Life...

...is awesome and beautiful and anyone who thinks otherwise needs to stop and reassess. I go outside sometimes at night to go walk or ride my bike, and the longer I ride the more I am cognizant of how beautiful existence is. It's fucking awesome. Look around and think about every little thing that stirs, and every other little thing that doesn't appear to stir, and imagine that you can see how at levels so small it is stirring, and looking exactly like your stirring self.

I don't care what you believe in, as long as you love. Love something, anything, someone, anyone, everything and everyone. Right? If you don't love this life, if you don't let it pull you along and embrace you, then how can you say you know life well? And don't you want to know life? I don't understand those who are not in constant awe of reality. I am perhaps too in awe, but that has never hurt me. It has only filled me up to the brim.

You should be loving and living life. I live life, and I do it quietly sometimes, and other times it is loud and all my being. But in each of those moments, I am sucking it all up. I am letting life enter me. My existence is my beautiful existence and yours as well.

This life is alive. This life is yours. Isn't it fucking awesome?

STOP DRIVING AND FLYING THE MACHINE, a n00b in the industry: take 1

So here I am, a n00b in the game industry, with a world available to me, and I thought it would be informative to relate the trials and tribulations I face as I face them. For the majority of you who don't know me, I am the figurehead of indecision. Or maybe I'm not? (Sorry, bad jokes may appear in this column.) But right now I am choosing between Tigerstyle games or Digital Chocolate. And I don't mean where to work, because I work for both right now, but which I prefer.

Let's start with a little background. I have been dipping my toes in game development for fourteen years now. I can't say I dove headfirst, because much of my childhood was spent riding my bike, reading every Star Wars novel until Phantom Menace demolished the extended universe, and focusing on schoolwork. My parents encouraged me to do well and try new activities, and so sitting down in front of a computer for twelve hours at a time always seemed wasteful of my existence.

But I knew early on, even before I was allowed to play games (I never owned a console until college), that games were this powerful outlet for art and entertainment that I wanted to be a part of. I wanted to create games that everyone would recognize and love. Entertainment. And I am still happy to find the entertainment out there. From Don't Shit Your Pants to Far-Cry 2, the player is in it for the thrill, however low and dirty. And I point out those games because they do exactly what a game should do. They have an interesting game mechanic that is well-executed and entertaining. But now that the wonderful realities of the world have appeared since college, I am stepping back and looking at my path.

What do I want from game development? At Digital Chocolate I have been enjoying the perks of a large business that tends to my needs. Even as a contractor, I am taken care of, and after the day is done, I can come home and eat dinner comfortably in my nice little apartment. I can play some PC games, do some reading, and just generally be a responsible adult with a good income. (Good income is a relative thing for someone just out of college and living in a cheap part of town.) But is contracting for a large company fulfilling for me? I cannot say for sure. I love having weekends to go out and hike and bike and see family and friends. The comfort of being able to eat a nice meal. And I'm not trying to brag, I am just stating the simple fact that, like my father before me, I am a jedi. No wait, like my father before me, working at a large company brings flexibility to one's lifestyle.

But these perks are offset by the fact that Digital Chocolate is a business. They make games to make games to make money. And that's exactly what they should be doing. Make games so you can make money to make more games. And I got a job with them! They acknowledged that I am good enough to help them make money! And I'm proud of that. I want to make people money. I really want to support the efforts of others.

But what is my goal? Because while I create art assets for Digital Chocolate, I have been lucky enough to work on Spider: The Secret of Bryce Manor. Tigerstyle games has been this wonderful garage development experience. I helped make Spider while living in my parent's house seeking out a real job to pay bills. Because Spider is one game. A labor of love by a group of people who deeply care about what we do. And so I heard the term just recently by the designer, that Tigerstyle is a lifestyle company. Spider was made because the guys had a great idea and wanted to make it a reality, not because anyone thought it would make millions. We hoped it would, but regardless, we wanted to make the game to make something awesome, not just for profit. (More specifically, David and Randy had to make the game.) That's powerful, is it not? That you need to do something because you are passionate about creation. And that is art to me. Sacrifice. Putting in that time and effort. Blood, sweat, and tears. That's what makes something a piece of art versus a product.

So right now I debate between art and product. I love art, and it takes sacrifice. Am I willing to sacrifice and strike out fully on the rocky indie development road, or do I keep this steady position that I might live a life beyond these completely unimportant games?

Gaming as an opportunity

So I have been playing a surprising amount of GTA: Chinatown Wars. Even now, a week after finishing the main story, I find myself pulling out the DS in spare moments, loading up Liberty City, and trading some drugs. Even as I bemoan the point of games like Farmville, I find that I am drawn back into GTA just to reach for that unattainable 100%. I know I won't get there. Partly because I don't care THAT much, and partly because at my next available opportunity I'll be purchasing the new Zelda.

But here I am right now, taking random 30 minute breaks in my Saturday, trading drugs and dodging cops just to finish buying all of the safehouses in this little city. And it's terrible. I think the game is repetitive, I think its driving involves far too narrow streets, there are too many cops, I still have a hell of a time figuring out what section of the city I am in, I have trouble avoiding cars because I'm watching the GPS too closely (which is an annoying crutch). There are a lot of reasons CW annoys me, but I keep playing it. And I think it is for that sole reason that handheld games are really easy to start up and play quickly. A five-minute session is super simple. I even will gravitate toward internet games because I'm already on the web and I can just load up kongregate or Canabalt, or the link will be there as soon as I type the first three letters.

The point I find myself arriving at somewhat unsurprisingly (though I had no idea this was what I was going to say when I started writing this post), is that it matters to me a very great deal how quickly I can actually start playing a game. I don't intentionally work that way. I would rather play a wonderful epic masterpiece that takes five minutes to get into meaningful gameplay, but when there are those small opportunities to play a game during the day, I am going to pick the game that is right there in my pocket that will take thirty seconds to get into.

The Grind

Two unusual games are on my current playlist, games that I have simply been curious about. If my tastes and preferences for games have never been revealed, then let me say this: I love doing the impossible. Those games that thrill and excite me, that strike that amazing balance of unreal existence and epic environments, I could play those games for hours on end. I play games like Pyschonauts, Fallout 3, or Mirror's Edge for the thrill of unreal worlds. To be in places that are beyond the realm of my hometown. There are enough beautiful moments in reality, enough vistas to make life wonderful. A game hits me when I know that within my lifetime there is no chance I will experience such wonder.

Likewise, games like Max Payne, Mirror's Edge (again), or Shadow of the Collosus are games to be experienced. To play with, to enjoy the fact that, as a player, I am capable of things that would never ever be possible in real-life. Situations that are not feasible. Climbing astride a beast hundreds of feat tall, clinging to its fur, and then climbing further up, that is worth my money. Or how about a gun-duel with multiple enemies? I will never in my life be in a gun duel. And I'm okay with that, because Max Payne gives me all of the joy with none of the reality of me getting shot and dying.

Many games these days are not what I really envision as games because they seem to no longer embrace the fun or the challenge. So out of curiosity I am currently playing Lord of the Rings Online and Farmville. I have wanted to know why people would play Farmville, so I joined the ranks in an effort to determine whether or not Farmville is even a game. After probably an hour of actual playtime I can announce that it is not a game. The premise is to farm a plot of land and to raise money to farm more land and add more types of crops, add random visual flair to your farm, to add neighbors, and to add, add, add! As far as I have been able to discern, there is no negative element to the game. You cannot lose, there is no series of interesting choices, it is merely the progressive collection of elements that may or may not exist on real farms anymore. I have come to the conclusion that Farmville is not a game, it is a tedious chore.

So yesterday, after harvesting my soy crop and planting a new round of seeds, I tried Lord of the Rings Online for the first time, and was slightly disturbed how similar it felt to Farmville. "Oh please, Tinuriael! We need to kill 6 of those Blighted Insects!" "Oh thank you! Here is some experience and silver!" "Oh but this man wants to see you about killing 3 Rustling Mugwumps!""Oh grand happy day! Have an old leather shoe! Now there are 8 Goblin shoes to be collected down the road which we'll trade you 6 more silver for! And if you find any vegetables to pick... Off you go, please!"

I have never really been into MMOs, but I thought I would give LOTRO a try, because I was told that it was a beautiful game with lots of exploration elements. Frankly, it is a beautiful game, and I was pleasantly surprised by the well designed environments, but was this slow grinding going to kill me? It destroyed WOW for me very quickly. LOTRO does have grinding, but at least it's not Farmville. Why not? Because you can die! You can fail, lose, get hurt, have to run away from too many enemies. It contains the very real possibility of failure, and I like that. My accomplishments in Farmville are not many, but they feel like even less, because every step I took put me closer to the accomplishments, whereas LOTRO contains steps that carry me backward, further from one destination in my efforts to seek something new. I visited Bree quickly after the world opened up to me, because I wanted to see Bree. I was quickly out of my level-safe area, but it was fun because I felt like I was giving up one quest for my own personal quest of exploration. What has Turbine done with Middle-Earth? I am finding the answers to that.

I enjoy games that give me thrills, and LOTRO has a beautiful thrilling world, but unless I can soon escape the tedium of its action, I might have to give up on another MMO. Perhaps I just don't appreciate the subtlety of MMO action, but games are my hobby, I play what I want, and I want a game that not only gives me an unbelievable world, but one where my actions are also impossibly awesome. However I can say for sure that Farmville (like too many Facebook apps) is not a game and is definitely not something I want to deal with anymore.

E(ART)H

Okay, I'm all for clever thoughts and witty commentary and yadda yadda yadda.... BUT sometimes I find that people are trying to be clever without any actual understanding of how or why they might be clever.

Take the title of this post. This is a new bumper sticker that I've been seeing around Berkeley, that most wonderful eclectic town where half the residents still believe we live in the sixties and Priuses roam unchecked and unchained. You might have seen the E(ART)H bumper sticker as well, because clearly a few years ago someone thought that would make a great sticker, it would strike people as clever and awesome and a declaration of their love of the environment. But I don't accept it. Unless of course this is actually all a ploy by theists to show us that the earth is a great piece of art created by God. That's an argument I can understand and accept.

But I guarantee the majority of people say, "Oh looook, it's art AND earth!" It does not make any sense to me for those two, although both nice things, just don't really have any reason to be stuck together, or one extrapolated from the other. Maybe someone can explain it to me, perhaps I'm just being narrow-minded. In the end, someone is making some nice money off that bumper sticker, and that guy does not care in the slightest whether the earth is art.

Admirable

First off, I really dig this Kickstarter website concept. But secondly, I really love developers that create "games" with messages, with artistic and political intent.

One piece that originally opened my eyes to the power of games and interactivity was September 12th. The laziness of the bomb, the brightly chilling sound when you turn a mourning family member into a terrorist, and the simple but fascinating intro to the "simulation".

Also recently discovered was a game from years ago that was recently noted on TIGSource, World War 1 Medic, another game that is made the more chilling by its bright optimistic sounds.

Game developers have messages they want to get out, and the best games take a slice that hits you, whether it's due to amazing controls or chilling actions. That is the goal of a game developer, to make you feel. And I hope that The Unconcerned can make your actions mean something like in September 12th, or ultimately mean nothing, as in WW1 Medic, both games revelatory in their own ways.

Tutorials

How the hell do you make a multiplayer tutorial? I have been pondering this for a few weeks now, because I think that it is indicative of the delicate balance required for all the elements of a multiplayer game. I am working on a Team Fortress 2 map, and I'm finding myself continually reworking the level, knowing that the spacial layout is key. But I was also playing the game a bit and I really took notice of how different the learning curve is between single- and multi-player.

In a solo linear game, even in a nonlinear game, you can introduce players to each concept, slowly ramping up the difficulty and complexity of the scenarios/levels/missions. In a multiplayer game you are introducing a player to the game, explaining the basic concepts and then throwing them out to the wolves. Play Team Fortress 2, Call of Duty 4, or, heaven help you, the venerable Starcraft, and the multiplayer games will hand your ass to you several times over before you give up in frustration or finally catch on to a trick somewhere and then slowly climb the tree of experience.

Multiplayer has never been for the weak of heart, but often hardcore games do try and ease you into the challenge over time through different methods.

Firstly, many games have a singleplayer mode. Starcraft you can train by playing through the campaign. I faced as tough a time at the end of Brood War that I faced online. Then again I never surmounted either Brood War or multiplayer SC; instead I conceded defeat against such brutal opposition. With Call of Duty there is also singleplayer, and many major games place just as much importance on the woven yarn as the multiplayer arenas.

Other games have excellent Bot modes. Unreal Tournament and its sequels have always been favorites of mine because they have excellent bots that you can play through the game as if you were playing an online match, but instead you play against whatever skill level you wish.

And finally, other games simply have tutorials, videos, or text and images to tell you what you should do when you're thrown out onto the field of battle. But these are the least helpful, frankly. Team Fortress 2 works with such simple tutorials because every element of the game is so plainly presented in the game. When you are a pyro, you immediately know you're a frontline soldier, intended to torch the enemy, and that's all you really need to do. You can see a giant glowing enemy signal, go to it. Play the doctor and you know right away what to do because as soon as you enter the game someone is yelling for a doctor and an arrow is pointing toward them.

The more complicated the game, the more complex the introduction, the more effort is put into singleplayer. Indeed, as I ponder, I am realizing that a game like Counter-Strike can throw you right in, because there is a simple goal and a simple mechanic to CS, it is the balance, the delicate interplay of all the little pieces, that make CS such a joy to master. People play CS for the challenge and if someone does not like CS, they will know it right away.

Likewise, when someone does find a mechanic they enjoy, they will stick with it. It just has to get easier. A player has to get better at a game. They have to feel progress. That is the joy of learning a game: the growth of the player.

Therefore, a multiplayer tutorial needs to reveal a game's central mechanic and hint at the strategies untold. A tutorial merely needs to explain the central tenet of the game, and if you cannot do that in a sentence or two and a couple images, then perhaps it's not the tutorial that needs fixing. The player needs a revelation merely by grasping the main game rule. And once they say, "Ahh, that's a clever concept," or, "Yes, I want to experience that," then the game must have the depth waiting on the other side.

So now it's the other side of the column for me, so thanks for reading. Next up: I have absolutely no idea.