To believe or not

It is said that one of the most imperative tools of any storytelling is the suspension of disbelief. The ability for the Storyteller to present an idea or situation and the listener to sit back, nod along and go with the flow. And it all comes down to the very tepid and ill-shaped thing known as 'believability'. "Can I buy this", "Does the story do enough to suspend by perception of what is real and what isn't." Without that there is always a distance between us and the story, a film behind which we observe ourselves more than we observe the story- and when you're in that state it's near impossible to be driven emotionally, feel the adventure, react to the stakes. It is the death of immersion.

But how does the act of 'believability' translate into gaming? That's actually something more of a nuanced question, because the very nature of a game does not engender itself to 'true to life depictions'. You create a game where the character needs to eat and sleep and go to the toilet in order to function in their day to day and 9 times out of ten you've made a boring gameplay loop that people don't want to engage with. One bullet deaths? An unfun overly brutal game. But there is still a balance to be struck, as evidenced by the philistine spread of that mostly misunderstood concept coined as 'Ludonarrative Dissonance' that bevies of half-educated luddites cite as though proof reading their own dissertations. People can sense when something doesn't feel right, even if they can't quite verbalise why that is. 

The very nature of how most modern games play out means that we can never really create a one-to-one parity. When a gameplay loop is built around shooting bad guys- it makes sense to throw dozens of enemies at the player even though a sensible mind will tell you that one guy in a fight against several bigger dudes is never going to work out for them. At moments like that what is 'believable' shifts in perspective to how we are presented with these scenarios- what little branches are offered to the audience that they can sell themselves into this world. A world were one men armies exist and bullets sting like a wasp poke.

Given that I've been playing through them recently, the Mafia games come to mind when I consider this. Games with their fare share of ridiculous explosive set pieces- but set against fairly comprehensives crime narratives about the nature of organised crime and how the desire to always get more eats away at yourself, those around you and very nature to enjoy the life you thought you wanted. Mafia tempers it's more explosive moments with a relatively sedate pacing for a video game, where the evolving and devolving life of these mafiosos are placed in contrast to the bursts of violence and death. It's a great sobering device to keep us in the frame of mind to 'believe' in this world and the consequence of our brutality. Then Mafia 3 kind of spat on all that, but we're focusing on the positives today.

Tomb Raider, the remakes, are one such game that gets brought up often- largely because of half-heads who can't comprehend what stakes in a narrative are. I always found that new Lara to be very well attuned to realism in the manner of 'consequence'. They went as hard as they could into the explosive set-pieces and insane magical insanity- as long as they could back everything up with grounding consequence on the otherend- and it really worked out! Lara had to kill so many to survive that original island, and watch all her friends die or drift away after the fact- landing her in therapy. She saw supernatural happenings before her very eyes, making her an intellectual outcast after the fact. She learned of a great secret society praying on the hidden world, making her a paranoid recluse. Living in a world where A equals B is a great tool for having that world feel like it matters.

And on the more extreme example side we have the likes of Borderlands. Yes, I know- "Borderlands? How is that a game that can sell a believability to it?" And to that I would like to reiterate- we're talking about the player's ability to buy into this world of belief. It's all about being believable within the space you've created. If there's a wacky world in the ass-end of the universe were bullets are more common than water- then I want to believe in everything that comes with that sort of setting. A dusty and rustic world were civilisation are all but tiny rare pockets against a land gone mad- that sense of prevailing isolation amidst the crazed wackiness of the local power players. When you start softening the edges of a world like that- you lose that carefully crafted image. Suddenly Borderlands no longer feels like Borderlands anymore now that it's just a bad-joke factory. 

Of course this works best with a game like Grand Theft Auto. One that bills itself around capturing, and then mocking, the state of modern life. Rockstar do this immensely well, bringing entire cities to life and extracting just the right slices of culture for mockery- but if we take this to the other degree and talk about immersion than it would probably be the Red Dead Games that take the cake from the catalogue. Lean slices of the mid-to-south west brought to a interactive playspace that feels weighty. Where you track and hunt, pick up bounties, get drunk and start bar fights: Red Dead delights in spicing up the mundane to be just exciting enough- striking this careful balance between the realistic and the playable. A masterclass, some might say.

At the end of the day all this talk about what is and isn't believable amounts to little more than a studying of tools- tools with which artists create entertainment that grabs and moves us. Breaking through the tough skin of the fictional becomes harder as we move into an age of more all consuming entertainment but as artists it will forever be our duty to stay ahead of all of that and sink our teeth into the real next level ways our work can snake into the hearts of the public. Immersion is just another one of those tools that can cut through so much of the doubt and dissention when used right, to the right audience and create the truly unforgettable.  

>Gasp< Borderlands isn't good?

 

I'm going to be honest- the small window of time within which Borderlands was a respectable franchise disappeared long ago. Borderlands 1 is actually a fun concept wrapped around a game that is passingly humours. A few good jokes and a lot of loud obnoxious attempts at humour that might get you on a first time around but the second- Earl made me want to tear my eyes out, I swear. They got better as the DLC came out. The Armoury of General Knox is genuinely hilarious. Borderlands 2 was obviously the height of the franchise in the eyes of the audience- polished, funny, replayable, perfect. Tales from the Borderlands? Best writing the franchise ever saw. But, of course, that wasn't really the last we heard of Borderlands, now was it?

Then we've got Borderlands 3, the long awaited sequel that... I mean the gameplay was good. Their attempt to follow up Handsome Jack might be the single most mis-casted voice actress I've ever heard in a video game. (Sometimes I can hear the concept artist crying about how badly they translated all of their incredibly strong design concepts into actual life.) The game didn't really appeal when it came to characters and story- but at least they brought actual unique weapons back. (Thanks for dunking those Pre-Sequel.) Then New Tales from the Borderlands dribbled out such a pathetic successor to the original it's actually stunning to think it borrows their name. I am astounded. And Tiny Tina's Wonderland caused such a horrendous stink show around the community, only for Pitchford to come out and declare it the companies biggest success without the slightest hint of irony.

What I'm trying to say is that the writing has been very much on the wall for the Borderlands franchise. Not only is the quality of what Borderlands provides outside of it's raw gameplay decaying, but the creepy little weirdo who runs the show is growing so unaffably isolated from the community he serves I'll bet he's taken to not even referring to his 'fans' as sentient beings anymore. He screams delusional self importance complex. So what happens when you have a studio adaptation of a video game franchise that is so embattled that even the original creators have no clue how to put out contents fans are happy with? What do you do when there's no Nintendo knocking on your shoulder telling you exactly what you can and cannot put in your adaptation?

The Borderlands movie was handed over to Eli Roth, a man never known to be interested in the video game world, (maybe he is privately, but we don't know about it) written by Craig Maizan who was so ashamed that he decided to be credited by the pseudonym 'Joe Crombie'- red flags thy name was Borderlands. It felt like the kind of movie that only ever saw the light of day because of other video game adaptations that actually ended up doing well. Look at 'The Last of Us' for comparison and you might see the opportunity for an Oscar in one of these productions, Fallout sealed the deal. Then scan the industry and see who's desperately hopping on one foot begging for a big movie studio to come in and swoop him away and you'll get the disaster of a lifetime.

From the very first moment I heard this movie was even conceived of I knew it would be a bad idea. And that was before I was even into the Borderlands games genuinely. I'd played them but I didn't get it yet. And still I knew it would be bad. Only to have Randy himself solidify those doubts in that legendarily off-base diatribe wherein he filmed an unhinged jaunt about the Borderlands set practically sniffing the scenery for all of his boyhood wonder at a fairly mundane movie set. Then those concerns were exploded into the stratosphere with the trailer that just so happened to demonstrate an ill-fitting cast reading a bad script amidst colourful, but sparse, environments.

And yet by some miracle it seems that I was wrong. People aren't just saying that the film is bad- they're reporting it is apocalyptically bad- to an almost unreal degree. The writing is tired, the characters are sucked of their personalities and key defining traits (For one it seems the team have literally never seen a single second of Tannis and how she acts.) It actually is starting to make me feel a little jealous over here. I figured I'd already watched and supported the year's biggest stinker with Madame Web but now... now I'm wondering whether or not it's worth it going to endure the next biggest Warcrime that Hollywood has cooked up.

When it comes to asking the serious question of 'what in the heck went wrong'- I'd like to posit a theory. I believe that Randy Pitchford has been such an embarrassingly childish detriment to all art and life around him- as he has proven to be for most of his professional career- (and perhaps even his life before that- but I can only assume, we'd have to interview his family for confirmation) that his inputs where what set this movie up to fail. Casting legendary actors who in no way fit the roles, but would just happen to be idols to someone around the age of Pitchford? Yeah, I'm betting this was his boyish fantasies brought to screen. Of course I'd be foolish to accuse him of jeopardising the whole thing. The writer, director and- from what people are saying- some of the cast: dropped the ball too.

At least we have a silver lining to all of this. That being Strauss Zelnick, the Take-Two CEO, letting us all know that the film will not be a prelude to a coming deluge of video-game-to-movie projects. Unless it's 'really superb', they won't be funding any more trite like this. But then again, Strauss does seem to think that Borderlands is a worthy franchise so who knows- maybe we're get a 'Lemmings' movie next. But if there's one thing I am absolutely certain of, it's this. Randy Pitchford will, at some point, come out and try to gaslight reality itself by claiming the movie was 'really great' and an overall 'success' for them. Mark. My. Damn. Words.

Regrettably, the Borderlands movie is real

 

Some part of me just filed away the Borderlands movie into 'cancelled' territory without a lick of evidence to back up that assumption. I just subconsciously breathed a sigh of relief that such a bizarre and seemingly doomed concept was never going to seriously make it to film and went about my day a free-er feeling man. And a fool of a man. (Fool of a Took!) Because the game obviously hadn't been canned in the days since Randy Pitchford invaded the set with a handcam and giddy schoolboy's temperament. That wasn't even really part of the marketing cycle, just Randy being a wierdo, so I can't even be upset we've had to wait this long to hear anything and feel vindicated in my writing it off. I just straight gaslighted myself and the unpleasant grimace of realising that impending asteroid I thought we dodged is actually still headed in a collision course has been plastered across my face since watching the trailer.

It started with seeing the poster for the movie doing the rounds online getting a straight flashbang about the aesthetic the movie is going for. So it's official- no post processing whatsoever- what we see it what we get. Which is kind of a bummer if I'm being honest. Without a doubt one of the most memorable aspects of the Borderlands franchise is it's visual identity hinged on the heavy-line cell shaded dynamic, perhaps one of the two only examples wherein such a processing trick has been sought-out not just to mimic an 80's pulp comic aesthetic. I did wonder for a while how such a technique would work running in an ostensibly live action movie, but judging from that poster look of the cast posing like a crew of high budget cosplayers- they're playing it straight with this one.

I'm not personally sure whether or not this alone has deprived the project of something, or if that would have just been a crutch in lieu of a popping visual eye if they had kept in the cell-shaded approach. Because either way, the movie does not seem to capture the same primary starkness of Borderlands, in matching tone and environment. Upon realising that the trailer had released at the same time as the poster, I subjected myself to the full thing to see if the team had made it work without and... I'm not blown away. I'm not entirely repulsed either- but sometimes being caught between the middle of two extremes is the worse way to feel. I mean it's great for the movie makers, who can use this as a chance to either blow me away or let me down horrendously- but I feel absolutely no innate confidence that makes me trust in the project. 

Borderlands over the past few years has been undergoing something of an identity crisis as the games lost that spark of wittiness that populated the franchises' most celebrated age. That perception of Borderlands as 'the funny shooter' game doesn't seem to have survived through Borderlands 3's life cycle of products as fans have been treated to the core game itself- which often mistook 'annoying' for 'quirky' and 'sex reference' for 'wit'- Tiny Tina's Wonderlands which felt undersupplied with content for many out there and is often overlook consequentially, and 'New Tales from the Borderlands' which inherited the legacy of Telltale's funniest game and perhaps Borderland's as a whole's funniest outing, and missed the mark completely. They missed out on the character writing, the emotional heart of the themes, the knowledge of what makes a joke and situation funny and just the general layout of what would be an interesting and engaging narrative. It feels like a lame sitcom about crazy weed-fuelled lunatics written by a team that have never touched a bong in their lives. The 'hello fellow losers' energy is wild.

All this has left a certain vibe off the Borderlands franchise, the stale waft of faded glories clogging up the franchise like salary men who still show up at their fraternity house warming parties expecting not to get tackled to the dirt by campus security. (Was that appropriately American enough of an analogy for you?) And to be completely honest with you- I don't actually detect an abhorrent amount of that on this trailer. Don't get me wrong, it looks like a rough facsimile of what the games represent, and the 'humour' hasn't even coaxed so much as a wry smile out of me from the trailer highlights, but I wouldn't call it terrible- which is a shock and a half to me!

Oh, and please don't misconstrue my lack of disregard as positivity- I am certain this movie is going to suck. It presents absolutely nothing interesting in a world defined by interesting characters doing interesting things. If Borderlands was just about shooting and blowing things up all day, the games would not have lasted as long as they have, Borderlands is about the way you shoot things up- the crazy creatures you're fighting, the creative guns your shooting, the flashy powers you're popping- of which this trailer bizarrely displayed none. I mean, we didn't even get to Roland drop a turret, let alone see Lilith use any of those Siren powers she's supposed to have! Speaking of- I didn't happen to see any of Lilith's siren tattoo's... are we... are we not doing a reimagination? Or have they reimagined the game so much as to reconstruct what Siren's even are? Lilith is already a bit of a boring character, she'll be especially dull without her defining powers.

And aside from that, there are the little things that don't quite line-up tonally. For one, I think the trailer is being narrated by Patricia Tanis, but it's hard to tell considering their choice of actress of Lilith, Cate Blanchet, sounds a lot like Jamie Lee Curtis in her delivery. But assuming it is Tanis, there's very little character in the lines she's been fed. Tanis from the games is a once promising scientist driven past her breaking point to a state of airy apathy after being exposed to the rigors of Pandora and it's unhinged residents. The narration sounded just like an older woman reading a trailer script- it was uninspired. And another little thing- their 'funny' line of "We have something they don't, baby girl- major issues." Irks me in a couple ways. Firstly- you're on Pandora- a planet defined by a population of 100% psycho lunatics. Everyone has issues in that scenario, the line is incorrect. Secondly, and I know this is being mean, her delivery of 'Baby girl' is so damned weak. I know it's unfair comparing the acting prowess of an actual actor like Ashley Burch with a... wait, no this girl is an actor too... would it kill her to try and act like Tina? Just a bit?

I know there are going to be people who love this film when it launches. It has that campy vibe which will resonate with the kind of fans of Borderlands who still find the tired joke format and delivery of 'loud guy is loud', 'corrupt guy is corrupt' etc- funny. But personally, I smell a movie that is going to be totally lacking in value behind it's referential content. Deprive this movie of it's Borderlands connection and it'd be called another boring shooting movie with a few cool design decisions but an ultimately uninspired delivery. And yes, that was me pre-reviewing the film before it's even made it to cinemas- and we'll get to see how well that sentiment ages when it drops! (I'm pretty foresightful on these kinds of 'adaptation' films. I think I've got a decent shot!) 

Borderlands and the amazing vanishing movie!

 Randy's magician talents are truly improving!

The state of the Borderlands

Never mess with accountants- you can always count on us, out numbering you.

Hey there kiddo, are you still up? I just wanted to touch base for a bit about this whole 'Borderlands' thing that's going on. Do you think you're good to talk about it? Why don't we start with how the series is right now, then we can go onto where it's going. How's that sound? Have I sufficiently made you uncomfortable enough with that intro yet? Good, because we're going to be talking about a series that is increasingly making me more comfortable for the direction that's it's going, the attention that it's receiving and the company who is making it. Okay, I don't really care about the company, but it's CEO, Randy, is sufficiently creepy enough to set off anyone's alarm bells by my estimation. And the reason I pick this up is because I'm confused about Borderlands. Where it is, where it's going, and most importantly of all how I feel about all of it, so let us explore.

Borderlands 3 was the last game out of the series and it was by most metrics a resounding success, improving on every aspect of the last game aside from the character writing (but that was an impossible task anyway, lets be fair) Borderlands 3 scored well and sold better, proving to the many doubtful that Borderlands is indeed back. And that's the point I want to harp on because it really does seem like Gearbox are doubling down to ensure this series never goes quiet again, and as much as I love being smothered in more of what I love; I think we're all well aware of the dangers of oversaturation and too much of a good thing. Sometimes it helps to have a series cool down for a bit before we pick things back up when they're steel burning red-hot. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say. 

For it's time, Borderlands 2 was pretty much a landmark release dominating the gaming cultural zeitgeist of 2012. And that was a packed year, let me tell you; Far Cry 3, ACIII, Mass Effect 3, Diablo... 3, (What's with all the 3's) Max Payne 3, (Okay seriously, what the heck?) Halo 4 (Oh thank god.) and Dishonoured. But even with that competition Borderlands 2 practically soared with a dedicated community, unending hype and chatter, and a fanbase so hungry for more that they went out and willing bought 'The Pre-Sequel' two years later. (That takes some serious brain washing.) But after that considerably less fun half-sequel, and the incredible TellTale game, Tales from the Borderlands, the series went utterly quite for nearly half a decade! For a series that now seems such an integral part of Gearbox's identity, it seems nigh on unbelievable that they went so long without chirping about it, but think about what that silence allowed for.

Speculations built on rumors, built on hopes, for years on end as aspiring Vault Hunters waxed and waned for years guessing and second guessing when their favourite cell-shaded looter was going to come soaring over that sand dune in one of Scooters beat-up buggies again. (All the while hoping that very pointed final line of Borderlands 2's main story wasn't alluding to an upcoming MMO, as that's what it really sounded like.) Time away gave the creators space to settle down and evaluate exactly the gameplay mechanics which made Borderlands 2 so successful and work at expanding or even subverting them for something superior. And that was time they really needed, because we know that when you rush the team they end up spewing out headscratchingly dumb ideas like "Let's take away the gravity, add in an oxygen gauge and make traversal a needless obtuse nightmare". (Sorry, Pre-Sequel: I just... really don't like you.)

But we're not getting that space this time around, and right on cue it's leading to just terrible ideas. The Borderlands Movie; why? I'm not saying that a comedic action-fuelled romp starring lovable and silly character's can't be fun, but why does it have to be Borderlands? A series who's identity, aside from jokes, is great gunplay, addictive looting spirals, superbosses and a whole bunch more interactive elements. Now I'll be the first to admit that Tales from the Borderlands was fantastic, but then Tales from the Borderlands was allowed to be it's own thing with it's own characters who could be built for the very purpose of being weedy quip-firing non-combatants in a world owned by violence. Their being out of place in a savage world was the crux of the premise. But this movie? I don't know if it understands that. We're getting the Borderlands 1 crew as the stars, and already the casting feels... off. Okay, I'm signalling in on Kevin Hart as the Lovable, even tempered leader, Roland. Aside from being Black, which at least they remembered to nail that, how does any of Kevin Hart's acting prowess line up with the Roland we know? And if this is 'a different take on the character', then why does it feel like he's going to be so 'different' that he'll essentially be a whole new character? The whole project just feels off to me.

And then there's the Tiny Tina swords and sorcery spin-off title which is coming out at some point, I can't remember. It seems like they've been teasing the thing for years at this point, and it's only been about 10 or so months. This one I find interesting, because unlike the movie I think it's a really cool idea. Tiny Tina's DnD themed DLC for Borderlands 2 was a fan favourite and it almost seemed like a given she'd get another go for Borderlands 3. But expanding that into a full blow spin-off game with Fantasy elements, new characters and apparently there's a whole new class of Melee weapon too. I say 'apparently' because in a stupid amount of publicity since the announcement I haven't seen a single clip of a melee weapon in extended use. Thus I can assume that it's an incredibly rudimentary Oblivion-style chop-stick melee system that the team are too embarrassed to tout.

With all this I have to wonder, where exactly are we going with Borderlands? Because it's no longer a fun little romp we visit every now and then to see what's up in the world of these silly desert outlaws, now there's a movie in the works and more games and probably even more stuff beyond that we haven't even heard about yet, this is feeling like a syndicated series. Now I know that Gearbox are much bigger than they once were, so taking on more frequent and/or bigger projects is all part of the territory which comes with this sort of expansion, but I wonder about what it would be like if Borderlands eventually became a series as overproliferated as, say, Assassin's Creed. With it's books, it's awful move, it's secret TV-show in the works, and endless copy-paste games. Will the special spark of this Looter that shows other looters how it's done be lost? Will, most importantly, the spark of ingenuity that feeds the creatives grow dim from exhaustion? Will future Borderlands slip from exception into average?

It's seems like more the job of soothsayers to judge the changing of the seasons on innocuous winds, but I never think it's premature or unfair to stop and take stock of where we are and where it seems to be heading. It's clear that Gearbox wants to become a bigger company, and it if it does that Borderlands will become it's flagship series, (or rather, it will continue to be) and I think it's only right we prepare for the consequences of that. I love Borderlands and the base monkey-instinct inme  makes me hungry for as much of the series as I can shove down my throat, but the cautious Ape-instinct side of me knows that overfeeding makes the pastures run dry. I'm glad to see the series looking healthy, I just hope it continues to play out in a healthy fashion for the series in the transitory years to come.

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< 

Worlds I want to live in: Part I

Words are flowing out

No this isn't some postulation about how we create a better world out of the one we live in, you know by now that I am far too much of a pessimist to care about any of that anyway. Instead I intend for this to be a raising of that most timeless of questions: If you could live in any fictional world, which would you live in? Yes, I know it's a bit of a cliche for a gamer to be wondering about life under different circumstances, but it's a thought I like to raise with myself now and then with some interesting connotations. I say this because there actually aren't a great deal of fictional worlds in gaming that really support such a train of question, for the very same reason that makes them such fun worlds to play in. They are often violent, death-filled expanses where life is cheap and bullets are cheaper, making this question less about one's ideal getaway and more about which place they'd feel most likely to survive in.

As such, I've selected a bunch of different game worlds all based around titles that are either renowned for the simulated worlds or too interesting for me to leave out of this list. The idea is to try and find some positive about residing in a world as an everyday normal human rather than a super powered protagonist with the power to freeze time whilst they chug several gallons worth of cheese wheels. (Guess that already gives away one of the games I'll eventually look at.) I feel like that's an important stipulation to make, as most of us on the planet Earth are really little more than just the mindless NPCs who flitter about life aimless and purposeless until we find ourselves stepping directly into our own graves. (Yeah, I'm just full of cheer and happiness today!)

Firstly I decided to go with a video game world that I've spent a considerable amount of time within, and that would be Fallout's Wasteland. Now Fallout takes place in a universe where the world hit an explosion of technology and productivity after the world wars resulting in a huge leap forward in what humans had at their disposal. Suddenly ideas that were once thought of as Science Fiction became the everyday and people were living in the world of tomorrow. Unfortunately, this also meant that the cold war lasted a little longer and grew a little hotter, this time with America and China in opposite corners of the ring. Their hostilities grew so all-consuming to each respective country's cultures that neither of them realised that the world they both shared was heading towards a resource collapse until it hit. Suddenly America had to develop a particularly authoritarian slant to their government, annex Canada, and fight off a budding Chinese invasion. That was until a surprise nuclear strike kicked off full global thermonuclear warfare.

Now I know what you're thinking. "In what way is that world supposed to sound like an appealing holiday destination?" but bear with me. You see, not everyone was killed when those bombs fell and in fact the remnants of humanity that did survive crawled out the debris and started remaking the world around them with whatever the had to hand. Some choose to model their lives on the same values as the old world, but most realised that such had led them to destruction and the way to rebuild was to form something new. One could look at this as a sort of grand resetting for the Earth, similar to the ideals that Tracer Tong preached in Deus Ex. (For the purposes of this analysis, I choose to focus on New Vegas' Mojave Wasteland as that's the closest this series has ever come to representing a functioning society.)

Now the most obvious reason to want to live in a world defined by it's collapsed society is thus, freedom. Fallout is a world in which there is precious little infrastructure or rules that folk are expected to adhere to aside from the absolutely necessary. (And even then there are some settlements that don't even functional lawmen.) This allows those that wish it to pursue that which they wish to achieve the most in life, like becoming one with nature and starting a farm, or vowing to travel the country and see every state. There are no ties that bind and I'd imagine a lot of people wish for a chance to be that responsibility free. Of course, there also the chance that such a freedom will overload your perception of what is possible and lean you towards the extremes, likely resulting in you regularly risking your own wellbeing or actively threatening others', but we're getting close to negatives here, let's still with the pluses for now. Another result of a society raised in the Wasteland is that is breeds a hardy folk of people who scavenge many of the space age tech of the land before them, some that stuff is even more advance than what we have today whilst still being 200 years out of date in their world. Heck, they have floating robotic servants, mini nuclear reactors and automated 'Auto-doc' units that can repair practically any injury. (Or lobotomise you if they're programmed incorrectly. You should really double check with that one.)

Of course, on the flip side there is the little issue that living in the Fallout Wasteland would open you up to the many dangers that an American Fallout citizen faces on the daily. This includes having to handle roving band of raiders who are eager to shoot you and play with your corpse, Super Mutants who want to kidnap and eat you, Deathclaws who want to eviscerate and probably also eat you, and on rare occasions, Aliens who want to abduct you for some vague reason that's never quite explained. Then there is the residual nuclear fallout that resides due to the weaponized material that exposited it. This results in deadly patches of nuclear radiation in the world as well as the odd nuke storm that may blow in now and then. These rads have made their way onto almost every food piece of food you'll find and water source that you drink from, and unless you've been born into this world you won't have the inherent resistance that those natives have built up, meaning you'll likely fall apart in no time. So if you can get past having to scavenge for your food, beating off raiders and mutants who happen upon you, and screening every snack through an anti decontamination chamber before consumption; then the Fallout Wasteland is the ideal consequence free dream land for you.

Next up is a world that I don't exactly think was designed to be all that sensible and feasible to reside within, but nonetheless I'm willing to ask the question anyway. Would you want to live on the Borderlands? Now, 'The Borderlands' is a term that I use to refer to the border reaches of space that make for the setting of the 'Borderlands' series of games. You see, these are the planets that various corporate entities sought to colonise as soon as they first expanded into space, likely believing themselves smart for scooping up as much real estate as possible. Unfortunately there were a lot of factors that ended up making these places not the smartest purchases, the most primary of them being because these planets were all infested with an unhealthy amount of man eating monster that made life virtually impossible. Some tried anyway, but most just pulled out and left these planets alone, likely writing them off as a failed venture, and leaving all those early residents behind. Pandora, the setting of the first two Borderlands games, is one such place.

Now you're likely thinking the exact same thing as last time after that summary, but there's a little bit more to the tale. You see, whilst the majority of the workers who were left behind eventually found themselves going insane and resorting to banditry in order to make ends meet, some choose to capitalise upon this 'Wild West' in space and that led to a few sane settlements starting in this no man's land. There was even some talk of a mysterious vault being somewhere on the plane of Pandora, which drew in a lot of outside interest as the last vaults that were opened led to various priceless items and technologies falling into the palms of whoever was the lucky opener. This means that a thriving bounty hunter community started to form on Pandora as well as a little bit of money from companies looking to strike themselves lucky off of what was initially considered a disaster of a planet.

Straightaway you'll see the parallel's that this world has to Fallout, only with a lot less dire circumstances. The majority of the establishment has abandoned the people of Pandora and pursued their interest elsewhere, leaving the folk of Pandora to their own devices. Once again this could be see as a licence to do whatever you want, but Pandora is known for being a infertile wasteland that is comically overly hostile in every possible way. (Aside from it's atmosphere, I guess, which human's can inexplicably breath) I guess if there is one immutable benefit to this world that I cannot take away it's that fact that this world is full of so many attention grabbing heroes and Vault Hunters, that if you're a nobody you'll literally be at the bottom of the list to be mugged. Bandits wouldn't even want to spend the cost of a single bullet that it would take in order to loot your corpse, because that's how worthless you are.

On the side of negatives, do you remember when I said that the Fallout wasteland was dangerous? Imagine that, but amplified to a ludicrous degree. Pandora is so dangerous to live in that there is an in-universe respawn mechanic of questionable canonicity that allows for vault hunters to be cloned the second after they die, because there has to be something like that in a world where your more likely to trade bullets with your neighbour than words. In fact, this place is so deadly that an entire spin-off game, 'Tales from the borderland', was built from the grounds of this very same proposition; "What if you were a nobody in the deadliest planet ever?" Anyone who does manage to survive Pandora looks miserable to be doing so, and I cannot imagine a single reason why anyone would live there willingly. Heck, the only mildly stable large settlement we see in this game is Sanctuary, and that place gets blown to hell and back repeatedly for the crime of having Vault Hunters even around them. So if you've literally come to terms with death and want to know what it's like to live life on hard difficulty; Pandora and the Borderlands is the hellscape for you.

Finally for part 1 of this blog, I'd like to take a look at a world that is very similar to our own yet fundamentally different. Out of the three choices that I've picked out today, the one universe that I would want to live in most is Mass Effect's Milkyway (Not Andromeda, screw that) and before I explain why let me define that universe. Now I remember a very long time ago being introduced to this franchise by a article which said "describing Mass Effect often consists of retreating to a dark room for hours whilst you decide where it is to even start", so I find this a little daunting but I think I'll begin in the 22nd century. In 2148 humanity discovers a cache of ancient alien technology on Mars so advanced that it shot their understanding of science forward by lightyears. Before long they'd discovered that their universe was full of actual aliens, and after a brief first contact war against the Turians, they were welcomed into a galactic community full to the brim with various alien races.

The Mass Effect milkyway is defined by the Citadel, which is a huge space facility that holds the council that brokers peace between as many races as possible. As such humanity finds themselves joined by the martial prowess of the Turians, the mechanical mastery of the Quarians, the intellectual supremacy of the Asari and the rapid talking of the Salarians. (I don't know what else is distinct about them. I guess they're really smart too.) Of course, there are still some universal threats to the universe, else this wouldn't make a very good setting for any stories, but the rampaging AI Geth are mostly found on the outskirts of space. Imagine what it would be like to be a human oblivious to everything going on with 'the Reapers' and 'the end of all life as we know it', just living it up on the Citadel.

On the list of positives, this would probably be a world of Utopian accessibility provided that you live in the Citadel, above the poverty line and some time before the coming of the Reapers. (So, just like real life then.) You'll be alive in a time of practically unlimited space travel where you can see all the wonders of the universe without putting oneself in danger and with the help of the Mass Effect Relays you'll be able to see it all within a matter of months instead of decades. Plus there is the fact that your universe will already be home to a bevy of alien races and cultures proving that we aren't alone in the Galaxy and interacting with peoples that were born on an entirely different planet would literally be my most heartfelt dream. (I love getting glimpses of over people's lives and experiences, but this would be a whole other level.) Mass Effect's Milkyway is practically a dream location that I wouldn't just visit but literally move into permanently.

Unfortunately, such a move would come with substantial risks. First of all, yes every race in the Citadel is technically friendly, but that doesn't mean the place can't get a little rough from time-to-time, especially in the lower decks. Humans specifically have a bad rap in the universe for having shown up so recently yet having still managed to worm their way into positions of leadership in no time at all. (We're sneaky like that.) This could make your Homosapien hide target practice for some of the less 'friendly' species out there like the Batarians and the Vorcha. But both those species are vermin who would never be allowed in the Citadel, (At least, not on the Presidium) what you'd really have to worry about are the threats to your life that won't be stopped by a denied VISA. The militarist sentient AI race known as the Geth seem to delight in picking off harmless human settlements for no reason whatsoever, and if they don't get you then maybe the mysterious Collectors will shown up to throw you in a rubber tube and melt you down into grey paste that they'll then fit into their superweapon. But let's say that you've got the funds to reside purely on the Citadel, and on the Presidium also. Well, you'd live a life of safety and prosperity. That is, at least, until a hulking death robot-squid called Sovereign comes to ruin your day by attaching itself to the Citadel tower and summoning it's kin. You might survive that, but from then you have exactly two years to enjoy your space life until a race of deadly human-synthetic hybrid squids come to literally wipe out all life in the Milky Way. So as long as you live your Utopian existence happy with the inevitability that no matter what you do any life you manage to build for yourself will eventually fall apart when death and war comes to your doorstep, you'll do fine. (Or you could sign up to that experimental expedition to slingshot a bunch of random folk off to the Andromeda Galaxy, but I'd probably stay away from that lot. Thinking about them just makes my face tired.)

As you can see I put an unhealthy amount of thought into thinking about the pros and cons of living literally any other life than the one I've been given, but it makes for fun blogging so who needs a psychiatrist? I've still not sure whether it's fair to judge the viability of living in a world on my knowledge of the plot of the games, because in real life we obviously don't know what the state of the geopolitical world will wrought for us in the next 5 years, but with such a silly premise I feel it's fair to approach it in a silly way so I'll keep it up when I pick this up next. There's a whole lot more worlds I want to judge and I look forward to coming back to this fun little thought experiment when I come up with more after this slot. And who knows; maybe I've got you thinking about the same stupid questions too. (Sorry, I had to share my idiocy with something.)

World's worth exploring

I'd rather go and journey...

The other day I found myself exploring around the parts of my neighbourhood that I had previously never witnessed. It was an attempt to shake some focus back into my mind, ( I've had a hard time thinking straight of late) but I found myself engrossed in the act of exploring. Seeing new places and accidentally getting lost on a hilltop cul de sac (That place really needed better signage) was quiet the fun adventure to go on, and it really got me thinking about the times when games managed to illicit similar feelings as you explore their worlds, as well as the factors that make those worlds worth exploring.

Just to be clear, I'm not talking about what it is that makes open worlds worthwhile, (I've already covered that before, anyway.) but the elements of any game world, be it open or otherwise, that tickle your spirit of adventure. For me, this means a game which makes you want to look in every house and dive into every cave, not just for the promise of treasure but simply just to see what's there. Or even worlds that have you delve voraciously into it's lore to explore that world in a manner more favourable to folk like Otto Von Bismark. (God, even by my standards that's a dumb reference.) Of course, that means that this blog will likely be highly subjective and my views may differ from your own, but as long as I get you thinking about the topic I'll consider this a success.

For me there are a few factors that go into making an interesting gameworld. One of which would be creating a world that rings with authenticity. Now, that doesn't necessarily mean that world must be accurate, (Most games suffer in their attempts to be accurate) but it must feel like a world/society that obeys to it's own rules. This can come down to doing something as extensive as writing lore for that world, to something as simple as providing little continuity snippets that explain the mundane things in the world. Neglect these can make your world feel very surface level or too 'game-y' to make you want to dive in. I know it sounds silly, but part of the reason I couldn't enjoy the beautifully crafted gameworld of Assassin Creed 2 without an objective was due to these little annoyances. 'Why did guards put your wanted sign up ontop of buildings?' Questions like that kept nagging me and breaking my immersion before it had a chance to form.

On the otherhand, when games do put in that extra effort to ensure that the world is beholden to some rules, even if those rules are weird, it can really resonate with the players. 'Beyond Good and Evil' is a mostly average adventure game with a fairly interesting story that gets less intriguing the further you pursue. The game is a huge cult classic, however, such to the point that Ubisoft are hard at work making an incredibly ambitious looking sequel. (Which they then intend to ruin by turning it into a live service.) For my money, the wide spread fame of the game came down to the incredibly vivid and unique world that you find yourself inhabiting. Huge sentient Rastafarian shark mechanics stick in the mind of the player much more than an enthusiastic but unremarkable fighting system. (To clarify, I refer to sharks that happen to work on mechanical objects, rather than indepth coding for a race of Rastafarian sharks. Although I would be curious to see how that idea would play out for the long awaited 'Jaws 3: The game'. Wow, my reference game is whack today.)

Another aspect of game design that really elevates the product, in my opinion, would be the scope of that world. I'm not talking about how big the playable game world is, rather than how big the ingame world is. Oftentimes it's the parts of the world that we don't experience and only hear about that really bring the story to life. Just hearing tales about the lawlessness of the 'Terminus systems' in Mass Effect 1 was enough to spark the player's imagination. You didn't even see a Batarian in the entire game (at least not in vanilla) so all we had were stories about an entire race of bandit aliens who famously slaughtered and enslaved an entire colony. Mass Effect was full of universe building snippets like this that made the wider world feel alive and existing beyond the direct actions of the player. (Which is where, I believe, 'Mass Effect: Andromeda' went wrong.)

Of course, as I mentioned in my lore blog, all of this can only serve as a addendum to what you have built up in the main game. All these extra world details are useless if the world that the player gets to explore is empty and uninteresting. Just look at Bungie's Destiny. That game built itself around the themes of legendary heroes and mysterious unknowable acts of heroism. Unfortunately, that ended up meaning that the entire main game was full of meaningless self-important dialogue and nothing substantial for the player to get themselves involved in. The famous tagline for the game was 'Become Legend', but in truth all you spent your time doing was hearing about other people who became legends whilst doing boring back and forth fetch quests. Just as with all things, lore must always be implemented with a sense of balance.

Visual diversity is also something to keep in mind when designing a game world. There is nothing more soul crushing, for the viewer, than being running through the same looking environments for several hours on end. That's part of the reason why I hate sewer levels, or any themed level for that matter, they ask you to withstand the same visual palette until it makes you nauseous. (Which is something that 'Shadow Warrior' actually did for me with it's sewer level.) Now I know that this seems to be more of an issue that is related to the 'appealing' aspect of a game world, but you'll find that it's a rock to start a landslide. If the area you are experiencing is visually appealing then you'll be more inclined to stick around and want to explore it. Bioshock's Rapture is an entire city that is made up of bathysphere-like glass domes that all reside underwater, yet the area still manages to encourage curiosity due to many factors, one of which being the range of visual diversity. Apollo Square is realized as a lowlass tenancy, whilst Nature's Bounty is an old fashioned fishing port and Arcadia features a whole underwater forest. Despite boasting a consistent location and a general art-deco design convention, the place manages to be diverse in a way that inspires and encourages curiosity.

A lack of visual diversity can suck out the feeling of life in the playable world. Oftentimes most storydriven games seek to take their players on an adventure and if the beginning areas of the game look identical to the closing areas (And it's not part of a dramatic convention i.e. 'Claptrap's New Revolution') then it can be hard to reconcile that promise of adventure with the experience you just underwent. Take the base game of the original Borderlands, for example. Most of that game took place in an area know as 'The Badlands' which, much as it sounds, was Mesa-like environment with an abundance of rocks and sand. Now that's completely fine for the introductory few minutes, but by hour 15 your eyes will start to get bored of looking at faded out yellow and brown everywhere. Luckily Gearbox recognized this for DLC and future titles. (Although Gearbox Australia apparently didn't get the memo when they made 'The Pre-Sequel'. Oh look, it's more moon...)

Painting and theme-ing the world is only one part of the battle, however, things really get interesting when it comes to filling that world. Although this is primarily a struggle that open world's work to face, anygame must endeavour to fill it's dead air with clutter. There is no one way to go about this practise and it can take many different forms; sometimes you'll dabble in environmental story telling, whilst other times you'll be working on narrative cues or just simple flavour material. Bringing all of these things together help to create an immersive environment that keep players hooked long enough to wonder what is around that corner. Games like the upcoming Cyperpunk 2077 have pushed this even further by enlisting bands to fill the world with original music to fill the gameworld's airwaves. This encourages people to listen into music tracks they hear, not just because they may enjoy the song, but because it paints a picture of the wider game world. Bethesda did something similar in Fallout 4 with Lynda Carter's singer character; Magnolia, and 'Dragon's Age: Inquistion' boasted a whole bevy of bar shanties that I still find myself humming. (Sera was never an agreeable girl...)

Oftentimes it can be all too easy for the devs in charge of clutter to focus on being functional and forget about or ignore immersivenss. This is completely fine when we are talking about a game that is focused on guiding you through it's events like Battlefield and Call of Duty campaigns; but you likely won't find yourself coming back to those levels to take a look around. Walk into a room full of waist-high objects and red barrels and it can be hard to buy into the fiction of the world and want to explore. Again, it all comes down to the type of game you want to make.

The ability to explore the worlds in which we play is one of those aspects unique to the medium of gaming that makes it so transcendent, in my book. That is why I commend and celebrate any developer or genre that exemplifies these efforts and pushes their artform forward through them. Companies like CD Projekt Red, Rockstar and Bethesda create entire realities that feel as real as the one we face every day and I find that to be one the highest forms of art. Maybe you agree there or maybe you look for something entirely different in your games, either way, I'm sure we agree that those games we consider special are the ones that manage to get us to boot them back up again, after everything's said and done, just to see what we might have missed.