Whoa Man… Heavy.
May 12th, 2008NOTE: the following contains some very, very small spoilers about a couple of games. Nothing big, just wanted to warn you.
A lot of what I think about in games is story - big surprise, me focusing primarily on the writing side of game design - but not just about story, but the ways in which it comes across. People point typically to RPGs for depth, as a main expected point of them is story (at least in common interpretations of the RPG, which is an entirely different topic I’ll go into later)… but I can point out exceptions to the rule very easily, in both games of the game genre that lack it and others that don’t. I’ve heard Half-Life 2 lauded for its story, although in all seriousness the writing in it is not something the player runs into all that much - it’s the setup for it, really, the fact that the world is unfolding around us and that we’re a part of the action. Of course, this means scripting out the proverbial wazoo, and doesn’t always work, and at times as a player I’m reduced to running around in circles until a scripted non-cutscene cutscene finally draws itself to a close… is this narrative that really engages us? So many people do it wrong. But I digress - I was talking about depth, so, well - back to that.
I guess what I mean about unexpected depth is another form of how one unexpectedly learns more about a story in a game like Half-Life 2 - it’s not rubbing human emotion and backstory in our faces (so many games do this), and it’s not even overly melodramatic. It has the luxury of being subtle (and trust me, especially in this industry, being subtle is a big, big luxury), in that it’s not a main component of the action. My explanation is getting muddled at this point so I’m going to hop to the two examples of games I’ve played lately that I feel are noteworthy.
Pikmin. Story isn’t key to Pikmin: you’re a guy stranded on a planet, your spaceship done got smashed, you have 29 days to get all the parts to it or you’re going to die, and all you have are these little plant-animal-things called “Pikmin” to help you out. The mechanics are straightforward, the gameplay fun, and aside from an unforgiving timer and some irritating pathing issues the game is absolutely awesome.
Here’s the thing that intrigues me about Pikmin in this context: the stranded guy, Captain Olimar, could have just been a nameless, faceless schlub and the game would still have been great. But that’s the thing. Everything about the game - even the tutorials - is done in Olimar’s voice, from his observations about Pikmin types to the fact that you can only have 100 of them out at a time. We as a player are discovering things as he does - but we only know as much as he knows. Every night, when the player returns Olimar and the Pikmin to their respective ships, Olimar ends the day with a diary entry… sometimes he speaks of his determination to get home no matter what the cost, sometimes he speculates on the nature of the planet and the role that the Pikmin play in it, and sometimes he talks about his family, and how much he misses them. It’s something you can skip past with a quick B & A button press, but - so much depth is there. Without forcing the player to angst over Olimar’s plight in a cutscene, they’re allowed these glimpses into his thoughts and observations, which are surprisingly well-written. They don’t nudge the player’s attention away from the gameplay, but they don’t seem entirely peripheral: they are as much a part of the game world as anything else, but it’s in the player’s hands how much they really want to notice these things.
(Oh, and if you accidentally leave Pikmin behind at the end of the day, you see them running for the departing spaceships, too late to be saved, and they get one last moment to fall down and look up in anguish before the hostile creatures in the area descend on it and devour it. And when Pikmin die, they made a horrible sad little squeak… and a little Pikmin ghost ascends. My God, does one ever get so pissed when an enemy kills their poor, precious Pikmin… and man do you feel like a douche if you accidentally leave any behind!)
Another game that has this surprising depth is Animal Crossing: Wild World - not so much with the animals that move into your town (although they have their own interesting personalities and eccentricities), but with some of the permanent residents. When you first meet Brewster, the pigeon that runs the coffeehouse in the basement of the museum, he barely gives you single-word replies. However, if you make sure to visit him frequently, he begins warming up to you, at last telling you why he wanted to name the place “The Roost” and calling you by name. It’s not actually Brewster himself that tells you more of his backstory, but Blathers, the owl museum curator. When you speak to him, he has a moment when he seems down - you can inquire as to what’s bugging him (and thus get the backstory), or snap at him to get back to work, and help you out. If players don’t care what’s bugging an animal, they never have to ask - but if they do, they’re given a look at the deeper nature of one of the characters, a little bit at a time. My favorite example is actually Sable, the older of the two porcupine sisters that run the clothing shop. Like Brewster, she’s taciturn at first, but quickly warms up to you if you come by and speak with her a lot (her sister Mabel even teases her a little for looking forward to your arrival). Little by little, you learn that Sable is ten years older than Mabel, and has been taking care of her since their parents died - she never harps on this fact or wails about it… it’s subtle touches, like her repeating her mother’s sayings or detailing stories about her father, that shows how close she was to them. At one point, Mabel even enters the conversation, quietly expressing her regrets that she didn’t know them better… and Sabel’s own gentle reassurance that they’d have been very proud of her.
In case you missed it? I’m talking about Animal Crossing: Wild World. Yes, the game on the DS where you’re in a town full of animals, and you make money digging up weird robots called “gyroids” and picking fruit and wearing funny hats and shaking trees with the hope that money will fall out, and not, say, a beehive. DEPTH! SUBTLETY! Holy crap in a hat, where did it even come from? Startling, but not distracting - an unexpected joy.
I’m not saying this kind of depth works in every single game, or that it should be the point - the main focus of the game should be rock-solid before these kinds of embellishments are laid on… if the foundation isn’t solid, the extra touches won’t be joys but leave people feeling like they don’t fit, or that the time of the developers would be better spent elsewhere. But I wish it was around more often. You could say “oh, this game is too light-hearted for something like that” but my god, Pikmin and Animal Crossing: Wild World - not exactly M-rated titles, you know? And this really touching opinion piece about Princess Rosalina’s role in Super Mario Galaxy is another excellent example of subtle, well-done storytelling with unexpected depth.
(It hasn’t escaped my notice all three examples are not only Nintendo games, but first-party ones. This makes me both nod in appreciation and furrow my brow that it’s hard for me to think of any other publishers OR developers who have put in such depth - but without making a huge deal about it. Remember what I said about subtlety being a luxury? Sigh, indeed.)
Anyhow - I’m going to be on the lookout for more clever, subtle bits of depth in games. I open the floor to the peanut gallery for recommendations on anything you guys think are excellent examples (do warn about spoilers if they’re used, please!).