Indie Illuminator - Telepath Tactics

Most of my Indie Illuminator posts up to this point have focused on new or upcoming projects. Today I thought I’d illuminate an older game I recently started playing: Telepath Tactics.

Produced by developer Sinister Design and released in 2015, Telepath Tactics is a turn-based tactics game with complex battles and a unique theme. I originally found the game after reading an article by Sinister Design’s primary developer, Craig Stern. (I’m 99% sure this piece on improving turn-based combat was the article, in case you want to check it out.) Telepath Tactics popped up on my Steam recommendations list a few months back, and I decided to finally give it a try.

Image from the game's Steam page.

I’m a few hours into the game, and here’s what I’ve noticed so far. First, Telepath Tactics takes the second part of its name seriously. After the first couple tutorial battles, the difficulty spikes pretty early, and you’ll need to think strategically to overcome the enemy’s superior numbers. The combat actually plays out a bit like a puzzle game, similar to 2018’s Into the Breach. But with several more characters involved, the puzzles are even more difficult to unravel.

The world of Telepath Tactics intrigued me right from the start. Two human sisters (the protagonists in the story so far) are adopted and cared for by a race of humanoid lizards, and the first characters who join your group include mage-like telepaths (unsurprising, given the game’s name) and a knight riding a giant mantis. While other elements seem to resemble a classic fantasy story, I’m definitely excited to find out more about the world and how the more unique elements fit into it.

Overall, the game has a lot to offer, but the UI does leave a bit to be desired aesthetically and functionally. For example, when my characters’ weapons started to break it wasn’t especially clear how and when to equip a replacement. That being said, I would encourage tactics fans to look past the bland interface and see what Telepath Tactics contributes to the genre. It’s obvious that Craig Stern put a lot of thought into what makes a game “tactical,” and implemented that thought into this game. If you're interested, you can check out the game's Steam page here.

Dev Take Tuesday - The Wheel and the Carousel

It’s been a while since my last Dev Take, and I’ve been watching several TV shows—some new, some old. None have led to any new insights as a game designer and developer (which likely says more about my frame of mind then the shows myself). Then I watched the season one finale of Mad Men. I’m way behind the crowd on this one, but I would always hear references to the show and decided to finally check it out.

In the final episode of the season, 60s ad man Don Draper and his team need to pitch an advertising angle for an innovation on the slide projector—a wheel on top that makes it easy to put together a slide show. The slide projector company (Kodak) wants to highlight the newness of the tech, even though they admit that a wheel actually reminds people of ancient technology. But Don takes an entirely different approach in what makes for a memorable scene.

Some of the poignancy of that scene involves what viewers know about Don’s personal life, but I won’t get into that here to avoid spoilers. Instead, I want to focus on Don Draper’s explanation of novelty and nostalgia in advertising and how that relates to game development and game marketing. Here’s a YouTube link to the scene in question, but I’ll also include a transcript below.

Well, technology is a glittering lure. But there's the rare occasion when the public can be engaged on a level beyond flash, if they have a sentimental bond with the product. My first job, I was in-house at a fur company, with this old pro copywriter. Greek, named Teddy. And Teddy told me the most important idea in advertising is "new". Creates an itch. You simply put your product in there as a kind of... calamine lotion. But he also talked about a deeper bond with the product: nostalgia. It's delicate... but potent. Teddy told me that in Greek, "nostalgia" literally means, "the pain from an old wound". It's a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn't a spaceship. It's a time machine. It goes backwards, forwards. It takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It's not called the Wheel. It's called a Carousel. It lets us travel the way a child travels. Around and around, and back home again... to a place where we know we are loved. (Transcript courtesy of IMDB).

When we as developers create a new game, I think our first instinct is to focus on novelty—what are we doing different? What’s flashy about our game? And that flash can certainly be a powerful draw. We (at least most of us) don’t want to trot out a carbon copy of another game and call it our own. But I still think that game developers can—and should—try and capture that feeling of nostalgia, when appropriate. It’s tough. Some people might use pixel art or chip tune music and say that’s enough. Others might copy every last aspect of a beloved game of the past without modernizing the design for what current customers have grown accustomed to.

Photo by Lessa Clayton 

Nostalgia doesn’t mean perfect replication: our minds tend to smooth out the imperfections of even our most favorite memories and thus a perfect copy ends up betraying our personal memory of the past. Instead, I think nostalgia is about finding that ache that Don Draper describes. Like a carousel, the games we develop can take people on a journey that eventually brings them back to the familiar, brings them back home. A wheel, once connected to an axle, takes people forward or backward. But a carousel keeps people entertained. Attached. With Alkanaur we’re aiming for that carousel experience. We’re not using bold new technologies or designs. Nor are we simply pushing people backward to the exact experience they received in other tactics games. We want anyone who has played other games in the genre to face something new and intriguing before the carousel turns and brings them back to a familiar place they know and love. We believe that approach will be both a potent draw for potential customers as well as a powerful and fulfilling experience for our players.

Dev Take Tuesday – Polishing a Popular Game Series

My wife and I recently purchased the Nintendo 2DS XL, the first handheld either of us have owned since the good ol’ days of Gameboy Color. That means I finally got my hands on Pokémon Ultra Moon, the latest game in the popular franchise. And I’ve been having a blast! Now that I have a permanent case of game designer brain, it’s nearly impossible not to quietly catalog all the design differences in this iteration while I play. So for this post, I wanted to look at a few of those changes, how they improve the game, and what was sacrificed as a result. (Note: the last Pokémon game I played was Fire Red, so it’s possible some of these changes occurred in games before Ultra Moon.)

One thing clear from the start of Ultra Moon is that you’ll be practically drowned with items from everyone you talk to. Items from NPCs are a staple of Pokémon games and practically all RPGs, so the difference here is in volume. You quickly stockpile a bunch of potions and pokéballs in what amounts to the game’s tutorial. I like this change. Giving these items away generously encourages their use right from the start. Similar to the last piece of cake at a party, one or two potions in the inventory might never get touched.  But when you get ten right away, they seem like a resource the player can use freely. And the increased potions and pokéballs mean the player has more freedom to do “fun game stuff” instead of running back frequently to Nurse Joy for healing.

Are you hearing that jingle in your head now? (Image found on Giant Bomb)

As is the case with any design decision, this generosity from the designers has a cost. Increased item availability reduces their perceived value and should theoretically make the game easier. In the end, this design decision makes the game faster as opposed to easier. Items like potions already have an opportunity cost built into the battle system—if you use an item during your turn you cannot attack. And I think the added time doing “fun game stuff” is worth the decreased perceived value of potions and pokéballs. After all, the game is all about catching pokémon and not about collecting items. Pokémon are the loot (which is a little ethically sketchy now that I think about it).

Another change is the number of timely heals provided before a pivotal fight. Some of the toughest battles in Pokémon occur when a rival or ne’er-do-well challenges you in an ambush situation. It seems like Ultra Moon goes above and beyond to make sure you never end up in the frustrating spot of losing simply because you didn’t know you needed to visit a pokémon center first. This undoubtedly makes the game easier, but not every game is about Dark Souls-esque “gotcha” moments from the designer. The narrative battles in Ultra Moon are more telegraphed, but in return the player more in control.

One final thing I’d like to point out is the addition of z-power moves. These moves can only be used once in a battle, even if you switch to another pokémon with a different z-move. These attacks are especially powerful and also come with a lengthy and exciting animation. While the animations look amazing the first few times, I did eventually start to set my DS down and get a drink whenever one was used. Perhaps there’s an option I missed to skip the animations. Anyway, the best aspect of z-power is the connection it highlights between the pokémon trainer and the pokémon itself. Those moments would often pull me into the game and help me feel invested in the actual characters instead of simply making the correct tactical choices. In longer battles they also add an interesting decision of when to finally use your z-move, but those moments are sadly rare—most NPCs seem to carry only one pokémon.

The most adorable z-move (image found on TechnoBuffalo)

It’s certainly easier to polish a hit series than create a hit game out of nowhere. But game designers still make plenty of mistakes when releasing sequels. Successful polishing seems to come when the designers understand what the game is trying to do. I think that’s exactly what happened with Pokemon Ultra Moon. These additions and outright changes keep the game fresh, but also move increasingly toward the game most fans want, which is a relaxed game about collecting eclectic pocket monsters and building an unstoppable team (and bond) with them.

Indie Illuminator - Stoneshard

It’s been a while since I did some good ol’ fashioned illuminating, but when I learned about Stoneshard, I knew I had to cover it. There’s a lot to love about Stoneshard. It’s beautiful pixel art aesthetic. The classic turn-based tactical combat. A clever addition of physical and mental well-being instead of simply a health points system. If that sounds like your jam, you can try the prologue for free here.

Screenshot from Stoneshard's Steam page

Stoneshard has been in development for over two years by Ink Stains Games. They’re currently running a Kickstarter campaign to not only raise some extra funds for art and programming, but to increase awareness of their game (something every indie is looking for). The studio’s previous Kickstarter campaign for 12 Is Better than 6 was a success, and Stoneshard has already exceeded its funding goal. If you want in on the exclusive backer awards, you can check out their campaign page here in the next couple days.

Dev Take Tuesday - NBA Officiating

No, this won’t be a rant about my team—the Utah Jazz—playing James Harden and the Rockets. I’ll exercise some control here. But I want to explore one particular call that happened when the Jazz closed out their first round opponents, the Thunder. Star player Paul George, not having a particularly good game up until that point, leaned into Jazz defender Rudy Gobert as he took the final shot of the game, trying to force a foul call. Had he not leaned into the defender, there would not have been any contact. In the past few years, the NBA cracked down on these attempts to draw fouls, and according to official review the no-call in the Jazz/Thunder game was correct. Yet it still caused quite a bit of a stir among basketball fans and, of course, Thunder fans especially. Why? Consistency.

Image from NBA.com

Even though the call was correct according to the rules of the game, that call isn’t made correctly every game. So even when confronted with the information that the officials were right, fans and players still felt cheated because they recalled the times when the rule in question wasn’t upheld. Other calls, such as charging, have rules so opaque to the majority of fans that the referees are bound to seem inconsistent no matter what they do. If the fans or players can’t see the nuances of a rule, then even correct usage of the rule will appear erratic.

Game design is about making rules for players, and I feel that the ire caused by NBA officiating shows how important clarity is for game design. Obviously, inconsistent rules in your game will always be frustrating and should thus be avoided. But what game designers really have to look out for are any rules that are technically constant in their design, but appear fickle to the player. For example, as much as I love Civ 6, I’m still occasionally frustrated when a unit appears to be in range to attack, but can’t. There’s almost certainly a reason why the unit cannot attack, but I don’t understand it, leading to momentary exasperation. This is why clarity is one of our design pillars at Rob the Sky Games: we don’t want to frustrate the players that breathe life into our games.

Dev Take Tuesday - Moving

It’s been a while since my last post, and that’s because my wife and I just settled into our new apartment. I head into every move thinking that my past experience has prepared me—this will finally be the move where everything goes right! Needless to say, every time I think that, I’m wrong.  Whether it’s uncooperative weather or not enough boxes or racing the clock for cleaning checks, I’m starting to doubt there’s such thing as the “perfect move.”

So. Much. Cardboard.

Even though Alkanaur is my first game, I’ve found myself falling into similar traps throughout its design. It’s easy to fall into a trap where you imagine that all your past design work (for your current game or previous projects) has prepared you—this will finally be the time that your designs go completely right! But the truth is that iteration and feedback-based improvements will always be necessary. If you want to be a player-focused development team like we do, you’ll always be making adjustments and figuring out what players prefer.

Alkanaur still moves steadily along, and we’ve received some solid feedback on our pre-alpha demo. Our next step is a longer, public-facing demo that should provide a full “slice-of-the-pie” for people to understand what our game is about. In addition to the battle system in our current pre-alpha, the new demo will include a taste of our character customization and narrative systems. Even though I know every new step we will take will require iteration and adjustments, I also know that—just like our recent move—we’ll eventually get there.

Dev Take Tuesday - Taking Time to Talk Timers

Today I’m going to level some criticism at a game I absolutely adore: Mansions of Madness. This hybrid board game and digital app lets you play as investigators in a horrific Lovecraftian story. The use of a digital app allows for randomization in every scenario you play and automates some of the vexing “bookkeeping” required in a complex board game. I love the spooky ambiance created by the game, and the combat and investigation mechanics are relatively simple but fun. It’s a game where the investigators often lose to the monsters, but we still have a blast while losing—a wonderful quality in any type of game.

However, in a few of our losses I’ve felt a bit cheated, and that’s the direct result of a decision to use a hidden timer as a failure state. In the case of Mansions of Madness, which is a turn-based game, the timer is a certain number of rounds instead of a countdown clock or hourglass. Timers can be quite useful in game design. They generate tension. They maintain momentum and prevent stagnant gameplay. But I think the timer in Mansions of Madness works against the game for two reasons: the information is largely hidden from the player, and the timer counteracts the game’s core.

When playing our last scenario of Mansions of Madness, “The Cult of Sentinel Hill,” we did get occasional vague reminders that time was limited. But there was no indication of how much time we actually had, just a hazy idea that the world would probably most likely end soon if we didn’t hustle. Whenever a designer considers hiding information from players, I think they should have a good reason why that information should remain hidden. It’s certainly possible that whoever decided on a timer hid it because they felt like a countdown of remaining turns would break immersion in the game’s world: that leads me to my next point.

The best moments in Mansions of Madness come while you uncover the game map and investigate the clues scattered around the map. Here, the game shines as you are drawn into its atmosphere. Clever writing and clean game mechanics involving skill checks and dice rolls make you really feel like a team of investigators with different areas of expertise. Every great game will help players chase a certain feeling, and—to me, at least—Mansions of Madness is about discovery and intrigue. A timer inherently combats discovery, the core of the game. I’d like to figure out what the violet light in that rowboat is and why that massive tree is covered in hostile whippoorwills, but to beat the game we need to move past them (or move past some of them, actually, since an unknown amount of clues and evidence are needed for victory).  

Shamelessly showing off one of the monsters I've painted.

I understand that the timer helps limit the time investment in an already lengthy game and also provides a mechanical tie-in for the inevitable dread of Lovecraft’s horrific, cataclysmic monsters. But I feel a more fitting and less frustrating mechanic would be an exponentially growing amount of monsters. Sure, in the end your team might get surrounded and overwhelmed, but that gives the players more agency and closure than an unexpected text box saying your time ran out.