Deadly Sins of Graphic-Adventure Design
filfre.net
filfre.net
Most of the best Fighting Fantasy books in the 1980s did the same thing -- turning down the wrong corridor would result in an imaginative and gruesome death, knowing full-well that the reader has their fingers and thumbs in the three previous pages.
Essentially, you're solving a maze through the game state -- you are supposed to hit several dead-ends before you find the right path.
I did also find it rather daft that the author of the article devotes a paragraph to complaining about being insulted -- when that's clearly the humour of it (that the designer is pouring out mock insults on you for him making that screen overtly pernicious).
There was a hacking adventure game I remember from the 1980s, where if I recall they didn't put the code you needed for one of the puzzles anywhere in the game -- because you solve that one by dumping the game code and finding it (so you get to feel like you've hacked the hacking game). Part of the point of 1980s adventures was imaginatively breaking the conventions of how games are "supposed" to work, and being "unfair" so you have to find a tricky way to make it easy.
I remember such a Fantasy book and dying by taking the wrong way. The interesting part is that I still remember it, the concept of a playable book was totally fascinating for me at that time. But that it was unfair – there was no way of knowing which way of the cave, up or down, would kill you – I did not like even back then.
Have a look at the table of contents to see just how comprehensive Jimmy Mahers ongoing work is: http://www.filfre.net/about-me/sitemap/
I think the reality of Sierra and games of the era was they were enjoyable because they looked beautiful and told a cool story in a new medium.
You needed pixel perfect challenges else the game was over and you had nothing else to play. Plus you made friends discussing them and the stupid bits. Different times.
But I think people really underestimate how hard it is to create challenges that are just logical, this is very very hard. But I think people in their heads think it's easy even though they have never done it.
What one person thinks of immediately, another player could spend an hour trying to solve. The makers of this game did extensive testing and some brilliant level design to allow for this variation.
These messages not including a "go back to last non-fatal point" button: objectively horrible.
Imagine a game where you have to work with an NPC - an NPC that you have no doubt will betray you, but you have no choice to advance in the game except to cooperate.
Surprise! The NPC betrays you. You are then chastised (often at length) by other NPCs for your folly. That just bugs me.
Adventure games very often rely on puzzles based on lateral thinking, it makes a lot of sense on paper in order to entertain the player and make him feel smart but I can't remember how many times I thought up a good lateral thinking solution, just to be thwarted by the game. It was just not the solution the designers expected, and the game does not even bother explaining why and push the player in the right direction.
Not to mention frantic pixel hunting & obscure death conditions forcing you to check a walkthrough.
Having a player die in an action game usually means that he will need to replay the last segment. It is a bit bothering if it happens too often, but these action sequences are why the player is here and with good emergent gameplay playing twice the same sequence can turn out very differently and be extremely entertaining.
In an adventure game, it just means that you will have to listen again to the same dialogues, and make the exact same actions, with just a slightly different step somewhere along the way.
On the other hand... I think there's something to be said for obscurity as a mechanic.
Games these days tend to be easy and digestible. They're built on systems that we're all intimately familiar with, and we can usually tell how a game's going to go from the first 15 minutes. So when I played Metro 2033 for the first time, I suddenly found myself in unfamiliar territory. My mask could get smudged and break. My filters could run out, as could my ammo. I knew that I could easily box myself in and ruin my save if I didn't manage my resources carefully. So I found myself running around and exploring some really terrifying nooks and crannies — air running out and ammo on the low! — just for the chance to get some extra bullets or scavenge the filter off a corpse. At one point, in a dark cavern surrounded by dangerous monsters, I even found myself switching to my rare currency-ammo — something I would never do in any other action game — just because I hadn't brought enough supplies with me. I eked out with just a few bullets remaining, wondering if they'd last me until the end of the mission. It was truly exhilarating.
Another great example is the metroidvania platformer La-Mulana. From an outside perspective, that game is incomprehensible. You can go in one of a dozen different directions. There are obscure phrases scribbled on the walls, each corresponding to a puzzle somewhere in the ruins. Pushing a button is as likely to open a door right in front of you as it is one across the map. You find strange items all over the place, none of them with any obvious function. Some traps insta-kill you or wall you in, and some items can't be found again if you approach them the wrong way. A real mess, right? But this sense of mystery — that I'm in way over my head — is something that truly excites me, rekindling distant memories of exploring strange shareware worlds through my creaky, yellow-tinted CRT. Back then, as a kid, the world past my backyard was a nebulous, murky unknown to me, and games were an extension of that feeling. Now, as an adult, I mostly understand how the world works. That frontier is closed. But that feeling can still be found in those few difficult, incomprehensible games that don't follow the trends. You're not coddled by them. There are no rails. You're in a hostile world that wants you out, and it's up to you to figure out how to survive it.
I don't like consulting walkthroughs. I don't like instant-death traps. I don't like stumbling around aimlessly looking for a solution. And yet, when I'm deep in a game like this, I somehow find that I can't pull myself away.
I really doubt that that's true. Have you tried, say, moving to Zambia?
http://www.oldmanmurray.com/features/77.html
It has given me my favorite phrase to use on coworkers who are engaged in unnecessary work:
"The first step in [disguising yourself as] a man without a moustache, is not to construct a fake moustache."
"In these two short paragraphs, Origin has effectively ended what will someday be known as the golden age of games. They've broken the sacred bond of trust between gamer and gaming mega-corporation: that there is actually a game in the box you're purchasing."
There are at least a couple of key puzzles that can be solved in several ways...and in different order. The one that comes to mind is the dragon in the cave. Yes, it's also very easy to be completely and irrevocably stuck...but other than Maniac Mansion, it's hard to think of another adventure game that gave you so much freedom to solve puzzles with different combinations of items and in a non-linear order. I don't recall there being multiple ways to solve puzzles in the Police Quests, or the LucasArts Indiana Jones in Atlantis game, or more modern games such as Grim Fandango. For a game of KQ's era to have that kind of coherent branching is pretty impressive.
I was never able to get through Zork because of the inherent illogic (e.g. if I go west, going east should take me back).
Hitchhiker's Guide was perhaps the only one of these games that I finished, and that because it had a built in hint system. As I recall, it was nonetheless guilty of at least two of the listed sins, but the combination of the hint system and vague connection to the book got me through it.
Zork is a graph, not a grid. It makes sense, it just isn't rectilinear. For instance, You start by the mailbox, west of the white house. Going north takes you to the north of the house. From there you have to go west back to the west of the house. On a map it looks like this: http://i.imgur.com/g9Wd39x.png
Note the inside of the house makes perfect sense, as I'd argue the areas around the house do to, once you picture them.
The areas that aren't like that are purposeful. The forest is confusing because it's easy to get lost in forests. The maze is also intentionally confusing. Quite a bit of zork takes place in an underground cave, and so it makes sense that leaving one room through a tunnel that curves will make you enter the new room from a different direction than you'd expect. It may be unfair to not mention that in game, though.
The exclusive use of female pronouns for 1980s adventure game players is quite amusing to me, though.
I guess you had to be there, since all of his complaints are not applicable to the games. They were designed that way on purpose. If you don't like them now, decades later, that's understable, but the feedback and complaints are ridiculous for old games.
Back then they were 100% fantastic! Missed an item at the start of the game? It was no problem, we loved the games and had no problem with that (for example).