Taking Risks: The Expansion Of An Artform

As the videogame industry marches eternally into the realm of increasingly sophisticated technology, creating videogames that push the envelope and take full advantage of the resources available to developers becomes ever more costly -- a fact of life that developers and publishers never hesitate to point out.

Claims that a game needs to sell at least X-hundred-thousand copies in order to simply break even are common, and complaints about unoriginal game content are often rebutted with evidence that consumers more often than not tend to play it safe and go with what they are familiar with when it comes time to cash out at the register. Whether the average game consumer is indeed the same man, woman, boy, or girl whose passion for the pursuit of gaming excellence drives them to complain about these seeing-eye sequels and copycat productions is up for debate, but in any case, the dissonance between critical and fiscal demand is quite evident. But that is for another discussion.

In 2008, we have seen a great many rehashes of old titles -- the numbers 2, 3, 4, and beyond adorned many retail packages this year -- but we have also seen games that represent great leaps of faith on the part of developers and publishers. I personally praised games like Penumbra: Black Plague, Patapon, Braid, Too Human, and Mirror's Edge for challenging traditional gaming archetypes and delivering truly innovative gameplay experiences, and sincerely hope that the positive response to these games far outweigh the negative, encouraging their creators to continue exploring ways to expand the definition of videogames. They may not please every gamer, but these games are essential to the industry's growth.

Ubisoft's Prince of Persia producer Ben Mattes seems to agree, and even cited Mirror's Edge as a big risk-taker in 2008. In a recent interview, he expressed his disappointment at the lack of recognition his studio received for the "high level risks" involved in the acrobatic platformer's development.

"In terms of us taking a shot and missing, I guess I would have to go a little higher level here and speak about risks in general.

For years we've all been reading complaints about sequels and companies churning out carbon copies of proven formulas without focusing on innovation or taking risks. Fans, developers and critics alike seemed ravenous for new ideas -- new IPs; major innovations -- advances in this art-tertainment (I'm trying to coin a new term here ;)) form we all love.

We tried to really embrace this challenge on PoP. We set out to keep a few core fundamentals but to re-imagine everything else, discarding some very well entrenched ideas not only about the brand but also about videogames in general (and we weren't alone. EA took some major risks this year with new IP and innovations - Mirror's Edge and Dead Space, for example).

What surprises me is how little these high level risks seem to be noticed and appreciated as attempts to shake up the industry and push things forward. Perhaps I'm an idealist, but I think perhaps I was expecting a few more virtual pats-on-the-back for our attempts to do something new.

Whether this means we didn't totally succeed in our risk taking or whether our industry in fact has a stronger appetite for the familiar then it wants to admit remains to be seen. Honestly I hope it is the former."

Yes, studios should be recognized for their efforts to elevate the medium to new plateaus, but what exactly constitutes a thorough attempt to achieve this sort of groundbreaking development? What determines whether a specific design decision is merely a change from the established formula, or if it is indeed a "major risk" in the creative process? How do we define the term "risk" as it relates to videogame development?

Blurring the lines between genres, infusing topics typically reserved for purely academic discourse and analysis, introducing previously unimagined and untested gameplay mechanics, presenting a product whose meaning is entirely subject to audience interpretation; these are risks -- design elements that take gamers out of their comfort zone and reach into unexplored territory.

Did Prince of Persia ever really push the envelope in such a way? Eliminating consequences for gamers' mistakes was a bold move, but it never felt like a monumental change; the game did not represent a paradigm shift, and it certainly didn't fundamentally alter the way people think of videogames. I do applaud Ubisoft for their efforts with Prince of Persia, but Elika was not revolutionary.

If anything, she took the "risk" right out of the game. :-p

Genre Fusion: Binary Lovechildren

It's not uncommon for gamers to hear the question, "what is your favorite genre?" Throughout my videogame-playing career, I have been hit with this very query on more occasions than I can count. Each time I feel slightly uncomfortable about giving a straight answer, and am compelled to not only say that I don't have a favorite genre, but also to explain why, and detail what I hope to see out of the videogame industry as it relates to the question of genre preferences.

It usually goes something like this:

I don't have a favorite genre. I prefer to take each game as an individual piece of work rather than lumping it into a category along with a myriad of other titles. Sure, I compare games to one another based on their similarities, but to prefer one type over another and to harbor preconceived notions about them seems counter-productive to enjoying as many games as possible. Being a videogame journalist, those sorts of prejudices can hurt my ability to objectively critique games, as well.

That all sounds like a very hippie-esque view of the videogame world, but in a very fundamental way, it is true. Games will be compared to a certain extent, but they must also stand on their own.

This is especially the case in the event of genre fusion - games that combine elements from two or more genres in a unique way. I happen to love when developers go this route and create something completely fresh (and hopefully enjoyable).

This has been happening more often as of late; it seems that the current list of genres just isn't enough to accommodate the creative vision of the people making games nowadays. They need to expand. Patapon, The Club, Professor Layton, and Penumbra: Black Plague are a few games that have fused genres very well in recent months.

Unfortunately, the progressive nature of titles such as these is difficult for some gamers (and reviewers) to grasp. I don't know how many comparisons of The Club to Gears of War I've read, but each time I feel just a little more disappointment creeping into my heart. The Club is basically a racing game...with guns...and points. It is not a traditional third-person shooter by any stretch of the imagination, yet many people desperately wish to compare it to those games.

Most of the time, however, the genre-fused product is so obviously on the cutting edge of inventiveness that it is recognized easily and judged accordingly. Patapon has been a hit with reviewers, as has Professor Layton. Butt does that make the 2D side-scrolling rhythm real-time strategy or the point-and-click adventure brain teaser the new hot genres? No...well, maybe...

I hope that there will come a time when genre distinctions, or more realistically, genre norms, are all but forgotten - when games aren't looked at as if they "should be" a certain way (more like game X or game Y), but just are what they are, appreciated solely for that which makes them unique.

...yeah, I guess that makes me an action-adventure-horror-shooter-rpg-strategy-racing-sports-sim kind of guy...

PON PON PATA PON! -- Patapon Review

Truly unique experiences are sought after like gold in the videogame industry today, but rarely does a work deliver on an off-the-beaten-path idea as successfully as Patapon for the PSP. In what can best be described as a linear real-time strategy/rhythm fusion game, Pyramid and JapanStudio have managed to provide great depth and engaging game elements in what is, at first glance, a very simple piece of software.

Upon loading Patapon, the player is immediately thrust into a starring role as the re-awakened god of the Patapon tribe, and is charged with leading them to "Earthend," in search of "IT." The fourth wall is obliterated. In order to complete the task, the Great Mighty Patapon (that's you), must beat various rhythms on four sacred drums (the four face buttons) to command the little black and white eyeball warriors to advance, retreat, attack, defend, etc.

The traveling Patapon army starts off small, but grows as missions are completed. This is not an automated procedure, however; Patapons can only be birthed by combining raw materials such as woods, ores, and metals, as well as providing a certain amount of ka-ching (the game's currency) per unit. There are six unit types in total, each with four different levels, based on the resources used to create them. Only three unit types can be sent into battle at a time, however, after being outfitted with a variety of weapons and armor picked up from fallen enemy warriors. It is up to the player to determine what configuration of troops will be optimal for each mission, as they all have different strengths and weaknesses. The extent of customization is surprising.

In terms of gameplay, though, Patapon can be a bit repetitive. This is a game about drumming, and drum you shall. In a move of pure genius (that was sarcasm), the developers decided to omit a pause function, so be prepared to shut out reality when it's Patapon time. In the midst of a mission, there is no such thing as a telephone, computer, doorbell, dog, mailman, etc. -- there are only drums... only Patapon. That's not to say that the game isn't captivating as a whole, but that there are some parts (mostly early on) that are less exciting than others.

The way gameplay works is that the player drums the particular four-beat rhythm that corresponds to the desired action, and then the Patapons perform that action over the next four beats, singing away merrily (a merry killing song, of course). After that, the player picks things up again with the next four-beat command. Patapon isn't your typical rhythm game in that it doesn't throw button sequences at the player and expect them to match them or parrot back in some glorified game of digital Simon says. The call and response style of traditional rhythm games like Parappa the Rapper and Space Channel 5 is in place, only here the player orchestrates and the game follows. The catalog (arsenal?) of commands available to the player can be strung together to accomplish goals as he or she sees fit. It's rhythm-strategy.

The goal in any of the game's missions is to move from left to right, defeating everything in your path. There is never any turning back, unless of course you quit - and "fail" - the mission. This particular aspect of the game seems representative of the unalterability of past deeds, and also helps to convey the determination of the Patapon tribe to achieve their ever-present goal of reaching Earthend and discovering the unknown IT. The player's steady drum beat drives the tribe into what the game calls "fever," where all of their actions become more pronounced, such as inflicting extra damage with every attack or easily retarding enemy advances. This is achieved by either by acceptably completing 10 four-beat commands in a row, or by pounding out four consecutive perfectly-timed drum beats. These are signified by full, echoed sounds as opposed to the more flat-sounding normal strikes. The music ramps up as the war band approaches fever, adding more complexity, new instrumentation, and of course awesome Patapon singing.

Finally, the game raises moral questions, like whether or not the Great Patapon is indeed working on the side of good, if the destruction brought about by the Patapon tribe is warranted, and if blind faith in an unquestionable god's word is really the right way. You might notice that the Patapon's eyes are always fixed on you or on something that you tell them to destroy. Do they ever notice anything else? No, they can't...because they don't look at anything else.

Good little warriors or bad, everybody should at least try out Patapon. It's a great game.