don't think that's why we play No Man's Sky. We play it for the journey. There is an eerie calm to this game. A utopian serenity. A pleasant, alluring boredom that draws you along the journey – but not too fast. This is sci-fi that doesn't ask you to kill, kill, kill. It asks you only to wander. To discover. To catalog your findings and sell your wares and move onto the next moon, the next space station, the next world, the next star system. All in pursuit of whatever it is you wish to pursue."

He's absolutely right. While there is combat in No Man's Sky, it's a rare occurrence — rare enough to make every time you switch your multi-tool from mining laser to boltcaster mode feel significant. The emphasis instead is on exploration, discovery and, above all, imagination. You're given very little context or explanation for the things you are seeing in No Man's Sky, and I have a strange feeling that even if you "finish" it by reaching the end of one of the narrative paths and/or the centre of the galaxy, it still won't answer all the questions you might have.

My friend Chris also describes it as "a game for people who like books: you have to have a bit of imagination, and have your sense of wonder still intact, and understand that there are breeds of sci-fi that aren't about action." I can't help but feel that the fact the whole game looks like an Asimov cover is entirely intentional.

The trouble is that this style of play is the exact opposite of what a lot of younger gamers expect from their games these days. They don't expect their space sims to be quiet, contemplative, artistic affairs that minimise action in the name of cataloguing flora and fauna on diverse alien worlds. They expect their space sims to be more along the lines of the Call of Duty: Infinite Warfare trailer we saw at E3: all action, all explosions, all bodies floating off into space. And No Man's Sky isn't about that.

I can't help but feel that the loudest complaint of all — the fact that the game isn't the synchronous massively multiplayer title that a lot of people had come to assume it would be — also ties in with this. Fundamentally, No Man's Sky is a game about being alone in a vast galaxy, and occasionally coming across traces of evidence that other people have been there before you — whether it's long-forgotten ruins, from which you can learn snippets of the various alien languages in the game, or star systems, planets and species of flora and fauna named by other players. The fact that you can't see other players flying around is entirely intentional; the game hasn't been designed in that way at all, and "true" multiplayer would add absolutely nothing to the experience other than the opportunity to be griefed by players who fancied a career in virtual space piracy.

No Man's Sky is a game for grown-ups. Specifically, it's a game for grown-ups who grew up with games in the '80s and '90s; it realises the dream of being able to freely fly a spaceship around a vast universe, land on planets and explore them at our leisure; it gives us enough fuel to stoke the fires of our imagination, and withholds enough to allow us to let those flames flare up as much as we want; it's a game that is the exact opposite of something like Mass Effect's grand space opera, in which nothing is left to the imagination. (This isn't to put Mass Effect down, mind you; there's a place for both the quiet contemplation of No Man's Sky and the dramatic bombast of Mass Effect in this world.)

Perhaps most tellingly, all the most interesting, thoughtful and sensible commentary on No Man's Sky has been by people over the age of 30. And the negative comments very much come across as being written by much younger people. (I obviously can't say for certain how old many of the naysayers are, but their words certainly come across as being less… seasoned, shall we say.)

If all you can do is rant and rave about how Hello Games' Sean Murray "lied" to you about the game being multiplayer… well, then you're missing the point. Spectacularly. And you should probably go and play something else. Something with more guns in it.

2399: No Man's Sky and The Game as a Pure Relaxation Aid

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I've been playing a bit more of No Man's Sky this evening and I still like it a lot. It's a wonderfully dreamy, ethereal experience to play — helped partly by the wonderful electronic soundtrack that accompanies everything you do — but also because it seems to have been designed to be an experience that is pure relaxation rather than the more typical goal-driven affair that most games tend to be.

There is no goal in No Man's Sky. Well, all right, there's one: get to the centre of the galaxy, but that's so vague as to be almost meaningless, and the important thing about playing No Man's Sky is not a desperate attempt to achieve that goal as quickly or efficiently as possible, but rather to enjoy the journey exactly as you see fit.

Any other goals in the game are entirely of your own making and will depend entirely on how you like to play. One person's goal might be to fully scan all the planets in a system to receive the hefty payouts you get for "completing" a planetary analysis. Another's might be to produce as many warp cells as possible as quickly as possible so they can make a large number of jumps rapidly. Another's still might be to upgrade their ship, or their suit, or their multitool… it really is up to you what you want to do, and No Man's Sky offers just enough in the way of structure and mechanics to allow you to make these goals for yourself without it ever feeling like you're following a linear, prescribed path.

It struck me while I was playing tonight that this is what the game is all about. You don't play No Man's Sky if you're a powergamer, seeking the "best" or "most efficient" way to "clear" something. You play No Man's Sky during a period of downtime, in which you want to just sit back, relax and take part in something that doesn't demand anything of you, but which has enough in the way of interactivity and structure to distinguish itself from more passive art forms.

In many ways, it can perhaps be regarded as the natural evolution of the "walking simulator", the subgenre of first-person adventure games that focus not on puzzle solving or other aspects of "gameplay", but on storytelling and experiencing a world as if you were there. No Man's Sky differs in some substantial ways, however, the lack of a linear main narrative being the main one, but the "immersive sim" aspect of the "walking simulator" is present and correct. If you are the sort of person who enjoyed Gone Home not for the '90s teenage lesbian angst but instead for the interesting experience that was just poking around that little world the developers had created, then you might get something out of No Man's Sky, because the whole game is poking around worlds of various descriptions.

That lack of concrete story might be an issue for some, admittedly, but for those who still have a working imagination, No Man's Sky puts it to good use by allowing you to interpret what you're seeing as you see fit. Is that abandoned outpost that's full of weird slimy gooey tentacly things a sign that something awful happened there, or is it simply a natural product of the passage of time? Are the Gek a race of entreprenurial merchants, or do they hide a darker secret, hoping to enslave the universe to their bidding? How did that planet get those curiously man-made looking pillars of rock everywhere?

One of the most interesting questions No Man's Sky asks the player is who are you? You never see yourself in the game, and the fact that the game doesn't have multiplayer (boy, you wouldn't believe the whining that's been going on by people who apparently expected this to be an MMO) means that you don't see others like you, either. Even if you could see other players, though, there's no guarantee that they'd be exactly the same as you. Are you human? Are you Gek? Are you a construct of the mysterious Atlas? Are you something else altogether? The game doesn't answer this — at least, it hasn't in the 10 hours I've spent with it so far — and so leaves this rather important question up to the player's interpretation.

In other words, No Man's Sky is what you make of it. If you go in expecting some sort of grand space opera with a clearly constructed story, villains to defeat and great evils to stand against, you may well be disappointed. If, however, you go in expecting a game that allows you to pretend to be a spaceman for a few hours at a time, and can extract a certain degree of joy from that simple experience, then you'll have a wonderful time.

It's a game to relax and unwind with, not a game to "git gud" at. And I appreciate it a great deal for that. That doesn't mean that I want to play it all day every day, but it does mean that I can open it up at any time, fly around and explore a bit, and feel like I've had my money's worth. And with the tantalising possibility of future updates adding more and more interesting mechanics to the game as a whole, I can see it being a game I'll dip in and out of for a very long time indeed.

2398: The Many Faces of the Roguelike

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The phrase "roguelike" has been overused to such a degree in recent memory that it's become all but meaningless as a descriptor of what a game is actually like to play, but if nothing else it acts as a suitable starting point for a discussion about how a game is constructed, what the player is expected to do in it and where its longevity comes from.

The reason why "roguelike" itself as a term isn't particularly meaningful any more is that it's diverged into a number of discrete but related bloodlines over the years, with each offering their own particular take on being inspired by the dungeon-crawling classic. And, just as with most things, not getting on with one particular roguelike absolutely doesn't preclude you from enjoying others. In fact, this is one of the main reasons "roguelike" as a descriptor isn't useful any more, because it doesn't reflect the sheer diversity that is part of this subgenre in 2016.

Let's take a look at the different branches.

The traditional roguelike

A traditional roguelike builds on the foundations of the original Rogue in a number of ways. It presents the player with a seemingly simple task to complete (usually "find the x of y" or "kill the z") and a means through which to accomplish this task, usually a multi-level dungeon that is randomly generated with each playthrough, but which has the final objective down on the bottom floor.

Traditional roguelikes don't have to be presented as ASCII text characters, but many deliberately choose to, as a key part of these games is the fact they occupy a curious middle ground between tabletop roleplaying and standard computer-based hack and slash role-playing games, and as such a key part of enjoying them is having an active imagination with which to conjure up images of what your character is up to, the strange and terrifying dangers they're having to deal with and the horrible effects that potion you probably shouldn't have drunk is having on you.

A key aspect of traditional roguelikes is permadeath: in other words, your character dies, your save file is wiped and you have to start again. This mechanic can sometimes be circumnavigated by doing unspeakable things to your save game files, but doing so is generally — and quite rightly — regarded as cheating. In other words, if you're going to play a traditional roguelike properly, you can't just charge in with little regard for the consequences like modern hack-and-slash games, where the consequence for dying is usually little more than a portion of your gold and having to run back to where your corpse was.

Some traditional roguelikes try and tell an unfolding story by complementing the procedurally generated content with pre-composed quests, conversations, characters and lore items. More often than not, though, a more old-school, back-of-the-tape-box approach is taken, with narrative very much taking a back seat to exploration and character development in the mechanical sense.

One aspect where traditional roguelikes are heavily inspired by tabletop roleplaying is in the amount of freedom you're given right from character creation. You can generally pick from different races, genders and classes as well as tinker with your base stats to construct the perfect (or entertainingly flawed) character of your dreams. But that freedom often carries over into the game itself, too; many traditional roguelikes, for example, allow you to dig into the walls of the dungeon to change its layout or construct shortcuts, and the mechanics often afford the opportunity to be a little creative with your solutions to problems. A good example is the time I played Angband and ran out of torches several levels down in the dungeon, necessitating me "feeling" my way along the walls of the dungeon (by bumping into them, which reveals them on the map) until I could get back to the stairway up. This mechanic wasn't hard-coded into the game, but I was able to do it successfully thanks to the systems that are in place.

Good examples of traditional roguelikes in my experience include the original Rogue, which is rather simple by today's standards; Nethack, which is a good entry point if you can learn to decipher the ASCII interface; Angband, which initially seems extremely complicated but gradually becomes more and more understandable once you learn a few useful keyboard commands; Tales of Maj'Eyal (formerly Tales of Middle Earth), which is a highly polished, very flexible roguelike that strikes a good balance between storytelling and dungeon crawling; and Caves of Qud, which is unusual for the genre in that it has a sci-fi theme rather than Tolkien-inspired fantasy.

The modern Western roguelike

Modern Western roguelikes tend to take the basic structure of the traditional roguelike and present it in a manner that has more immediacy and accessibility. Perhaps the very best example of this is the wonderful Dungeons of Dredmor, which is as brutal as any traditional roguelike but has charming 16-bit era pixel art-style graphics, a quirky soundtrack and an entertaining sense of humour. Dungeons of Dredmor does the whole permadeath thing and allows you the freedom to build custom characters with a variety of skills — some of which are very bizarre indeed — but doesn't quite offer the full freedom of a completely traditional roguelike thanks to the constraints placed on it by being presented graphically rather than abstractly.

Sword of the Stars: The Pit is another title worth checking out. While its visuals are shockingly bad, it's an atmospheric game that, like Caves of Qud in the traditional corner, eschews the standard fantasy setting in favour of sci-fi. There's an interesting selection of character classes and skills to play with, and some enjoyable mechanics to explore and discover as you play.

The modern Eastern roguelike

Japan latched on to the roguelike structure at some point in the last few console generations, and Eastern developers have produced some great games that have a distinctly Japanese flavour to them while still retaining a number of the key aspects of traditional roguelikes.

One important difference with Japanese roguelikes, however, is that they usually contain some form of persistence rather than permadeath. Death is still an inconvenience, but it rarely, if ever, necessitates going all the way back to the beginning of the game to start all over again.

Exactly how death is handled varies from game to game. In Final Fantasy Fables: Chocobo's Dungeon for Wii, for example, dying causes you to lose all your non-banked gold and every item you were carrying except key items for the story and the equipment you had equipped at the time. You keep your experience levels and Job levels, so you can gradually "creep" forward in terms of progress, getting a bit more experience and power each time, until you can eventually just steamroller your way through by outlevelling the challenges — although a number of the bonus dungeons feature a "level sync" mechanic whereby if you're over a particular level, you're pushed back down to the maximum for that dungeon and sometimes given additional non-standard "rules" to folow.

In ZHP for PSP, meanwhile, your character resets to level 1 each time you enter a new dungeon, regardless of whether or not you cleared the last one successfully. The twist is, any time you exit a dungeon, be it through death or successfully clearing it, your character's base level and stats increase, meaning that a "level 1" late in the game will be considerably more powerful than a "level 1" at the start of the game, particularly when you throw equipment into the mix. You still lose all the stuff you were carrying if you die, though, and to add further insult to injury your character develops a phobia of whatever killed him, causing various penalties when encountering them again until they "get over it" by successfully overcoming said challenge several times.

One Way Heroics for PC takes another approach again. Here, there's a traditional permadeath system in effect, though you can retry the same game map by entering a specific seed on starting the game each time. There's an element of player persistence, though, depending on how well you performed, and this was subsequently expanded with the Plus version of the game. You can unlock new classes, carry items over to a subsequent playthrough and upgrade the castle where every game starts (and by extension unlock a number of different quests besides the standard one). There are also a number of named characters you'll encounter in your quests if you get far enough; once you've met them once, they'll be revealed and give you tips on the post-game score screen rather than appearing as shadowy figures. There's also a substantial meta-game in place where there's a "true" ending that can only be unlocked through some extremely convoluted processes. It's a Japanese game, for sure.

Roguelites

This term was, I believe, coined for Rogue Legacy, and is used to describe games that draw inspiration from traditional roguelikes but which tend to fall into markedly different genres and playstyles to the traditional turn-based top-down RPG that roguelikes usually are.

The aforementioned Rogue Legacy was an interesting affair, with Metroidvania-style platform action RPG action coupled with persistent progression between sessions by upgrading your castle and unlocking new abilities as a result. Each character was also regarded as a descendant of the previous one, too, meaning that there was the possibility certain genetic markers could be passed on. These could affect the gameplay — the hereditary ability to jump high or do more damage is very useful, for example — while others were largely there for humour and characterisation. A colour-blind character, for example, had to do their playthrough in black and white.

The Binding of Isaac is another well-known modern roguelite, this time combining the presentation of the original Legend of Zelda's dungeons with some dark, disgusting visual humour and Gauntlet-style shoot 'em up mechanics. While Isaac didn't have persistent progression in quite the same way as Rogue Legacy, you did unlock new items as you progressed through the game, which subsequently gave them a chance of appearing in future playthroughs rather than guaranteeing you'd have them. Collecting all these items provided a substantial metagame for Isaac, let alone the sheer challenge of actually getting to the end of the game.

Finally for now, one of the most recent roguelites can be found in the form of Enter the Gungeon. This is a straight-up action game with randomly generated levels, but its main appeal comes from the many varied and bizarre weapons you'll pick up on each playthrough. There's also an element of persistent progression as you unlock new features using currency you earn in each playthrough; like Isaac, there's a substantial metagame in unlocking everything, though in this case, your unlocks will likely make subsequent playthroughs a bit easier to make it through.

It's pretty fascinating how a simple title from the dawn of gaming has spawned such a diverse range of titles inspired by it to one degree or another. How many other games from those days can boast such a feat? Not that many.

2395: Adventures in Space

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After feeling somewhat lukewarm to the idea of it for a while — the relentless hype train hasn't helped — I've come around to the idea of No Man's Sky, so much so that I'm now actually looking forward to it releasing on PC on Friday so I can get started on some grand space adventures.

I'm very interested to see how it's turned out, though I am tempering my expectations accordingly as well as intending on paying attention to the evolution of the game over its lifespan; this is a game that, several months down the line, may be very different to what it is on launch day, and that prospect is both exciting and a bit of a reflection on the modern games biz.

The reason why I'm interested to see how No Man's Sky ends up is that the concept reminds me of some of my favourite underrated games of yesteryear, and a genre which we don't really "do" any more, and that is the Star Trek-style space sim. Star Wars-style (i.e. combat-heavy) space sims have been enjoying a bit of a resurgence in the indie space in recent years, but the more sedate pace of Star Trek-style (i.e. exploration-heavy) sims is something still largely consigned to the past, with the exception of a few 2D affairs like Starbound and Interstellaria, neither of which, I feel, particularly capture the real feeling of space travel and exploration.

The specific games I'm thinking of when I ponder Star Trek-style space sims are the two Starflight games by Electronic Arts back in the 16-bit era. These were games where you were given a starship and pretty much told to just get on with it at the outset; there was an overarching plot to follow, but the main attraction of Starflight was the ability to just pootle around known (and unknown) space exploring solar systems and planets, then bringing goodies of various types back to home base for analysis and filthy lucre.

No Man's Sky isn't quite the same thing as Starflight in that you appear to be piloting a single-seater ship rather than a big-ass starship, but the philosophy behind the game seems to be similar in that the emphasis is on discovery, and the main means through which you profit, progress and flourish is through exploring and finding exciting things rather than blasting anything that dares to pass through your crosshairs into a smooth pâté.

To continue the comparison, both Starflight and No Man's Sky had/have significant planetside components in which you explore, find useful things and perhaps uncover a few mysteries along the way. I can't speak for No Man's Sky yet, but I have some fond memories of landing on planets in Starflight, then sending my all-terrain vehicle out into the wasteland to track down valuable minerals, artifacts and, if I was lucky, some specimens of life, too. Starflight's primitive graphics were enriched by some enjoyable descriptive text whenever your ground crew ran into trouble, and naturally it would be up to the crewmember you'd assigned as your medical officer to patch people up when they got back onto your ship.

Starflight was interesting, exciting and compelling even when you weren't in mortal peril, though, and indeed a lot of the time you weren't. There was a simple joy in entering a new system for the first time only to discover that it had an abundance of planets and moons, each of which could be landed on, explored and stripped of as many valuable minerals as you could fit in your ship's cargo holds. It sounds as if this is the sort of experience No Man's Sky offers, too, and if that's the case then I'm pretty excited for it.

Like Starflight, No Man's Sky appears to have an overarching narrative pushing you towards a "conclusion" of some sort at the centre of the galaxy, but also like its distant predecessor, you're free to just do your own thing as you see fit for the most part.

I'll be particularly interested to see how things like encounters with alien NPCs and suchlike go in No Man's Sky, as some of these interactions were a real highlight of Starflight. Judging by this screenshot, though, it looks like I don't have much to worry about.

Anyway. Just a couple of days to go until I can find out for sure whether No Man's Sky is actually the space sim I've been wanting to play since I didn't have a spare floppy disk to hand to save my game in Starflight on the Atari ST, so had to start again each and every time I played. No such woes await with No Man's Sky — hopefully, anyway, though doubtless day-one server issues will be A Thing — and so I'm looking forward to jumping into my Roger Dean/Asimov-inspired space odyssey and, frankly, seeing if Hello Games have managed to make an interesting game out of 18 quintillion planets or however many are supposed to be in the damn thing.

2392: Blood and Wine

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Finished The Witcher 3: Blood and Wine this evening. Spoilers follow!

While I think, on the whole, Hearts of Stone was my favourite part of the complete opus that is The Witcher 3, Blood and Wine's main story comes a close second.

Blood and Wine's effectiveness comes from its exceptional use of juxtaposition. The bright and vibrant colours of the France-inspired region of Toussaint contrast strongly with the rather dark main storyline, and likewise does the duchy's self-professed love of "virtuousness", pomp and circumstance clash rather a lot with how things really are.

On a more macro scale, Blood and Wine is effective because it is so different to the rest of The Witcher 3. The lands that you're exploring aren't dirty, poverty-stricken regions in which everyone except the very richest is fighting for survival. The narrative you're following isn't something of earth-shattering importance. And the overall tone outside of the main narrative is filled with plenty of levity and even a few in-jokes here and there, though none so obtrusive as to spoil the overall atmosphere that CD Projekt Red has spent three games crafting so masterfully in the series.

I particularly liked Blood and Wine's narrative for being a vampire-centric plot, since I'm a sucker for that sort of storyline, particularly those that humanise vampires and make them complex characters. Villain Dettlaff in Blood and Wine is most certainly a complicated character and, to be sure, he commits some truly reprehensible acts, but at the end of it all there are some very difficult decisions to make as to who is really to blame for everything that transpired, and whether things could have been done any differently.

Blood and Wine's take on vampiric mythology reminded me quite a bit of White Wolf's classic series of role-playing games Vampire: The Masquerade (or, perhaps more accurately in The Witcher's case, Vampire: The Dark Age). We have "higher vampires" treated almost as the aristocracy of the monster world thanks to their intelligence and ability to make rational — albeit often rather emotional — decisions. Said vampires are split into clans that scattered around the world. Said vampires tend to show a more monstrous side when driven into a frenzy or provoked, and at this point display numerous supernatural abilities. And, of course, it's nowhere near as easy to get rid of a vampire as having some garlic hanging around your neck then sticking a stake through their heart.

So effective was Blood and Wine's take on vampire mythology that I'd love to see CD Projekt Red take on the Vampire: The Masquerade franchise at some point. I have no idea whether or not that will ever happen, given that the last Vampire game that was supposed to show up — based on the World of Darkness at large, not just Vampire — became vaporware at some point a few years back, and thus the status of the license is perhaps questionable. Even without the license, though, I'd love to see CD Projekt Red tackle at the very least a Vampire-esque title.

What might that look like? Well, I envisage something along the lines of the wonderful Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines, only with a more well-realised setting thanks to the improved technology since that classic came out in 2004. I have great faith in their vision for a futuristic dystopia city in Cyberpunk 2077, but I'd love to see their take on the undead underbelly of a modern city, too. It doesn't necessarily need to be fully open-world a la Grand Theft Auto — in fact, the past few entries on this site have probably made clear I'd rather it wasn't — but there should be plenty of opportunities for The Witcher-style plot branches and decision-making, since the tabletop version of Vampire was always about shades of grey in morality and trying to balance your own dwindling Humanity against the influence the Beast had over you — as, indeed, was Bloodlines.

Seeing Regis and Dettlaff in action in one of the climactic scenes of Blood and Wine made me very much want to play a game with their superhuman abilities — and, let's face it, even though I wasn't a big fan of The Witcher 3's combat, anything is better than the wild flailing of the original Bloodlines.

More importantly, though, good games of Vampire are often about avoiding conflict rather than seeking out trouble; indeed, a number of the clans you are able to represent in the game have rather poor martial skills, their abilities instead lying in the ability to persuade, sweet-talk, seduce, bribe, intimidate, sneak, hack and all manner of other alternatives to baring fang and claw. And with the whole The Witcher series, CD Projekt Red has proven beyond all doubt that it is excellent at developing interesting, compelling, well-written stories in which often simply talking your way out of a perilous situation is an option on the table. That strength of the developer as a whole would lend itself well to a Vampire (or Vampire-inspired) game; perhaps one day, in my dreams, it will happen.

For now, I think my time with The Witcher 3 has come to a close; just shy of 100 hours for the main story and both expansions, I feel I've very much got my money's worth, plus there's a whole host of things I can go back and do if I ever feel like playing it again. I'm very much glad I played it through to completion, but right now, I think it's time for a palate cleanser. C'mon down, Gal*Gun…

2388: Two Things The Witcher 3 Didn't Need to Be

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I've been playing a fair bit of The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt recently, and while it is certainly a very good game indeed, there are two issues with it where I feel the experience as a whole would have been better served if they… well, if they weren't there.

As it happens, they're two rather major aspects of the game's design as a whole, but thankfully the things that the game gets right more than outweigh the annoyances that these two particular aspects present me with. (Your mileage may, as ever, vary.)

All right, let's jump right in then.

1. The Witcher 3 didn't need to be an open-world game

Here's how I play open-world games:

Spend first hour or so looking around, wowed in all the usual ways (wow, much draw distance, very mountain in the distance can go there, so pretty) and deliberately taking "the long way" to get to my specified destination.
After first hour or so, start using faster means of transportation. (Geralt's magical teleporting horse Roach, in the case of The Witcher 3)
After another few hours, start using fast travel points.
50+ hours in, start very much resenting the fact that there are approximately 300 miles of identical-looking forest/hills/mountains between me and where I actually want to be, and naturally I haven't yet unlocked a fast travel point where I want to be yet.
See destination is on other side of mountain. Attempt to climb mountain. Fail. Swear. Get annoyed. Go around mountain. Discover that there was passageway not marked on map that would have saved me about half an hour of virtual travel time. Swear again.

The fact that The Witcher 3 is an open-world game does have a few benefits, primarily that it gives you a good sense of both the geography of the various regions in which you find yourself and the scale of said regions. However, the fact remains that as with most other open-world games, there are far too many vast tracts of nothingness, and the few interesting things that are there out in the open world are throwaway distractions that become mind-numbing chores after a while.

The Witcher 3 could have been a much tighter game with a better focus had it taken a similar approach to its two predecessors: set the action in large and interesting but self-contained and more carefully designed zones that don't have any unnecessary fluff in them. As it stands, there's a whole lot of game world in The Witcher 3 that just isn't very interesting and really doesn't need to be there.

2. The Witcher 3 didn't need to be a role-playing game

I'm serious! Despite the game revolving around a man with swords chopping monsters' heads off, I really don't think The Witcher 3 benefits from its RPG mechanics at all. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that they are, by far, its weakest aspect. Combat is boring and formulaic (slash, slash, slash, dodge, Igni/Aard for fire elementals, repeat has gotten me through the whole game so far), the perks you acquire when levelling up don't seem to have particularly noticeable effects, and you spend most of the game fighting the same monsters anyway, only with gradually increasing numbers next to their names, and occasionally with a few extra spikes on their backs.

Then there's the whole dissonance thing in that protagonist Geralt is supposed to be some sort of monster-slaying badass, having survived the considerable trials of two previous games, but here he starts at level 1 again, barely able to hold his own against a drowner until he starts wearing some proper armour.

Chuck out all the RPG elements (including equipment, since once you get one of the sets of Witcher gear you pretty much make everything else in the game completely irrelevant), I say, keep the combat if you absolutely must (for, indeed, the world of The Witcher is a violent place, and fights are inevitable at times) but make it an action game rather than an RPG.

What The Witcher 3 gets right

I mentioned at the start that despite these two pretty major issues I have with the game, it still manages to be an enjoyable, compelling experience. And that's because the more adventure game-type aspects of it — the dialogue, the puzzle-solving, the detective work — are outstanding. I would have been more than happy to have nothing but the main plot of Wild Hunt and maybe a couple of the Witcher Contracts, presented more as a sort of adventure game with combat. Keep the player on a tighter leash when traversing the world, remove the extraneous and unnecessary fluff, and I think it would have been a much better game.

Ultimately all this is moot because The Witcher 3 is still an astoundingly good game that is well worth your time if you have a computer or console capable of running it, but I can't help feeling that some of that time and effort CD Projekt Red expended in making sure that there were just the right amount of trees in the south-west corner of Velen could have been better used for other purposes.

Let's hope they learn some lessons from this game with their upcoming Cyberpunk title, which I'm very excited for, particularly as, believe it or not, there's a throwaway teaser for it in The Witcher 3's main plot.

I've now beaten Wild Hunt's main storyline and I'm feeling like I'm probably just going to make a beeline for the two expansion main storylines without distractions along the way. I'm already at the recommended level to start the second expansion and I've only just started the first, so I feel this may end up actually being the optimal way to experience the game anyway, leaving all the side content available if I feel like just jumping back into the world at a later date to hunt some monsters.

2378: People Ruin Everything: FFXIV Edition

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I quit Final Fantasy XIV today.

I am sad about this. Really, genuinely sad. The game has been an important part of my life for quite some time now, and will always be special to me — hell, it's where I proposed to my wife.

But I think I'm gone for good this time. I've just had enough.

Not of the game, mind you; the game itself remains one of my favourites, with an enjoyably rhythmic combat system, plenty of distinction between classes and some truly memorable encounters — not to mention an incredible soundtrack and a great story.

No, I've had enough of the people who infest it.

The community's slide into unpleasantness has been a gradual but noticeable process. Whereas I described FFXIV's player base in my USgamer review (circa 2.0-era A Realm Reborn) as one of the most helpful, supportive and friendly communities in gaming, these days I regrettably can't say the same — though I find myself pondering whether or not it's because at the time I wrote that review, I'd only been playing endgame content for a short period.

Let me talk a bit about the incident that drove me over the edge today, then I'll talk a bit in more general terms about what I feel has gone wrong.

A short while back — like, earlier this week — FFXIV introduced a new type of content called Deep Dungeon. This was a completely new way to play the game, and involved descending into a 50-floor dungeon with up to three companions and clearing it out, one randomly generated floor at a time. The rewards on offer include tokens called "potsherds", which can be exchanged for various valuable items, and if you fully upgrade the weapon and armour you use in the Deep Dungeon — these are separate from those which you use in the main game — you get a high-level weapon for a level 60 character that is not quite the very best in the game, but certainly very respectable and suitable for all levels of content.

Upgrading the weapon and armour requires that you find silver treasure chests in the Deep Dungeon. Opening one of these will do one of three things: upgrade your weapon, upgrade your armour or explode, dealing damage to you and anyone unfortunate enough to be standing nearby. The deeper you go into the dungeon, the more likely it seems you are to come across trapped chests, and your weapon's upgrade level is also capped by your character's level within the deep dungeon — also measured independently of progress in the main game. To put it another way: your weapon and armour can go up to level +30, and in order to upgrade them to this level your character must reach level 60 in the Deep Dungeon, though thankfully levelling up is considerably quicker than in the main game.

After completing all 50 floors once, it's likely that your weapon and armour will be around the +10 to +15 mark, depending on how lucky you've been. This means you then have to challenge the dungeon again from floor 1 but with your upgraded gear, hoping you'll get luckier on the deeper floors this time. As incentive to run it again, however, every 10 floors gives you a generous shot of gil as well as Allagan Tomestones of Poetics, Esoterics and Lore, all of which are used to purchase the best level 50 or 60 gear available, so it's not as if running the upper floors again is a useless waste of time. Alternatively, if you enter the Deep Dungeon on a class you don't yet have to level 60 in the main game, completing 10 floors awards you with a large chunk of XP for your character's level in the main game, so it's also a good means of levelling alternative classes.

You may have surmised from that description that this structure puts a lot of pressure on Floors 41-50 to get players up to the magical +30/+30 needed to take away a shiny new weapon into the main game. And indeed, this is where the problems arise, with players doing everything from skipping fights with monsters that they don't feel the party "needs" to fight (despite some players not having reached level 60 at this point, and some enemies dropping treasure chests) to outright Vote Abandon-ing the whole dungeon if they don't feel they got "enough" silver chests in the first couple of floors.

I ran into one of these people today: a white mage, which is to say, a healer, and so an important, useful part of any group. Deep Dungeon, unlike everything else in the game, doesn't matchmake you into a party made up of one tank, one healer and two DPS, so it's entirely possible you'll find yourself running in a group with no healer at times, and as such having a healer in your group is something to be celebrated.

Unless it was this guy. Right from the very start of Floor 41, he ran off in completely the opposite direction to the rest of the party, leaving the remaining three of us to fight off monsters and get afflicted with various status effects that could have easily been cleansed if he had been there. But no; he had places to be, apparently, and finding those silver chests was more important than actually helping the other three people in there.

"Will you PLEASE stop running off?" piped up one of my companions halfway through Floor 42, obviously getting as impatient as I was with this git's shenanigans.

"I'm skipping mobs," replied our friend.

I then pointed out that not everyone in our party was level 60 yet — one was 56, one was 58 — and thus it would be in everyone's interest to kill as many monsters as possible, particularly as it's also necessary to kill a certain number to open the exit to the next floor anyway. He then complained about us being "slow" and "inefficient", and took great umbrage at several of us accusing him of "speedrunning".

Speedrunning is a bit of an issue in Final Fantasy XIV as a whole, particularly in dungeons, most of which are tuned more to the "casual" end of the difficulty spectrum, but nonetheless remain a good source of income for those valuable Tomestones. With a well-geared, confident party that knows what it is doing, most dungeons can be cleared in about 10 minutes or so, but this relies on everyone being both well-geared and confident in the speedrunning process, which usually involves the tank pulling as many enemies as possible at the same time, the healer working overtime to keep their HP topped up and the DPS doing area-effect attacks as much as possible.

It's quick, sure. It's also boring, because more often than not fighting like this means that you use maybe two or three of your complete suite of abilities, and fighting the monsters just becomes a case of standing in place hitting the same buttons over and over for ten minutes. Not interesting, and certainly not doing justice to the impressive encounters the Final Fantasy XIV team have created throughout the game. But no, at some point between 2.0 and 3.35, where we are now, someone somewhere decided that the de facto way to run dungeons was as quickly — sorry, "efficiently" — as possible, and woe betide anyone who slows it down for any reason, even if, say, the tank or healer say they don't feel confident or geared enough to do it.

Now, the thing with Deep Dungeon is that speedrunning is largely pointless, because monsters respawn, everyone needs to level up, you need to kill a certain number of monsters to open the exit to the next floor and, as with any good role-playing game, if you split the party you're probably asking for a bad time. With the levels being randomly generated, too, there's no set route through each floor, either, so you can't even work out a route that lets you avoid certain encounters as in certain fixed dungeons in the game, so it's really more trouble than it's worth.

That didn't stop this obnoxious White Mage from arguing his case increasingly aggressively though, eventually descending to insults about his perception of the rest of the party's skill levels. Hilariously, he even had a go at me on the grounds that I "wouldn't last five minutes in Expert Roulette" (the current two highest difficulty level 60 dungeons, neither of which are very tough) — I chose not to engage with him by explaining that actually, I had been playing the game since its open beta and as such knew it pretty fucking well by this point. Instead, I just voted to dismiss him from the party; my companions silently agreed, and thankfully he was booted shortly afterwards, to be replaced by a much friendlier person who unfortunately wasn't a healer.

This White Mage's attitude is representative of a considerable proportion of Final Fantasy XIV's player base as it stands today: the game, for these people, is about the relentless pursuit of "efficiency" so that they can acquire all the best gear, get all the achievements — achieve whatever they want to achieve, in other words — as quickly as possible then, in all likelihood, go on the official forums and Reddit to complain that three months is too long between content patches and that there's "nothing to do", despite smaller patches with additional features (such as Deep Dungeon, which was a significant addition) being added on a monthly basis.

I also saw this among a number of active Final Fantasy XIV players I used to follow on Twitter. There was a marked shift in their attitude over time; one person in particular that I started following as a result of attending an in-game "funeral" for a player who had sadly passed away in real life began as a very pleasant person to talk about the game with. But gradually over time he started caring more and more about parser figures — a parser being an external program you can run to see how much damage per second (DPS) everyone in the party is doing, a common means of harassing other players for "not pulling their weight" and technically against the game's Terms of Service, though I don't know of anyone who has been punished for it. He'd complain about parties he'd come across in Duty Finder; he'd post images of the parser figures; he'd shame people for not playing "well enough" or being "lazy". That relentless pursuit of "efficiency"; your DPS must be this high to ride.

I just can't stand it any more. It's ruined the game for me. Dungeons that I used to love running, like A Realm Reborn's final storyline dungeons Castrum Meridianum and The Praetorium, lose all their drama by people skipping all cutscenes — and yelling at people who don't — and speedrunning their way through as quickly as possible, even if someone in the group hasn't seen this part of the story before. (Not coincidentally, those two dungeons were also the last to have lengthy cutscenes in the middle of the dungeon run.) If I decide I want a leisurely run through a dungeon rather than a stressful but boring speedrun, I get yelled at. If someone in the party makes a mistake and there's a single death, everyone gets yelled at. And apparently not going fast enough in Deep Dungeon is now a cardinal sin, too.

Fuck all that. Fuck everyone who has ruined one of my favourite games of the last few years. And fuck this shitty behaviour being considered "normal" in all games, not just Final Fantasy XIV — indeed, I'm under no illusions, and am well aware that this sort of thing is a problem in all MMOs.

I just thought Final Fantasy XIV's community was better than that. It certainly was once — at least, I think it was. But no longer. The buildup of this crappy behaviour and how not-fun this makes the game for me has led me to both cancel my subscription and uninstall the game completely for the first time ever since open beta. And I doubt I'm the only one who feels this way.

2374: In Praise of the RPG Maker Community

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I touched on this the other day, but it bears mentioning again, I think: the community surrounding the RPG Maker series of software packages is one of the most interesting, diverse and helpful communities I've had the pleasure of coming across in all of gaming.

Gaming communities can be a variable bunch. Communities that surround online multiplayer games tend to err somewhat on the side of aggressively arguing that their opinions are the "right" ones and that everyone else is wrong — sometimes even putting players at loggerheads with the developers. Retro-gaming communities are keen to celebrate old games but have an often unspoken code of honour about not sharing pirated versions of software — even though this is sadly the only means of getting to play some older or rarer titles these days. And the Steam forums are just… well, no. Nothing good comes of sticking your head in there.

The RPG Maker community, though, they're some of the most cooperative people I've seen ever. Sure, there's an element of the usual supercilious "Search is your friend!" obnoxiousness on the forums when someone asks a question that might have been answered before six years ago, but this is true for pretty much any Internet community out there, and the help and support the community generally offers for the program is second to none.

It helps that RPG Maker has always been extensible — initially just through graphics and sound in the earlier incarnations, but with more recent installments through Ruby scripts and JavaScript plugins to extend and customise the functionality of the basic engine far beyond what it was originally intended for. Many creators provide these additional bits and pieces either under a completely royalty-free license, or under some variation of Creative Commons, which allows people to use them freely so long as they credit the original creator and, in some cases, don't fiddle around with it and pass it off as their own.

This is extraordinarily generous, and it has always amazed me quite how far people are willing to go to help out the community as a whole — though I'm pleased to see with the rise of Patreon that some of these creators are now able to make a bit of money off their creations through pledges from grateful users, something which was very hit-and-miss when going through PayPal as in the pre-Patreon days.

I know that I'm massively grateful to the RPG Maker community as a whole for providing me with all manner of excellent content to extend the functionality of the program — and helping me feel like I can make the best possible game with the resources I have, rather than having to settle for doing something within limitations. While my silly little game that I'm working on at the moment will doubtless never be anything big or exciting — as I've mentioned before, the very reason for its existence is mostly an in-joke that perhaps only four or five people in the world will understand — I am very happy with how it's looking so far, and how unlike the generic, out-of-the-box RPG Maker engine it looks, just with a few simple changes to the basic mechanics and functionality.

I'm thinking I may well spend next month on MoeGamer covering RPG Maker MV, since it's still relatively new, so watch out for that. In the meantime, I've got games to make!