Quick Review: Lego Indiana Jones

By Shamus Posted Monday Feb 23, 2009

Filed under: Game Reviews 31 comments

Oh wow! It’s Harrison Ford! Oh wait. No.  It’s just a Lego guy. Had me going there for a second.
Oh wow! It’s Harrison Ford! Oh wait. No. It’s just a Lego guy. Had me going there for a second.
Lego Indiana Jones came with my Xbox. I thought I’d say a few words about it.

I played Lego Star Wars a couple of years ago, and found it to be a very stereotypical casual game: Easy to learn. Charming. Playable in little ten to fifteen minute bursts. Mildly humorous. Fun.

The thrust of a Lego game is to take a movie series and transport it into the Lego reality of plastic bits and bright colors. There’s no dialog. The characters all emote with gestures, facial expressions, and very simple grunts. “Uh-oh!” is the closest thing you’ll hear to English. The movie will be broken up into a few distinct chapters. You’ll watch a little cutscene to set the stage for a chapter, and then the game turns you loose in a series of rooms where you bash up the bad guys until they shatter into plastic nobs. Usually you have two characters in your party, and you will need to occasionally shift between the two in order to solve some mild puzzles. There are a bunch of secret parts to find, which you can use to build secret objects that unlock various rewards. That’s pretty much it.

The formula doesn’t work quite as well with Indy as it did with Star Wars. (Spaceships are easier to envision with plastic bricks than jungles or Cairo.) The levels here are longer. Each chapter is about twenty to forty minutes long, and you can’t save. You also can’t die or fail, so you don’t have to worry about getting sent back to the beginning of the chapter. If you fall, you just pop back to life again. But I often found myself thinking I’d had enough Lego fun about ten minutes before I reached the end of the chapter, but was obliged to keep going to get to the next save. The game is a bit like cotton candy. It’s fluffy and fun, but I can only take so much of it at one time.

You thought he was getting out his whip, but no! He accidentally pulled out a BANANA instead. It’s funny because you weren’t expecting it! Or maybe you were! Either way, you can’t skip it! Wheee!
You thought he was getting out his whip, but no! He accidentally pulled out a BANANA instead. It’s funny because you weren’t expecting it! Or maybe you were! Either way, you can’t skip it! Wheee!
The cutscenes are unskippable. This is a crime. There are entire scenes of Lego people grunting and mugging at each other, trying to convey an entirely dialog-driven stage-setting scene via pantomime. It’s not entertaining or funny. If you’ve seen the movie, you’ll get the gist after about ten seconds. If you haven’t, it will just be meaningless jibber-jabber. The humor is bonk-on-head level comedy, so if you’re over six you’re probably not going to find these scenes very entertaining. But even if they were, I thought we had grown out of the unskippable cutscene by now?

But in the end, it’s pretty much the same formula and the same fun. I’m afraid there are no Deep Truths about game design to reveal here. Nothing offensively bad to get worked up about. No revelations about what makes gaming great. It’s a very formulaic series, and this isn’t the best example of the formula. If you’ve never tried the whole Lego thing before but want some amusing low-key fun, start with Lego Star Wars. (I suggest the game based on the prequel trilogy, as it lets you smash up little plastic Jar-Jar with your lightsaber as many times as you like.)

 


 

Unskippable: The Darkness

By Shamus Posted Saturday Feb 21, 2009

Filed under: Movies 23 comments

I remember Yahtzee covered this game back in his pre-Escapist days and he mentioned how slowly the main character loaded his shotgun during the opening cinematic. At the time I thought it was a strange and incongruous thing to bring up. Okay, it’s slow. It’s a cutscene. So what? But now that I realize that the loading sequence comprises nearly the entirety of the opening scene his criticism makes a lot of sense.

This one was interesting because it’s a semi-interactive scene. They actually had control of where the camera would point. From the video, I can’t actually tell what sparks the conflict. They’re driving through the tunnel, then they see a police car and start driving like madmen. It doesn’t make sense, but I can’t tell if it wasn’t explained in the scene at all, or if some detail was missed because they had the camera pointed in the wrong direction.

I agree that the tunnel was just preposterously long. I understand that for technological reasons they needed to not attempt to render New York in all of its framerate-smashing glory, particularly not for a single throwaway scene. But it feels sort of odd to pretend to be in New York and then just have a long tunnel scene. If nothing else, they should at least have had an establishing shot of the city (a still frame or whatever) before chucking the player into a tunnel. Another approach would have been to set the thing at night. They could have alternated between tunnel / bridge / expressway scenery with just city lights in the background.

“Well, things must be pretty desperate if they’re giving the cameraman a shotgun.”

It stimulates my laughter gland. Once again, nice going to Graham and Paul.

 


 

Experienced Points: Excuses on the High Seas

By Shamus Posted Friday Feb 20, 2009

Filed under: Column 67 comments

“Piracy” has been this week’s topic at The Escapist, and I jumped on the bandwagon with my run down of common reasons given to excuse piracy and why they (mostly) don’t work. (Although there are a few reasons (surprisingly, DRM doesn’t dominate the article, hooray for self-restraint) to which I am sympathetic.)

For contrast, self-professed pirate Lee Evans at Downwards Compatible has posted a list of common reasons for piracy. On Monday he plans to offer some suggestions on how piracy can be reduced.

I’m always glad to read the thoughts of clear-headed pirates who are honest with themselves about what they’re doing. I’ve said before that piracy is a social problem, not a technological one. I still think piracy is wrong, and I take no part in it myself, but I also don’t like the common practice of lumping pirates in with muggers, carjackers, or scam artists. I’m not suggesting that pirates are downtrodden victims and that if we listen to their reasons and have a hug that everything will be just fine. I’m saying that unlike crime in meatspace, you can’t fight piracy with guns, lawsuits, or DRM. It’s a social problem that can only be mitigated, never eliminated. Step one in solving a social or cultural problem like this is understanding what motivates people. Some are dedicated pirates who are lost to publishers, but some can be turned into customers. I think publishers would have better luck ignoring the former and wooing the latter, instead of ineffectually attempting to punish both.

 


 

Stolen Pixels #66: The Hero Foretold

By Shamus Posted Friday Feb 20, 2009

Filed under: Column 25 comments

The final Fable 2 comic is up.

Once again the bloom lighting was a pain in the ass. These are the sorts of hardships I endure for you. I hope you’re grateful.

 


 

The Escapist Show: Silent Hill Homecoming

By Shamus Posted Thursday Feb 19, 2009

Filed under: Movies 26 comments

The Escapist interviewed the guys from Double Helix games, the team behind Silent Hill Homecoming. (The movie begins with a skit. And some game footage. If you’re in a hurry, the interview proper starts at about the 2:20 mark.)

If you’ll remember, I actually quit Silent Hill: Homecoming without finishing it. This was partly due to frustration, partly due to the botched controls. I’ve since gone out and read the plot spoilers, and I really like what they did with the main character. I was worried that his background as a soldier and a war veteran would change the tone of the game by making the main character too much of a badass. That actually didn’t turn out to be the case. In fact:

(This is the biggest spoiler in the game, don’t read it unless you’re ready for that sort of forbidden knowledge.)

He’s not really a veteran at all, he just THINKS he is. He’s not coming home from the military, he’s come home from the mental hospital where he’s lived since his early teens. His dogtags belong to his father. He finds this out in the final act.

Once I read that, I re-played some of the in-game conversations in my mind and saw that they’d actually very cleverly telegraphed this on several occasions. This information crops up in most conversations, but our expectations lead us away from the truth. Nicely done.

Jason Allen pretty much nails the central ideas behind Silent Hill: The game is usually deeply personal for the main character in that they work through internal issues as they fight through the gameworld. The developers then go on to talk about the controversy surrounding the the addition of the dodge move for the main character. But the real magic happens at the 4:40 mark when Eric Greenleaf talks about how you could spot reviewers who were already fans of Silent Hill and who (eyeroll) “Just wanted the same old Silent Hill.”

Me, out loud to the computer: You mean your former fans?!?

In case Double Helix ever reads this, let’s get down to why these changes didn’t work. It has nothing to do with people never wanting the game to change. It has to do with people wanting to preserve the key elements of the series. They might fear change because they don’t understand what makes the game so good for them, but if your new features preserve or enhance the experience, they will be embraced by fans. (And they will forever after insist it’s not a Silent Hill game without those features.) If Silent Hill veterans are rejecting gameplay elements, it’s because the game was no longer giving them what they wanted.

1) Quick time events have no place in a Silent Hill game. One of the conventions of the series is to have little or no interface elements on screen. You don’t get a health bar, a stamina meter, a bullet counter, or a mini-map. The lack of data is not to make the game harder (although it does add a modest level of challenge) but to make the game more immersive and less mechanical. But it does no good to remove all of that out-of-character data and all of those overlays if you’re going to spam the screen with colorful flashy “PRESS THIS BUTTON” popups. I’ve had my say on quick time events, but aside from their failings as a gameplay device, they really serve to remind you that you’re playing a videogame. This is detrimental to the atmosphere of many games, but uniquely damaging to Silent Hill.

2) The dodge move wasn’t heresy to me. My only problem with it was that I couldn’t seem to get a feel for it. There aren’t a lot of fights in a game like this, and there are very few low-risk fights where the player has time for training. I went out of my way to try to learn to use the dodge move, and it only got me injured in combat. It’s not like the monsters can coach you, “Nope. Too early, wait until your foe begins to swing. No, too late this time. Little faster.” I’d get nailed over and over without being able to tell what I was doing wrong amid the chaos of combat. Do I need to hold the button? Can I dodge while using this weapon? What did I do wrong there, why didn’t Alex dodge? Does dodge even work on this foe? Do I need to be able to use this dodge stuff, or is this just a “fun” thing that I’m wasting my time and resources on?

The dodge move made the game incredibly volatile. A player that can use them well can sail through a fight without taking a scratch. (I watched some YouTube walkthoughs after I gave up on the game.) A player that can’t will slowly run out of health and hit a wall. The game becomes either too easy or too hard. As implemented, it’s an unbalancing mechanic that pushes everyone out of the “just right” zone. The feature should have been easier to learn, more obvious in its proper use, and easier to execute. Greenleaf talks about how the old games were “hack, hack, hack.” That’s true, and he’s right that it wasn’t very interesting. It’s sensible to want to give the player some more choices in combat. But here it isn’t a choice, it’s a new skill to master, during combat, with inadequate feedback.

3) Difficulty levels exist for a reason. Once I’d reached the hotel, I’d consumed too much health trying to learn to dodge. I’d wasted all my bullets trying to shoot when down was up. I could have muddled through by bumping the difficulty down to easy until I recovered, but there was no easy mode. My only choice was was to go back to an hours-old save and hope that I could do a cleaner run at the hotel, or give up. I gave up.

4) Go easy on the monster counts. In a deeply immersive game, you don’t need crowds of foes to scare the player. You need one, and the uncertainty of the unknown. The three-nurse fight killed me twice, and that was miles from a save point. That much challenge after that much un-savable progress was a major mistake. Remember that it is not your job to kill the player, only to make them THINK you are trying to do so. The three-nurse fight was not frightening, it was frustrating. In the comments I’ve noticed I’m not the only person to give up on the game at that exact point.

5) Leaving out the ability to invert the up / down on the camera controls was madness. What were you thinking?

From reading the synopsis, I think they nailed the story. The main character was just right. His arc was fairly compelling. But the combat and controls created a perfect storm of failures. In the end, the dodge move made combat more frustrating than the previous games where the protagonist handled like a forklift in a broom closet. The lack of difficulty adjustment and the punishing three-nurse fight stopped my forward progress. And the lack of suitable controls convinced me to give up and move on to other games rather than return to an old save.

The good news is that combat is historically the easier problem to fix. Double Helix has someone in their employ who can write a solid Silent Hill game. That’s like finding out one of the busboys you hired is a Jedi. The game was not the “Masterchief goes to Zombietown” train wreck that I feared, and I’m happy to eat my words for suggesting that Double Helix was going to follow Resident Evil into idiocy and nonsense. Silent Hill requires a higher level of writing than almost any other game out there. It requires subtlety, imagery, foreshadowing, and carefully constructed dialog. And I actually think the dialog here is better than in any of the previous games. It relies less on cheap non-sequitur answers to direct questions in order to keep its secrets.

But the attitude in this interview has me worried that they’re going to dismiss these combat complaints as the ravings of mere fans (fans? who needs those?) instead of looking into what went wrong with the mechanics. Fans just might know what was loveable about the game in the first place.

Besides, it’s not a Silent Hill game unless the graphics suck! And bring back loading screens on every door! And the Engrish interface! And the old door opening sound! And bring back James Sunderland! And the two-by-four! And make a PsOne version!

I am a fan, listen to meeeeeeeeeeee!

 


 

GM Advice: Prejudice is Good

By Shamus Posted Wednesday Feb 18, 2009

Filed under: Tabletop Games 55 comments

When I’m running a game and I need to populate a town quickly, my favorite thing is to season the place with a dash of prejudice.

Now, serious racial prejudices have been covered, and then some, by most campaign settings. Yes, Elves and Dwarves don’t get along, and Gnomes never invite Drows to their office parties. That’s all obvious stuff and won’t add much to the NPC’s you’re trying to color in before your players realize you’re a fraud and turn on you. I’m not interested in adding another layer of that sort of thing to the game. Not everyone you meet in a roleplaying campaign is going to be brimming with anger and hatred, and too much of that can wear thin and make it feel like the players are stranded on Planet of the Jerks. I’m not talking about bitter racial tension, I’m talking about the sort of generalized, mostly harmless form of prejudice that nearly everyone drags around with them.

When I worked at McDonald’s (if you’re just old enough to vote, then we’re talking about stuff that happened the year you were born) there was the agitation and rivalry between people who opened the store and those who closed at the end of the night. It went something like this: The closers resented the openers, who got a spotless store every morning and who were free to leave at the end of their shift regardless of the state the store was in. To them, openers were leeches and vandals who repeatedly wrecked the place, left messes, and never planned ahead. The openers thought of closers as a bunch of slackers who get to laze around the place all evening and handle the very occasional customer before doing a few dishes and some half-assed cleaning.

The two groups rarely met. By three in the afternoon, the last of the early morning crew had cleared out, and the closers didn’t usually arrive until five or six. They resented each other at a distance, and each group thought they worked harder than the other. Mention closers to an opener, and you’ll get an eyeroll: “Oh. Those guys. Well if one of them trained you then it’s no wonder you don’t know what you’re doing. You see, we do things right here in morning shift.” And so on.

The closer / opener is the perfect situation for creating petty little prejudices like this. You have two groups that depend on each other, yet who don’t have a great deal of contact. They never see the challenges the other group faces, only their mistakes. Having some kind of low-level animosity form is almost inevitable. (I worked both shifts. No matter which shift you work, it’s eight hours on your feet dressed in clothes that are both unflattering and uncomfortable. Neither shift was harder than the other in a way that warranted all of the grumbling between the two.)

You can see these sorts of interpersonal fault lines appear all over the place where you find slight differences in cultures and attitudes. Urbanites think suburbanites are a bunch of soft-spine plastic people. Suburbanites think of rural folks as yokels. Rural people think of urbanites as a bunch of thuggish jerks. Officers think enlisted men are shiftless slackers. Enlisted men think of officers as clueless and petty. (And both have the anecdotes to prove it!) In a university town, it’s townies vs. students. Cashiers vs. stock boys. Management vs. Employees. The writers vs. the actors. Programmers vs. Artists. Engineering vs. marketing. You can even take some groups and sub-divide them down in an almost fractal manner, revealing smaller and smaller divisions until you’re finally dealing with individuals again. (Example: Professionals » Engineers » Programmers » Open-source developers » Strident “information wants to be free” types» Richard Stallman. The final step brings us a group with no more possible divisions, assuming Stallman likes and agrees with himself. But in every level above that one, we can find groups of people bad-mouthing one another over the differences that seem laughably minuscule to anyone outside the group.)

I do not for a moment place myself above this sort of behavior. Browsing through the archives of this site should reveal that I’m probably at least as guilty as anyone else of this sort of thing. It’s just part of human nature. Aside from a few hurt feelings it’s almost always harmless, and sometimes humorous.

In a tabletop game, I try to color my NPCs with a few of these harmless prejudices. If the players encounter a random NPC (someone I haven’t planned) then the first thing I do is come up with what they look like. The second thing I do is decide who gets on their nerves. It can quickly add color to a town if the players get the impression that there is some gentle in-fighting between the shopkeepers and the dockworkers. Or the farmers and the people who live in town. The town watch and the mages. The folks in Hobbiton and the ones in Buckland. The Jedi and the politicians. The soldiers who work in the castle and those who work out in the city itself. The bean farmers and the grain farmers. The tanners and the weavers.

I like this because it gives the impression the city is alive with different sorts of people with different agendas, even if the players have only just met the first person in town and you’re scrambling to fill in the rest as they go. It not only fills in this NPC for the conversation at hand, but it offers a bit of narrative scaffolding for you to use for the next one.

This is particularly true when you’re dealing with high fantasy players. Those guys can be jerks sometimes.

 


 

“About the Author”

By Shamus Posted Wednesday Feb 18, 2009

Filed under: Random 34 comments

I’m planning another site update. Nothing major, just a cleanup of some old pages.

I’m going to be re-working the About the Author and Best Posts sections at some point, and I thought I’d gather up some feedback before I did that. The “Author” page is probably going to shift towards being more about my work than me. Or perhaps I’ll break those two concepts into different pages. I’ll decide once I have a feel for what works. In any case:

1) What sort of things do you look for when reading about the author of a site? My picture will be there so people will know the basic name / age / gender stuff. But beyond that, what questions do you usually have about the people you read?

2) Any suggestions for my “best of” page? I’ve added a lot of content since I made that, and no doubt there are better posts in the archives than the ones I have listed on that page.

3) I know the category images are broken in at least one of the themes, and I need to get that fixed. I know that Wavatars don’t work quite right in IE6 and in some versions of Opera, but I’ve given up on solving that one. Beyond those issues: Anything else broken that I should know about?