EXP Podcast #58: The 2009 Year-end Extravaganza

As 2009 draws to a close, it's time to take a step back and reflect on the games we played over the year. Being the rebels that we are, Jorge and I are even letting pre-2009 games get in on all the GOTY action played numerous games this past year that were not even released in 2009. Instead of abandoning them to the sands of time, we decided to do a super-sized show that highlights both our favorite 2009 titles as well as our favorite gaming experiences from the past calendar year (release dates be damned!).

As always, feel free to offer your assessment on the year and share your top gaming moments from 2009. Thanks to everyone who visited the site over the past year; without you we'd just be yelling at the screen. Have a great New Year, and we'll see you in 2010!

Some discussion starters:

- First thing's first: What were your favorite 2009 titles? Which games are we missing out on?

- Regardless of release date, which games hooked you over the past year? Did you find a hidden gem in your back catalog, or are you still pouring hours into a game like Roller Coaster Tycoon?

- We didn't have enough time to touch on this in the podcast, but what were your favorite gaming trends or surprises from 2009? What are you looking forward to in 2010?

To listen to the podcast:

- Subscribe to the EXP Podcast via iTunes here. Additionally, here is the stand-alone feed.
- Listen to the podcast in your browser by left-clicking the title. Or, right-click and select "save as link" to download the show in MP3 format.
- Subscribe to this podcast and EXP's written content with the RSS link on the right.

Show notes:

- Run time: 49 min 19 sec
- Music provided by Brad Sucks

The Sensationalist: Death and Family in Assassin's Creed 2

This post is part of "The Sensationalist," a continuing series here at Experience Points in which we examine games' abilities to evoke emotions and sensations in video game players. Please have a look at the series' introduction as well its previous entries. As always, we welcome your thoughts on all the matters we discuss, and look forward to analyzing one of gaming's most powerful, yet intangible, abilities.

Spoiler Pirate says "Yarrr! There be spoilers ahead!

How games depict death and family relationships is immensely interesting. These two subjects can be very emotionally evocative for players, particular when a game's protagonist reacts strongly to both. Ezio Auditore, the protagonist of Assassin's Creed 2, is surrounded by death and is initially motivated to become a trained killer by several deaths in his family. The opportunity to evoke powerful sensations in players through Ezio's loss and deadly task ahead is apparent. Unfortunately, AC2 squanders much of its narrative potential with inconsistent messages and obscure motivations.

Family

Desmond, the modern day lead character reliving Ezio's memory in Assassin's Creed 2, first encounters the Auditore family when Frederico Auditore comes to Ezio's aid during a street brawl. Frederico teaches Ezio how to fight and loot the bodies of unconscious (or dead) enemies. This tutorial-family relationship, to the annoyance of some, is repeated 'ad nauseam' as the first few hours of AC2 is spent completing mundane tasks for Ezio's family.
Ubisoft attempts to convey strong sensations of family bonding by transforming the day-to-day tasks of the Auditores into player tutorials. When these lessons lose their utility, so do Ezio's familial relationships. When his father and two brothers are killed, Ezio escorts his mother and sister to the Monteriggioni villa where they cease to play any significant part in the story. Maria is forever praying and Claudia only asks her brother if he wants to look at his finances. Over the 23 years the game takes place, neither ages, moves from their room, or responds to Ezio's new profession in any way. His transformation into an assassin occurs while his familial relationships disappear. What could be a powerful depiction of loss is abandoned when Ezio displays no grief for his brothers and father and spends no time with his surviving family members.

What then motivates Ezio? Why does he choose a life of danger instead of leaving Italy with his mother and sister? He could be pursuing revenge, but his role as an assassin protecting the Italian people and stopping the Templar quickly subsumes all of his attention. Ezio's Uncle Mario, also an assassin, consistently plays the role of an ally, not a close family member. When those helping Ezio along the way reveal themselves to be fellow assassins, it becomes clear this order of killers has largely replaced his family. There is even a cute 'leap of faith' initiation. While this moment does complete the plan his father Giovanni had laid out, his memory is given but a passing glance before the more important task is discussed. The player is left with one solitary goal, uninformed by familial relationships.

Death

Death is treated with similar confusion and inconsistency. For example, Ezio collects feathers after Petruccio's death and deposits them at the Villa. His motivations for doing this are muddled. It could be an effort to draw Maria out of sorrow induced shock. At 50 collected feathers, Mario tells Ezio to give up on his mother's recovery and "focus on more important things." It also unlocks a new mace. When all the feathers are collected, Maria wakes from her stupor and thanks Ezio for not forgetting about her, also unlocking a new cloak. She then sits in the room, equally devoid of agency. For such an immense effort, her reaction and reward is absurd.
Most players will never collect all the feathers, so these scenes are largely superfluous anyway. It is more powerful to assume Ezio collects the feathers to express his own mourning. Attaching a monetary incentive to the feathers, however, obscures Ezio's motivations. For the player, collecting feathers is not a mourning, it's profit making. Ezio displays no meaningful emotional alternative that would reinterpret the player's selfish interest.

Yet during some moments, death is treated is as emotionally significant. Maria confirms from Ezio that the Auditore deceased were given a proper funeral. Also, each assassination ends with "Requiscat in Pace," with Ezio performing last rites and telling his enemies to rest in peace. How does one earn such a formal treatment? The men he kills are evil Templars and have shown no reason to deserve respect. Perhaps this is Ezio's own ceremony reserved specifically for the death of enemies, a display of personal gratification. But at one point he gives this blessing to a dying thief ally. If death should be treated with respect for everyone, why then does Ezio never give last rites to murdered guards? The depiction of death evokes little response from players when their protagonist offers only contradictions.

Blame Desmond

There are a few moments in Assassin's Creed 2 where Ezio seems remorseful about his new profession, wishing he did not have to kill. Yet he goes about his duties with a seemingly eager single-mindedness, enjoying the monetary rewards along the way. It is as if Ezio is merely an avatar, acting out the desires of an emotionally distant other. Which is exactly what he is. Despite significant changes from the first Assassin's Creed, the sequel still relies too heavily on Desmond to draw interest, leaving the individual assassin's story to languish.
When Desmond wakes up from his genetic memory, visual remnants of the past persist. Emotional remnants do not. Desmond never behaves as though he were emotionally invested in Ezio's life. There is no mirage of Giovanni, no sudden remorse for killing so many people. His attitude towards death is just as vapid when he kills actual people himself. Like the player, Desmond's time as Ezio holds no greater meaning besides the exhilaration and mystery surrounding an assassin's destiny. With inconsistent and muddled depictions of in-game relationships and behavior, a potentially memorable character and evocative story becomes watered down and wasted.

On the Subject of Magic

Spoiler warning: In this post, Santa's identity is discussed.

I had another Mario post rolling around in my head, but, seeing as how it's the holiday season and all, I will instead subject you to some schmaltzy, eggnog induced musings.

This week's podcast about the often-grim realities of the game industry inspired me to reflect on how my conception of the medium has changed over the years. In my younger, more naive days, games were self-contained entities removed from larger social and economic contexts. I gave very little thought to who made them, how they were marketed, or even how they were designed. I took them for granted, as if games naturally sprung forth from some mystical cartridge tree whose fruit was harvested, packaged, and then shipped to store shelves.

Looking back, my childhood view of Christmas was similar to how I viewed games. I was blissfully ignorant of the stress that comes with manufacturing holiday cheer. Our family was fortunate enough to have the means to enjoy a festive tree and delicious food. Santa could always be counted on to inexplicably drop off a game or two that I had been coveting. Things seemed to fall into place as if guided by the hidden holly-jolly hand of the season.

Those days are long since past: I know now that magic, both the holiday and gaming variety, is not the product of mystical forces but rather the outcome of hard work undertaken by determined people. While it was nice to live in a fantasy world in which a North Pole-dwelling demigod traded games for cookies, understanding how how things actually worked gave me a better appreciation of the holidays. Similarly, peeking behind the curtain of a game reveals a kind of practical magic that makes them special.

One of the dangers of critically analyzing video games is creating overly clinical gaming experiences. Personally, playing games was a more whimsical activity before I started noticing quirks in AI paths, gameplay exploits, and plot holes. Just as discovering that Santa's real identity made the initially made the world a more ordinary place, running into an invisible wall in Super Mario 64 made video games more mundane experiences in some respects.

Thankfully, time and experience ameliorates the shock of dissipated illusions. Naive wonder is replaced with admiration for those who labor to construct opportunities to indulge in fantasy, however briefly. The land of Hyrule is not the result of an ancient race of triangle-worshiping fairies and elves, but rather the culmination of decades of largely unnoticed human effort. Knowing that its serene landscapes, odd inhabitants, and mischievous creatures were actually birthed in our world makes their novelty all the more stunning. It also makes it easier to forgive flaws, or even accept them as reminders of the game's hand-crafted origins.

Intellectually, I know that that Nathan Drake is an amalgamation of writers, artists, actors, and producers. Even so, the imposture is so convincing that I find myself thinking of him as a real person. In return for a small suspension of disbelief, the designers help the player hold two contradictory thoughts in their head: Nathan Drake is both an illusion and a reality.


Working on this website has crystallized this concept. These days, it is almost impossible to turn off the little critic in my mind who is constantly commenting on a game's design, message, or release circumstances. Because this part of me is so focused on the reality, it serves to better contrast with the virtual-realities games present. Games present me with a single object that inspires both sides of my brain to reach the same conclusion, albeit via differing means. My aesthetic sensibilities say that games are magic because they show me things that exist beyond the world I live in; my analytical sensibilities decides that games might as well be magic, since the confluence of events that takes place in order to create them is complex to the point of being miraculous.

Let me close by explicitly thanking all the people that make this possible. While it may not change the fact that you went unrecognized, unpaid, or unappreciated on a project, know that your efforts are appreciated. You might not wear a red suit or own enchanted reindeer. You might actually feel more like an elf, toiling away in obscurity while some fat guy gets all the credit. Regardless, know that what you do makes a difference. Magic just doesn't happen; it exists because people create it.

EXP Podcast #57: Celebrities and Exploitation

The innards of the videogame industry are dark, mysterious, and just a little bit icky. According to a recent article by Leigh Alexander, not all is merry for our game developers this holiday season. Some people who have put in a lot of work are being ignored, by publishers and gamers alike. Maybe, as Joshua Lin describes, we need more videogame celebrities as advocates and representatives. Join Scott and I while we discuss labor disputes, the Joss Whedon appeal, developer secrecy, and the hidden ailments of the games industry.


Some discussion starters:

- Do you treat any game developers as celebrities? Does the games industry more outspoken and charismatic individuals?
- How much do you know about who makes your games? Are the majority of gamers tragically misinformed or blissfully ignorant?


To listen to the podcast:

- Subscribe to the EXP Podcast via iTunes here. Additionally, here is the stand-alone feed.
- Listen to the podcast in your browser by left-clicking the title. Or, right-click and select "save as link" to download the show in MP3 format.
- Subscribe to this podcast and EXP's written content with the RSS link on the right.

Show notes:

- Run time: 29 min 4933 sec
- They worked on the game you played but didn't get credit, by Leigh Alexander via Kotaku
- We Need "Celebrities", by Joshua Lin via Gamasutra
- Sometimes, the Spy Games are Too Much, by Nels Anderson via Above49
- Music provided by Brad Sucks

Friendly Competition

Like many others, New Super Mario Bros. Wii has become an instant classic. The more I traipse through the Mushroom Kingdom, the more the plurality of 'Mario Experiences' Scott described recently rings true. I am a more vengeful Mario player than my couch compatriots. If Luigi snags that extra power-up, I will toss him into nearby enemies with jovial enthusiasm. In dangerous levels however, I will restrain my malevolent behavior and more readily cooperate. NSMBW is brilliantly designed to facilitate this mixture of altruism and antagonism.

A more competitive Mario-verse could have easily lead to some frustrated Toadstools. I am no stranger to gaming hostilities. I had a friend mad at me for months over a particularly vicious game of Settlers of Catan and have witnessed hour long arguments while playing the Battlestar Galactica board game. I have a new appreciation for a design philosophy that encourages 'friendly competition' and welcome its presence amongst its hostile siblings.

The most clear examples of friendly competition I can conjure are actually board games. Dominion, designed by Donald Vaccarino and published by Rio Grande, is a strategic deck building game. Players compete for high scores by adding point cards to a growing deck of ability cards and money cards. Scores are tabulated at the end of the game, with triumph going to the most efficient and strategic deck creator.
While competitive, Dominion is not explicitly combative. Some have called Dominion a game of competitive-solitaire, since most cards available for purchase have little-to-no effect on other players. Opponents, by and large, mind their own business. If they did feel like meddling, most players will have a hard time keeping track of opponent progress. Since points are calculated when the game is over, and come-from-behind-victories are frequent, players are seldom sure who, if anyone, should be most reviled. Even if someone were to earn the displeasure of her competitors, she cannot be isolated and attacked individually. The few cards that affect other decks negatively target all players indiscriminately. The game's design encourages chit-chat and idle banter rather than heated and hostile discourse.

Carcassonne creates a similar sense of friendly competition. Designed by Klaus-Jürgen Wrede and also published by Rio Grande for its English release (also available on XBLA), Carcassonne is a tile-based land management game in which players compete for points by building and claiming roads, farm lands, and castles. Low-level players tend to mind to themselves and try to gauge the risk of expanding their territories or score easy points. High-level players are more hostile, intentionally encroaching into other people's territory or encircling castles with roads to curb expansion.
The most hostile Carcasonne player can manage, at best, indirect attacks against a single opponent. Random tile draw will mean, however, that even the worst intentions may be thwarted by luck. Players that do encroach on another person's castle will end up sharing wealth, not stealing it. Competition inherently leads to cooperation as both players invested in a castle have an incentive to complete it. When points are finalized and calculated at the end of the game, players are more likely to chock up a loss to chance rather than the malign intentions of their friend.

These two board games are very different from NSMBW, but foster similarly friendly attitudes during a potentially competitive experience. Carcasonne and Dominion limit direct hostility while New Super Mario Bros. Wii demands cooperation when it matters most. The design philosophy of these games is founded on the belief all players should be having fun, even when they are negatively affected by real-life players.

In an interview with a Brazillian blogger, Donald Vaccarino states "my games struggle to be non-political, with things such as Dominion's attacks that hit everyone else rather than targeting a specific player. This goes back to evenings of whining about who gets the robber in Settlers of Catan." Gamers are familiar with competitive behavior, particularly in online matches, which is often ignored as a by-product of anonymity. Level design that demands cooperation, player-neutral attacks, and vague progress tracking are just a few ways to develop amiable behaviors during competitive games. When a game calls for real life multi-player participation, designing a game around 'friendly competition' can go a long way towards maintaining the flare of rivalries without fueling hatred.

New Super Mario Nitpicks

As the end of the year approaches, my thoughts have turned to selecting my personal "Game of the Year." It probably won't surprise you to know that New Super Mario Bros. Wii is on the short list.

However, while I may be an inveterate Mario fanboy, I try not to let my love blind me. In that spirit, I'll attempt to offer some clear-eyed criticism of one of my favorite games of the current console generation. Forgive me, Mario!

The Tale of Two Toads

When it comes to player avatars, I prize function over form. Whenever I play an RPG, I construct my party based on skills rather than my interest in character stories. In LittleBigPlanet, I've been known to rock a naked Sack Boy out of sheer disinterest in clothing him. When playing Rock Band, I'm the one rolling his eyes while people fiddle with their characters. However, options and customization are key components for many players, and I do understand the importance of offering diverse character options.

Disappointingly, with a crew composed of Mario, Luigi, and two Toads, NSMBW is devoid of playable female characters. Miyamoto's excuse that Peach's dress would require more work to animate is baffling: Is Nintendo really that hard up for talented artists, or the money to pay them?

Even if there were technical issues, why not just give Peach a pair of royal overalls? Or, if Peach must be kidnapped, why not bring one of the many extended cast members into the Big Leagues? It is sad that two of the four playable avatars are only differentiated by a palette swap, especially since Toadette was passed over.

Alas, Poor Yoshi

I was delighted to see Yoshi make his triumphant return in NSMBW. I was less thrilled to find out that Yoshi seems to have lost a step during his hiatus.

In Super Mario World, Yoshi gained different powers depending on what color shell he ate, but in NSMBW, this power is missing. Given enough time, Yoshi used to be able to swallow hard objects like shells, but in NSMBW, Yoshi's digestive tract is decidedly less durable. I also think that tilt control could have made for an interesting egg-throwing mechanic, but evidently something is disrupting Yoshi's ovulation.

Despite being somewhat nerfed, Yoshi still ads pleasant variety to the stages he inhabits. However, Yoshi has grown more territorial over the years and now refuses to leave the levels to which he is endemic. This is a missed opportunity, as being able to take Yoshi to different stages would have provided replay value as well as the opportunity to barter with friends. If only one player out of four finished the stage mounted, Yoshi would then become a status symbol, or perhaps even a bargaining chip to be used to curry favor with certain players ("I'll trade you my Yoshi for the next penguin suit.").

The Lost Art of Negotiation

NSMBW creates a rare dynamic of competitive cooperation, but more could have been done to enhance the inter-player negotiations. The ability to trade extra, individually collected items or to bestow hoarded 1ups on other players would add currency to the couch-centered meta-game that takes place alongside the on-screen action.

Like theoretical Yoshi-trading, being able to strike deals using in-game resources could be used to both help and trick other players, making it a perfect fit for the game's ambivalent stance on teamwork.

Counting Cards

NSMBW contains a new version of the "Go Fish" style game present in Super Mario Bros. 3. Matching cards with the same item on their face allows the player keep that item. Unlike SMB 3, NSMBW fails to give the player a short peek at the deck before all the cards are flipped over. This removes any skill from the game, and instead turns it into a game of chance. These seems particularly incongruous with the overall Mario ethos, as Mario games tend to reward those that make their own luck.

Learning the Language

For those new to the game, luck is a difficult thing to make. Although coated in a cartoonish veneer and distributed on a system marketed to those new to video games, NSMBW does not coddle its players, which may end of hurting its ability to teach them how to play.

While the early levels have fewer hazards than later ones, the obstacles carry the same danger and consequences as late-game challenges. A koopa deals out the same amount of damage whether you fight it in the first level or the last; the first pit you must jump is just as bottomless as the last one. Unlike so many modern games, NSMBW does not offer a formal tutorial, and failure often means a significant loss of progress.

I imagine that for someone who has only played relatively recent games, NSMBW feels a bit like a reading Shakespeare: Certain elements and themes are recognizable, but the work's elegance is revealed through slowly becoming familiar with its unique structure. Just as contemporary English speakers get tripped up by The Bard, contemporary gamers get tripped up by The Plumber.

I suspect that playing NSMBW is, for many players, the equivalent of trying to converse in French having only taken one course back in middle school. Compounding this difficult learning process is the potentially daunting prospect of being surrounded by players who already speak the language. While immersion may ultimately be the best route towards fluency, it is an initially painful process, one that might be a turnoff new players.

Now that I have that out of the way, I will feel less guilty about any additional fawning posts I write about the game. If you have yet to play the game, don't let these nitpicks scare you off: NSMBW is an excellent experience. With any luck, we will see these shortcomings rectified in the hypothetical and poorly named sequel: New Super Mario Bros. Wii 2! On second thought, maybe "New New Super Mario Bros. Wii" works better.

EXP Podcast #56: New Mario Mania

Every so often, the fall's harvest yields an extra-special crop, a crop in which fungus is the bounty rather than the blight. New Super Mario Bros. Wii is out and provoking unusually disparate reactions. In order to share our thoughts on the game, Jorge and I have called a truce on throwing each other into lava pits for just long enough to record a podcast. We discuss our impressions, the madness that is multiplayer Mario, as well as the contemporary relevance of Mario's game design. Feel free to triple-jump into the comments with your thoughts. We promise we won't throw any koopa shells at you, just remember we never said anything about Bob-ombs...

On a related note, I found this video of a big band performing the Super Mario Bros. theme song. It even has lyrics!

Some discussion starters:

- For those of you who have played the game, what do you think? For those of you who haven't, does a side-scrolling Mario appeal to you?

- One of the most surprising things about NSMBW's multiplayer mode was its ability to foster both cooperative and competitive play. Can you think of any other games that have tapped into this dynamic?

- Should Mario adopt modern gaming conventions such as character classes or more forgiving difficulty? Can a newcomer find as much enjoyment in this game as an experienced player?

To listen to the podcast:

- Subscribe to the EXP Podcast via iTunes here. Additionally, here is the stand-alone feed.
- Listen to the podcast in your browser by left-clicking the title. Or, right-click and select "save as link" to download the show in MP3 format.
- Subscribe to this podcast and EXP's written content with the RSS link on the right.

Show notes:

- Run time: 30 min 33 sec
- Mitch Krpata's review, via The Phoenix
- To get a taste of the hilarity that is the multiplayer, check out Giant Bomb's review.
- Music provided by Brad Sucks