#oneaday Day 151: Scribbling down an idea

Hello. Indulge me this evening, if you please, because I want to make a note of an idea I have for a longer article that I’ll likely publish on MoeGamer at some point in the near future. It stems from a discussion I’ve previously had with my friend Chris (my MoeGamer Podcast co-star) about how RPGs are “categorised”, and how “western RPG” and “Japanese RPG” are woefully inadequate terms to talk about the RPG as it exists today.

I’m not going to go too into it today but I wanted to jot down the ideas that were rattling around my head while I was playing Silent Hope this evening. And that is to devise some sort of “taxonomy” for RPGs as they exist today. I’m thinking at the top level, you can split them into two distinct categories: narrative-centric RPGs, where the core of the experience is on enjoying the unfolding story; and mechanics-centric RPGs, where the main point of the game is fiddling with its various systems, optimising your characters and suchlike.

There are some games that straddle that line, of course, but for the most part, it’s pretty easy to split them down the middle like that based on what is clearly the main priority. Final Fantasy XIII, for example, is a narrative-centric RPG. Demon Gaze is a mechanics-centric RPG. Where things get quite interesting is that long-running series often go back and forth between being narrative- and mechanics-centric — Final Fantasy is a prime example of this.

You can then divide each half into further subcategories. Narrative-centric RPGs, for example, could be divided into cinematic RPGs, sandbox RPGs, visual novel RPGs and storytelling RPGs, while mechanics-centric RPGs could be split into first-person dungeon crawlers, isometric action RPGs, massively multiplayer games, roguelikes and various other categories, some of which intertwine and cross over with one another.

I haven’t thought about the idea in a lot of depth yet, as you can probably tell from the vagueness, but I think there’s an interesting concept to write about there. The reason I’m not writing about it in detail right now is because it’s 1am and I, as ever, have forgotten to write anything on here sooner. It is not beyond my capabilities to bash out a 3,000+ word epic at 1 in the morning, but I do have to work tomorrow and would rather do so having had something approaching a decent night’s sleep.

So that’s that. I will flesh out the concept in the very near future and post it on MoeGamer. Might even turn into a fun video. We shall see. Anyway, I have recorded the idea here now. Next job is to completely forget that I wrote it down here and revisit the idea in roughly 36 months.

Good night!

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#oneaday Day 120: Don’t let completionism ruin your fun

There’s been a marked shift in people’s attitudes towards finishing games over the course of the last 20 years or so. Well, several, I think, brought about by a number of “innovations” (for want of a better word) that, in several instances, I’m not entirely sure are a positive thing.

There’s one group of people who never finish anything they start playing. I’ve talked about That One Guy In That Discord I’m In before, and the way he does things — installing (and, presumably, uninstalling) multiple huge games per day, playing them for seemingly about twenty minutes before starting something else — drives me absolutely nuts. It evidently works for him, though, and it’s not my place to tell him how to enjoy himself.

Also falling into a similar category are the Oh, That Game’s On Game Pass crowd, who will maybe try something for twenty minutes because it’s “free” (no it’s not, you’re renting it with that subscription fee you’re paying) and then never beat it. These people also drive me nuts, and I am less forgiving of them, since I firmly believe Game Pass is a net negative for the games industry.

Then, at the absolute other end of the spectrum are the people who don’t believe they’ve “finished” a game until they’ve “Platinumed” or “100%ed” it. These are the people I’m specifically pondering today.

Among these people are those who will specifically seek out games that are “easy Platinums” to bolster their stats, which no-one actually gives a shit about. I have dabbled in that direction before, particularly around the Vita era, when I liked to take aim for a game’s Platinum trophy as a means of showing my appreciation to the people who made it. Developers do use achievements and trophies as metrics, after all, so seeing that someone had taken the time to do everything in their game would presumably count for something.

But playing like that is two things. One: it’s incredibly time consuming. Two: it’s quite tedious. Because while there are some interesting and creative uses of achievements and trophies out there, the vast majority of them involve either simply making progress in a game, or completing some sort of task that takes a long while and, more often than not, involves a significant amount of repetition.

So I’ve stopped. I no longer aim to Platinum games I play on PlayStation, and I don’t give much of a toss about achievements on other platforms. Moreover, I actively prefer playing on platforms that don’t have achievement functionality at all, like the Switch and anything pre-Xbox 360/PS3.

Right now, as you’ll know if you’ve been paying attention, I am playing through the .hack series on PlayStation 2. This set of four games clock in at about 15 hours each, but you can spend quite a bit more time on each entry grinding out various things. Optional things; things that you don’t need to do in order to beat the game or even to have a satisfying experience with it.

I pondered taking the time to try and “100%” the first entry, .hack//INFECTION, before I moved on to the second episode, .hack//MUTATION. I’d beaten the main story and had the opportunity to go back into the game world to clean up some optional tasks before transferring my data to the next game. I started looking into the possibility of what I might need to do to achieve that, and the answer was, effectively “grind”.

“Fuck that,” I thought, saving my game and reaching for the next game’s case. Now I’ve moved on, and I’m perfectly happy about that. I’ve been enjoying the game nicely in my way, and I’ve been trying to avoid looking up too much information, because I, like a lot of us, I suspect, have got into the habit of looking at walkthroughs and other information about games as I play to “make sure I don’t miss anything”.

Well, I got thinking. When I was playing games back in the PS2 era, I didn’t really care if I “missed anything”. Sure, it was nice to know if there were some secrets and cool things I could find, but I didn’t go out of my way to do anything that sounded like it might be boring, annoying or overly time-consuming. And my gaming experience certainly didn’t suffer for that attitude. So I’m trying to get my head back in that space now, in 2024, while I play through these 20 year old action RPGs. It doesn’t matter that I can’t get first place in the Grunty race on Theta server, because it’s an optional side activity that not everyone is expected to complete. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t traded with every single NPC possible to get the books that give me an extra stat point in all my stats, because while a single stat point does make a difference in .hack, there’s also lots of shiny equipment that boosts your stats, too.

Checklists, achievements, wikis and all manner of other things have the potential to really suck the fun out of games at times. These things are supposed to be fun and enjoyable, not work. So I’m making a specific effort to try not to care about “whether I missed anything”, and just do the things that I happen to stumble across as I play until I’ve completed them to my satisfaction.

I’ll add to all this that I am a firm believer in completing games, particularly when we’re talking narrative-centric games like RPGs. I cannot abide leaving a story half-finished, regardless of medium, so I still make an effort to finish the games I start. It’s the stuff that isn’t directly related to that central story aspect that I’m doing my best to let go of. Not as a general rule or anything, but more from a perspective of not deliberately going out of my way to make a game un-fun.

Because these days, the temptation to make a game un-fun is everywhere. Look at a walkthrough and you’d think there was only one possible way to beat every game, because some guy on the Internet says so. No. There are many ways to beat many games, and the best thing to do is to find what works for you. If that means 100%ing it, more power to you; you are the reason all those optional side activities exist. But if you find yourself getting annoyed or frustrated with those same optional side activities, no-one — not even the developers — is going to judge you for saying “fuck this, I just want to see how the story ends”.

That said, I’ve spent two hours searching for Grunty food in .hack//MUTATION this evening. But it was my choice to do so. Besides, I had fun levelling Kite, BlackRose and Mistral in the process anyway, so it’s not as if it was wasted effort or anything.

Anyway, yeah. If you’ve ever found yourself contemplating something you were playing and thinking “gosh, I wish there was less to do in this game”, you are the one in the position of power. You are the one holding the controller. Unless the game is specifically requiring you to do each and every little thing it offers, you are the one with the power to say “fuck this” and just get on with what you deem to be “the fun bit”.

So exercise that power!

#oneaday Day 114: dotHack and Slash

I’ve been playing .hack//Infection for the last couple of days on PlayStation 2. I’ve had the full set of four games on my shelf for a very long time and been meaning to properly run through them all, but have somehow never gotten around to it. I have previously completed Infection a very long time ago, but I’ve never gone through all four games and seen how it all ends — nor have I been spoiled on any of it. I also own a copy of the .hack//G.U. remasters on PlayStation 4, so I’ll have to get to those at some point, too, but I wanted to knock out the PS2 games first.

For the unfamiliar, .hack was one of the first (possibly the first) “MMO gone mad, if you die in the game you die for real” series. Unusually, it was designed from the outset as a fully transmedia production: not only were there four PS2 games in the series, each of these games also came with a DVD featuring an episode of a specially made anime known as .hack//Liminality which tells a “real world” story that unfolds concurrently with the events of the game, and there was a completely separate anime series known as .hack//Sign. Since that time, there have apparently been several other anime and manga series, along with the aforementioned .hack//G.U. trilogy of games, which originated on PS2 but which were ported to PS4 in 2017.

That may all sound terribly complicated, but be at ease: you can have a satisfying .hack experience if you just play the games. .hack//Infection, the first of the original set of four games, tells the story of “you”, an 8th grader who has just signed up for the hottest new MMO, The World, at the recommendation of your friend Yasuhiko, a veteran player. You join up and in that inimitable “early 2000s MMO” sort of way, you party up with Yasuhiko, or “Orca” as he’s known in the game, who destroys absolutely everything before you can even get a hit in by virtue of him being 50 levels higher than you.

But something goes horribly wrong. After an encounter with a mysterious young girl who is seemingly being chased by a bizarre creature carrying a red wand, Orca is entrusted with a strange book and shortly afterwards, his character is “Data Drained”, leaving the real Yasuhiko comatose. You end up taking possession of the book, which manifests itself as a strange bracelet that equips you with the power to Data Drain enemies in the game, and it’s then up to you to investigate the strange happenings in The World and determine if there’s any truth to the game seemingly having an impact on the real world.

The cool thing about .hack//Infection is that the entire PS2 game is diegetic, intended to represent you using your computer to check your mail, read the news and log in to The World. You never see the actual real world yourself in the game — hence the inclusion of the Liminality DVDs — but instead all your investigation is online. This unfolds through a combination of you checking and replying to mails (with predefined responses) and browsing through the official message boards for The World, looking for clues.

Canonically, .hack//Infection is supposed to be unfolding in 2010, but obviously in 2002 developers CyberConnect2 had to make something of a best guess as to what that near-future setting might look like. They actually got a fair few things right, such as high-speed, always-on Internet access being pretty much universal and fibre-optic cables being the main means of this infrastructure being implemented — though here in the real world, fibre broadband is a little more recent than 2010.

What’s quite interesting is the design of The World itself, because it could quite plausibly work as an online RPG — though perhaps not in the way that western players understood “MMOs” at the time. For context, World of Warcraft came out in 2004, two years after .hack//Infection, so “MMO” up until that point in the west meant either EverQuest or Ultima Online.

The World is closer in execution to something like Sega’s Phantasy Star Online from 2000 in that there are small, shared communal areas (known as “Root Towns”) where you can hang out with other players, but your actual fighting and questing takes place in discrete areas that you teleport to rather than exploring a coherent world. It’s not quite the same as the “instanced” areas seen in World of Warcraft and, later, Final Fantasy XIV, as you can meet up with other players who happen to be visiting the same area, but the nature of how The World is structured means that you’re relatively unlikely to stumble across someone at random.

Anyway, let’s not get bogged down too much in details as I’ll probably want to write about this on MoeGamer once I’m finished. Suffice to say for now that .hack//Infection and its subsequent parts unfold as a combination of you just flat-out playing The World to get treasure, gear and helpful items, and gradually working your way through the core mystery at the heart of everything. At most points in the game, you can put the main plot on hold and just go dungeon-crawling to your heart’s content — and it’s probably advisable to, since you’ll need to level both your own character and the various companions you can recruit to your cause.

.hack//Infection is somewhat clunky by more recent action RPG standards, but once you get a feel for it and an understanding of its mechanics, it’s enjoyable. There’s a variety of enemies to deal with, and their different strengths and weaknesses will often require you to think about various strategies to deal with them. And, since the game is supposed to be simulating an MMO, you can pretty much concentrate on your own play; any companions you bring with you will usually do a pretty good job of fighting alongside you, though you can issue various orders to them if you need them to, say, heal or unleash their most powerful abilities. You can also micromanage their equipment to a certain degree, and since equipment has skills attached, by doing this you can try and optimise them for the challenges you’re about to face.

I can completely understand the criticisms of .hack from back in the day. It is repetitive. The dungeons are very obviously constructed from pre-built blocks with different textures put atop them, and there’s not a lot of variation to them. And yet there’s something about .hack that I’ve always found fascinating and compelling. I think it’s the oddly menacing atmosphere the whole thing has; The World, as a game, is designed to be cheerful and colourful, but it’s very obvious that there are dark things going on beneath the surface, and that the players of the game are clearly being used for some nefarious purpose.

I’m in no rush to plough through all four games, but I’ve enjoyed making a start on .hack//Infection this weekend, and as a long term project I’m looking forward to seeing how it all comes together in the end. And there will, of course, be in-depth articles on MoeGamer (and possibly videos) to go along with it.

2354: They’re Both for Monsters

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(yes, I found a way to put a beard on my model in ComiPo! Woo!)

I’ve been playing a bit of The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt lately. I’ve been meaning to give it a go for ages, but it’s never quite dropped in price enough for me to want to jump on board; thankfully, the combination of the Steam Summer Sale and Andie generously buying me a copy as an anniversary present means that I can now explore this game to my heart’s content.

Playing Witcher 3 alongside Ys: Memories of Celceta is an interesting experience, because it’s a study in contrasts between Western and Eastern game design philosophy. Both of them have a surprising number of elements in common: they’re both action RPGs, they both involve exploring a large overworld, fighting monsters and completing quests, they both feature a muscle-bound man with white hair tied back in a ponytail (though he’s not the protagonist in Celceta, instead acting as a Dogi-substitute and cipher for the ever-mute Adol) and they’re both very good. But they’re both very different.

Celceta is fast-paced and action-packed. Its combat is very arcadey, with lots of flashy special effects, overblown sound effects, rockin’ music and celebratory messages flashing up on the screen as you do things like use the right attack type to take advantage of enemy weaknesses. In contrast, Witcher 3 feels almost sedate in its pacing, even in combat, which, thanks to its excellent animations and fluid movement, has an almost dance-like feeling about it as opposed to the frenetic leaping around of Celceta.

The upshot of this is that Witcher 3 is a surprisingly relaxing game to play. This might sound strange, given that the setting for the Witcher series is one of the darkest, bleakest takes on Western fantasy out there, but I’ve absolutely found it to be the case. While in Celceta you can’t relax for a moment when you’re out in the overworld because everything is trying to kill you, in Witcher 3 there’s plenty of opportunity to explore, wander off the path into the bushes and just start walking in a direction to see what’s there. Worthwhile things are marked on the map so you’re not wandering completely aimlessly — unless you want to — but for the most part the game’s rather sedate pacing has the pleasant feeling of a walk in the countryside or the woods rather than constantly fighting for your life, even though the countrysides and woods of Witcher 3’s world are far more dangerous than what your average rambler might have to contend with.

Both games have their place, then, and I’m enjoying them both a great deal. I feel like on the whole, I tend to enjoy the more frenetic, chaotic, joyful pace and tone of the Japanese approach to RPGs more — they cheer me up with their sheer energy — but there’s most definitely something very appealing and oddly relaxing about the more sedate pacing and carefully crafted periods of solitude in games like The Witcher 3.

2275: A Need for Progression

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Playing some Dungeon Travelers 2 this evening, I found myself pondering exactly why I have, so far, spent 130 hours on this game — the longest I’ve ever spent on a single-player RPG, I believe — while a short time back, I decided that I really needed to take a break from Final Fantasy XIV, which was previously something of a life and free time-devourer.

On reflection, it comes down to a need for progression; more specifically, a need for a near-constant feeling of progression.

Herein lies the main reason I’ve set Final Fantasy XIV aside for the time being, and it’s by no means an issue exclusive to that game, either — it’s a genre-wide thing with all MMOs. And that issue is that once you reach “endgame” level — i.e. you hit the level cap, and progression becomes about acquiring better gear and taking on tougher challenges rather than earning experience points and levelling up — progression stops being constant and instead comes in fits and starts, in extreme cases, with instances of actually improving coming weeks apart from one another.

To put this in some sort of context for those who are unfamiliar with MMO endgames: you have several means of acquiring new gear at the level cap in Final Fantasy XIV. You can loot it from dungeons, which is based on random drops. You can acquire it from the raid dungeon Alexander, but this requires strategically acquiring items from its various floors, because you are limited in what you can acquire each week and different bits of gear require different numbers of items. You can acquire it using Tomestones of Esoterics, which have no limit on how many you can acquire per week. You can acquire it using Tomestones of Lore, of which you’re limited to collecting 450 per week. You can take on the lengthy Anima Weapon quest. Or you can acquire it by running the top-tier challenging stuff such as the latest Extreme primal fights or Alexander on Savage difficulty.

Part of the issue here, I guess, is that everyone generally wants to go for the biggest upgrade possible at any given time, and it’s these bigger upgrades that you’re somehow limited in, meaning progress is artificially constrained. In order to earn a piece of body armour using Tomestones of Lore, for example, which is among the best equipment in the game right now, you need at least two weeks to earn the 825 or so Tomestones required, since you’re capped at 450. In that intervening period, all you’re doing is grinding for no discernible gain: the actual gain comes only when you’ve finished the process and you get your shiny new armour. (And then moan about it not having the stats you want, probably.)

Now, this sort of design is a key part of how MMOs generally keep people engaged over a long period — if everyone could get the best possible gear immediately, they’d complain about having “not enough content” more than they do already (which is a lot), and that is obviously undesirable for the development team, who are put under pressure to put out more content more quickly, which inevitably leads to quality suffering. Instead, these moments of progression are significant, but time-consuming: they have a noticeable impact on your character’s abilities, but only after a long period of doing the same things over and over again until you’ve earned enough whatevers to get your doohickey.

That sort of treadmill progression had started to become a little less enjoyable to me than it had been, particularly as the current endgame of Final Fantasy XIV now has a number of different grindathons required to get the best possible gear. And so I put it down for now and instead focused on Dungeon Travelers 2’s postgame (actually bigger than the main game) which is also a grindfest, but which is considerably more appealing to me right now for that feeling of constant rather than sporadic progression.

Progression in Dungeon Travelers 2 comes in several forms. The most obvious is in the earning of experience points and levelling up: finishing the main story will get you to about level 50, but the postgame will take you to the cap of 99 by its conclusion. This means that rather than hitting a level cap early and progression slowing by very nature of one of its sources being cut off, there’s the constant satisfaction of earning experience points right up until the end of the game. And if you’re still hungry for more, a “Level Reset” system allows you to discard those hard-earned levels in favour of some bonuses to the character’s base stats if they had reached a high enough level, meaning you can level them up all over again and they’ll be marginally better.

That’s not the only means of progression, though. Gear is another important aspect of progression in Dungeon Travelers 2, much like other dungeon crawlers. The gear system is very interesting, in fact, since it’s based around just a few base items, and then built upon with an enchantment system. What happens is you have a piece of base gear (say, a piece of leather armour) which has a bonus value attached to it (say, +5). The bonus indicates how much better than its base incarnation it is, and the value can keep going up and up and up. In order to make it go up, you have to enchant your gear using the Sealbooks you acquire by defeating sets of 9 of each monster in the game. Each of these Sealbooks has a level, and when you use it to enchant a piece of gear, two things happen: the bonus goes up by the tens value of the Sealbook’s level (up to a maximum of 5 for books of level 50 and above) and one or more of the Sealbook’s special effects (ranging from bonuses to stats to special effects such as regenerating health and TP each turn) is attached to the piece of gear.

Here’s an example. I have a set of Leather Armour+40. I run across the wandering blacksmith in a dungeon, who allows you to enchant your gear. I use a level 50 Sealbook to enchant the armour, which increases its bonus to +45 and attaches a DEF Up and Elemental Resistance Up effect to it, making it considerably more defensive than before. Then I use another level 50 Sealbook of the same type to boost it to +50 and keep the same enchantments. Then I use a different Sealbook of a level higher than 50 (to increase the bonus, the Sealbook must be of a higher level than the bonus’ current value) to boost it to +55 and add a Max HP Up effect to my existing DEF Up and Elemental Resistance Up effect, since equipment over +50 can have three, not two, effects attached to it. By this point, I’ve run out of money for the moment, so I take my leave of the bear blacksmith (yes, really) and proceed on my way, secure in the knowledge that I could upgrade that armour twice more before it becomes “capped” and I’d have to start looking for a stronger base item to progress further gear-wise.

These two systems intertwine so that you’re always making one form of progress or the other. Levelling is quite slow in Dungeon Travelers 2 compared to more conventional JRPGs, but it has a noticeable impact, particularly on your characters’ maximum HP. In the meantime, you can partly plug the gap for an underleveled character by giving them gear with huge bonuses — there’s no level restrictions on equipping items — but you’ll need to level them to ensure their survival and their usefulness in most cases.

But that’s not all, either. The third means of progression in Dungeon Travelers 2 is simply getting further through the dungeons. Every expedition, you’ll manage to get a bit further, perhaps even unlocking a shortcut allowing you to get to the new stuff more quickly next time you head in. Perhaps you’ll beat a boss. Perhaps you’ll find a nice piece of treasure. Perhaps you’ll run into an area that has different enemies to the start of the dungeon. Point is, there’s always something to discover, and while you’re still wandering around grid-based mazes, swearing at one-way doors and teleporters and fighting battle after battle, at no point are you doing exactly the same thing over and over. You’re not running the same dungeon time after time; you’re discovering new parts of these sprawling mazes. You’re not fighting the same bosses; you’re taking on progressively more difficult challenges. And yes, you are grinding, but you’re not doing so on a treadmill: you’re always moving forwards.

This, I’ve come to the conclusion, is important to me, and it’s why I’m not feeling the MMO thing right now. It’s also why I’ve repeatedly bounced off the Souls series, despite trying to like them several times: those games are so heavily based on learning through repetition that I quickly get frustrated with the lack of forward momentum and tend to put them down after being smacked off a cliff by an armoured douchebag with a hammer for the umpteenth time, only to get smacked off a different cliff by a different armoured douchebag with a hammer on the way to reclaim my hard-earned souls and effectively undo the potential for progression I had before the unfortunate incident.

Nah. Give me a constant feeling of moving forward; that’s what I really crave from my RPGs these days. And Dungeon Travelers 2 is very much scratching that particular itch right now.

2174: Souls

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I’ve tried on several occasions to get into the Souls series from From Software, and have never quite succeeded, despite liking the overall atmosphere of the whole thing. This time around, though, I feel I’m finally starting to Get It. Kind of.

I’m playing Dark Souls II: Scholar of the First Sin, the rejigged and enhanced version of Dark Souls II that was released for PC and next-gen platforms a while back. It was a Steam sale acquisition; for its low price, I was willing to give it another chance, so I jumped in on the understanding that Dark Souls II is, on the whole, perhaps a little easier to get into than the other games of the series. I’m not sure if I believe that yet, but I feel like I’m starting to get a feel for it all.

There are several things to get into your mind when you start playing Dark Souls. Firstly, it’s a good idea to think of it a bit like a “single-player raid”. You need to learn things: develop a strategy and execute it, preferably flawlessly. This is particularly apparent when fighting the game’s bosses, but it also applies to regular enemies: most of the time they spawn in the same places, so you can prepare for ambushes where they got the jump on you the first time you went down that particular corridor, and instead slice them to ribbons before they can even touch you.

On a related note, Dark Souls’ combat, while initially appearing to be relatively straightforward, is very “Japanese” in nature in that it has a heavy reliance on pattern recognition. When fighting everything from the most lowly of crap enemy to the biggest of bosses, you need to recognise the patterns of their attacks and counter them accordingly: dodge them to avoid taking damage, and take advantage of an opening to attack, while simultaneously being aware of your own stamina so you leave a bit left over to dodge out of the way when the next attack comes.

Yes, Dark Souls is not a game where you can flail wildly and hope for success. My early encounters with the Souls series saw me hating that Stamina bar and how quickly it gets used up, but this time around, again, I feel like I’m getting more of a feel for it. You can almost relate it to a turn-based sort of system in a strange sort of way — or perhaps it would be more accurate to compare it to the “cooldown” system used by most MMO combat systems. In other words, you can’t just spam the attack button and hope an enemy is dumb enough to walk into your swing; most attacks are slow and ponderous enough to leave openings wide enough for enemies to hit you, even while you’re mid-attack. As such, timing is crucial.

So far, I’m playing a mage-type character, since it allows me to deliver some decent damage from afar, which in turn helps me to develop my confidence to fight the more difficult opponents a bit more. I’m getting a feel for the hand-to-hand combat too, though; I can now pretty confidently dispatch lowly opponents with a dagger rather than a couple of spells to the face, though it remains to be seen if my overall play style will change too dramatically by the time I get to the end of the game… if I get to the end, of course.

So, then, I think I finally sort of “get it”. I’m not sure I love it quite as much as some people do yet — I don’t think I’m far enough in to feel that way — but I’m interested enough to keep going and find out more. Which is, you know, nice.

1992: The Essence of a Great RPG

I’ve been playing some Omega Quintet and Final Fantasy XIV today. I’ve technically “finished” both of them from a story perspective, but both have an “endgame” that you can keep playing after the main story is completed. In Omega Quintet’s case, it’s an opportunity to take on some challenging quests that require you to defeat very strong enemies as well as clean up any loose ends you might have left behind such as the optional “Training Facility” dungeon; in Final Fantasy XIV’s case, it’s a matter of gearing up and/or levelling other classes, largely in preparation for future content additions such as the imminent raid Alexander.

Playing both of these games from this perspective today made me come to something of a realisation: the essence of a truly great RPG — or, perhaps more accurately, one that I will doubtless think back on particularly fondly long after I’ve finished, even if it might not be critically acclaimed or widely beloved — is twofold: firstly, it has to draw me in and captivate me with its story and/or characters, then after that, the mechanics have to stand up to hours of play. If both of these things are true, I will happily spend hundreds — even thousands, in the case of Final Fantasy XIV — of hours on the game in question.

There are quite a lot of games that have fallen into this category for me over the years. Gust’s Ar Tonelico series is one, for example; while there’s not really an “endgame” in any of its three installments, they do have multiple endings that necessitate additional playthroughs (or strategic saving). Compile Heart’s Neptunia series is another; with pretty much all of the games in that series (with the exception of the very first and the idol sim Hyperdimension Neptunia PP, which I fully intend to go back to at some point soon) I’ve seen fit to exhaust absolutely everything they have to offer rather than playing them through once and being done with them. Both Hyperdimension Neptunia Victory and Hyperdimension Neptunia Re;Birth1 took up well over a hundred hours of my life, for example.

Most recently, as previously noted, Omega Quintet has been keeping me busy in this regard. Omega Quintet has such a pleasing blend of story, characterisation and hugely enjoyable mechanics — its battle system is one of my favourite takes on turn-based combat I think I’ve ever seen — that I find it fun to just boot up and have a few fights in. The fact that the endgame section rewards you with massive amounts of experience for many of the battles, allowing you to level the girls up to ridiculous power levels — there doesn’t appear to be the usual level cap of 99 in place — makes for a hugely satisfying experience. Enemies that once caused me considerable grief can now be defeated relatively easily — though pleasingly, Omega Quintet, particularly on its hardest difficulty, isn’t afraid to smack you about a bit every so often if you get a bit cocky; I think I’ve had more “Game Over” screens in the endgame than I did throughout the whole story, and it’s usually been because I made foolish assumptions that I was then punished for.

The only trouble with finding games that I want to spend hundreds of hours with in this way is that it means beating a single game to my satisfaction takes a hell of a long time. Still, I guess it means I shouldn’t run out of things to play any time soon, huh? And that’s quite a nice feeling.

#oneaday Day 780: Nihon

It’s a big ol’ stereotype for someone who is “into” video games to have an interest in Japan — at least it was, anyway. As popular, mainstream titles have shifted far more towards Western studios with this current console generation, Japan and all things related seem to have been relegated to something of a niche. And that’s absolutely fine, I think, because it means that people like me can explore things like the country’s culture without feeling like they’re jumping on some sort of bandwagon.

I say “explore”. Most of my knowledge of Japanese culture comes from, you guessed it, video games. (That and following J-List on Facebook.) But before dismissing that out of hand, it’s worth noting that many Japanese games do explore and celebrate Japanese culture and traditions in a way that you hardly ever see in Western titles.

I can remember the first game I played in which I was conscious of this: Shenmue on the Dreamcast. I found it interesting that the main character removed his shoes every time he entered his house. Not only was this a pleasing attention to detail, I discovered that this is traditional behaviour. And given that Shenmue was based very much on the idea of creating a realistic, small-scale game world in which to “live” as much as pursue the game’s story, this was just one of many things which initially jarred but started to make sense the more time I spent with them.

The Persona series are notable for this, too. To date, I’ve only played Persona 3 and 4 (and have recently started the first game in the series) but I feel I got a good sense of what it’s like to be a high school kid in Japan — or at least, as close an interpretation as the media will ever give you. I do wonder if the depiction of Japanese schoolkids in anime and video games is akin to the depiction of American “highschoolers” in TV shows and movies like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Clueless.

From these games and numerous others (including Katawa Shoujo which, interestingly, was actually developed by Westerners who clearly had a good understanding of Japanese culture) I’ve picked up all sorts of useless facts (mostly centring around schools) which may come in handy should I ever find myself in Nihon-koku. I know that schools have big shoe racks inside their front doors. I know that kids are expected to join clubs as well as attend classes. I know that traditional festivals with fireworks are A Big Deal, and that boys supposedly go crazy for girls in yukata. Boys also go crazy for girls in hot springs. I know that udon and soba are types of noodles, and that takoyaki is both made from octopus and regarded as a kind of fast food. (I also know that your stats have to be high enough to finish a big beef bowl, but the same could be said for a big-ass steak in the West.) Moving into more esoteric territory, I know that popular supernatural mythology suggests that restless spirits often hold grudges and can do very unpleasant things to people who piss them off.

It strikes me every time I play one of these Japan-centric games (the most recent being Persona and Corpse Party) that it’s rare to see an analogous “learning experience” in Western games. Or is it? Perhaps I’m just too immersed in Western culture on a daily basis to notice; or perhaps Western culture has lost a lot of its traditions over the years, leaving most people free to behave in a manner of their own choosing. Consider what you did when you walked into your house today: did you take your shoes off? The answer is “maybe”, because it wasn’t expected (unless you have a self-decided “shoes off household”) so it was up to you.

We still have plenty of strange traditions of our own, though, mostly, like Japan, surrounding significant festivals. Look at Christmas: we have carol singers, German markets in city centres, mulled wine, mince pies, midnight mass, christingles and all manner of other things. We have very specific rituals in place to celebrate things like birthdays. We cheer when waiting staff drop trays of drinks (though I really wish we wouldn’t), and we have songs for all occasions.

As I think about it further, it’s becoming clearer to me why there’s something of a tendency to see comparatively less traditional culture in Western video games than we do in Japanese ones. It’s to do with subject matter and setting: Japan is very fond of mixing the mundane and the uncanny for dramatic and unexpected effect, whereas in the West we’re rather fond of “hero”-type characters who focus on getting the job done, not pissing around building up his Social Links. This is a generalisation, of course — there are plenty of games that involve a lot of sitting around talking, though even then they tend to be through a self-deprecating lens rather than taking a genuine pride in traditional culture. When was the last time you saw an English character (i.e. someone from England, and not just a character with an English accent) who was not either 1) evil or 2) posh — or sometimes both?

Perhaps there’s no place for traditional culture or ritual in Western video games — or no traditional culture or ritual left in our modern society to even incorporate into a game. That’s fine, of course, though I think it rather sad, in that case, that we have the opportunity to learn a great deal about Japanese culture from their creative output, while any Japanese players exploring the Western body of work will arguably take little from it save “nice architecture”.

Am I wrong? If so, please feel free to share some of your favourite examples of video games that exemplify Western culture, tradition and ritual in the comments — I’d be curious to hear what people think, or even, if they don’t think it’s relevant, why they don’t care.

#oneaday Day 763: A Question That No-One Seems To Have Asked Regarding RPGs

Here’s a stumper for all you RPG fans: exactly how much does taking one hit point of damage hurt?

It’s not a particularly straightforward thing to work out, given that hit points are a representative abstraction of physical condition rather than a measurable, uh, measurement. But let’s assume for a moment that it is indeed possible to measure one’s own hit points. How much, then, would taking one hit point of damage hurt?

The answer to that question would largely depend on what model of hit points you are using. If you’re talking Dungeons and Dragons hit points, taking one damage would fucking hurt if you’re not in tip-top physical condition. The average “man in the street” sort of person (i.e. not a warrior, rogue, wizard, cleric or what have you) is regarded as a “level 0 human” and generally has something in the region of 2 or 3 hit points, if that. Level 1 wizards often only have in the region of 4 or so. As such, taking one hit point of damage as an average person following the Dungeons and Dragons model would hurt a great deal, putting you potentially up to halfway towards death (or rather, being knocked out, since people don’t officially die until bleeding out to -10 hit points in D&D).

Compare and contrast with the JRPG approach to hit points, however, where totals frequently extend into the thousands and, in some cases, the tens of thousands. As a beginning character in a JRPG, you’ll often have a low three-figure hit point total to start with, which will progress towards that elusive 9999 (or 99999) as you level up. Assuming that your average person hasn’t really levelled up a great deal thanks to a notable lack of monsters (big spiders battled with Hoovers notwithstanding) we can work on the assumption that a single hit point’s worth of damage doesn’t really hurt a great deal. ‘Tis but a scratch and all that.

So, since it’s late and my brain is starting to shut down a little bit, let’s take this to the next logical extension and consider a variety of horrific injuries to determine exactly how many HP damage they’d do following the two approaches outlined above. We’re assuming that the person being injured here is not a Destiny-chosen hero who has been infused by the power of the Goddess/branded by the fal’Cie/chosen by Fate/revealed to be the wielder of the legendary blade Monado but rather, say, that man who works behind the fish counter in Sainsbury’s. As such, we’ll say he has 4HP in D&D and 150HP in a JRPG.

Getting an electric shock off an escalator handrail — D&D: 0HP, interrupt current action in surprise; JRPG: 1HP electric damage.
Falling out of bed while asleep — D&D: 0HP, lose “Sleep” condition; JRPG: 1HP physical damage, lose “Sleep” condition, afflict with “Embarrassment” (special moves charge slower)
Walking into a coffee table — D&D: 0 HP, maybe stun for a turn, staggering randomly around the room going “OUCH”; JRPG: 1HP physical damage.
Paper cut — D&D: 0 HP, afflict with “very mild bleeding” status, lose 1HP every 500 turns unless the cut heals (use a bandage or roll a D20 every turn, on a number between 3 and 20, it heals naturally); JRPG: 2HP physical damage.
Accidentally grating your fingers while attempting to grate cheese — D&D: 0HP, afflict with “very mild bleeding status” as with “paper cut” above; JRPG: 1HP physical damage.
Stubbing your toe — D&D: 0HP, incapacitate for a turn, remove ability to use vocal components of spells and stealth due to yelling “FAAAAAAAHHHHK!”; JRPG: 3HP physical damage.
Having a cat that is standing on you decide that it needs to hold on tightly with its claws — D&D: 0HP, 50% possibility of affliction with “very mild bleeding” status as with “paper cut” above, movement forbidden (you’ve got a cat on you); JRPG: 3HP physical damage, afflict with Rooted (you’ve got a cat on you).
Inadvertently ripping off a toenail by catching it on something — D&D: 0HP, afflict with “bleeding” status, lose 1HP every 50 turns unless the cut heals (use a bandage or roll a D20 every turn, on a number between 8 and 20, it heals naturally); JRPG: 10HP physical damage, afflict with Slow.
Burning your hand on the handle of a poorly-insulated saucepan — D&D: 0HP, interrupt current action, forced shouting of obscenity breaks any Stealth-related effects; JRPG: 10HP Fire damage.
Standing on an upturned three-prong plug — D&D: 0HP, movement forbidden for 5 turns, remove ability to use vocal components of spells and stealth due to yelling “FUCK. Cunt! ARSE! SHIT that fucking hurts. AAAAARGH.”; JRPG: 15HP physical damage, afflict with Rooted.
Banging your head on a low ceiling even after seeing a “mind your head” sign — D&D: 0HP, dazed for one turn. temporary reduction to Wisdom and Intelligence; JRPG:10HP physical damage, 10MP magic damage for a blow to the head.
Getting punched in the face by some drunk dude at a bar who thought you were eyeing up his missus but in fact you were trying to read the scrawled sign on the front of that fridge that said that the cheap drinks might actually be a bit out of date — D&D: 1HP; JRPG: 25HP physical damage.
Suffering any sort of trauma to the testicular area — D&D: 2HP (probably won’t kill you unless you’ve just been punched twice by a drunk dude at a bar who thought you were eyeing up his missus, but it bloody hurts), stunned for 5 turns, temporary reduction to Constitution; JRPG: 50HP physical damage, afflicted with “Stop” status as you wheeze and cough in an attempt to recover your dignity.
Getting stabbed in the leg, whether accidentally or deliberately — D&D: 2HP, movement rate halved; JRPG: 50HP physical damage, afflicted with “Slow”.
Failing to escape the unwanted affections of an amorous gorilla — D&D: Your adventure is over. You have been adopted by an amorous gorilla as its mate. Any attempt to escape will result in death. JRPG: Perform a badly-executed stealth/platforming sequence to escape.
Getting stabbed in the face — D&D: 5HP (you will likely bleed to an unhappy -10HP death), permanent reduction to Charisma; JRPG: 100-150HP physical damage.
Suffering an apparently successful attempt to behead you — D&D: 14HP; JRPG: 150HP
Getting the smackdown from an angry God/being hit with a planet by the final boss — D&D: 50HP; JRPG: 5000HP
Standing quite close to the epicentre of a nuclear explosion, you know, enough to get a good view and think “ooh, that’s a bit hot, I wish I’d stood back a bit more” — D&D: 998HP; JRPG: 9998HP.
Standing in the epicentre of a nuclear explosion — D&D: 999HP; JRPG: 9999HP.

Should you find yourself suffering any of these injuries, though, fear not; for a good night’s sleep cures all ills, as everyone knows. Unless you’re already dead, in which case you’d better get on good terms with your local Cleric or purchase some Phoenix Down.

#oneaday Day 686: The Times, They Have Changed

Been playing a selection of games recently. Besides the bullet hell joy I mentioned yesterday, I’ve also been playing L.A. Noire on PC and Neverwinter Nights 2 along with a bunch of emulated games that were absolutely totally positively legal to download. Between these games, I’ve been getting a pretty diverse gaming experience, and it’s also allowed me to reflect on how much gaming has changed over the years.

Let’s focus specifically on Neverwinter Nights 2 for a moment. Structurally, it’s relatively similar to the RPGs we see BioWare coming out with today (despite being developed by Obsidian) but the pacing is completely different to what we see in something like Mass Effect or even Dragon Age, its nearest “modern” equivalent.

Remember the fantasy cliche of the lead character starting as a farmhand or something and eventually becoming some sort of godslayer by the end of the game? That’s pretty much what Neverwinter Nights 2 does. You start the game in a small wetlands village in the middle of nowhere, just as their annual Harvest Fair is taking place. And before anything exciting happens at all, you have to go around the fair, complete several mundane tasks and, in collaboration with your party members, complete a number of simple challenges to introduce you to the basics of combat, magic and the like.

It works well mechanically, but in terms of that immediate “BAM!” factor that draws you in to the game, it’s somewhat lacking. Gamers looking for some sort of immediate gratification or heroics will probably find themselves disappointed for at least an hour or two before Plot Starts Happening.

It was the same in the earlier D&D titles like Baldur’s Gate. The first couple of hours of Baldur’s Gate were spent inside the walls of Candlekeep, doing errands for wizards and clearing out basements of rats. RPG cliche stuff — and the sort of thing we don’t tend to find ourselves doing too much these days because people want to get straight to the heroics. And that’s fair enough.

What the snail-like openings for these games do provide, though, is a brilliant sense of unease once you finally get out into the world to embark on your quest. You may have been able to best the local hard men in the Harvest Brawl, but what are you going to do when something that actually wants to kill you comes lurching at you?

The answer, in all likelihood, is die. This particular breed of RPG isn’t afraid to kick your ass right up until about level 5 or so — only then do you start getting to a stage where you can hold your own in a fight. And you level a lot slower than you do in a JRPG.

This is something of a double-edged sword. On the one hand, early combats become an exercise in managing your very limited capabilities, and simple victories over wild creatures feel like you’ve achieved something. This is realistic. Imagine if a wolf attacked you right now. Would you be able to handle it? If you did manage to survive the encounter without your throat being torn out, you’d feel pretty badass, right? That’s what happens in Neverwinter Nights 2.

The flip-side to this is that the second your curiosity gets the better of you and you wander blindly through a door you perhaps shouldn’t, you’re immediately confronted by a dude who shouts “I AM AN EVIL WIZARD!” and promptly proceeds to obliterate you with spells you won’t be using for a good 40 hours yet. This, too, is realistic (leaving aside the whole “magic isn’t real” thing) but is also immensely frustrating, particularly as the autosave system in Neverwinter Nights 2 and, indeed, the Baldur’s Gate series is best described as “erratic” and “unpredictable”. It’s very easy to lose lots of progress because of one stupid act if you don’t get into the habit of perpetually whacking that F12 (quicksave) key when things start looking a bit hairy.

Is this good or bad? It’s certainly different. In playing Neverwinter Nights 2, I’ve had to adjust my mindset to a somewhat more “hardcore RPG” configuration. Rather than being able to charge in blindly to a situation, safe in the knowledge that if it all goes horribly wrong, I’ll simply resume from a moment before the fight and try again, I have to think. I have to pause. I have to strategise. I usually have to turn off the Party AI function because the other characters are overly fond of running in to the middle of a large group of enemies before getting their appendages hacked off within a matter of seconds.

It’s certainly a different approach. Frustrating AI aside, it makes you a much more cautious player, which is sort of fun. The Souls series is based on this concept, after all, though executed somewhat differently. It also means that when you do reach the high levels of badassdom, you really feel like you earned them, rather than the more gradual trickle-feed approach which JRPGs’ rapid levelling provides.

It’s an approach that won’t be to everyone’s taste — and those who crave the immediacy of modern games will likely switch off the game the first time they’re downed by a pathetic skeleton minion, never to return. But perseverance and patience are key, and once you get your head around that, there’s a rewarding experience to be had.

Neverwinter Nights 2‘s basic campaign is regarded by some as “not great” — particularly in comparison to its expansion packs, which are supposedly excellent — but I’ve been enjoying it so far. Already we have some strong characterisation in the party members — something Obsidian is always good at — and a few hints of what the Big Plot might be, though no sign of whatever the Big Bad might be as yet. I am still only on the game’s first act, however, so there’s plenty of time for epic stupidity to occur along the way, and I’ll be looking forward to it.

In the meantime, there’s bandits to kill, skeletons to shatter into pieces and zombies to get diseased by.