Category: Blog

8 Hours, Again, on the Normandy

So I’m waiting for Amazon to deliver my copy of Mass Effect 3, I’m waiting, I’m waiting, I’m not doing anything because I don’t want to be in the middle of something and get distracted, I’m bumming around online just killing time, and finally the buzzer rings. In one graceful movement I leap from my room to the kitchen to the intercom. “FedEx”, the guy says, and in another graceful leap I’m in the living room in front of the door, the dog looking at me unsure if there’s something to panic about or if I’m doing this all for his amusement. I don’t want to open the door too early–I don’t want to seem too eager–so I wait till the last minute, proudly fling open the door…and the FedEx guy has me sign a receipt for a delivery of 30 pounds of dog food.

It reminds me of when Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows came out–one of those moments when you realize just how many people are fellow fans. My Twitter feed was blowing up with people talking about how excited they were and how annoying it was to download all of the DLC and set up the accounts and all of that and why the fuck isn’t UPS coming. It’s one of those double-edged swords because not only is it exciting–for gamers, Mass Effect 3 day was Christmas, your birthday, and Rex Manning Day all in one–it means you’re in some very real proximinty to spoilers. And when you’ve been waiting–wait a second, has it only been two years?–you want to make sure that you don’t get spoiled by some asshole.

So basically, anything I write about Mass Effect 3 for the next while, assume it to be chock full of horrible spoilers and discussions about specific parts of gameplay. I’ll be giving the timeframe as well as the major location I’m working on as a guide to where I am–making sure to spoil out any location names that might say too much, so use your best judgment.

Reactive Audio in the Fighting Genre

“A good fight should be like a small play, but played seriously.” – Bruce Lee

Similar to the state of martial arts before Bruce Lee’s Jeet Kune Do style, the state of the fighting game genre continues to trudge forth with a flawed mentality. Developers are doing the player a disservice by creating fighting games that lack the martial artist understanding. A wise martial artist will tell you an effective technique is an emotional technique. Lee described it as “emotional content” in Enter The Dragon. It cannot be explained in writing, but only as an observed action with an appropriate reaction. The problem with fighting games, however, is just that — they are games. How does the visceral emotion of a punch translate from avatar to player? The answer is at once simple and complex — reactivity.

Dynamic Range

“Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless – like water. Now you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup, you put water into a bottle, it becomes the bottle, you put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.” – Bruce Lee

I contacted Rev. Dr. Brad Meyer, Audio Director of Sucker Punch Productions, to discuss what could be done to improve fighting game audio, to which he said “the most important [aspect] is dynamic mixing.” An effective dynamic range is like water filling the volume of a glass. In this case, our capacity for sound represents the glass and the dynamic range represents the water. When you look at a full glass of water you still see the water beneath the surface, and when you listen to dynamic audio you still hear the sound below the threshold. “Be it fighting games or any other genre, they all revolve around crafting a more dynamic experience,” said Meyer. “There’s a lot more we can do here, not necessarily to make games more cinematic, but to make them more emotionally effective. Composers from Beethoven to Bobby McFerrin have demonstrated the near-universal character of music as an emotion engine and arguably every composer of the past several hundred years have helped to strengthen this common language.”

Other genres have the luxury of relying on a written narrative for emotional weight, but the narrative (the only narrative that matters anyway) of fighting games is ludological. The punches and kicks tell the story and the music provides emotional reinforcement. “I would put dynamic music right after this, in part because music is the heart of the emotion of sound,” continued Meyer. “We can do a lot with other audio assets from ambience to character sounds to help convey mood and tone, but music is a known entity where emotion is concerned.” This isn’t to say the music of fighting games is bad, it just hasn’t been fully-realized. In fact, and excuse the pun, music plays second fiddle at best in the design of fighters.

Speaking with composer and music producer Tom Salta (Halo Anniversary, From Dust) I was told “When it comes to choosing music styles, most audio directors go with the obvious choice: Heavy fight equals Heavy fight music.” It’s quite ordinary and the results more than often reflect that. Tom suggests manipulating the emotions of the player by “juxtaposing music that you might not expect.”

“It can be risky and it certainly takes more experience and experimentation, but the results can be extraordinary,” said Salta. “Dynamic range can certainly play a role in this. It’s important not to stay too long on one dynamic level, otherwise people will just tune it out. If you want to keep people excited and engaged, then keep changing things.”

Composition and Implementation

“The highest technique is to have no technique. My technique is a result of your technique; my movement is a result of your movement.” – Bruce Lee

A reactive sound design in the fighting genre should not be assertive, but adjustive. That is, adjustive to the action and reaction. According to Tom, the music should still seek to define its characters. “My first instinct would be to come up with specific instruments and sound design that pertains to the different characters,” he said. “Then compose multilayered music that contains these various elements and fade in and out those different parts based on what’s happening in the game.”

“The trickier, albeit more fun part is to compose music that matches the scheme and can seamlessly blend from one state to another,” said Meyer. “Due to the frenetic nature of fighting games, the transitions would need to be quick, yet still feel polished and musically sound.” That is, if approaching composition on the granular level, i.e. individual notes.

The problem with this, according to Ben Abraham’s 2008 interview with Marty O’Donnell, is that granular samples on such a small scale lose their live musical feel, as well as their fidelity. While granular samples can be employed to enhance a specific event, the affair cannot be completely granular. The main function of the composition should instead seek to react to the entire balance of the fight, more so than the individual actions of the fight. The more rapid moments will find their own rhythm and musicality in the sound of fighting itself.

In his thesis, An Investigation of New Musical Potential in Videogames, Ben Abraham discussed how ambient and diegetic sounds create an undertone of constant musical current. “Potentially, these sounds can be purposely more musical than they would ordinarily be,” he said. In particular, the musicality of fighting can serve as instrumentation for synchronization and immersion. Current fighters do employ decent sound effects such as the tapping of footsteps, the thud of pounding flesh, the clang of swords colliding and the crunch of bones breaking. But as with any great piece of orchestration the composition should highlight the right “instruments” at the right time.

“Besides the obvious ‘cross-fade’ method where you can switch between multiple cues, another alternative is multilayered music,” said Salta. “There can be a common bed and depending on what is happening, you can bring in and out elements that are linked to what’s happening.” In order to enhance the brutal, clinical feel of the act of fighting, the music should know when to bow out and give the sound effects their time to shine. Ideally, this type of reactive audio system enhances the narrative of a fight by emotionally augmenting the player-controlled flow of combat.

“On the implementation side, the task is not terribly difficult on a high level,” said Meyer. “Passing the player distance from his opponent can drive an intensity parameter to dictate switches in music or adding/subtracting parts of the mix. Additional layers of complexity can be added by factoring in other parameters as well such as each players’ health, player’s current combo, or even the number of enemies targeting the player if it’s more than 1 vs. 1. The reactivity and switching can easily be prototyped and implemented using Wwise, FMOD, or scripting.” Of course, there would be some technical limitations when dealing with different platforms. “You probably couldn’t stream an 8 channel audio cue on iOS which selectively plays various tracks at different volumes to match your design,” said Meyer. “At the same time, midi with custom instruments a la the DS can create powerful and sonically rich experiences for low overhead.”

Possibilities

“I find it surprising that, with the wealth of varied music games available now from shooters to puzzlers that no one has done a music fighting game yet,” said Meyer. There are numerous possibilities for the fighting genre using a reactive audio system, such as music influencing the developer-intended story of single player mode. To this end, the developer-controlled narrative could employ a musical structure that matches the intended consequences of the battle. The player must live up to to implied triumphs and failures established by universal musical tropes in order to progress through the story. A reactive audio system built into the game engine can also allow for much needed innovation in the fighting genre, such as a “Sound Versus” mode. This can allow two (or more) players to fight toward building their respective songs up to full orchestration by maintaining the battle’s momentum for long enough. A player’s momentum, and thus song strength, is broken when the other player gains the upper hand.

“The challenges in a versus music mode are a bit more daunting,” commented Meyer. “How does the music work? Does each player have his own cue that fights for audio space in a volume war tied to health (perhaps with a third piece to crossfade in during non-action times)? Or do you go for a Peter and the Wolf type scenario where each player has his/her own representative instrument or instrument section which plays the melody and whoever is winning has more of their instrument play? You could even have two melodies (as long as they work musically with each other) so the winning player’s melody gains dominance and during struggles both play, ideally harmonizing each other and augmenting the tension.”

Kotaku’s Greatest Bricklayer

The only person who has to apologize for stories on Kotaku is me. It was my call to run the Sonic story…I had expected it to come off as funnier. That was an error of judgment. But, more significantly… I owe our readers an apology for okaying a story that implies all gamers are straight men. I should’ve caught that. It’s no small thing. I must also add that humor and writing about sex isn’t off-limits at Kotaku. We just have to do it right and not forget our own standards.

Stephen Totilo, via Twitter.

Stephen:

We’ve never met or spoken. If you know me at all it’s because you’ve briefly corresponded with my creative partner Eric Brasure, or because I’m that guy who keeps writing all of these articles about how you’re doing everything wrong. I’ve been chronicling your questionable decisions with the same disturbingly lusty glee that Perez Hilton writes about starlets with cocaine problems. I’m not even, you know, enjoying it any more. I’ve got other things I want to write about. I’m just kind of tired. I want to move on.

But I’m sitting, thinking about what to do for dinner, when I check my Twitter feed and notice a bunch of snarky tweets about some article that Kotaku published. This time–and maybe I should just write a generic Mad Libs-style template to break out every time this happens and save myself the effort–we’ve got an article by guest writer Kris Kail entitled “How I Achieved Greatness on a Sonic the Hedgehog-Themed Bed“. The article is your typical fratboy braggery about how some douchebag with Sonic bedsheets managed to find a girl to have actual penis-in-vagina sex on them. I tend to take a hard line about personal details, specifically a line which says I genuinely do not care about your personal life one bit. I dunno, maybe that’s one of those weird things about me: I’m completely, 100%, totally, filled to the brim with a lack of interest in the sex life of a crass stranger. I find Twitter isn’t that conservative–I tend to find checking my feed to be an exercise in oversharing TMI–but the general consensus is that this article was a bit misguided. Half of the criticism focused on the fact that the article seemed to define “gamer” as “straight male”, something which was found to be pretty marginalizing; the other half decided that the article, quite simply, was tasteless and rather unfunny.

The latter half of that is subjective. (Okay, it’s not–the article was tasteless and unfunny.) And I’m not even sure I even need to go into any detail on the first half. But I would like to address your apology, quoted above.

See…it’s shit like this that makes me think you might be really bad at your job.

Way back in last week you posted a pissy little rant to Reddit complaining about how people tend to focus on Kotaku’s mistakes and ignore its successes. I agree. It’s totally fucking unfair that people ignore it when you work hard on something you’re proud of and make a big deal about a tiny mistake you make. But–come on, man! You seem completely incapable of learning from your mistakes.

If this particular article were an anomaly, that would be one thing–a simple apology, regretting the oversight and promising to catch it in the future. But–come on, man! You have to have known that this was a bad idea. Pop quiz: What are some of the main criticisms leveled at Kotaku? Off the top of my head, most people dislike Kotaku for its reputation as a home of dudebro mouthbreather gamer culture, for its poorly-written articles, for its crassness, for its marginalization of women and sexual minorities, for its pointless stories that only have the most tangential relationship to games. I see you talking about how you reeeeeeeeeeeeeeally want Kotaku to be a great site and how you publish all these suuuuuuuuuuuuper good articles that are well-written and everything. I see you talk about how you want the work to speak for itself. But–come on, man! That’s exactly what’s happening! We’re seeing articles like this–articles which you publish despite the fact that they embody every single goddamn criticism anyone has ever made about your site–and you’re wondering why we aren’t paying attention to the good articles?

You can’t have it both ways.

It’s getting old. Not just you–I’m picking on you because you’re pretty much the easiest target around these days–but so many people write really questionable things and hope that an apology will fix everything. Far better to not fuck up in the first place. Mistakes? That’s fine. Ignorance? Unforgivable.

What is it? Do you not know what the criticisms of your own site are? Or do you just not care? You talk about how you’re trying to revamp Kotaku’s image–why aren’t you supersensitive to everything which gets published on the site? Kail is a guest writer. He’s not staff. Do you genuinely mean to tell me that you read this guy’s pitch, thought it was in line with your current editorial mission and standards, accepted the article, read the article, and still thought it was in line with your current editorial mission and standards?

You are expecting to be judged by an imaginary site that seems to exist only in your mind, and you get angry when we criticize the actual site.

Let’s look at a passage from Mark Twain’s last published story, “Captain Stormfield’s Visit to Heaven“:

The greatest military genius our world ever produced was a brick-layer from somewhere back of Boston…. You see, everybody knows that if he had had a chance he would have shown the world some generalship that would have made all generalship before look like child’s play and ’prentice work.  But he never got a chance….[E]verybody knows, now, what he would have been,—and so they flock by the million to get a glimpse of him whenever they hear he is going to be anywhere.

Twain’s vision of Heaven is one in which potential outweighs one’s actual accomplishments. It’s a nice idea–I’d much rather simply accept the Pulitzer than go through the process of actually writing the novel that merits it. And certainly our sense of justice and fairness leads us to wish for a world where circumstances don’t conspire against us, where we can do the work we want to without practical concerns. But that’s Heaven, not Earth. On Earth, in the real world, we may want to make a site which publishes all of these great articles and only great articles–but Stephen? You’re not a general. You may want to be a general, and that’s a fine ambition, but you’re a bricklayer. You will be judged as a bricklayer so long as you’re laying bricks.

Stephen, you are laying bricks and lamenting that we’re not celebrating your military genius.

We don’t live in Heaven. We’re judging your site by Earth’s rules. I think you need to begin to do that yourself.

–Richard Goodness

Let’s Fuck Some Games

Back in January, I interviewed Chris Grant, the editor-in-chief of the new journalistic endeavor Vox Games. The interview consisted of his goals and plans for the new site, why he left Joystiq, and thoughts about what he’d like to see the site become. The conversation also segued into a more general discussion about the commercial viability of videogame criticism and what sites actually do to make money.

In the past week, Vox Games more-or-less officially launched as a temporary subset of The Verge, a tech news site and part of the same parent company that owns Vox Games. The writing there is generally good and mostly inconsequential—the sort of stuff you’d see on any widely-read professional gaming news site. I’m not really sure why all these dudes had to leave their other jobs to recreate the same stuff in a new place, but I guess that’s a little like asking why people eventually move out of their parents’ house to go live in a different house in the same town.

Reddit, Kotaku, and Gabe Newell’s Beard

Yesterday, Kotaku Editor-in-Chief Stephen Totilo fired up his computer, sat down, and wrote a response to a Reddit discussion, a response  which was almost so pathetically earnest as to be endearingly sad.

Reddit, Totilo asserted, was being unfair to Kotaku. That Kotaku wasn’t getting its due. Totilo pointed out a number of recent articles that he felt were of exceptionally high-quality. He was a bit put out that Reddit was concentrating on mistakes and not acknowledging any successes.

During the less-than-two-months that Totilo has been Editor-in-Chief, a lot of questionable decisions have been made–programming blocks, an odd change to reviews, Kotaku Core. This post, which was all-but-guaranteed to make its way to a broader audience, is just another step in Totilo’s pattern of poor choices. It feels almost like walking right up to the jocks’ table in high school and asking them, reasonably, to stop making fun of you. It wasn’t a good idea when I tried that in 1998 and it isn’t a good idea for Totilo now. It goes beyond the fact that Reddit already has no respect for the site–tactics like this come across as fairly unprofessional and not a little immature.

How We Review Fighting Games: Soulcalibur V

The videogame culture has become so obsessed with the storytelling elements of games that what it seeks out to analyze no longer falls under the expansive umbrella that is videogames. This longing for story to drive the gameplay has trickled over into one genre where videogame stories are traditionally irrelevant and cursory elements — the fighting genre. As videogame journalists and critics, we should strive to review videogames based on the expectations of the genre. We wouldn’t, for instance, review a puzzle game with the same criticisms we would levy against an MMORPG. So why then do we review games in the fighting genre as if they are anything other than fighting games? There’s a fragmentation at play and a flawed genre-bending mentality that affects the way fighting games are reviewed.

As far as storytelling in its traditional narrative function is concerned, developers of fighting games do the player an injustice by minimizing the core focus of the fighting genre with any narrative focused too outwardly from the ludic aspects of the game. It’s not necessarily the developers fault, but rather the diverse group of videogame players that make up the market today. Though, when we market to everyone, we market to no one. It’s an adage that seems to be lost on all sides of the fighting genre.

Programming Blockheads

For those of us who follow such things, Kotaku has been very interesting since Stephen Totilo became the Editor in Chief in January. There have been a series of changes which seem designed towards changing the focus of the site and downplaying specialty content.

One of the biggest criticisms people launch at Kotaku is its continued publication of stories that are only tangentially related to videogames. One of the biggest targets is Brian Ashcraft, whose articles are not-always-incorrectly stereotyped as being inappropriately obssed with Japanese schoolgirls (because most videogames come from Japan), but Kotaku also publishes things such as reviews of comics (because both games and comics are enjoyed by geeks) and crime reports (because the criminal in question stole an XBox game or something). Not all of the stories are as egregious as my favorite article of all time–Columbia School of Journalism Graduate Owen Good’s thoughts on credit card ownership–but the connections to the videogame world are tenuous at best, and both sides of the debate are fairly vehement. Kotaku built a community around a space where geeky interests can flourish, but those panty shots are not only alienating to people who simply want to get screenshots of upcoming videogames, but they don’t really make any strides towards shedding the stereotype of gamers as creepy basement dwellers.

How Kotaku Will Change Nothing

If there’s one acronym that sets my teeth on edge, it’s TL;DR.

You know what it makes me think of? That kid from high school, you know the one I’m talking about, he went to your school too. He was supremely unintelligent, ugly, unpleasant to be around but inexplicably popular. He’d put no effort into his schoolwork, convinced as he was that he’d be a football star when he grew up. Reading is boring, he’d say–something you took as almost a personal affront, given that you always had your nose in a book growing up, given that you were writing your first tentative short stories and giving serious thought to becoming a writer when you grew up. Whenever I see TL;DR, I picture this kid, staring, slack-jawed, at anything more than a sentence or two long, scratching his head. When I go into the comments of a Kotaku or a Destructoid, I picture a clone army of this kid, all of them batting at their keyboards in clumsy unison, calling me a fag.

Re: “RE: ‘”Your Story Sucks” Sucks’”

In response to my post “‘Your Story Sucks’ Sucks“, which was itself a response to his post “Your Story Sucks“, Jason Schreier says the following, in an article called “RE: ‘”Your Story Sucks” Sucks’“:

I’m advocating…the analysis of narrative using more critical language. Goodness claims that I’m veering too far into the land of optimism, calling my piece “a masterpiece of complacency,” but I would argue quite the opposite. My point is that we should be fighting for harsher criticism than “this is good” or “this is bad.” Those are not the questions we should be asking.

Schreier then goes on to suggest some possible questions–such as how the setting and theme reflect each other, how the game integrates interactivity into its story sequences, how well character motivations are drawn–that critics and reviewers can ask when evaluating a game’s narrative. These questions, and others like them, offer a good starting point for how to begin to develop deeper criticism of games.

Schreier is calling, ultimately, for a more qualified criticism, and I agree with him. The purpose of reviews vs. criticism is too complex of a subject to get into here, but I often get the sense that reviews lean towards absolutes. That’s what readers seem to want–on some sites, any opinion the reader disagrees with gets called out as bias, along with an exhortation for the writer to be more “objective”. The very concept of scoring games is itself a problem. We may want deeper and more insightful criticism, but we’re only paying lip service to that concept if we then distill the review into a number at the end.

Because that evaluative number ends up becoming the focal point. It–and maybe two representative sentences–becomes what people see on Metacritic. It–and not the reasons behind it–becomes the insult discussed on forums. Score numbers imply objectivity, that you can make that blanket statement about whether or not a game sucks–after all, a game that’s scored a 5 sucks compared to a perfect 10, does it not?

I hated The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword, but I was more dismayed by the fact that most of the reviews I read of the game were so content-free. They spoke in absolutes–praised the game without saying much more than, “Welp, it’s a Zelda game, and those are always awesome.” That they were praising the game–and its storyline–as unqualifiedly Good was alienating–instead of pointing out something I missed, the reviews simply made me feel like I was missing some kind of in-joke. Michael Abbot’s post, “To dream again” was a much more interesting take–he evalutated the game’s appeal to a die-hard Zelda fan. While it didn’t change my opinion of the game, it helped me to at least understand why someone would enjoy playing it.

And his piece does not score the game. What kind of score could you even give? He explicitly states that the game is “Not the best game and certainly not the most innovative, but nevertheless the game that delighted me more than any other.” If you’re looking at the game in isolation, you almost have to give it a low score–but that ignores the Zelda fan who’s playing the newest installment of a series which never fails to speak to them. If you talk about the game as one which soothes your “yearn[ing] for the next great adventure,” then you might give it a perfect score–but that ignores those who simply don’t enjoy the Zelda experience. And so we can only engage with the critique–and that critique is able to be much more nuanced than it would if it were looking at a game as if it were–in Schreier’s terms–”a phone or a set of steak knives”.

So in that regard I agree–as critics, we can’t just go for a simple thumbs up or thumbs down. We should strive towards a more nuanced analysis. At the same time, criticism should have an evaluative element to it. As long as we’re able to explain our opinion, I think it’s perfectly reasonable for a critic to say that a game’s story sucks.

“Your Story Sucks” Sucks

The more I play and write about videogames, the less I find myself interested in videogame narrative. I play games to play, not to watch a little movie. I also find myself less and less interested in the narratives themselves. It’s really rare that I’ll find a game which speaks to something deeper, more human–rare that I’ll find a game which I find applicable to my life. Final Fantasy‘s melodramatic bombast, The Legend of Zelda‘s desperate attempts to create artificial importance to its own cliched myth, The Elder Scrolls’s dry and dull fantasy novel approach set in a world whose characters never come alive well enough to make us care for them–I find these to be the rule rather than the exception. For every Bioshock, for every Bastion, for every Mass Effect–in short, for every well-written game that creates a world we enjoy spending time in, there’s a dozen games whose storyline is an afterthought, one which grabs the player’s head and forces them to watch a cutscene that’s often nowhere near as compelling as the designers think it is.

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