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.

Dev Take Tuesday - Black Panther and Clarity

I finally got the chance to see Black Panther on the big screen this past week—what an unforgettable experience! I loved the cast, characters, themes, music, and war-rhinos. If I hadn’t already touched on villains in a previous Dev Take, I’d probably discuss Black Panther’s charismatic antagonist, Erik Killmonger (played by Michael B. Jordan). But there was another aspect of the film that stuck out to me as a game developer: the use of color for clarity.

Visually, the stand-out feature of Black Panther is the vast and vibrant array of colors on the screen. While other films I love, such as Zhang Yimou’s Hero, utilize bold monochromatic tones to convey mood, Black Panther uses many colors simply for the sheer joy of seeing a veritable rainbow on screen. Importantly, however, careful use of color keeps the audience clear on what’s happening. The distinct color schemes of Wakanda’s tribes help the audience sort through the politics at play throughout the story, and in the film’s climactic action sequence the crimson armor of the Dora Milaje contrasts perfectly with the enemy’s blue uniforms.

Gif found here on Gizmodo

From a game development standpoint, complexity often competes with clarity as you try to design games that will challenge your players. Every little step you take in development to add clarity is essential. You can greatly ease the burden on your players by using different colors in character design and assigning distinct color schemes for your game narrative’s various factions. For example, in our game Alkanaur the nine cities will all utilize fairly disparate colors and metals in their architecture and dress. Not only will those little steps make our game easier to follow, but the resulting rainbow on screen will (hopefully) visually impress our players as well.

Dev Take Tuesday - Deep Breaths in Subnautica

Subnautica, the ocean-themed survival/exploration game from developer Unknown Worlds, captures a mood better than any other game I’ve played. That mood is a vibrant mix of awe, tension, and fear—probably the same emotions I’d be feeling if I actually did crash-land in a dangerous but beautiful ocean on an alien planet. After playing several hours, I realized that I would immediately and invariably take a deep breath of relief whenever I returned to safety in my lifepod or underwater bases. I honestly can’t think of higher praise for a game about surviving a perilous underwater world.

Official screenshot from the game's Steam page.

So how does Subnautica manage to create such a powerful and pervasive mood? Obviously, audio and visual elements both play a key role. But I think it comes down to two important design decisions: embracing the setting and balancing risk with relief.

Subnautica fully embraces its setting. Because the game takes place almost entirely underwater, you feel constantly exposed. Danger can come at you from any direction, and tunnel vision could quickly get you killed. The shallows feel safe not only because less dangerous fish spawn there, but because you have ground beneath you and open air above you, limiting the field of threats and orientating your character. In sharp contrast, some of the most harrowing moments in Subnautica come as you explore caves or wreckage and lose your sense of direction. Oftentimes the path back to air isn’t all that complex, but even memorizing a few turns gets complicated when you can move freely in three dimensions. The “floor” of the wrecked spaceship might be at a 45-degree angle above your head when you enter, and that gets disorienting, especially when under stress.

An interesting distinction between Subnautica and other survival games I’ve seen is the use of what I’d call “true relief.” Your starting lifepod and the underwater bases you eventually construct are (from what I’ve seen) entirely safe from the watery depths’ denizens. But the game’s other systems force you to move out of that comfort zone. Hunger and thirst will eventually force you to risk leaving the safety and oxygen of your base, and expanding your living arrangements will also require you to leave and gather resources. This creates a natural rhythm of risk and relief that perfectly captures the mood of diving into the water. At early levels, the comparison is clear. You have less than 30 seconds of oxygen in your tank, so you dive down from the surface to maybe catch a couple fish, and then you have to swim back up. Over and over. However, even when a miniature submersible and larger oxygen tank allow you to explore more freely, your longer expeditions still maintain that rhythm of leaving comfort, gathering supplies, and returning with a deep breath of relief.