What I mean when I talk about Graphics

The body of this post was originally composed about two years ago when this blog was brand new.  Because of my difficulty in articulating my thoughts, opinions and convictions, this post sort of floated around in draft form for those two years.  I recently read an essay over at Gamasutra on the same subject and decided to dredge this old post up, dust it off and finally publish it.  I think the subject of graphics has long been an important one in Video Games, though it does seem to be pretty much the same story as when I was a teenager.  Bigger, better, higher, faster.  If this subject interests you at all, have a look at the Gamasutra article I've linked here, and share any thoughts or resources you have on the subject.  Thanks. -D   

no denying this is purty, but is it enough?

When it comes to Graphics, I have always been and will always be, something of a hypocrite.   At least, it will seem that way to everyone who isn't inside my head, or doesn't understand me in that special "nerd" way.  I will, on the one hand, whine endlessly about graphics.  About too much focus on good graphics.  Too many bells and whistles, and not enough depth.  And then, on the other hand, I will dance a jig and praise halleluja to the graphics of games I like.  This is a pattern I plan to never break.

For example: in the case of Minecraft: it’s hard to call the graphics ‘good’ per se, on some sort of linear scale of supposed ‘quality’  - however, it’s easy for me to call the graphics ‘awesome’ because they are.  It’s more a design thing than a photo-realistic thing.  Photorealism is a keyword here.  There is a belief somewhere that this is the pinnicale of graphic representation, and I have to disagree with that. 

When I was younger, I believed in photorealism.  I believed that was the sort of art that required skill, and that abstract art was just nonsense.  Funny thing though:  I have no memory of cartoons as art, or my opinion of cartoon art.  Cartoons were simply alive, and I loved them.  It never occurred to me that they might be art.  Maybe this is one of the best measures of art. 

Bridging the gap from cartoons to realism is comic book art.  I thought Jim Lee and Mark Bagley were the best comic artists of the 90s.  This was in part because of their ability to convey realism, but, growing older, I see that their version of realism was highly stylized and not really photo realistic at all.  But even that level level of realism isn't necessary for enjoyment.  

Quintessential Jim Lee artwork from my childhood

It would be nice to have a better vocabulary for these things.  To better be able to explain what I mean.  I'm going to work on that in this post.  Jac, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about.  Little help?

Jaconian's Interjection: I totally get/agree with what you're saying.  I'll argue that with some Final Fantasy games, that they've moved away from story and focused too much on the look and graphics of the game.  "It's not all about graphics!"  But then, when I play say, Wave Race, I'll be like, "It's a pretty standard racing game, nothing overly special.  But dear god man, look at the water!  It looks fucking real!"  That might not be a great example, but I understand where you're coming from.  Another one is the "updated" graphics in Dragon Warrior in the US from Dragon Quest in Japan. 

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dragon_Quest_(video_game)#North_American_localization)  

In the image you can see the difference in sprites and in the article is says that the character always faced that direction, regardless of the direction.  I tell myself now that that would bother me and the "better" graphics are better for game play, even though graphics aren't a big part of why I find that game/series to be so awesome.

Another thing that I've found myself being a hypocrite about, in a similar manner to graphics, is the quality of music in games.  I can listen to the Legend of Zelda overworld theme for hours on end, with it's simple three tone musical awesomeness.  But then with the music from Ocarina of Time, I'll go on for hours about how the music sounds like not-so-great MIDI.  Additionally, the sound quality between the two is different and while there are sound quality improvements over the original soundtrack, ultimately I feel that there was a shift away from melody to atmosphere

OR, staying with Zelda, the graphics and design of the game (like what you said in your previous post) are perfect for  he game.  BUT, if there was an updated remake with either the Wind Waker or Majora's Mask engine, I would be singing its praises even before I got a chance to play it.  Maybe that's because it's something we've been talking about since Ocarina of Time came out.

Yes, graphics sure do represent a mixed bag of experiences.  And it seems like that is the key to the whole thing- how do the graphics affect your experience of the game?  Arguably, with the Dragon Warrior example, your play experience probably wouldn't have been affected much by the graphical updates.  If nothing else, the fact that the character always faces the same direction may have been slightly distracting.  But, then again, it may have been more distracting than I imagine.  I always accepted that the 'open world' style design of Dragon Warrior is a place with four cardinal directions, and that the characters within have a front, sides and a back.  The idea of every character sort of 'strafing' along is kind of distasteful.  But I'm probably over thinking it, which is okay; I like doing that.

I guess when thinking about graphics, it is good to think about how they are used.  In the case of Wave Race, it may be good to note that the game took place in many different settings.  The first that come to my mind is 'Drake Lake,'  which has the most dynamic graphics in that game.  Here, the fog-lifting action on the third lap sort of 'shows you what you've been missing' to great effect.

However, even without the fog-trick from Drake lake, the water effects on Wave Race are awesome.  More than any other racing game, Wave Race gave me the desire to drive off of the course and just go exploring.  I think the water effect had a lot to do with that.  A water environment is so much more interesting than a racetrack environment.  I only wish they had actually supplied an open world track.  Or, hey - you know what would be awesome?  A Jetski option in Pilotwings!  For close examination and exploration of the coastlines and islands. 

Alright, I'm getting distracted here with another one of my random 'you know what would be cool?' game ideas.  Ultimately, I'm not sure what my point is here.  Except maybe that 'my opinion is my opinion and that is that.'  Which is kind of... a moot point to begin with.  Anyhow, when I look at the industry, I see a lot of hyper-realistic big AAA games, but then I also see some really cool artful and abstract indie games.  So, I keep my attention on the indie games, but I do wish that the masses being catered to by the big-industry could see and appreciate the games I love.  And that's normal, isn't it?  

-D

P.S.  Since I originally wrote the bulk of this post, I had the great pleasure of reading Scott McCloud's fantastic 'Understanding Comics' series.  I highly recommend this book to anyone who is interested in comics, art and design. I found the contents relevant to subjects outside comics; including video games. He puts forth this idea of Realist vs Iconic graphics, and puts them in this nifty Triangle (below), which he cleverly calls the 'Big Triangle.'  He has a breakdown of the Big Triangle on his website.  Go check it out, why not?

First Impressions: Starseed Pilgrim

Starseed Pilgrim just ate two hours of my day.  I knew I had been at it a while, but I was surprised to read the total.  I'd been saying 'just one more game' to myself for the last ten games or so.  The first half of the time was spent figuring out what is going on.  And then when I started to figure it out, I've tried to determine how to build skill.   I'm definitely getting better at it, but I feel like there's still more to learn.

This game taps into a sense of creativity, of mystery, of exploration and of expertise.  And Harmony, don't forget harmony.  The visual and audio design is already invading my dreams.  Starseed Pilgrim is another in a very exciting trend in gaming which uses sound effects in a musical and atmospheric way.  Every action produces a tone, and they combine in a musical soundscape of the game.  Similar uses of music include Everyday Shooter, Bit.Trip.Runner and Proteus.

Starseed Pilgrim is one of those games that I want to take care not to share too much.  Part of the fun and excitement has been just figuring out how to play.  I recommend mapping a gamepad using JoyToKey, and then having a good time.

That's all I'll say for now.  I'll write a full review after this game lets go of my brain.  It will be full of spoilers.

-D

P.S.  I suppose I should mention one more thing:  this game is TOUGH.

Full Review: Gone Home (PC)

Gone Home is an story-based exploration game developed by The Fullbright Company based out of Portland, Oregon .  The story is set in a town/suburb near Portland (not that that matters, but it does pseudo-explain why it's raining the entire time when the game takes place in June) and takes place in 1995.  I feel that's all I can tell you without giving anything away.  I knew practically nothing about the game before going into it, aside from all that stuff about the game being developed using the HPL Engine and was planned as an Amnesia mod.  That along gives certain expectations as the Amnesia is a POV survival horror series.

If you do not want to know any spoilers about the game do not read further as I will be talking about certain aspects of the game which may very well contain spoilers.  So before I get down to it, I highly recommend playing the game before reading any further, unless of course you have no plans to play/experience this game.

~*CONTAINS SPOILERS*~

The story in Gone Home takes place in 1995 and I feel half of the game is reminiscing on that very fact.  While playing Conklederp asked me if the setting and amount of detail in the game for 1995 made me miss that time (I was 15 in 1995) and I said that while I didn't necessarily "miss it," seeing 1995 portrayed as Fullbright was showing us, it made me happy.

Samantha is the main character, whom we find out about through diary entries, notes between her and other students at the new school she is attending and teacher notes home.  All of the diary entries are read to the player by Sam, voiced by Sarah Grayson.  There is so much emotion and genuineness in her voice throughout the entire game that I cannot watch trailers or videos of the game with her voiceover and not have some kind of an emotional response.

The POV is through her older sister Katilin/Katie who has just returned from a year long trip around Europe, presumably shortly after graduation and she comes home to an empty house (that her family has moved to since she left for Europe, hence you the player not recognizing the "family home").  

The library we all wish we had growing up.

While exploring the house, you start finding items/notes/documents detailing your family's past, again presumably that the character of Katie may not have known, such as your father's failed book career from the 70's; his book career doesn't seem to be the hidden fact, only the fact that neither of his two books sold very well.  Or information that the house that the family moved into belonged to your pseudo-estranged uncle and was willed to your father after the uncle's death.  There are also hints that there's something wrong with the house, which you discover through diary entries from Sam and crumpled up notes found in trashcans.

When the game starts, you have access to both the bottom floor (with one door being locked) and the second floor.  Being who I am, I explored the ground floor first although I could have begun on the second floor, potentially "ruining (??)" the flow of the story.  Ah the story.  By starting on the ground floor, the story of your family begins in the 1970s with notes about your father's failed authoring career and how he lapses into alcoholism and an unfulfilling job of writing music equipment reviews.  You're then plunged into 1994, shortly after your family first moves into the new house and waves of nostalgia from the mid '90s flood your senses.

This, seriously, was what my Fridays looked like for most of the mid '90s.

There is so much that I can and want to say about Gone Home, but 1) There isn't enough "time" to give a play-by-play synopsis of everything that happened, and 2) The game is best experienced.  It really is like a 3 hour interactive movie of sorts, without any cut scenes.  There are no monsters to run away from, no jump scares or scare chords and only a few instances where you take a cassette and put it in a tape deck. You don't have to, but why wouldn't you?  The entire game is spent going from room-to-room, picking up slips of paper, receipts, notes from school, notebook entries, reading them and forming a picture about what has been happening with your family while you have been away.

Believe me when I say that you really feel like you know the family even before the game is over.  At one point, I turned to Conklederp and said something along the lines of "Jan [the mother] wouldn't do that, she's not like that at all. . ." and then realized I was talking about a person I had only read about for the last two hours.  I was very much emotionally invested in these people after only two hours.

Near the end of the game, I had this enormous pit in my stomach about how the game would end.  I didn't want what I thought what was going to happen, to happen.  I was emotionally afraid to find out "what happened."  I had been with this family for nearly three hours, seeing a family nearly torn apart by varying forces and start to bring itself back together and if what I feared were to have happened, I have no shame in saying that I think I might've lost it.

Instead, the "climax" happened and I had this immense wave of happiness, joy and relief wash over me.  I can't even compare what it would be like as I know that any analogy I used would include something about how the game actually ended and I would at least like to keep that partly a surprise.

The only way I know how to end this post, is that Gone Home is a beautifully composed experience wrapped inside of a video game.

~JWfW/JDub/Jaconian
Instrumental

Ultima Exodus: Graphics and Exploration

So, given I'm not really playing any other games at the moment, (though I did take some time out to play Among the Sleep - it's awesome!)  I'm just going to continue talking about Ultima for a while.  This series gets a lot of love on the Internet- mostly for the PC versions, though the NES versions of Ultima III and IV get their fair share as well.  Which I appreciate, since the NES version of Ultima III is the one with which I have the most experience. 

I want to take a moment to site a couple of significant elements outside the challenge of the game.  First is the party construction.  In Exodus, you are allowed up to 20 characters, each of which can be custom created.  You form a party of four of these characters each time you play.  These characters level up independently during play.  This element really lent itself to some of the household participation I experienced with this game, as 20 characters was more than enough for everyone in my family to have their own party of four.  That way we could contribute to a greater whole, while still remaining independent.  And we could just have fun creating custom characters and stocking the barracks, as it were.  That way different classes can be available to the main players who are out accomplishing goals and progressing through the game.  

Another thing I'd like to point out is the music.  I think it's pretty damn good for an NES game.  The songs tend to be long and varied, much more so that their contemporaries.  There aren't a lot of tracks in total.  I think that Exodus is often forgotten about in the annals of NES music.    

Finally, the graphics.  Sure, they're pretty crappy (though still way nicer than the PC version IMO).  But one graphic design element that I really like is the line of site shadowing.  Opaque objects such as walls, or mountains or deep woods, will hide portions of the screen in shadow, because they cannot be seen through, so the characters don't know what's on the other side.  I think this really deepens the sense of exploration in the game.  I'd love to see what Final Fantasy, or even better, Dragon Warrior would play like with this design aesthetic.  

In parallel to that, I'd also like to point out that the general map design in Exodus is nice.  There is a progression of wilderness that informs travel decisions.  The party starts out in a plain, where movement is unhindered.  Winding rivers creep in from the sides.  Bordering the plain is some heavy growth roughage, where movement gets a bit slower, making the party more vulnerable to attack.  Beyond the roughage is deep forest, which obscures visibility and beyond that are impassible mountains.  

I feel a definite sense of danger the farther I wander outside of the open plain.  However, it is clear that I will need to explore the darker, more confined spaces of the game if I am ever to get anywhere.  I think these elements add up to a more active world map, rather than a passive one of many of Exodus' NES contemporaries. Though the Exodus map is rather small, in comparison. 
 

Exodus is not without its many flaws.  Of which, I forgive all. I am happily biased, and give the game the benefit of the doubt at every turn. After all, this was an important and formative game for me, and I wouldn't have it any other way. But hey, just for fun, I'll list a few of these flaws and make excuses for each of them.

Most of the character classes aren't worth playing.   But they're still fun to build, and I appreciate having the option to explore the strengths and weaknesses of a class. The map is small, but well designed.  The objectives are confusing, but the challenge to explore is its own reward.  The story is non-existent, sort of.  The difficulty at times seems as though its from bad design.  Which is in the eye of the beholder,  bad design can be viewed as another challenge to be overcome, if you so choose.  And I do.  

-D     

Read Part 1 of my Ultima Exodus review.  

Proteus: Graphics and Exploration

I'd like to start off with a nice video walkthrough/commentary on Proteus.  Just in case my gushing and images aren't enough, this walk-through will give you some idea of what it is like to play Proteus.  That said, this video is basically one big spoiler.  So if you haven't yet played Proteus... maybe just ignore me until it goes on sale (I'll let you know), and then buy it and then play it.  

RockLeeSmile highlights indie games in a series of videos called 'Indie Impressions.'

====================================================================

  
I've played Proteus through a couple times now, and I think I've made some basic determinations about this game:  Proteus is an easter-egg hunt.  No one is keeping score - and there is a complete lack of achievements.  The purpose of the game is to play it and enjoy it, the player decides how much they enjoy it.  I am one who has decided to love it.  There are others who decided not to.  That is ok with me.  But if you choose to play, you can spend your time looking around, and you will find some things that may catch your attention and interest, and possibly provide you with some delight.  

Actually, funny thing--  I have been thinking about making a game based on the causeway which connects Sacramento to Davis.   I ride over this causeway on the train all the time, and when I'm looking out the window, I have observed a lot of beauty and subtle differences.  Because I love games and thinking about gaming, I've wanted to depict this environment through gaming.

My initial idea was to make a minecraft of the causeway.  This I still may do if I come into a boatload of time and patience.  The things that I observe from out the train window are mostly:  the weather and the animals.  The causeway is sometimes foggy, sometimes clear, sometimes flooded.  Sometimes I see egrets and ducks floating in the water, sometimes I see geese in the air, and little swarms of tiny birds.  Sometimes I can see the mountains in the distance and snow on top.  Sometimes the fields are full of wheat or squash or some other plants.  The colors can be many shades of brown, or contrasting shades of bright green, blue mountains, stark-white farm buildings and bright blue sky.

As I've observed the world of the causeway through the window of a train, I've wanted to share this form of peaceful joy with the world.  And as I imagine an artistic rendering of this landscape, I've thought of doing so with a video game.  This video game would need to pay special attention to the landscape, animals and weather.  The purpose of the game would be to travel through and observe a world of beautiful sights and sounds.

Proteus has done just that.  My playing experience is akin to looking out the window at the causeway, imagining what it would be like to wander around there and take in the sights, sounds and smells.  It really is amazing to me, to capture such a sublime experience, and I am very glad I found this game. Sorry to gush.  

Two of the most outstanding features of Proteus are: the practiced restraint on the part of programmers, and the synchronization of the sound and visual space.  There are musical cues triggered by the environment in a variety of ways.  Some triggers come from being near something: the hoot of an owl, the croak of a frog.  Some are triggered by looking at something, such as the sun on a hot summer day, or a shooting star.  

Sometimes I think that Proteus is too sparse, and could use more of everything.  More birds, more bugs, more trees, more weather.  But one thing it does wonderfully is to balance what it does have into a consistently interesting gaming experience.  I believe it is through restraint on the part of the game designers, that this balance is achieved.  I would be very sad if there was a sequel or expansion to Proteus that, perhaps with a zeal to improve and expand on the game play, was to disrupt the balance so that the sense of wonder and joy were lost or significantly diminished.    

It is possible that this game can be so much more than it is, but it is also possible that what Proteus is - is the best thing it can be, and that this feeling I've gotten from playing, of so much more, is best for me to hold, and relish and used for inspiration to create something beautiful myself, rather than to demand it from the creators of Proteus or the industry in general.

I think it may be that the very sparseness of Proteus lends itself to the need for a player to explore.  For example, if I'm feeling aimless while playing, I find a good strategy is to chase a frog until I find something that catches my interest.  Sometimes this leads to finding something unexpected.  

The Legend of Zelda - Graphics and Exploration



Click on an image for a larger version

I think Zelda 1 is my favorite game of all time.  The reason for this is that I can very easily daydream myself into the world of Zelda 1.  All I have to do is take a breath, and Zelda 1 appears in my mind.  And it's always in a nice, dream-state, imprecise version of it.  It's like I can *smell* Zelda 1.  The visual representation appears the strongest, the colors and the general shape of the game, which are both very distinctive.  I'm going to try to describe and analyze what it is about Zelda 1 that makes it so distinct.  *I would also like to note that this post was not inspired by Jack's Memory Post - it was serendipity that we were both thinking at the same time, about the same phenomenon; of being transported into a game memory. 

There are some clear contributing factors to how easily I can imagine the Zelda world.  I played it when I was very young, and highly impressionable.  I played it a LOT.  But, in addition to these things, it is also a great game.  And it is on that fact that I wish to focus.  Yes, Zelda has been done before, but that's what makes it a great trial run for game analysis, that is, for game analysis on a good game.  The Legend of Zelda has a very distinct and consistent aesthetic, and it is an open-world exploration game.  I think these are the components which make the game particularly engaging.

Today I want to focus on the overworld map.  Particularly about the sense of exploration and how the visual style helps to facilitate that sense of exploration.  The game is viewed from top-down, and is divided by screens.  So when I enter a screen, I can see everything in the screen that I can affect or can affect me.  The game map in Zelda is essentially a series of rectangular pictures of screen size, positioned side by side and top to bottom to form a larger rectangle. I can only view one picture at a time, and I can move freely within the picture I presently inhabit.  Passing between screens is an important part of the game, allowing me to run for safety if danger lurks in my present screen.  The transition between screens is, for everyone who plays the game, a signature part of the visual aesthetic.

Each screen is made up by mostly tile-based images.  Bushes, Rocks, and Enemies all fit within small 16 x 16 pixel squares, as do all hearts, rupees and items (I discovered these dimensions when playing Mario Paint for the Super NES).  This consistent size and use of simple, primary colors creates a simplistic design that might be called minimalist.  There were never any real surprises, in a given screen, but there were always different arrangements of the small number of tiles.  The simplicity and limitations allow for everything to be placed purposefully, the consistency makes it so that the player is never pulled out of the game by bad design.

A great deal of my time playing Zelda has been spent wandering the map.  Just kind of looking around.  Early on in the game, it's pretty tough, because the enemy is tough, and Link is weak.  But after gaining a few more heart containers and a few more weapons, the world begins to open up.  Enemies and combat represent obstacles to be overcome, you have to earn each new screen you explore.  Because the games graphical consistencies, I can size up a screen in an instant. I really want to look around in that forest area, but is crawling with Moblins.  I'll stick to the Octorocks on the beach.Or I'd love to check out death mountain, but all those Centaur guys make that really tough to do.  It's fun to look around just for the sake of looking around, but if that's not enough, there's also a large number of hidden goodies to find.

It is possible to know this game completely; to literally leave no stone unturned.  No wall un-bombed, no bush unburned.  Jack points out that there was no visual cue as to when a bush was burnable or a wall was bomb-able.  You just had to give it a try an hope for the best.This method is was out of vogue by the time Zelda III came out, but I don't think it was necessarily a bad mechanic (Though it would have been nice to have gotten the red candle just a little earlier in the game -ed).  With no visual cue, I would burn every bush, but I would start with the ones that I thought made aesthetic sense, as though I could figure out and understand the programmer's visual style and thus, save myself time in the never-ending search for a new cave.  I felt more of a sense of exploration, knowing that I just might find something, and sometimes did find hidden caves that were secrets to everybody.

coming up next:  The Legend of Zelda:  Combat and Sound