Warren Spector talks freedom

A little while ago I made some not altogether positive comments about Gabe Newell's game design philosophy. Well, now Warren Spector -- whose ideas Gabe was critiquing in the first place -- has spoken out passionately in defence of freedom of choice in games.

Warren says:

"I don't believe it's ever a waste of time to give players real choices, rather than fake ones. If all you're doing is putting players on rails and rocketing them through your story, why not just build a roller coaster or make a movie? If the only choice a player gets to make is which weapon to use to kill a bad guy, you've completely wasted that player's time. Roller coaster rides are immense amounts of fun, but really, all they do is provide an adrenalin rush and a moment's distraction from the workaday world. Games can be more."

I couldn't have put it better myself! You can read the full interview at Eurogamer.

Alla y'all playaz better recognize!

When M-dawg and his homies are waxin', maxxin' an' relaxxxin' in the studio, this is how it all goes down:


Get this video and more at MySpace.com

So, what's actually going on in the above 7 minutes and 13 seconds of visual virtuosity?

For about four days in April this year I found myself in a recording studio in Newcastle upon Tyne. I'm not entirely sure how I ended up there, but it may have had something to do with the fact that, for the previous six months, I'd been involved in a musical "project" with a friend of mine, Mark Nichol.

Mark's a drummer by trade, but he also plays guitar and writes songs. At this point, alarm bells should be ringing; we've all seen and heard what happens when you let drummers write songs: Ringo, Slipknot, Phil Collins, Kaiser Chiefs... You see? The list speaks for itself. Except that, this time, the songs are really good and Mark wanted me play guitar on them. (Before that, you see, we'd been in a band together and I'd somehow managed to convince him that I was a halfway-decent guitarist -- PFSHAWW! Enough of this false modesty rubbish; I'm at least a decent guitar player.) How could I resist such an offer?

As you can see on the video, it wasn't just me and Mark who were involved in this musical gat attack. Also present are: John Pattison (gangsta name: J 2 tha P) on vocals; James Main (gangsta handle: JJ 'Phreaky-D' McPhly) on keyboards (or just "keys" if you're a pretentious pillock); Vanessa Nichol (gangsta ID: V-Loc) on vocals; and Steve Caithness (we never asked Steve for his gangsta name but, if I had to guess, I'd say it'd be: Crunk Caithnizzle) on bass.

Finally, orchestrating the whole shebang from behind that Yamaha DC-5400 SoundstaticXtreme Professional sound-desk you can see in many of the shots is none other than Fred Purser. Yes, that Fred Purser. Latterly of the Tygers of Pan Tang and 70s punk band Penetration. Suffice to say he's like a scientist on the knobs. A magical scientist. A magical musical scientist. He's good.

If you've read this far, you probably won't be averse to a small plug at this point. So here it is: Go to www.myspace.com/marknichol and you can listen to four of the songs we recorded and read some more about our antics in the studio in Mark's blog.

As you'll see if you read the blurb and the blog entries on the site, these songs are essentially an expression of worship to God, giving thanks for who He is and what He's done for us. I think they've come out pretty well. But you can go and listen and judge for yourself!

For the most part, the songs are guitar-driven rock in style, but they're poppy enough to have a wider appeal than the lank-haired, black-t-shirt-wearing metal crowd (apologies if that includes you; it used to be me). The lyrics are also available, for those who want to check the theology's sound, or if you just like reading words that rhyme.

Peace out.

Videogames + wiggaz + wack rhymes = internet bliss

Ch-ch-check it out:



64K - 1337

(64K is the name of the "band"; 1337 is the song, noobs.)

I found this on boingboing. I usually don't like just blogging a link without any meaningful comment, but since this one combines at least three of my top ten favourite pastimes--videogames, incredibly lame rhymes and interneticana--I couldn't resist. I nearly choked on my Coco Pops when the PC-phreak ("never owned a console, just a PC...") spat his Adrock-influenced verse about pwning noobs, and you will too... Seriously, watch out for that one.

The fact that they somehow managed to shoehorn a potted history of the entire videogame industry from Commodore 64 to SNES to Playstation into a five minute rap is surely further evidence of their comedic genius. And I'll certainly remember to wear my safety goggles in future when I'm dropping finely-crafted raps and racking up frags in UT2004, that's for sure.

Hey, wait a minute: "rackin' up frags" rhymes with "capturin' flags", right? I think I feel a rhyme brewing already.

Valve, Half-Life and the future of open-ended gameplay

I've just read a two-part interview -- part 1 and part 2 -- with Valve (creators of Half-Life) on Eurogamer and I'm feeling a little disheartened about the future of one of the most famous PC game franchises.

First, a quick history lesson for the uninitiated: In 1998, Valve released Half-Life, a first-person shooter for the PC. In the game you play the role of a scientist/action hero, Gordon Freeman, who manages to open a portal to another dimension on his first day working at a top-secret government research facility.




It's not much of a stretch to say that Half-Life pretty much single-handedly revolutionised the FPS genre, despite an admittedly lacklustre final act. It managed this in several ways. First, there are no cutscenes: everything in the game is seen from the player's point-of-view. This means you're never taken out of the action; not even for a second. From the introductory train ride through the Black Mesa research facility to the final confrontation on Xen, you effectively become Gordon Freeman. Then there's the astonishing use of in-game set-pieces. Half-Life managed to incorporate the kind of jaw-dropping action sequences previously seen only in cutscenes into the actual game itself. There are just so many memorable moments--anyone who's played Half-Life will remember the scientist falling down the lift shaft; the first encounter with a head crab; cautiously creeping past the blind multi-tentacled alien in the blast pit; or desperately dashing for cover to avoid the black helicopter on the surface. Finally, and perhaps most significantly, there's the variety and pacing of the gameplay itself. You never spend too long on a single task in Half-Life; one minute you're tangling with soldiers, the next you're trying to figure out how to cross a room filled with electrified water... Despite being utterly linear, Half-Life succeeds because it constantly changes the challenge for the player.

In 2004 -- six years later -- Valve released the hugely awaited follow-up, Half-Life 2. The anticipation surrounding the release was such that, in one gaming magazine, a simple picture of a crowbar (Freeman's signature weapon) on a white background was enough to send fans into a frenzy of speculation about the sequel. Perhaps inevitably for a game with so much media attention, first impressions of Half-Life 2 were mixed. Some fans were unreasonably disappointed that it wasn't the game they'd already designed in their head. That's not to say it wasn't well-received; the game enjoyed almost universally high scores from most of the big-name PC game sites. However, this time round the watchword was evolution, rather than revolution. Half-Life 2 didn't reinvent the wheel, it just fitted brand new treads and pimped it out with a set of shiny, chrome 20" rims.





With HL2, Valve once again showed they were masters of pacing and variety in FPS gameplay. What's more, the gravity gun introduced an entirely new (and incredibly fun) way for the player to dispatch the bad guys. It's a simple idea: pick up objects with the right mouse button, blast them away from you with the left. Of course, it helps if the object in question is heavy or sharp, or, preferably, both.

At first, I was one of those fans who was a little disappointed with the game. It didn't stand out from the competition in the way the original game had; at least, not obviously so. On the first run through, it felt like just another "on rails" shooter, albeit an exceptionally well-produced and entertaining one. On subsequent plays, though, I've come to appreciate the thing that, for me, sets Half-Life 2 above the rest. I've fallen in love with the atmosphere of the game.

I suppose I should explain that I'm a bit of a sucker for post-apocalyptic settings in general -- think 28 Days Later, Day of the Triffids, or Fallout; but not Reign of Fire or The Day After Tomorrow (I have standards!). There's something intriguingly chilling and exhilirating about seeing the highest works of mankind laid to waste by forces more powerful than we can comprehend. I also find it strangley compelling to speculate on the way in which humans, faced with such a scenario, would rise from the ashes and start again. Half-Life 2 is a veritable feast of post-apoc goodness. From the decaying Eastern-European vibe of the Orwellian City 17 to the zombie and antlion-infested coastline, the game leaves you feeling uneasy and with the strong impression that something VERY BAD™ has happened in the not-too-distant past. What's more, HL2 never spoon-feeds the player the backstory; you're left to glean what information you can from discarded newspaper clippings and fragmentary public service announcements. For me, this approach is a winner.

One of my favourite moments in the game comes when you finally escape from City 17 and make it out onto the Highway in a souped-up dune buggy.




There is something incredibly eerie about driving along the coastline, past deserted houses and shacks which are now home only to families of zombies and headcrabs. The other reason why this section of HL2 made such a strong impact on me was, I think, because of the change of pace. HL2 is not a freeform game by any means, but this part did allow you to head off the beaten track and explore a bit. It's moments like this, in my view, that showcase HL2 at its best and which make it a progression from the original Half-Life.

Fast-forward to 2006 (I've always wanted to use that line). Valve just released Half-Life 2: Episode 1. Is it an expansion pack or is it a sequel? Hard to tell, really. In the Eurogamer interview, Valve claims it's more of a sequel since it deals with events which take place directly after HL2, but it's certainly around the length of a conventional expansion pack (5 hours or so). But maybe that's because Valve have, with this game, decided to commit to releasing so-called 'episodic content' instead of full-fledged releases every 5 or 6 years. It's a brave decision, and I'm not fully convinced one way or the other at this point. Probably this'll be the subject for another post...

The point of all this rambling nonsense is this: HL2:E1, while maintaining the astonishing post-apocalyptic atmosphere of HL2, is actually even more linear than its predecessor. It's not that it's a bad game. It's certainly classically Valve in that it never lets up the pace and is consistently entertaining. However, after completing it I was left with the overwhelming sensation that I was being simply shepherded from one encounter to another with little chance to stop and catch my breath. "Well, that's just Half-Life," you'd say. Well, yes, but both the original game and HL2 managed to hide the linearity pretty effectively, whereas Ep1 is less successful in this regard. More importantly, there's something that Gabe Newell (head of Valve software) says in the Eurogamer interview which is most revealing about Valve's underlying philosophy of game design. When discussing Warren Spector's controlled, yet open-ended approach to game design, Gabe says:

"He builds a game that you can play through six different times. So that means that people pay for the game, but don't get to play five sixths of the game, which I feel is a mistake... if only one per cent of your customers see this cool thing that takes five per cent of your development budget, that's not a good use of resources."

Robin Walker, another Valve designer, adds that he wants to make sure all players have the same experiences while playing the game. But surely this isn't the point. Games are interactive media, and the nature of any interaction (at least, any fun interaction) is that whoever's doing the interaction gets to make some meaningful choices. Of course, the player does get to make these kinds of choices on a tactical level in HL2:E1. That is, do I stand over here and shoot the combine soldiers, or do I use the gravity gun to throw a flaming barrel at them? But I was hoping for a bit more from the "sequel" after the glimpse of a higher level freedom in the coastline section of HL2.

If all we're doing when playing a game is going through a pre-arranged sequence of "experiences", we may as well pack it all in and watch Mission:Impossible III. I admit that there's room for both truly open-ended gameplay (Elder Scrolls 4: Oblivion) and the more restrictive linear formula HL2:E1 has adopted; not everyone has the same gaming tastes as me, after all. However, after the brief taste of controlled freedom experienced in HL2, I'm disappointed that more isn't being made of the possibilities this offers the player to express himself through the game.

Even if all the exploration-oriented player is rewarded with is some new story information or the chance to bypass a trap, that's worth it. Even if only 1% of the audience experiences this (which, to be honest, I find extremely difficult to believe given the replay-value such design decisions inherently provide), it's still worth it, because it provides the potential for a greater degree of interaction for the player. And, in the final analysis, the moments that are the most memorable may be the ones which not everyone gets to experience the first time around.

Now, after all that, I think I'll take the buggy for a spin along Highway 17...

Steve Easterbrook: Round Two

A couple of weeks ago, I posted a link to a cringingly-funny interview with Steve Easterbrook, UK Chief Exec of McDonald's.

Well, he's back. This time it's in an interview on BBC radio. (And, yes, despite what you might initially think after listening to the first 60 seconds, it is a different interview.)

At first, it was like the attack of the roflcopter, as Mr. Easterbrook once again demonstrates his consummate inability to answer a direct question or, in fact, say anything substantive whatsoever. The hilarity was such that I could barely stop myself spraying tea all over my keyboard as I listened again to his earnest pledges to "run the business in an increasingly transparent manner", "separate the facts from the fiction" and "lift the lid off the business to allow the people to see it for themselves".

To his credit, he does eventually manage to shoehorn some examples and percentages in between the rhetoric this time around. Apparently, they've reduced the salt on their "world-famous fries by 30% in the last two years". Good times lie ahead.

But it's Eric Schlosser's (author of Fast Food Nation) comment which sums the whole thing up: "it's kind of hard to have a debate with someone who's already been taped."

Starbucks

The simian-snack-savouring Mr. Scott, who was the subject of my blog yesterday, has also written a very amusing letter of complaint to Starbucks about their coffee-sizing policy, and published it on his website. I heartily approve of this kind of thing; it's a topic which has been ticking me off for ages: Tall = Small?!? Yeah, right. Only in bizzaro-world.

Go, angryman, go!

Advanced Work-Avoidance Tactics, Part 1

Today I have written a paragraph. Which is better than yesterday. Yesterday I only managed a title.

In case you were wondering, I'm (still) finishing up my thesis, and to say that it's slow-going would be an understatement. I have (most of) one final chapter left to write. Then I have to tidy everything up, stick in an introduction and conclusion, whip up a bibliography, jot down some acknowledgements, compile a contents page, paste it all together with stickyback plastic and send the whole lot off to an external examiner in the hopes that one day soon I'll be able to put "Dr." in front of my name on letters to my bank and my driver's license. Sweet.

Anyway, as everyone knows, whenever you're sitting in front of a computer trying to write something very important there is invariably something much more fun, exciting and interesting to look at roughly two seconds away. And, even if there isn't, you can always WRITE about doing something more fun, exciting and interesting. On a blog. Thanks internet.

For the last hour or so, I've been reading about someone who's been doing just that:

www.angryman.ca/monkey.html
(via BoingBoing)

Adam Scott is living for a week on nothing but monkey chow (which I guess is American Canadian for monkey food) and telling the internet all about it! It's like a zoologically-friendly version of Supersize Me. He's even posting daily video diaries on youtube, all delivered in an achingly funny deadpan style. Exciting, huh? Well, when the alternative is writing some more about the semantics of the English verb 'open', I think you know which one wins every time...