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Final Fantasy and the history of RPGs

jerome cukier — 2008-01-10T16:48:40Z

When considering a franchise the size of Final Fantasy - we're talking about more than 70 million games sold, which makes it the 4th biggest game franchise ever - what's most surprising is not its tremendous impact on game design but rather the lack thereof.

Final Fantasy is not what one could call a genre-defining game, like the Sims or, to a lesser extent, Pokémon... two unique games which introduced a lot of novel features, which were analysed, digested and reinjected in very different games soon afterwards. No. Final Fantasy fits squarely in the Role Playing Game category, a genre which has its conventions which the early FF help establish, and that the later ones challenged and reinvented one by one. While FF has been the most innovative RPG game franchise, its innovations were vastly ignored by other RPG game authors which went in an entirely different direction. However, FF was influential and even determining in game production. The production and launch of Final Fantasy VII can be seen as the historical event that ushered the industry into a new age.

1950-1985: From boardgames to the first computer RPGs


Rise and Decline of the Third Reich, 1974: A typical wargame from Avalon Hill.

To understand RPG conventions, and to measure the extent of FF's game design innovations, it's necessary to go back to when it all began. Wargames, board games which oppose two players simulating a war, and whose history goes back to the XIXth century, began to be pick up momentum in the 1950s as increasing income and leisure led to a demand for intelligent games for adults. A great number of games appeared in the 60s and their gameplay rapidly evolved.

Eventually, in the early 1970s, a new publisher called TSR got the idea to create a spin-off genre to wargames, which they dubbed role-playing game (RPG). Contrary to wargames which featured full-scale armies, RPGs were set in a tactical scale, each player controlling only one character at a time. But these characters could develop and become more powerful after each game. There was also a special player, the game master, who was a mix between a referee and a story-teller. Instead of fighting each other like in any wargame, player-controlled characters had to cooperate to win. They evolved in a scenario which was told by the game master, where they had to investigate and solve puzzles together to progress, and fight the occasional monster. In fact, most of the game rules revolved around combat: how to simulate realistically a fight between more or less powerful characters and more or less powerful monsters? obviously being bit by a rat-sized monster shouldn't hurt as much as being hit by a two-handed magical sword wielded by a veteran warrior. Also, there should be a way to reward player so that they can progress.

Dungeons & Dragons (D&D), TSR's seminal game, addressed these problems with what would become the first historical conventions of the genre:

characters and monsters have hit points. Each time they are wounded, they lose a certain number of points (damage points), and when this total reaches 0, they are eliminated.
When a character attacks another, they have a certain random chance to hit them. If they do, the damage points are also determined by random. So, random has a great influence on the outcome of battles.
when a character defeats a monster, they get a certain number of experience points (XPs), and, most often, "spoils of war" like gold or special items. When a character has accumulated enough XPs, they gain a level, which gives them more hit points and better abilities.


Dungeons & Dragons player's manual, 1983 edition: Which introduced generations of players to the joys of pen-and-paper RPGs.

There were a number of "pen & paper" role playing games before the first computer version, some of which had very different rules for combat or character evolution. There was no questioning that D&D was the most popular, though, but there is another reason why it inspired the first batch of computer RPGs like Wizardry. The fact that characters could grow forever, that they could continue to accumulate experience points and levels and hit points and power was very fit for the solo experience of computer gaming.

Along with Wizardry, the early eighties saw a number of more or less sophisticated titles of the same vein. Its main competitor was Ultima, whose 3rd episode (Ultima III: Exodus) was very instrumental in defining "classical" computer RPGs. At the time, there were no console RPGs whatsoever [1], partly because of technical hardware limitations, but mostly because RPGs were tought to noble for those cheap machines. When the first round of console RPGs appeared (1986-1987, which saw the first episodes of Dragon Quest, Final Fantasy and Zelda), many RPG conventions were in effect, in additions to the ones above.


Wizardry I, 1981, Apple II: Otherwise known as the "Proving grounds of the mad overlord". Over 25 years after publication, the game feels so basic, yet it has been one of the most influential ever.

The first phase of the game is character creation. The player controls a party of complementary characters, which have a race and a class (or job, occupation, whatever). Original D&D classes are fighter, thief, cleric and wizard. Advanced D&D (AD&D) adds druid, paladin, bard, assassin and monk to the mix. Typical CRPG classes are close cousins to those. Characters are also defined by randomly determined statistics, such as strength or intelligence. High scores in these give them various bonuses. And of course, they start with 0 experience points and a little amount of hit points which will increase as they gain experience levels (see above).
once the character party is created, the game is divided in 4 phases, which are: visiting towns, traveling in the outside world, exploring dungeons and fighting. In towns, no combat will take place. There are shops where characters can spend their money upgrading their equipments, an inn and/or a temple when they can rest, heal themselves and save their games, and non-player characters (NPCs) that the party can talk to (they usually have one line of speech that they will repeat ad-lib). Talking to the right NPC is usually how the party gets a new objective and can progress through the game. In the outside world, the scale changes. The player sees an overhead map of the world where towns or dungeons are the same size as one character. The player can move the party, despite the terrain constraints (i.e. the party cannot cross high mountains, they need a ship to travel on water, etc.). Each time the party takes a step, there's a chance they meet monsters ("random encounter") which they have to fight. In dungeons, the scale is the same as in towns, but there are random encounters like in the outside world. Chests, containing various useful items, can be found in remote areas of the dungeon, encouraging the player to explore them a bit (thus triggering many random encounters) to get the best items. There can also be puzzles to solve to progress. Finally, at the end of each dungeon, a more difficult fight awaits the party. Combat is divided into turns (or "rounds"). Each character and opponent will act once during a given turn. Before the turn rolls out, the player gets to choose the actions for each of the characters. Those action usually include attack, use item and flee, plus a special action depending on the class of the character, like the use of magic for a wizard. In the world of D&D, curative items (potions...) were considered "magic items" and were uncommon. Items that could be used offensively during battle were even rarer. That proved to be too much of a limitation for CRPGs were items of both kinds are relatively abundant. After combat, the party is rewarded with gold, experience points (which are split among characters) and, randomly, with items. Each opponent type will net a fixed amount of gold and XP. Then, if players have enough XP, they may gain a level and see their abilities raise, among which their hit points total. In addition to these 4 phases, when outside of combat mode, the player can usually consult a status screen which describes all the statistics and equipment of the characters, and allows them to make some configuration adjustment (like changing the weapons used by the characters).
characters evolve by: gaining experience points and therefore levels, which enhances their statistics and unlocks new capabilities; amassing gold, with which they can buy better equipment at shops; and by finding items, either in chests or after battles. Therefore, the player is encouraged to explore levels and to look for random encounters in order to gather enough power to progress in the game. The class that the player chose at the beginning of the game for one character is pretty stable and restricts the character evolution in one direction. For instance, a "warrior" will become much stronger with extra levels but will never learn magic. Conversely, a "wizard" will get some powerful offensive spells but will always be a mediocre brawler. Character classes also have a strong influence on what equipment each character is allowed to use: fighting-types characters may use heavy weapons and armor while magic-users can only don robes and wield sticks or rods.

1987-1997: Enter... Final Fantasy!


Final Fantasy, 1987, NES: The fight against the Lich, in its full NES glory

Final Fantasy episodes will bash these conventions one by one, while delivering a unique experience with ground-breaking production values. For instance, as early as the first episode, music received a lot of attention, although it was often seen as a byproduct by most computer RPG authors. Technically, Square always strived to make the most out of the hardware platform it was developing on. But obviously, what made the FF games unique were radically innovative gameplay choices. In the 1st episode, the player composes a party of 4 characters by choosing their job. The available FF jobs were much less restrictive than the traditional RPG classes. For instance, knights had special skills and were not just dumb warriors. The red mage could cast offensive and defensive magic and was also a decent fencer. Choosing a different combination of jobs would result in a radically different adventure: some combinations made the beginning of the game very easy but the end very difficult, other were the opposite; some required the player to amass a lot of money, while for some others money wasn't important. Plus, there was a lot of equipment to collect, which added a real depth in the game. Configuring the party, both at the beginning of the game and through the story, was essential.

The 2nd episode introduced a radical change - no more experience and levels. While all others RPG to date (and virtually all others since then) revolved around the idea of collecting XP to grow in levels, FFII just got rid of those notions. Instead, each statistic of the characters progressed as it was "used". If a character was hurt a lot, they would gain HP. If it used a spell often, it would become a better magician. This was the first time that an FF game attempted to reinvent character progression, what will become a recurring feature of the FF franchise.

That is well illustrated by the 3rd episode. Instead of restricting the player to a handful of jobs, this game featured as many as 25 different jobs, which - and that was the great advance - the player could switch jobs anytime, when characters were not fighting, at least. Each of these jobs came with one or more special skills, useful during combat and sometimes during exploration. But there was a catch: the more a character used a certain job, and the more efficient this character will be using this job. This was the first example of dual character progression: on one hand characters could amass XP and gain levels, which made their statistics progress; on the other they could see their "job level" increase and be more competent with their special character skills.


Final Fantasy IV, 1991, SNES: A scene from the opening of FFIV, on an airship.

The 4th FF game, the first on the Super Nintendo, reverted to a simpler, level-based progression system. This more mature game was much more based on story and pre-defined characters, each with their own background, than any of the previous instalments. To that effect, each character had a fixed job and would only get new abilities when they reached a certain level. The great innovation was in fact the battle system. Previously, all RPGs, FFs included, organized the combat in "rounds". During one round, all characters and all of their opponents had one opportunity to perform one action. Then, everyone had to wait until the next round to act again. FF IV replaced this turn-based system by the "Active Time Battle" (ATB). In ATB, time flows continuously. Each action takes some time to execute. So, stabbing with a dagger takes less time than preparing a complex incantation. Anyone can act as soon as they are ready. It is indeed possible that a very fast character could act twice or more before a very slow character has the chance to act once. However, time continues to flow even when the player chooses what action to perform. So, monsters can attack if the player fails to react quickly.

This move to realtime wasn't exactly isolated. Many computer-based RPGs had explored that possibility, such as Dungeon Master or The Eye of the Beholder. But such games coupled that with a 1st person perspective. At the other end of the spectrum, in the Zelda series, which was pretty much unrivalled in the action-RPG niche that it had created, every action was in real time from the beginning. But then, the battles were much less complex than in the FF, they didn't involve co-ordinating a party or choosing between dozens of special skills.

FF V still used ATB, was less story-driven than its predecessor but returned to the job system of FF III. Like in FF III, the four characters could change jobs anytime outside of battle. But in FFV, the dual progression system was much more structured. In addition to XP, at the end of each battle, characters would gain ability points (AP). Each job featured a few abilities that could be unlocked once the required number of APs had been acquired. What was more interesting was that these abilities could be combined. Once learned, an ability could be used with another job. So, for instance, it was possible for a character to learn some white (protective) magic as a white mage, then turn into a knight and still be able to use white magic as previously. To keep characters balanced, it was only possible to use one extra ability. So if our knight chose to use white magic, he wouldn't be able to use other skills like stealing or summoning monsters. By the time they published that 5th FF game, Square had already played with the notion of jobs and skills a lot, and was therefore able to offer hundreds of special skills to acquire. Therefore, contrary to most RPGs, most characters were still far from being completely developed towards the end of the game.


Final Fantasy VI, 1994, SNES: One of the most memorable FF cutscenes ever, a night at the opera in Final Fantasy VI, a.k.a "Aria di mezzo carattere"

The 6th episode holds a special place in FF history as in many fans memories. It was the third FF game to be published in the USA (after the 1st and the 4st episode. At this stage, no FF had ever been published in Europe...). FFVI featured a very strong story like the 4th one, which didn't focus on one single character but rather explored the background of many heroes, a flexible character progression system like in the 5th, and sterling production values. This was the last episode on the Super Nintendo, a platform that Square knew perfectly at the time, and as such, FF VI was a technical demonstration of excellence. Hey, the game still looks good today, so it's difficult to imagine the impact it had on the unprepared audience of the time!

Final Fantasy VII

If I were to nominate 3 games of which it can be said that there was a "before" and an "after" in gaming history, FFVII would definitely be on the top of my mind. I'm not certain which the other 2 would be but FFVII has definitely earned to figure in that list.

FFVII was the first super-production in the history of videogames. By the time of its release, Square had already garnered quite a reputation in RPGs, even in the western world, and all FF games sold a few million copies. With a new generation of hardware coming up [2], Square intended to amaze the world once more. To this end, they assembled a development team of over 100 specialists working on hardware never seen before in the gaming industry.


Final Fantasy VII, Playstation, 1997: Sephiroth, the emblematic villain of FFVII

FF VII required the use of CD-Rom because its production relied heavily on pre-rendered, streamed media. The investment Square had made had to be seen and has obviously a direct impact on gameplay. The switch to 3D and the storage possibilities offered by 3 CDs (a thousandfold increase since the last episode) opened new possibilities in terms of content. Specifically, it was now possible to replace traditional 2d sprites by lifelike animations of very complex 3d models.

The combat mode is the one that received the most attention. Fighters, now evolving in parties of 3, could unleash killer moves under certain extreme circumstances: limit breaks. The use of magic, especially summoning, was also much more impressive.

In terms of character progression, FFVII remained true to the FFIV system whereby each character was of a set type, using the same category of weapons throughout the game. However, the equipment system became much more abstract. The player could only equip each character with one weapon and one protection equipment, and not a whole set of armor (helmet, armor, shield, leggings...) to mix and match. But the weapon and armor would have slots where the player could insert colored spheres, "materia". APs won after each battle would improve each materia sphere and unlock new abilities. Finally, different combinations of materia on weapons or protections could yield some exciting results. This system was the most flexible way to assign abilities to characters, giving the player both freedom and constraints, as equipment always had a limited number of slots.

When Final Fantasy VII was released, it was so impressive that it put PC role playing games to shame. PCs of that time certainly had better CPUs and RAM than the Playstation 1, but didn't usually have the 3D capability of the console... The next year, the game was ported to the PC but wasn't as nearly successful as the console version. Still, it allowed PC-centric developers to finally take notice of the richness of the Final Fantasy gaming system and they eventually started incorporating some typical FF elements in their productions.

Other playstation 1 episodes

Shortly after the massive success of FFVII, Square released Final Fantasy Tactics (FFT). The game was designed by the people behind the tactical RPG Ogre Battle. Ogre battle was an attempt to trade strategy for adventure in RPGs. In this game, there were no dungeons to explore, no random encounters or chests to open, but maps to conquer with armies and cities to free - while keeping some essential RPG characteristics like character development and a similar form of story-telling.

FFT is a follow-up to that genre, but dressed in a final fantasy theme. FFT is, unsuprisingly, focused on combat which now takes place in detailed environments. While in traditional FF episodes, it was unnecessary to move individual fighters, position is now key in FFT. The player must bring the characters near opponents to attack them, move them around to gain position-based advantages, etc.

The job system is back, with some improvements. Characters still win Ability Points (now called JP), but after each successful action. They can use their JPs to learn skills from their current job, but in any order - unlike in FFV where abilities were learned in a set order. Originally, characters can only choose between two jobs, but others are unlocked as abilities are learned. For instance, learning two "squire" abilities allows a character to become a knight or an archer. There are now 5 ability slots. The first one is an action ability and depends of the job of the character, like in FFV. For instance, white mages can always cast white magic. The second one is another action ability which has been learned previously - still like in FFV. The 3rd one is a reaction ability, that will be triggered automatically under some circumstances, the 4th one, a support ability - a passive, permanent bonus, while the last one is a movement ability that enhances movement. All in all, FFT had the most complex and flexible job system to date, with approximately 400 abilities to unlock...

Finally, The game was supported by a complex and twisted story, not unlike FFVII.

The reception was fairly good, and although the game was not released in Europe, and although the development budget was a fraction of that of the main FF episodes, it easily became a million-seller. It was more of a critical success, the depth of the game being universally acclaimed.

Meanwhile, the development of FFVIII was well underway. From a production point of view, while FFVII would focus on the most spectacular aspects of gameplay, with never-seen before combat animations, full-motion videos, prerendered environments, with FFVIII Square would deliver the same level of finition to all components of the game. Exploration mode, for instance, would feature well-defined characters, and not the blocky, lo-poly simplifications seen in FFVII.

The expectations for this game were so great that its development budget, although rumored to be slightly greater than FFVII's, was entirely recouped in pre-orders on the very day its Japan launch date was announced.

In terms of gameplay, FFVIII focused on the summoned monsters, called Guardian Forces in this episode (GF). It is GF that grow in level and power and that can be junctioned with the human characters in order for them to do anything beside just attacking. The magic system also changes. Spells no longer cost a certain amount of magic points, instead, in order to cast spells, characters must draw magic from a living source like monsters. Contrary to all FF before then, there is no distinction between the world exploration mode and the city mode. The party is always evolving in detailed environments which never change in scale. In what will become a recurring feature from now on, the power of enemies and bosses is adjusted, depending on that of the party. So while it is still possible to level up and power up the party, it is no longer necessary. Weapons can now be upgraded, using rare items obtained from monsters. In addition to the main storyline, which now revolves around a love interest, the player has to play through a secondary story with a different cast of characters at regular intervals. Finally, FFVIII was the first game to introduce a complex mini-game, "Triple Triads", with enough substance to keep the player interested for many hours.

Final Fantasy IX, which was developed alongside FFVIII, may have been brilliantly executed from a technical point of view, but was probably the least innovative in terms of gameplay. If FFVII was epic, if FFVIII could be called romantic, FFIX tried to connect with the nintendo roots of the series by offering a cast of cute, super-deformed characters. With FFIX character development system, abilities could be learned through items. Equipping an item would grant the character the possibility to use its abilities. Meanwhile, successful battles would earn the character ability points. Amassing enough AP while having a certain item equipped allowed the character to learn the ability permanently. An identical system had already been used by Vandal Hearts II, released a year before, so this was a bit of a let down.


Final Fantasy IX, Playstation, 2000: A screenshot of the Chocobo Hot or Cold minigame.

Apart from that, FFIX forced characters to be of a set class which they couldn't change during the game. Each character had the physical attributes of that class, for instance, Vivi, the designated Black Mage, wore the typical black mage sombrero/dark robe costume.

Like FFVIII, FFIX featured some content-rich mini-games, like Tetra Master, a card game like Triple Triad, or the infamous Chocobo Hot and Cold.

During these Playstation years (1997-2000), the greatest innovation outside of Final Fantasy was the advent of mainstream massively multiplayer online role playing games, MMORPGs - Ultima Online, Everquest, Asheron's Call, which all garnered a following of several hundreds of thousands of PC players.

MMORPGs introduced a radically different model of gameplay than traditionnal PC RPGs. Because all players were using the game simultaneously, these games had to be entirely real-time - the game wouldn't wait for an individual player. By the same token, there couldn't be different game modes, so the transition between exploration and combat was seamless, commands were identical. In a sense, exploration was just combat without opponents. MMORPGs also introduced a very different relationship with time and progression. Because one game had to keep players entertained for years, progression had to be very, very slow. Players still needed to feel that their characters would progress, but the progression curve needed to be extremely long and flat. But even with games that long, there always had to be something to do, so the contents of these games had to be extremely detailed, with thousands of items to collect or monsters to meet. After such a long exposure to the game, seasoned players would start to see beyond the mechanics of the game and the abstraction would naturally start to fade. They would no longer see monsters but "mobs" (mobile objects), instead of talking about official character classes, they would use their actual function in the game: heavily-armored fighters would be called "tanks", powerful wizards, "dealers" (for damage dealers)... And obviously, social relations were very important in such games. There were aggressive players who liked to fight others, and gregarious ones who would associate to form guilds.

While MMORPGs had to implement deep character customization systems like Final Fantasy games, they still relied heavily on notions like fixed classes, experience points and levels, and money. So these gaming genres had little influence on one another.

2001-2007: Final Fantasy on Playstation 2

Each Final Fantasy debut on a new platform had to impress, and Final Fantasy X was no exception. Now, the whole world was rendered in real-time 3D. Of course, to keep the same visual impact as with pre-rendered environments, the finesse of the modelization was leagues beyond the level of other early playstation productions. In fact, the new 3d environments easily surpassed their pre-rendered predecessors, as many effects and animations could be applied to them. In FFX, full-motion videos, that is pre-rendered videos, which had previously been one of the key selling point of the series, were almost abandoned to the profit of animations using the real-time engine. Facial animations of the real-time models received a lot of attention. For the first time, cut-scenes would also be dubbed. In terms of graphical research, this episode was easily the richest to date. The apparence and costumes of each of the dozens of characters was extremely detailed. The architecture of the cities, and especially the design of the temples, received a similar treatment.

As for every new Final Fantasy episode, FFX reinvented character progression, introducing another abstraction: the sphere grid. The sphere grid is a very large maze-like structure of connected nodes. Each character is represented on the grid as a sphere. When a character levels up, they can move their sphere from one node to another connected node. Each time a sphere passes on one new node, various bonuses are awarded to the character, ranging from increase in their characteristics (strength, intelligence etc.) to new abilities. Because the spheres of each character in the party started on a very different location on the grid, there were some abilities that would naturally be acquired by one rather than the other. Towards the end of the game, however, it was very possible that all characters had moved their sphere across each and every spot on the grid. And yet, it was still possible to progress! special items could be used to modify the grid, replacing lesser nodes with more powerful ones. While it was possible to finish the game in some 40 hours, some optional battles still offered challenge for players who had completely maxed out their party, which required at least 200 hours of gameplay, with a slow progression curve not unlike MMORPGs.


Final Fantasy X, 2001, Playstation 2: A combat scene

Like FFVIII and IX, FFX had a complex mini-game: Blitzball, which wasn't a card game this time but an intricate strategy/sport game. It tied in with the main game as it was necessary to recruit players, who were characters in the real world, and it yielded rewards which were, most often, not available elsewhere. Also, like in FFVIII, it was possible to upgrade weapons using found objects, only the forge system was much more complicated. Finally, the combat system has been modified. The ATB, in place since FFIV, has been replace by the conditional time battle system, CTB. The CTB is a turn-based system that determines when a character or an opponent can act next. Some actions are quick, but some are long, and some characters are fast, others are slow. So, a fast character executing quick actions could act several times before a slow one executing long actions.


Final Fantasy X, 2001, Playstation 2: The sphere grid.

FFX story is a return to the principles that made FFVII a success: an epic tale, deep and complex. The theme of the identity of the hero - who is he? where does he belong to? can he even exist? is, like in VII, central to the story.

FFX was also the first FF episode to have a sequel: FFX-2, set in the same universe. While both games share the same world, the same mythology and the same storyline, they are very different.

FFX-2 uses a unique storytelling device, splitting the history in 5 chapters. During each of the chapter, the player can travel anywhere in the world using an airship. That's only logical, since the world of Spira hasn't changed much since the end of the previous episode, so the discovery of new locations cannot excite players too much. Specific events and actions close each chapter. When the player start the next chapter, what they found in each location would have changed depending on what they did in the previous chapters - each action can have lasting consequences. To do some quests right, the player would have had to act accordingly in each chapter. There are possible choices that the player must make that would make the story evolve in one direction. Each time the player completes a quest, the percentage of completeness of the game increases, ever so slightly. It is very easy to miss an action at any stage of the game, which makes the goal of 100% completion impossible. However, after the game is complete, it is possible to do it again, keeping the previous game percentage, and to improve it by completing the quests that had been left behind the last time.

It also introduced a brand new character development and combat system. Contrary to previous episodes where only a subset of the party was fighting at one time, FFX-2 features only 3 playable characters which are active during the whole game. So it is not possible to switch characters during the game, but it is possible to switch classes even during combat. The game also use an ability point system to unlock new abilities, but ability points are no longer awarded after a successful fight, but after each successful action, so it becomes possible to learn new abilities during combat and start using them right away! It is even possible to select which ability each character will be learning at any time.

The Ivalice era: 2003 - 2007

While X-2 was the first episode to be a direct sequel, with a continuing storyline, Square had several games take place in the world of Ivalice. The term Ivalice was originally coined for Final Fantasy Tactics, but it was still a generic final fantasy world without any distinguishing characteristics. These were introduced by the 2003 GBA game Final Fantasy Tactics Advance (FFTA), and retained for Final Fantasy XII (PS2, 2006) and Final Fantasy XII - Revenant Wings (DS, 2007).

Ivalice is home to several races: humans, long-eared vieras, mystic nu mous, reptilian bangaas and cute moogles. It is dominated by an empire whose laws are executed by armored Judges. Apart from that, there is little in common between different iterations of Ivalice. In FFTA, Ivalice is a dreamworld that is created when the main characters read a magical book, whereas it is very real indeed in FFXII and in FFXII-RW.

FFTA introduces a number of interesting innovations. In terms of character development, FFTA retains the job system of FFT with a twist: the abilities of a class cannot be learned in any order, but require a specific item to be equipped - not unlike in FFIX. Equipping a specific weapon allows a character to learn new actions, armors would teach reaction abilities, and so on. Because there are rare items, there will be rare abilities as well. The world of FFTA has no fixed form: each time the party is allowed to travel to a new location, the player is invited to decide where to position this location on a map. Depending to the relative locations of towns, forests, mountains and other terrain, some specific treasure may appear. In addition to the main quest, there are many missions that the party can undertake - literally hundreds. Most would only appear under certain circumstances, so clearing every mission is a very time-consuming process.


Final Fantasy XII, 2006, Playstation 2: A scene from the grandiose opening

FFXII took the world of Ivalice to the big screen, with a radical change of perspective. In FFXII, like in MMORPGs, there is no distinction between exploration and combat - although the game does behave slightly differently in cities. Characters that move near monsters engage in combat, and if the party manages to move away from monsters, all fighting cease. All of this happens in complete real-time - the only difference with a genuine MMORPG is that the players are afforded the luxury to pause the game! Still, managing a party of 3 characters in real-time can be too much to handle, especially considering the number of abilities available. This is why FFXII introduced the gambit system. Recognizing that Final Fantasy players would spend more time configuring their party than actually playing the game, the gambit system allow them to go a step further and program the behavior of the characters. A gambit is composed of several instructions, each bearing a condition. So, at any time, the character follows these instructions in sequence. The player can still override the gambit and manually control one character. During the adventure, the player will discover or purchase new gambit conditions or options.

The character development system can be seen as a simplification as that in FFX. It features a grid, made of adjacent squares. At the beginning, each character has a certain number of cleared squares. They can then clear adjacent squares on the grid, provided they accumulate enough License Points. Each square grants the player a license to do something new - the right to equip a weapon or armor, to learn a specific magic, or an immediate bonus. The more powerful the license, the more points it will cost. License points are collected for each kill. Then, once a character is allowed to equip something or to learn a new spell, they still have to find said equipment or spell...


Final Fantasy XII, 2006, Playstation 2: The gambit system

Like FFTA, FFXII features many optional missions and subquests, which end up to be pretty much non optional to keep the party powerful enough to continue the main adventure. In addition to the License Point mechanisms, the game also featured another game progression system involving items. Some items, including the most powerful equipment, would be available for purchase after selling certain combination of items. This system requires the player to spend considerable time searching for rare items in order to get the best gear... A final RPG convention that FFXII bashed pertained to chests. In pretty much every RPG in the 20 years prior to FFXII release, there have been chests in set locations with set contents (treasure). But in FFXII, treasure chests may or may not appear, and their content is also determined randomly. Moreover, once open, some may reappear under certain conditions!

FFXII-RW is currently the latest installment of the franchise. Set immediately after the events of FFXII, it is hardly an RPG in the proper sense of the term, but rather some sort of realtime strategy game with a final fantasy branding.

Producing Final Fantasy

Final Fantasy took gaming industry to a new level with core game production metrics - size of development teams, development and promotion budget, and obviously sales - of a completely different order of magnitude.

Since Final Fantasy VII, all main installment of the franchise (that is VII, VIII, IX, X, X-2 and XII) sold more than 5 million copies. VII came close to 10 million, X and VIII did almost 8 million, and the other 3 are at around 5 million.

Portable episodes were quite successful as well, despite a much smaller development effort: the DS remake of FFIII sold over 2 million copies, a figure that the FFIV-DS could very well reach. FFTA sold approximately 2 million units, and FFXII-RW which has just been released in the USA, close to a million.

Final Fantasy VII wasn't the first title to sell millions of copies - the 1985 Super Mario Bros sold 4 times as much. But this was the first time that a seemingly reproducible formula for success was exhibited.

Prior to 1997, all multi-million sellers were either adaptations of existing franchises, for instance, arcade hits (Pac Man or Space Invaders on the Atari 2600), one-off successes (Pitfall on the Atari), official games of very powerful intellectual properties like ET on the Atari or TNMT on the NES, first-party games benefiting from the firepower of the console manufacturer (Super Mario Series) - when they didn't came bundled with the machines themselves (original Super Mario Bros, Tetris on Gameboy). Now and again, a genre-defining game appeared that became massively successful. That has been the fate of the first Zelda, or that of Street Fighter on the Super Nintendo. Finally, some were just decent games which were released at the end of a console cycle when the installed base was over 50 millions.

But FFVII was different. It was not an arcade hit. It certainly wasn't a one-off success. It wasn't based on a non-game license. It wasn't a first-party game - although it received a fairly decent push by Sony. It wasn't bundled with all the playstations. It certainly didn't invent a new genre, and it arrived early in the PSX lifecycle.

How did it do it? well, its development answered a question. What could happen if unlimited amounts of money were thrown at a game development (in that case an unprecedented $45 million?) what if it were complimented by a massive, $100m advertising campaign? would that be more efficient than, say, spreading those cool $145m on 15 games?

The answer brought by the sales was a resounding yes. Once the development and promotion budget are paid for, any other copy sold is profit. In other words, no effort should be spared to make a million-seller. Why, in this time and age, very high-profile games would most likely net 5 millions in sales. With the time-to-market constraints, which make development times of more than 2 years unlikely, this means that it is practically impossible to pay more than $30 million in development alone - that's 250 man/years of development for you - which can produce $250 million in sales or more. And in the process, building such a strong game will establish a name for the developer and publisher, create or fortify a franchise and intellectual property, and yield research and development advances for future productions. [3]

Of course, all of this is not that simple. Creating a great game, which is based upon a clear and strong concept, is no small feat. Harnessing a 100+ development team requires very specific skills, and most great game authors make terrible managers (the opposite being, sadly, even truer). And these numbers doesn't take into account contingencies the general overhead costs of operating a large game company...

So, what is the formula?

a robust concept. it doesn't have to be ground-breaking, but it must be solid, and enable a compelling gameplay.

unlimited development budget. How must it be spent? not to inflate the duration of gameplay, as it was generally believed up to 1995. Not to produce the most technically-advanced tour de force (indeed, square could have given FFVII the technical polish of FFVIII with more development time... would it have even impacted the sales figure?). No. Content, content, content. The most skilled persons must be hired to produce sterling content, even if they hail from outside the gaming sphere. This means, the best composers. The best writers. The best artists.

On artwork, every effort to reach perfection will be rewarded. All characters must be designed in the greatest amount of detail. Once defined by the story, use the greatest characters illustrators to bring them life. Not enough? Hire costume designers. Weapon specialists. Pass after pass, take your characters to perfect design. Environments must be stunning. They will be if enough time, research and attention is devoted to their modeling. Again, if this is not enough... Bring in architects. Archeologists. Sculptors. Do not seek to streamline your production chain by reusing elements. Develop each new scene from scractch. Maintain strong artistic direction and enforce the game visual consistency at all costs.

Animation will make or break the versimilitude of the game. In 3d environments, there are little limits to what an excellent animator can achieve - the end result will all depend on the amount of work that has been done.

Technically, even if using never-seen before techniques rarely sell... the role of the developers is to ensure allow perfect content to blend in the game. To make decisions and choose what to optimize to get the perfect experience. To get a bug-free game...

But eventually, it all goes back to content. Jam as much content as possible. More gameplay content, more choice in gameplay strategies, and more fiction. Especially more fiction. Games must be the gateway to a large imaginary worlds, that go way beyond the game proper.

At any rate, this heralds a new era, the economy of the blockbuster. Game publishers no longer strive to innovate with each new game in order to merely break even, then fund their next game. Rather, they reach the critical mass which allow them to fund very high-profile games with which it is possible to make tens, no, hundreds of millions - and probably billions in the not too distant future.

For the time being, with only a handful of super-productions per year, all are able to coexist and to be successful - to the expense of lesser games that attempt to compete directly with them. In parallel, other markets subsist for much less ambitious projects - casual gaming, or secondary distribution channels for major consoles (that is Xbox Live Arcade, Wii Virtual Console and Playstation Store). The natural consequence is that the number of super-productions is bound to increase, because they are the only ones which can yield super- profits. What will happen then...

[1] There were 3 games that came close: Dragonstomper on the supercharged Atari 2600, and two AD&D licensed games on the Intellivision. But these three games, while very novel for the time, had much simpler mechanics than a role-playing game, they could rather be compared to online board games

[2] Final Fantasy VII was originally supposed to be released for the Nintendo 64, which was then supposed to read CD-Roms. When Nintendo made it clear they wanted to keep on using cartridges, a dispute ensued and Square ended up releasing subsequent mainstream FF games on Sony hardware.

[3] Indeed, since FFVII, Final Fantasy development budgets have decreased to slightly over 30 millions, which can definitely be attributed to their increasing expertise in RPG production.

Killer7

jerome cukier — 2008-01-07T12:10:44Z

In November 2002, Capcom unveiled the first images of the what would later be known as the Capcom 5, five gamecube-exclusive titles with which they would explore new dimensions in game production. While one title was the next installment of a high-profile series, Resident Evil 4, the other 4 were completely new franchises. Among them, the most intriguing was probably Killer7, with its unique aesthetics and convoluted scenario. It was also the last to be released. It was met with very polarized reviews - some hailed it as the game of the century, while many dismissed it as a fiasco. What everyone agreed on, though, is that with its audacious graphical style and extreme degree of violence, it was unlikely to attract a mainstream audience. That prophecy was probably fulfilled beyond Capcom's expectations as the game only sold a few thousands copies worldwide.

Killer7 boasts two very interesting characteristics:
its unique approach to violence, and
its innovating style and gameplay.

Killer7 and violence

The good thing about a game called Killer7 is that no one could honestly expect it to be about collecting flowers or little animals. But then, the game raises the ante. So to make a long story short, Killer7 is the most violent game ever released, bar none, and considering the trends in editorial freedom that development studios now enjoy, it's unlikely that any game will ever come close.

Of course, Killer7 features blood


Killer7, Gamecube, 2005: The game features blood, and no small amount thereof.

(and no small amount thereof) and people shooting at each other (again, in ample quantities). But that is almost a detail compared to the substance of the game. The game explores the darkest possible themes, including and not limited to teen suicide, child murder, bullying, sadomasochism, torture or mass murder. And it does this in a very, I'm almost sorry to say, appropriate way: the most horrible stories are usually told by the game characters,


Killer7, Gamecube, 2005: Suzie, the kaomoji-speaking severed head

notably Susie, the severed head whose ghost reveals the unbearable events that happened to her before her demise, or Kess, the ghost of a neglected child turned serial killer. The result is extremely disturbing, as was intended, yet the game doesn't try to show all of this blood and gore, but rather entices the player to imagine the horror beyond the words.


Killer7, Gamecube, 2005: Kess Bloodysunday, another very disturbing underage ghost

In Killer7, violence is not something gratuitous that the publisher decides to lace the game with to increase its appeal. Quite the contrary, it is rather at the heart of the game concept and narration. Interestingly, the player is put rather at the receiving end than at the dealing end. Sure, they get to shoot monsters and turn them into droplets of blood. And they are made well-aware of the background of the characters, who are all professional killers. But most of the violent content is rather delivered through the player through the narration, as the story unfolds or, more dramatically, during cutscenes. As a result, it's fair to say that Killer7 doesn't glamorize violence, or use it as something cool. Many players, though, will find this mental violence much more difficult to withstand than the realistic blood effects that contemporary shooters have got them used to.

As a side note, upon release a famous American lobbyist tried, without success, to get Killer7 an Adult Only rating - a rating that few games would deserve more than Killer7 would, and that ironically would probably have contributed to increase its sales.

Killer style

From the earliest available screenshot, it was clear that Killer7 was something different, something unique. The game is obviously cel-shaded, but beyond that, background elements are uniquely treated - often silhouettes, sometimes in just two colours or using a very basic, visible gradient. Only elements which have a role in gameplay are displayed, others are purely ignored. All of this contributes to give the game a very unrealistic, no, unreal look and feel, as if the game was some kind of abstract nightmare. In a way, this abstract approach makes the incredible dose of violence which the player is forced to ingest more acceptable.


Killer7, Gamecube, 2005: Kaede, one of the 7 killers

It also blends well with the obfuscated scenario, which revolves around the insanity of one of the main characters. From the beginning, we know that all the Killers are controlled by one mind, that they are both distinct and unique - just like the 7 split personalities of a schizophrenic. Speaking of characters, suffice to say that character design is absolutely splendid. Not only are the characters graphically remarkable, each infused with a strong personality that is well translated by the game style, but they all have a compelling background story that contributes to make the world of Killer7 a consistent but insane universe. And that doesn't just apply to playable characters, but to every one in the game.


Killer7, Gamecube, 2005: Cutscenes vary greatly in style.

A powerful tool used by the developers to immerse the player in the game, as well to flesh out their characters, is cutscenes. Some are rendered with the game engine, and some are pre-rendered FMVs just like in the days of the Playstation 1. These were outsourced to various studios, hence a healthy variety of styles which take the game even further away from the graphical conventions in effect in current videogames, as if it were necessary. I've stated earlier how much impact a well-directed cutscene can have on a game universe, and Killer7 is one of the best examples one could find. There are truly memorable moments, such as when the Killer7 reach the "First Life" company headquarters, the brief but unforgettable appearance of the assassin Linda Vermillion, or the Russian roulette game between Garcian Smith and his former school principal, Benjamin Keane.

Cutscenes are used very intensely in the game, both to highlight dramatic moments such as those mentioned above, or simply as a narrative device. Dialogues, for instance, always trigger a cutscene. Most characters - especially dead ones - have a distorted, undecipherable voice, so all cutscenes are subtitled.

Killer gameplay

Killer7's uniqueness is also present in the gameplay mechanics. In traditional action/adventure game in the Resident Evil vein, the player has a fine control on the moves of their character, while shooting is done somehow automatically (which auto-aim mechanics or similar). This defies logic as moving is not so important in such games, where the character only needs to go from point A to point B, while shooting is (or should be) a matter of life or death. This is why, in such 3rd person action/adventure games, battles are rather won by successfully dodging enemy attacks, than by managing to hit the opponent in the most efficient way. Killer7 reverse that logic. Movement becomes automated - the characters move on "rails" and can only change directions at fixed intersections, but shooting is where the player has the most control. The player moves a cross-hair which, depending on the weapon, has more or less inertia, and they must position the cross-hair carefully upon the opponent they are targetting, which all have weak points. The player can upgrade all the characters, to improve their accuracy or the rate of fire, and can experience the difference it makes in the controls. Likewise, adventure games usually involves collecting items. In recent Capcom action/adventure series (Resident Evil, Dino Island, Onimusha...), the developer actually had to make those items as obvious as possible (they were usually much bigger than in real life, or shined, or both). Killer7 goes even further, since the player cannot explore a room outside of their rail, when they are near an item they are simply asked if they want to take it.

Who killed Killer7 ?

Killer7 exhibits many qualities of a potential blockbuster: a very strong identity, top production values, a very deep universe, a non-compromise stance on what makes the core of the game. Yet, it sales were less than mediocre. Why?

Wasn't the game not mainstream enough? In its definite format, it's clearly geared towards an elitist class of gaming aesthetes. The game story is dense and confusing. Not unlike "Silent Hill", it seems that the events depicted in the game are not sufficient for the player to get a full picture of the story. This is why a series of books written by game author Suda51 has been published in Japan to better explain the Killer7 world.

This explanation, however, is a bit limiting, as there are plenty of obscure games who achieved critical, then commercial success. So? What has prevented Killer7 from this good fortune would be, rather, its relative lack of interactivity. Granted, playing Killer7 is more demanding than watching a horror flick on DVD. But eventually, the action is diluted and slowed by the cutscenes. These cutscenes may very well be the best to ever grace the Gamecube or any other gaming system, but they still make Killer7 too much of a contemplative experience.

Eventually, what killed Killer7 was the lack of marketing support from Capcom, which is understandable in front of the finished product. The marketing trust that would have been necessary to put that game on the map would have been humongous, and could very well have done more harm than good to Capcom in terms of corporate image. I suppose we can consider ourselves lucky that the game was released at all.

What next? If anything, Killer7 contributed to establish the reputation of Suda51. His company, Grasshoper Manufactures, was involved in the NDS RPG "contact", and, more recently, released "No More Heroes" for the Wii - another very personal game, which, thanks to Suda's personality, received much media coverage. Yet Suda is partnering with superstar producer Hideo Kojima on a secret game only known as "Project S" - what can we expect?

I originally wrote this article over a year ago (in mid 2006). due to a streak of bad luck, I lost it a few times and had to rewrite it over, and over again...

Ingenuity and failure in videogames

jerome cukier — 2007-05-23T16:18:11Z

Videogames are abstract environments. The players who control virtual characters cannot lend them their own physical strength, good looks or other bodily attributes. What they do provide them with, however, is their intelligence: the players make their characters do the right thing at the right time, understand the world the characters live in and devise a strategy to overcome obstacles in the path of their hero. Or do they? yes, they must guide characters from the start of a level to its end, but what happens between levels - why the characters must perform this or that task - is largely decided during cutscenes over which players have no control. In other words, players have little impact on the global strategy followed by their hero. Players don't get a chance to have the clever idea that will save the day. All they are asked is to keep their characters safe from gunfire or other hazards until the level objectives (decided by someone else) are fulfilled. Players don't solve mysteries. They collect visible clues until a cutscene make them all fit together and provide the explanation.

In that context, does such games really challenge the intelligence of players? Do they require them to stop moving and start thinking? To solve problems instead of just following leads? Because if they don't, they can't reward that intelligence either... which is precisely what a game should do.


Mortville manor, 1987, PC: Any self-respecting cellar should have a secret passageway...

To answer this question let's go back in time to the late 80s. Back then, Mortville manor (Le manoir de mortevielle) was quite a smash hit, especially here in France. Reviewers were most impressed by the finesse of the graphs and by the speech synthesis capacities of the title: developers used the 8-bit hardware of the time to the maximum and each character actually spoke. By today standards, all of this is quite anecdotal. However, in a time when games are accused of being too linear, the out-of-the-box thinking needed to solve the game is definitely worth mentioning.

Beating Mortville is not easy. A typical '80s game, it was designed by a "riddlemaster"-type author who expected the player to do precisely this and that, or lose. Like in today's "escape the room" titles, there are a couple of pixel-clicks or observation puzzles. Random also plays a role. That being said, sometime after the game was released, a few magazines published step-by-step walkthroughs on how to beat the game (those were the days before the web!). That enabled many people to complete it, and quite a few of them wrote back to magazines complaining that the ending had nothing to do with the game. And that's precisely the beauty of Mortville. You can complete the game without understanding what is going on. Or you can try to find out the story behind it all, detective-style. Your approach has absolutely no consequence on the outcome. You could recreate the story for yourself, imagine what happened but that won't use the game mechanics. You wouldn't get extra credit or a different ending. You just "get it".


Mortville manor, 1987, PC: The dining room of the manor.

At the beginning of the game, the hero, a private investigator, receives a letter, an invitation from an old friend, Julia, to the Mortville manor. During the intro, he says that he fondly remembers playing in the manor as a kid, although it was in a fairly bad shape. When he actually reaches the manor, he finds out that his friend has passed away. But all the rooms of the manor seem in mint condition. That is supposed to be a hint for the player. That should help them understand what really happened, but it won't directly get them any closer to beating the game.

The hero is stuck in the manor because of a snow storm, so he has no choice but investigate, ask questions and that kind of things. He soon finds out about Julia's friend, Murielle, who disappeared about one year ago. He also learns that Julia's husband, Leo, has won a lot of money at the races, which he used to restore the manor. He will also learn tons of stories about Julia's relatives which will turn out to be not relevant for the story.

In fact, what really happened one year ago is that Leo and Murielle, who were both archeology buffs, discovered a secret passage underneath the castle. They explored it and found a chest full of gold, but also triggered a trap which killed Murielle. Leo could have called for help and possibly saved Murielle, but that would have meant telling everyone about the gold. So instead, he took the treasure and let Murielle die. Julia, somehow, found out, but she was very sick herself and knew she would die soon. That's why she organized everything to set Leo up. She thought the hero would be able to expose him.

Back to our question. In adventure games, in investigation games, what is the merit of the player who just follows a scripted scenario? In those games who are supposed to celebrate the intellect, the ingenuity of the player, how can they outsmart the game if the best they can do is to replicate a walkthrough step by step?

Heroes take risks, they dare to try different things which may or may not work. But in modern games, there is only one way to overcome one problem. Finding a creative approach to a problem is not possible, as the solution imagined by the game designer is the only one that works. If the player doesn't manage to do what they must do, they can always restart the level or reload a saved game.

This problem arises partly because modern games are supposed to send back to the players a glorified image of themselves, the implicit contract being that by buying the game, a player also buys the right to win the game in a reasonable amount of time and the right to be congratulated by the game environment for the performance.

Modern games also have to offer a denser gameplay with more interactions that require skill, rather than the contemplative gameplay of Mortville where the player must sit and listen conversations, take notes, and find out outside of the game environment what is going on. In Resident Evil, the player no longer searches an entire room for a key which fits in a a 5x5 pixels block like in the old days. Doors are opened by passkeys which come in vivid colors like red and blue, are about one square foot in size, are put in the most exposed part of a room and which also often glow in case some players miss them. But the challenge is to get this key without being hit to hard by the two zombies that stand in between, possibly by killing them but using as few bullets as possible. So an adventure game is no longer about solving a mystery but rather about a journey to complete, where the player is slowed by physical obstacles that they must overcome.

Part of this evolution can be explained by the generalization of the internet. In the case of Mortville, walkthroughs were published a good 6 months after the game proper. Today, even the most complex RPGs are extensively covered in gamefaqs a couple of weeks after their Japanese release. Needless to say, the availability of a complete explanation of the game would have greatly reduced the interest of the game.


Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, 2004, DS: There is only one way to understand what happened in this office, and to get your client discharged

But the real reason is that modern games do not handle failure well. Typically (this was true in Sierra adventure games, and still is in Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, for instance), the player is stuck until they perform the action that will allow them to continue the adventure. Until they understand what they have to do, they can be stuck indefinitely.


In the First Degree, 1995, PC: Slightly more realistic than Capcom's Phoenix Wright.

This isn't true in Mortville, or in other adventure games such as In the First Degree (1995). In this game, the hero was a DA who was investigating on a murder case, and had to prove that a suspect was indeed guilty of manslaughter in the first degree. But depending on how the player would interview suspects, and on the evidence they could find or not, the outcome of the trial could be quite different - the homicide could be considered self-defense, involuntary, non-premeditated, or, if the player played all of his cards right, murder in the first degree (hence the name!). What was interesting in this title is that it was possible to go through the game without taking only the best decisions, noticing all the options, and so on. Interestingly, this is also the case with games of a different vein such as Sim City, Civilization or other 4X games. In Sim City, the city you build may not be perfect (does such a city exist?) but that doesn't prevent you from continuing developing it. In Civilization, you could do a major strategic error which will inevitably lead your people to disaster. That doesn't prevent you from continuing your game, but it definitely gives more value to a victory in the hardest difficulty setting. In Mortville, In the First Degree, Sim City or Civilization, the player is allowed to fail, this is taken into account by the game mechanics. And this is precisely what makes winning worthwhile.

These mechanisms of creative failures and of rewarding a more clever behaviour should not be limited to ancient adventure games or niche strategy games. Indeed, there should be a creative way to use them in mainstream titles.

Wasted opportunities and disappointing games

jerome cukier — 2007-05-22T16:54:10Z

Devil May Cry 2, 2003, PS2	Enter the Matrix, 2003, PS2	Tomb Raider: Angel of Darkness, 2003, PS2
Daikatana, 2000, PC	Bad Day LA, 2006, PC

It's easy to rave forever about Resident Evil 4 or demonstrate how sophisticated Grand Theft Auto games really are. Few will dispute that Ico is a masterpiece, or that New Super Mario Bros. is the ultimate DS platformer experience. All these games had it all right: they were based on an interesting concept, well-funded, well-developed, well-promoted and did well. So how about we pay attention to games that didn't do that well? Games that were hugely anticipated, but which failed to deliver and which are seen, rightly or not, as some of the worst game disasters? Interestingly, these games have much in common. To the question, could this game have been better, the answer is a resounding yes. They were all based on a strong brand. The revolutionary game features which were put forward turned out to be nothing new, nothing much, or both. There were interface and camera glitches, and other similar things that tended to kill the player arbitrarily. Most of these games had an issue with their environments, or, more generally, content. Often, there was also a writing problem. But the most disheartening is that all of these games had many strong points and, although they did not as well as expected, it would be (it is)unfair to only remember them as disasters.

A strong brand


Daikatana's infamous ad: This controversial ad gives a glimpse of the rockstar treatment given to John Romero, who spent most of his time on PR duties instead of supervising the game.

When I was working as a producer in small development houses, I just couldn't stand reading interviews of project managers of big licensed games who complained about the constraints that came with that franchise. In this attention-based business, notoriety is everything. To be on the map, whatever it takes, is not just an option, but a matter of survival. Having a strong brand to back up a new game concept is a great asset. In our cases, what have we got? the most successful movie franchise of the game generation; the most prominent female game heroin of all times; the cooperation of acclaimed game designer American McGee and underground artists kozyndan; the follow-up to the most innovative and exciting action game on the PS2; and the much-delayed, very anticipated new project of George Romero, of Doom fame. Well, that brand can also be... quite a liability.


Bad Day LA, 2006, PC: Aesthetically, the game is pleasant and original.

In the case of Daikatana, the inner workings of the game project were over exposed. The number of announcements that were made, and not met, contributed to undermine the game credibility, and, coupled with ten times the pressure any normal game is under, the morale of the development team. Angel of Darkness was already the 6th episode of the Tomb Raider saga, which, until the previous one, delivered one new game each year. As sales were slowly eroding, this time around, developers took three whole years to polish what they announced to be the resurrection of the series. Needless to say that this was anticipated with much skepticism. Enter the Matrix relied on the momentum behind the two new episodes of the Matrix trilogy, which were highly anticipated movies in their own right, but which didn't have as much impact as the first movie. The Matrix fans expectations, and the influence of the Wachowski brothers on the development, translated into rigid constraints.

The announced revolution did not take place


Devil May Cry 2, 2003, PS2: Don't worry, Dante. All it takes to beat him is just mash a random button.

As if working with highly exposed brands wasn't difficult enough, all of these games put forward some features which they presented as revolutionary, but in the end which were nothing special. Yes, we're talking about the stylish attacks in DMC2 (who would bother when one can complete the game in a few hours using only the basic moves?), the RPG elements in Daikatana (so you can upgrade your speed and power. But you will hardly ever notice the difference!), the adventure elements in Angel of Darkness (which were mostly cosmetic - gameplay was fundamentally the same), the exclusive movie scenes shot for Enter the Matrix featuring the real cast (only scenes with secondary characters were shot specifically for the game), and the GTAesque freedom of action in Bad Day LA (which proved to be a very linear game). Now all of these games had some strong points (more about that later), but they were not the ones on which marketing communicated.


Tomb Raider: Angel of Darkness, 2003, PS2: From this screenshot, one would tend to think that stealth would be really important in TR6 gameplay.

Clearly, there is a problem somewhere between the developers and the PR people, and a serious one indeed: when the publisher fails to live to its promises, the player will react very strongly. So who's to blame? Marketing for having misunderstood the nature of the game, or development for having underestimated the expectations of the players? Probably the producers for not having established a clear vision of the game. The lesson is that once a feature is identified as a strong selling point, one that will be used to communicate about the game early on, it must receive as much development attention as possible. Marketing cannot (shouldn't) pick a feature on which they think they can elaborate, if it is not something on which the value of the game is based.

Loss of control: interface and camera issues


Daikatana, 2000, PC: Wielding the "daikatana" obstrudes most of the screen. Great!

In a real-time game, interface and camera are critical because they represent the control a player has over the game. If the player has less than total control, their sensation of freedom is greatly reduced. This is something that they will immediately notice, even when it's so slight they can't put words on it. Virtually every 3D game suffers from it to some extent, but there is a threshold that any game should not go beyond: when the player loses because of those glitches. When the difference in the command for standing jump and long jump is so fickle, and that mixing up the two often results in immediate death (Angel of Darkness), when things that can hurt the player are outside the camera angles (DMC2, Daikatana), or when things on which the player have no influence cause their death (like the idiotic sidekicks in Daikatana). Framerate drops, although not directly related to interface design, cause the same feeling of loss of control, and are especially resented from PC owners who are used to tune their games so that this never happens on their system. Unfortunately, Bad Day LA, Angel of Darkness and Enter the Matrix are notorious for that. Finally, some game design choices can lead to the same results: making the player lose arbitrarily, which always causes frustration. Talking with NPCs in Angel of Darkness - where choosing the wrong line from a list of seemingly identical, inocuous replies - can kill Lara outright, especially comes to mind.

Vast, empty spaces, and other environmental problems


Enter the Matrix, 2003, PC: What an excitingly empty game environment!

When the Daikatana started, Romero envisionned a massive game with hundreds of levels. Fortunately, this vision never materialized - the game is already big enough as it is! And when I'm trying to reminisce the gameplay of DMC2, I don't remember the few epic battles against bosses as neatly as running endlessly in seemingly empty levels. Angel of Darkness and Bad Day LA had a similar problem: while at first sight, the game world seemed huge, it quickly turns out to be very small, the freedom of exploration that we had hope for vanishes in these very linear games.

But... did they really fail?

All of these games did disappoint critics, all right. But did they disappoint customers? Enter the Matrix sold over 5 million copies, and DMC 2, 1.69 worldwide: interestingly, slightly more than the third edition, which obtained much more favorable reviews! Angel of Darkness did sell 500k units, which is certainly disappointing for a Tomb raider but definitely not bad. I don't have reliable figures for Daikatana, but it did sell well (between 500k and 1m copies). Romero and Eidos representatives claimed that it broke even, which basically depends on how do your accounting... if it did, that would be without taking into account the damage done the developer, Ion Storm, which had to strip its other projects of their resources to eventually ship the game. I don't have accurate figures for Bad Day L.A. either, but of all of these games this is the one which sold the least.

While it would be unfair to classify these games as disasters, it's honest to admit that they could have sold much, much more if they lived up to their potential. How?
by communicating on the game strong points, or rather, by making sure that players won't be disappointed by what the elements of the games which are put forward.
by providing satisfying game content. avoid empty environments, repetitive game situations; privilege diversity and density.
by making sure that the player never loses control. the player must never lose because of elements outside of their direct control. Cameras must be tested for maximum comfort. Funny game mechanics that could cause the player to die outright should be carefully reviewed (and probably removed!)

When considering the huge communications budgets around those titles, the cost of making them "right" is very, very affordable. Curiously Blizzard never releases a game unless it's perfectly polished. Strangely enough, it never managed to sell less than a few million copies of its PC games...

A classification of game puzzles

jerome cukier — 2007-03-13T13:32:53Z

Videogames are one of the most marvelous mediums when it comes to creating a fancy layer around the intellectual challenges posed by abstract puzzles. Game designers work very hard to create new, innovative representations and interfaces ("gameplay") around ageless logical recreations, puzzles. In the old gamethink tradition, let's take a few steps back to analyse what different kind of puzzles we are talking about and hopefully draw some interesting conclusions for budding puzzle/game designers.

From arbitrary guessing to intuition

Guess or die


Shadowgate, NES, 1987: If you touch the candle, you will die. You had no way to know that you shouldn't do that.

The lowest form of puzzle is one where the game asks the player a question with several choices, all of which but one being losing choices. The game doesn't help the player by providing hints or anything that would back up their decision. Popular up to the 80s, this kind of puzzle that questions the ability to decide rather than that to judge, and that tests frustration rather than attention, is unsurprisingly one of the first victims of natural selection of the evolution of game design. Often rejected, as perceived as unfair, it still appears now and again under various formats, often for optional sub-games, gambles and so on.

Explore the combinations

Another extremely basic form of puzzle, this one requires the player to find the right combination of simple gameplay actions in order to progress. In this context, the number of actions the player can undertake is strictly limited. Sometimes, the player must find the right order in which to perform a certain number of tasks, which can or cannot be repeated. In other terms, the player is confronted to a number of combinations, one of which works, and has to test them in sequence until they find the one that works. This puzzle tests the player's ability to list all possible actions and to be able to go through that list sequentially, without repeating a sequence which they know that it doesn't work. This very basic construction is found very frequently and in a variety of shapes and sizes. It is often the core mechanism in text or point&click adventure games, when the hero has, by nature, limited choices and must perform them in the right order to progress in the game. This can be done in a more or less natural way, for instance using an item or performing an action may grant the hero access to a new area where new actions are possible. Or (and this is typical of the notorious Runaway for example) talking to a character or performing an unrelated action might enable the hero to do something which they couldn't do before, although they wasn't any physical impossibility. The guideline in this case should be, when the game prevents you from doing something or conversely when it allows you to do something that was previously impossible, there should be a logical reason for that, but at the very least it is the game's responsibility to signal its change of policy.


Captive, amiga, 1990: In the classic RPG Captive, the player must open doors like this one by guessing the order in which to press the buttons on the corner. An example of combination puzzle.

This kind of puzzle can also be used in many other games. In the classic RPG, "Captive", some locked doors could be open by pressing 4 buttons in the right order (24 combinations) or by keying in the right combination of eight buttons (255 combinations).

Deduction

When a player has to explore combinations, that's because there is no reason to try one first. When there are sufficient hints, the game would reward the player who perform tasks according to the set of rules they know. That is deduction: a finite situation to solve and a well-established set of rules. This is the most common form of "elaborate" puzzle in games today.

In Vagrant Story, in a recurring sub-game, the hero, Ashley, had to push crates in a correct position. But various crates followed various rules: some could be broken, not others, some could only be moved a few times, etc, etc. When they saw a room with crates, and with their knowledge of the game rules (which were explicitly detailed in the online help) the player could deduce the solution to the problem.


A Link to the Past, GBA, 2003: A wall that looks like the one on the left can always be broken. Blocks that look like the one towards the top of the screen can always be pushed forward. Knowing these rules, the player can solve most puzzles.

In Zelda, many of the tasks that the player has to perform also fall in that category. In the classic "A link to the past", for instance, the legendary hookshot could be used to cross gaps. All the hero had to do was to shoot it at a stake. Conveniently, all stakes looked strictly identical throughout the game. Therefore, whenever the player saw a stake, they could deduce that they needed to use the hookshot. (Same observation for cracked walls and bombs, unlit torches and the lamp, blue bumpers and the magic cape, etc.)

Analogy and intuition

In this far more interesting puzzle category, the player is invited more or less explicitly to imagine a solution based on a situation, the resources at hand and what they know. However, what they know and the written, explicit rules of the game are two different things and that difference is precisely what makes those puzzles interesting.

To keep on with the Legend of Zelda examples, most inventory items have, beyond their obvious usage, a certain number of extra functions and it is up to the player to imagine them. It wasn't obvious for many of the "A link to the past" players, for instance, that the Bow - which everyone agreed was a great tool to kill enemies from afar or to activate the occasional remote switch - was also the item of choice when confronted to statues. Yes, statues. Why - Just shoot them in the eye! In "Ocarina of time", when the player is introduced to (yes!) flaming arrows, it's pretty obvious that they damage enemies and that they can set fire to flammable items such as torches. Then, the player is confronted with ice blocks, ice enemies, etc. It's not in the game manual, but as the player is supposed to know that "fire > ice", they're supposed to find out that a flaming arrow will melt an ice block. They're also supposed to figure out, later, that firing an ice arrow into water will create a little ice platform. In "The Twilight Princess", the ball and chain looks like an impressive weapon. The player is supposed to deduce immediately that swinging it towards any breakable item will break it. And then, later, that shooting the heavy ball towards a movable platform will put it in motion - just based on what they know on physics.

Often, these type of puzzles rely on observation, or the capacity of the player to see that a detail in the gameworld is different from "normal" - although normal is not explicitly defined. For instance, this wall feels different from the other walls - It could hide a secret door; those two statues look almost the same. If it were possible to make them exactly identical, something may happen...

One very common, almost canonical example of observation-based puzzles is boss battles. Most action-adventure games are divided in broad levels, each ending by a battle against a boss, which can only be defeated by finding its weak point. The player has to analyse its behaviour, find patterns, and form hypotheses as to how to beat the monster. When the player tries one specific strategy, there is no guarantee that it will be successful - the player is not deducing but inducing.

Management and configuration In the previous categories, the puzzles had one single solution: pass, you win, you continue; fail, you die, you lose, you're stuck. But most often, the way the game will pick you brain is not so binary. It will constantly ask the player to take informed decisions, where most of the choices are valid, where some will have adverse consequences and a few could end the game outright. For instance, let's imagine an action game such as an FPS or a survival-horror game. Suppose your character has plenty of ammo but little health. They spot a group of enemies in the distance. Won't you try to attack them from afar? If the reverse was true - low ammo but high health - won't you try to avoid them altogether and not waste ammo? In such games, you spend your time shooting zombies, or soldiers, or both, while trying not to get killed. But in fact, you are managing a situation according to a few variables, such as your status, that of the enemies, everyone's relative position, cover, etc. Depending on what those variables are like, you are invited to take this or that decision which will affect your long-term success. So even in these seemingly action games, you have to devise a strategy. If you go a step beyond, in some games, more attention is spent in the preparation phases (ex. optimizing inventory or skills for heroes, picking the units of an army) than in the actual action phase. That is more and more the case with modern RPGs where character progression is more and more complex. In all these games, the real challenge lies therefore in these preparation, or configuration stages, rather than in the real-time part of the game.

Integration in the game

As we stated earlier, videogames are a fine abstraction layer for puzzles. That being said, all games are not equal in that domain. In some, it shows that puzzles have been added to a game structure that would otherwise work fine without them. In others, the puzzles are so naturally integrated that the player doesn't feel that difference.

In the most extreme examples, the game interface completely changes to a screen dedicated to solving a specific puzzle. This is the trade mark of Resident Evil, and is frequently seen in games it inspired.

On the other hand, in Zelda, the items which are used as weapons or tools in the main game are the same which are used to solve puzzles. As mentioned above, the bow, which is a fine ranged weapon, is also used to trigger remote switches. In that case, there is no separation between "action mode" and "puzzle-solving mode". If this integration is well done, then it is possible to put much content in the game, including real intellectual challenges, while maintening the verisimilitude of the game, without showing that the puzzles have merely been added to a game that didn't really need them.

This integration of the puzzle-solving mode in the main game is natural in an real-time game like the Zeldas, but it is also featured in RPGs of a more classical vein such as in the Lufia or Golden Sun series. In both games, the player can choose an action to assign to an action button, which they can use while exploring the world. This action (for instance shooting arrows in Lufia, or growing plants in Golden Sun) can then be used to solve puzzles.


Half life 2, PC, 2004: In this situation, by putting heavy objects on one end of the plank, you can balance it and climb on it for freedom!

More and more frequently, game developers are turning to a physics engine to allow players to solve situations in creative ways, without separating the main (action) mode and puzzle-solving mode. The best example of such a game is probably Half-Life II, where you can take, drop, or throw about every object and exploit the reactions of the environment to your advantage.