Failure and Punishment

Thought you were hot. Guess what? You're not! You are dead. Dead. Dead.

Failure is a integral part of the cycle of life... or so we're told. I don't know about you, but personally I infer 'cycle' to imply a somewhat equal measure of success to balance the universe out, but I'm no experimental theologist so what do I know? Regardless, if there's one thing years of superhero shows have taught me, it's that you have to lose to the villain once, about in the midpoint of the episode, so that you can turn around and gank him in the end. That's the natural progression of super heroism right there. So if the act of losing is such a great concept, operating under 'What doesn't kill makes me stronger' rules, then how does that play out in the world of gaming? I was curious because the relationship with failure is so very different when we're talking about playing a game with a goal and so I concluded it might be fun to talk about some the ways in which games, usually more modern ones have approached the idea.

So tradition is actually universal on how games used to treat failure. Game over. (Or 'Game over YEAHH!' for the cultured out there) You've lost, which typically also means that you are dead. Such are the stakes of an action adventure/FPS/pretty much most genres of game. You fell into a bottomless pit, got poked too much by those spikes, accidentally touched the hand of a statue of Midas; either way your journey has ended and the only course for continuing is to go back to a checkpoint. Games have actually evolved into the point of checkpointing and save systems thanks to The Legend of Zelda, so I'd call that an evolution on how failure is handled. Back in the day it would just be a few brief chances and then an abrupt kick back to the main screen. Ultimately, I'd call this a pretty old school and flat way to treat failure. It instantly ends the journey and doesn't branch out into any interesting paths. Additionally, there's not always a lot of consequence for failure beyond a little lost time, so you stop really fearing it and that can come at the cost of some potential extreme emotions you might have otherwise elicited. Now for most games that's fine, because checkpoints are one of the holiest creations ever come to gaming, but I think there's certainly a few cooler ways in which this concept can be handled.

Dark Souls is the immediate first candidate that I think of when it comes to failure as it famously wants the player to die over and over again. In Dark Souls, dying isn't just part of the game, it's a mechanic built into the lore; with the despair of losing your life and failing over and over again supposed to be draining your will and turning you 'hollow'. (And in Dark Souls 2 they decided that it would also start robbing your memories, before completely forgetting that plotline once again come 3. Because Dark Souls 2 just has to be different now doesn't it?) Of course, that's not all. Souls-likes are built around the idea of 'souls' systems too; wherein when you die you drop some valuable resource (usually related to levelling) that can then be retrieved upon your next life provided that you don't, then, die again. (It's actually a little confusing when I phrase it like that, huh?) This is a way of supplying real consequence to failure, by giving players a chance to recover from it and thus opening the path for relief or despair. In games like this you really care about dying, knowing that the resources you've earnt are on the line, and being thrown back to a checkpoint will rob you of more than just potential progress. It gives purpose and life behind the failure proposition and in doing so made dying a core pillar, not just of the game but of the genre, real kudos to FromSoftware here. Yet there are others who've managed similar feats.

For example; team-based tactics games with Ironman modes are an emblematic of some of the harshest consequences for failure I can think of; and I'm going to pick X-Com in particular as a representative. In X-Com you work across tactical turn based fights wherein the possibility of death isn't just very real, it's all but definite unless you plan your moves just right. Fights are usually one poor choice away from disaster and losing someone is permanent, you don't get second chances. That because 'Ironman' mode denotes a certain play style wherein the player is only ever allowed one save file from which they can't load if things aren't going their way. Decisions are final and you have to stick with it. In such a mode, losing teammates is a harsh punishment for failure that you have to continue on from, because the game isn't over until the main objective is completed or failed. (Or everyone you know and love is dead) This forces the player to act with caution and weigh options heavily, maybe even choose between a rock and a hardplace now and then. In such a situation you have to respect failure, because having the resolve to push forward despite it is essential to making it through. Loss is gut wrenching, although a downside I might offer is that it almost makes victory feel pale in comparison. (A lot of the time, I dread the stress of continuing my Iron man save file at all!)

But not all games have evolved in order to make failure more punishing, no. Some game have actually worked around their balancing to be a lot more forgiving. Take Borderlands for instance. In Borderlands, the fast paced nature of the combat means that you're likely to die pretty often, and doing so will cost you a fraction of your money, (which is easily replaced) but progress is rarely, if ever, lost. That's because in Borderlands (and some inconsistent lore on how respawning works) has it so that when you are sent back to the checkpoint, the enemies you killed stay dead. Sure, those you haven't killed are regenerated, but they can't hand you everything on a platter, some challenge is necessary. Lego Star Wars is very similar, because both franchises recognise the party-like nature of their game and prioritise players having fun (ideally with co-op) over having them threat about throwing themselves into danger. I understand the appeal, however I'm never a huge fan of this approach because I think it defangs failure, and makes it more a mild inconvenience. In my mind, if I don't care about losing then I'm not going to care about winning; and then what's the point of doing anything. (To get better loot, in Borderland's case. Though it took me a good many years to understand that.) 

A much more unique approach to this idea can be found in Middle Earth: Shadow of Mordor, and it of course relates to the now-iconic nemesis system that game touted. In a game built around creating ambient stories with the AI to dynamically forge allies and enemies for you to interact with, it makes total sense why the developers would then make death a part of the gameplay loop. (As what makes faster enemies than losing to someone? Both for you and your opponent.) When you die, the game is sent forward a few turns in the overall clock of events and situations will progress without your involvement for a while, meaning that landscape of enemy captains can drastically change whilst you were out. Additionally, the enemy you killed you will get a raise in their power for doing so, and will remember their victory so they can taunt you with it the next time around. This is a way of making failure not just the end of the road, but actually a desirable part of the process as it fuels the story-telling potential to come. Natural instinct will still drive players to want to succeed, of course, but some of my personal favourite moments came from showdowns against Orcs who had bested me time and time again, until that one moment I finally got the better of them. Just another way in which Shadow of Mordor was a great engine for storytelling, even in death.

Finally, and obviously, there are rougelites in their many forms. Roguelites (The Binding of Issac, Dark Dungeons, Into the Breach etc.) all build themselves around the premise that you try over and over until you are successful. That can be through iteration, random luck or just unlocking new paths by playing a certain way, and failure sits in a very interesting position through all of that. Death isn't toothless by any stretch of the imagination, losing always means the end of the run and all the good turns of luck that you've enjoyed along the way, but it's neither the crippling end of everything. Rougelites are designed to be replayed over and over, usually in quick fashions, so at the end of the day every thing lost is quickly recovered and everything won is quickly spent. Additionally, some Rougelites require and encourage you to lose several times before you can win, opening up new paths with each attempt. This strikes a great balance between keeping failure interesting without having it be some looming threat to all; thus explaining to me why so many find this genre so interesting. Winning feel like a victory against the odds, and perhaps fate, to boot.

So failure and the way we treat it in video games and storytelling has the power to inform the way that we look at success and victory. Personally I always like to drag myself through hell to get my success, and I'm never really much one for celebrating anyway, so I tend to err towards the tougher and relentless titles, (Even when I hate myself for doing it) but that's not why everyone comes to games. Some what to hang-out with their friends, others want to craft stories, and a few just look for that traditional experience they know and love. The way I see it, failure is one of the aspects about the gaming medium that makes it so unique from other art forms, and in it lies much untapped potential for subversive and evocative narratives in the future. And who knows, maybe at some point there might be a title which re-examines and repackages the very concept of successes and failures. And maybe that game already exists... >obvious sequel bait<