So the intricacies of the universe have recently come together to get me thinking about the role violence plays in video games. Mostly, the fact that virtually every mission in Mass Effect 2 forces me into combat even when I want to be diplomatic and an article I recently read on Kotaku have presented this question to me. Amidst the incoherent rambling of said Kotaku article, there was a choice quote that stuck out to me:

People compare games to films all the time. They talk about how game don’t have a “Citizen Kane”, or how films don’t have a Super Mario Bros., or whatever. I would also like to note that films don’t have a “Ben-Hur,” and they don’t have a “Casablanca.” Well, games have plenty of “Die Hard 2″‘s. I guess that’s one way of approaching the “problem” of entertaining the masses. We’re not going to ask the hyper-naive question “Does entertainment have to be a problem?” Instead, we will only touch briefly on the question of whether or not violence is the only thing that can possibly be fun in a video game: Probably not. Recently, I was playing Super Mario Sunshine with my friend Doug Jones’ five-year-old daughter. We were passing the controller back and forth. The cause for her passing the controller to me wasn’t player death — it was when she exited the hub world and entered an action stage. She called them “The enemy places.” Basically, she only wanted to play in the hub world, because there, she could jump, swim, climb, and be free. “In the enemy place, you have to be scared, because you might lose,” she said. At any rate, this isn’t nearly a question of violence’s inherence in video game design: It’s a question of freedom, of scope. It’s less a question of “do games have to be violent in order to be successful?” or a question of “do games have to be connected to some existing franchise in order to be successful?” and more a question of “do games have to be exactly like other games to be successful?” In the past, we had dozens of great films, and also dozens of duds. We had “Casablanca,” though we also had some other shit that no one remembers because it wasn’t as good as “Casablanca.” These days, no one’s taking the risks necessary to birth the “Casablanca”s. It used to be, with entertainment, you’d eat Arby’s five times a week and then you’d get a filet mignon; now, it’s like, six meals a day, you get this vitamin / protein-injected cotton candy, and it only comes in one of three flavors: Sweet, spicy, and not-sweet.

Spelling and logic errors aside, I think the author brings up some interesting points. But what interests me the most is the little girl’s interpretation of the game and its various activities. Could it be that there are actually people in the world who don’t want to kill everything in sight when they play a game? Do gamers’ personalities actually extend beyond “12-year-old boy”? Or more broadly, do games have to center around violent conflict?

Before I go making any brash conclusions, I figure it’s probably a good idea to take stock of what I like to do in video games. Being the FPS fan that I am, I obviously like shooting things. But I have just as much fun navigating dialogue trees as I do exploding heads. I love deciphering the logic behind a good puzzle. I’m a devilish fiend when it comes to exploration. I like leveling up, whether it be traditional stats in an RPG or buying better parts for my car in a racer. I love seeing how my decisions affect the world around me and the story at large. And I’m a sucker for a good story that draws you in with its mystery and blows your mind with the answers.

Why fight when we can be asses instead?

As I’m writing these things I can’t help but think of the problems I have with Mass Effect 2. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fun game, but BioWare went and simplified it into a shooter. The most fun I have with the game is when I’m exploring my party members’ pasts in dialogue trees or scheming the right things to say to NPCs who have something I need. I can remember quests in Knights of the Old Republic where the central focus was on soliciting information from various NPCs and putting the pieces of the puzzle together to solve a mystery. Combat need not apply. But Mass Effect 2‘s conversations are typically just a means of figuring out where to go to shoot the next bad guy.

I went on to write about 300 more words on my problems with Mass Effect 2 before realizing that they have nothing to do with the point of this feature. Plus, they made it sound like I really hate the game, and I don’t. So I deleted them. And here we are, looking at the realization that, for me at least, dialogue and puzzles and so on can be just as fun as defeating enemies. Maybe I’m alone in this. If I am, God save the world. If I’m not, then someone needs to save the gaming industry. We’re so used to playing games about armed conflict that developers don’t think it’s possible to make any other kind of game now. Maybe that’s not true, but publishers definitely don’t think they can make a profit on a game about jumping, swimming, climbing, and being free. And I just don’t believe that.

Let me be clear here. I’m not really advocating the type of game that would satisfy that 5-year-old girl, although I’m certainly not opposed to that. But if you’re looking for that sort of thing you should probably just go buy Flower. She desires a gaming world where she doesn’t have to be scared about losing. I, on the other hand, want the challenge of overcoming defeat. So I suppose conflict is inherent to my idea, but it doesn’t have to involve unleashing direct violence on openly hostile enemies.

In fact, if we run with this concept of “being scared,” it seems a very unwise decision to give the player the sense of control and power that comes with an “attack” button. What I’m envisioning right now is a survival-horror game that doesn’t star a boulder-punching super-agent. After all, if the player’s character isn’t terrified to be there, it probably shouldn’t be considered a horror game. Instead, I see a game where we play as a typical, non-monster-slaying person who’s simply trying to get to safety. Instead of fighting your enemies, you run from them.

Like this, but without the gun and with more fun.

This concept presents an intriguing situation. If the player’s only means of progressing are running and hiding, what happens when there’s nowhere to run or hide. Well, what if we actually use those brains that the zombies so desperately crave for once? Instead of big shoot-outs and boss fights, this game could force the player to solve complex environmental puzzles if they wish to survive. The gameplay would be just as intense, what with carnivorous monsters chasing you about as you scramble to analyze the environment and find the right item for the right purpose before time runs out.

It also puts a daring spin on exploration–this time around there’s a real price for venturing into the unknown. Do you risk running into some vile beast in order to investigate some dark path that’s out of your way? What if your daring brings you to some priceless resource, such as a tank of gas that could speed up your escape or even open up a new story branch?

But most interestingly, dialogue trees and party-recruitment could play a big role in the game. In a world that’s gone to hell in a hand-basket, any survivors the player runs into would likely be weary of you and possibly dangerous. This would make every conversation a puzzle in itself–carefully navigating sentences that could potentially result in your death or a great ally. And if you manage to get information out of an NPC or even recruit them in your quest to escape, there’d be a trust factor that’s just as scary as any physical monster. Did that guy just lie to you and send you into a trap so he could scavenge your corpse? How trustworthy is your new ally? Is the gun he wields worth his hot-head?

This sense of unease in the presence of “friends” would truly make for a horrific atmosphere. It would make every decision a meaningful puzzle. The player’s choices would also affect the world and people around them, making every play-through a fresh experience. Perhaps a vital piece of information you gained from an exploratory side-quest grants you a powerful ally down the road your first time around, but on your second play-through, you forgo that information and run into dire trouble when confronted with said NPC.

"I'm sorry, partner, but this is the part where I turn on you and you don't know it."

And of course, any survival-horror game that goes beyond the cliched zombie epidemic has the potential for memorably startling and atmospheric story-telling. The NPC interactions would add even more depth with a human-element in an inhuman world. And all the while, the weight behind every game-mechanic makes the action just as intense as your standard firefight.

So maybe the game I just thought up isn’t the best poster-child for non-violent games. Sure, some undead monsters are great guys, but most are intent on devouring your innards. But the angle I’m getting at is that all video games don’t need to task the player with directly fighting enemies. Frankly, it’s too simple a thing to do with a medium so full of interactive potential. I love shooters, but I just can’t bare to see them take over the industry like they are. I want to play games that don’t star fearless desperados who make foes bow to their will. I want to solve things in non-violent ways, using brains over brawn. I want non-linear games that let me approach problems from more angles than the barrel of a gun in a tight corridor. I want games that remove control and make me feel scared of losing. Oh, and some games where I jump, swim, climb, and be free would be cool too.

Share/Save

This guy's probably penetrated more genres than anybody else.

So I’ve been playing a lot of Assassin’s Creed II this past week, and as you might know, it’s got me thinking about game genres and what defines them. It seems that the lines between genres are becoming less and less defined these days, but there’s still a pretty stark difference despite the blending. So let’s start off by taking a look at what traditionally defines the major genres of today’s market.

“First-Person-Shooter” typically describes any shooting game that puts the player in the first-person perspective. The central goal of these games usually involves moving through a linear path and killing all enemies along the way. A strong competitive multiplayer component is generally part of the experience as well, and in some games, is a stronger focus than the single-player aspect. The FPS is a very inclusive genre that constitutes a large portion of the market, although there are a few cases of games that are first-person but don’t necessarily fit into this genre (Portal, Fallout 3, BioShock).

“Role-Playing-Games” have split into several distinct sub-genres, but all RPGs still share the same core attributes. The genre is most broadly exemplified by stat and skill progression, among other character upgrades. Japanese RPGs tend to be more linear than open-ended Western RPGs, but both are solitary experiences that are heavily story-driven. Massively-Multiplayer-Online RPGs are relatively new, and exchange the narrative of a single-player game for the social dynamics of an organic online community. There’s a pretty rigid consensus on what games fall under the category of RPG, even if sports titles like Madden follow the core stat-progression mechanic.

“Action-Adventure” games make up perhaps the largest genre of video games today because of just how broad the label is. These games are essentially any third-person titles that take the player through an “adventure” that involves plenty of conflict, or “action” throughout. So really, this genre almost seems like it was created to absorb any game that doesn’t neatly fit into the other, more specific genres. One could really take any survival-horror game, stealth game, sandbox game, or platformer and put it in this all-inclusive category. I’d say the core similarity is a third-person perspective–it’s really that broad.

Random chart about game genres!

Now obviously there are countless more genres, but those are really the big three in today’s market. And one could easily point to cross pollination between these supposedly distinct genres–Deus Ex may be an FPS, but the strong focus on story and stat building make it easy to confuse for an RPG. Not only does Madden feature the persistent stat progression found in RPGs, but the very act of calling a game makes it strikingly similar to Real-Time-Strategy games. And if we were to compare Grand Theft Auto IV with Shadow of the Colossus and Uncharted 2, I’m fairly confident that nobody would say they’re similar knock-offs of each other, yet they all fall under the “action-adventure” title. There’s so much blending between traditional genres these days that it’s becoming hard to peg a given game into one category.

I think it’s worth taking a different kind of look at how we define game genres for a moment. Mind you, this is going to be a rather broad examination with plenty of room to narrow categories into more specificity, but I think these polarized perspectives offer some good insight into the kinds of games we play.

One of the most interesting qualities to study in a game is whether it’s a solitary or social experience. A lot of people these days feel like the single-player game is a dying breed. Uncharted 2, New Super Mario Bros. Wii, and BioShock 2 are all seen as games that traditionally shouldn’t need multiplayer components, yet there they are. And it is a widely held fact that a significant portion of the people who buy games like Halo or Call of Duty never bother to finish the single-player campaign despite hundreds of hours spent in the online environment. It’s quite clear that people make a definite divide between solitary and social experiences. Most traditional RPG players aren’t particularly huge fans of MMOs, yet both sub-genres share the same core-mechanic.

I think the phenomenon of MMOs has had an interesting effect on the industry. If we look back far enough, single-player and multiplayer games were typically separated. Half-Life and Counter-Strike were separate products. Doom and Unreal Tournament occupied separate audiences. Super Mario 64 and Mario Kart 64 served different purposes. But as time went on, it became common practice for a single game to contain both aspects of gameplay. But recent titles like Warhawk, Left 4 Dead, and MAG may be spear-heading a revival of segregation. Developers are realizing that if the majority of their customers are only interested in one aspect or the other, then it only makes sense to save costs on the less-heralded portion of the game. It’ll be interesting to see where this movement goes, if it goes anywhere at all. But the point is that there’s a clear-cut divide between solitary and social games. The loners among us generally prefer a good RPG, while those who game for the socialization gravitate towards competitive shooters.

Can you imagine this guy in a Call of Duty pre-game lobby?

Another really distinct way to label games is with a “first-person” or “third-person” tag. Rainbow Six and SOCOM are pretty much the same style of game to a tee, yet they feel completely different and cater to different crowds. Mirror’s Edge and Assassin’s Creed both rely on free-running parkour as the core gameplay, but they’re seen in very different lights. The Elder Scrolls franchise and Final Fantasy franchise are both single-player fantasy RPGs, but they’re never spoken of in the same sentence. As we can see, perspective really make a big difference when we’re playing a game.

Drawing on my own personal experience, my library of games is pretty heavy on first-person titles, Shooters, RPGs, Puzzlers, Survival-horror, and so on. For me, the first-person perspective is just so much more immersive than its third-person counter-part. It feels less like I’m watching something and more like I’m experiencing something when I see the game-world through the eyes of my character. Conversely, I tend to grow more attached to characters I play as from the third-person view. That’s not to say I enjoy the story more, but I am more invested in the characters. The surrounding world and NPCs can paint a beautiful picture in first-person games, but they can never replicate the empathy I feel for Snake in the microwave tunnel of Metal Gear Solid 4. And when I think of Fallout 3, I think of what I did in the world, as opposed to Mass Effect, where I ponder Shephard’s story and motivations.

A game’s point-of-view seems to have severe implications on its story and characters. One offers up a blank-slate for the player to occupy and drive through their own personal story, while the other calls on a player’s emotions with a more traditional character-driven story. Both have their pros and cons, but there’s no denying the drastic difference between the two macro-genres.

"Who am I again? Oh, God, explosions!"

But the previous two classifications really can’t substitute for this one. A recent blog I read divided games into two experiences–short, high-intensity games and long, low-intensity games. The first category is sort of like the sparks of a fire–it’s a tight, fast-paced, and heart-pounding experience full of set-pieces that stick with us long after the credits roll. The second category is more of a simmer–there may never be individual moments that send adrenaline coursing through our bodies, but the overall experience lasts longer and ultimately gives satisfaction through a sense of progression. Another good way to look at it is that the sparks cater to our primal and animalistic desires, much like sports do, while the simmer nurtures our more cerebral, conceptual half, sort of like literature.

If we look at things in this light, it becomes much easier to classify games and determine whether or not they’re for you. Let’s go back to the games that just don’t fit and see where they line up. Fallout 3, BioShock, Deus Ex, and Half-Life may reside in the realm of a traditionally intense genre, but they’re really geared more towards an intellectual experience. And not only in the sense of story, but stat progression too. Progression is a sort of gratification for hard work. It’s not an impulsive thing to think, “If I do this now then I’ll be rewarded down the line.” None of these games really “live in the moment.” Portal is a little harder to classify, as its puzzling mechanics typically give a less intense feel than shooters, but I feel like the humor that drives the plot is geared towards a simplistic desire to laugh. It is a game that is very “in the moment”, despite its brain-teasing puzzles. Madden and other sports titles fall clearly into the less-intense, longer-lasting genre when played alone, but when put in a competitive environment, they become intense battles of primal superiority. MMOs deal with the basic desire to socialize while the satisfaction of traditional RPGs is found later in the game through major plot events or steady stat progression (which, of course is also found in MMOs, but is really just something to do while players talk amongst themselves). And in spite of the difference in perspective, Mirror’s Edge probably shares more in common with Uncharted 2 than Assassin’s Creed II.

"Let's just pause and think about this for a minute, guys."

I could go on and on, but I think I’ve made my point. There are games that live in the moment and those that delay satisfaction for a later date. Neither one is better than the other, they’re just different. And there’s some cross-pollination to be found in these polar-opposites as well, although I’d argue less so than with traditional game genres. But it’s very apparent that there are two major game experiences, those that excite our more primitive side with jaw-dropping set-pieces and non-stop action, and those that take us along at a more leisurely pace, slowly building the tension until it culminates in a deeply satisfying finale. Which one do you prefer? Do you see a disparity in value? Do you plan to tear this article apart with an equally unthought-out post?

Share/Save