Pedagogy, Game Systems and D&D

It seems this Far Cry 2 permadeath experience is interesting to more folks than I expected. Kieron was kind enough to give a mention in RPS' Sunday Papers and Clint himself wrote a fantastic response (and if you're coming here from either of those places, welcome!). And I wanted to discuss that response, or more accurately, ask "That sounds great. So how do we get there?"

That is to say, an alternate title for this post could be, "How Do We Make People Want to Die Forever?"

I highly suggest you give Clint's post a read, but to summarize, he says focusing on using narrative techniques to make games more emotionally impacting is deeply problematic. By emphasizing narrative tools, instead of ludic (game) ones, we're ultimately limited to being as good as film, literature, etc. Instead of exploiting the unique strength of games, we'll inherit the constraints of narrative-based media, and toss all the constraints of games on top of that.

To expand more upon something Clint touches on, one of the big challenges with using narrative-based tools to address these issue is the player becoming emotionally invested in the narrative is a precondition for it being affecting. This is very hard to do and I'd say the majority of games that attempt this do not succeed for most players. Quality of writing/performance will only address this so much. As human beings, we're basically hardwired for emotional empathy. Good writers/actors/directors understand this and they are quite good at creating fiction that creates empathy. Between the uncanny valley, nonlinear storylines, breadth of content and other issues, there's a lot of work to do for games to get to this point, and even then, I'm skeptical of us ever truly hitting par.

Anyone who's played tabletop RPGs for a while will recognized this problem of narrative buy-in. The GM will construct a serious, complicated storyline only to have the players not engage with it at all. A poor GM will become frustrated, dig in their heels and start rubbing the player's faces in a narrative they don't care about. Games have the same problem, except they can't detect when the players are not being engaged and course correct like a good GM can.

Clint argues, and I agree, that if we're going to see games create meaning differently, and possibly even be more engaging, more affecting, we have to do it through the tools of gameplay. The deep meaning games can produce will come from interacting with their systems.

But how do we encourage players to seek out these deep interactions?

As of now, a great many players, through no fault of their own, are content to sit back and enjoy the ride. Engaging deeply with game systems is still a relatively uncommon occurrence, and it doesn't help that there aren't too many games that are especially conducive to this. I'm barely even sure where to start building this pedagogy.

Making game systems more readable (ah, that old chestnut) is a good start, I think. If the depths of these systems is too obscure, it's going to be difficult to encourage investigation. It's easy to add permanent death to Far Cry 2, because the death mechanic is obvious and ubiquitous. Others interactions may be less obvious and playing with them (literally) is only possible when their existence is known and at least partially understood.

Like a good GM, we need to facilitate players in seeking out what interests them and then finding ways to still surprise and challenge them. Creating that investment is the first step toward deep meaning. For narrative-based media, their currency is empathy. For us, I think the currency is interest and engagement.

Beyond that, I don't really know. But it's something I know I'm going to be thinking about a lot in the days and weeks to come. And I know that we have to find some methods of teaching players how to discover these meaningful interactions. It's not going to arise organically for a great many people, simply because it's so different from how we engage with narrative-based media.

To be clear, I'm not saying all games have an imperative to do this. There will always be a seat for the Mario Karts, for the Trines (as an aside, I've been playing this lately and it's fantastic. Imagine D&D + The Lost Vikings + Little Big Planet).

But if we want to create experiences that are profound, that will truly touch those that experience them, we have to light the path for them. So how can we build some lanterns?

Far Cry 2: Memento Mori

"So I don't know, maybe you're dead, maybe not. Maybe you'll find these stupid tapes and do whatever the hell you wanted to do with them. Or maybe the interview is over. Wasted words, wasted life. Maybe I'll see you soon."

(If you're just joining, here are part one and part two of this series)

I had wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, surrounded by explosions and a ring of fallen militiamen. To go down fighting, the proverbial last stand. Instead, it was quiet, quick and anonymous. It was so sudden, I didn't even get a screenshot. Andre fell without any ceremony at all. His body was likely dumped in the desert for the buzzards or thrown in a truck with those he killed, ready for smuggling C4 or whatever else Mbantuwe had in mind.

I got sloppy, just like Paul. Despite a few close calls, I had only required one buddy rescue and that was due to a nasty fall. Perhaps that was an omen, but instead I continued to ignore the few instant-death perils present in Far Cry 2.

After the unfortunate incident with the king's gold and Paul's death, I quickly headed back to Mike's to find another buddy. There the infamous Michele asked me to retrieve a briefcase of her intelligence, stolen by one of the factions and stashed at the railyard. I headed north and stopped into a safehouse on the way, to ensure Josip had my back. But that proved an unnecessary caution. Despite the viciousness of the firefight at the railyard, I got away clean without needing Josip's help. I returned the briefcase to Michele and took another mission from the UFLL.

They wanted the Occidental Growers Company razed. I accepted, but to my surprise, Josip called me as I was leaving. He had some mad scheme involving chemical defoliant and an old prop plane, but as I'd never lost a main buddy before, I wasn't sure if I needed to complete this mission to "promote" Josip and have Michele replace him as my rescue buddy. I went along, secured the defoliant and made it to the airfield without any problems.

Now, getting from the airfield to the OGC is a long and awkward trip no matter what route you take. In retrospect, I should have just headed west to the bus station, gone to Pala and drove east from there. Had I done that, Andre would still be alive. Instead I drove east, looking to clear scout more checkpoints and perhaps find some diamonds. I ended up ditching my jeep to go after a diamond case and then following a semi-hidden switchback path into the rear of a guard post. I easily dispatched the three militia, but as I did (as is often the case), an assault truck tore up the road.

Feeling brazen, I threw a grenade in the truck's path. But it advanced too quickly and passed the grenade, bearing down on me. I moved lazily to the side, opening fire on the truck's gunner. But at the last second, the truck veered sharp to the left, the direction I was dodging. It clipped me by just a hair, but that was enough. Andre fell to the ground and I was staring at the game over screen. Andre was run down like an indecisive squirrel crossing the interstate. And the face of his killer does not impress:


(To be fair, I had completely forgotten being hit by a car is an instant kill, or I certainly wouldn't have been as brazen)

I was sorely tempted to reload, saying such a death "didn't count" because it wasn't fair. But it's never really fair, is it? Andre's abrupt end was actually pretty affecting. I was shocked that things had come to such a sudden halt, and my feelings of (over) confidence were largely at fault. But as I laid in bed, still reeling a little bit, I couldn't help but think about how quickly the end can come sometimes. A gas leak, another driver nods off at the wheel, crosses the median and hits you head on or you just slip on the ice and hit your head; sometimes, you don't get to say when. I held my fiancée a little tighter as I fell asleep that night.

I thought I would be fine without a buddy for such a short time, with Josip being occupied with the mission and Michele not yet my rescue buddy. I ended up reminded most harshly that, without them, even small accidents can prove fatal. I forgot that unless you've got someone watching your back in Far Cry 2, you don't get to choose your time. In life, you don't even get that. Memento mori indeed.

This isn't necessarily big, dramatic life & death things either. I wasn't expecting to lose my first job in the industry, but it did happen. And suddenly, without warning. Sometimes, that's just how things are.

That a game could make me reflect on something like this is further evidence that games are not mere diversions or amusements. Even though I had to change the context of how the game was played a bit, it was able to affect and significantly so. Plus, isn't it the hallmark of a great work that it can be examined and utilized in many contexts and produce different interpretations?

I'm not going to say I felt some amazing landmark moment, but it was significant. I almost felt a little shame saying so, but I'm doing everything I can to throw those feelings overboard. If my aspirations as a game designer include emotionally affecting others through games, I have to seek out and embrace existing games that can do the same to me. Especially ones that do so without merely replicating the emotions evoked by linear narratives in other media.

I'm actually really tempted to do this again, even though I'm currently working on about three other games. This little taste of FC2 was not enough to satisfy, even if I have to play the first four-five hours again. It's dynamic enough to stay engaging and in writing this, I've come to appreciate this little experiment even more. So my thanks to Ben Abraham for proposing it, and to Michel McBride for joining as well. Bonne chance lads, may you make it further than Andre.

I've got Wednesday off for Canada Day, and I'm not sure I'll be able to stay away. I probably won't write about it in as much depth, maybe a quick synopsis when that run eventually comes to its end. This really was an excellent experience and I'd encourage you to try the same with FC2 or another game of your choice (but I'll admit that the buddy rescues make this a far more tenable proposition in FC2 than in other games).

Far Cry 2: I'm Here and You're Gone

"These guys don't even know why they're fighting anymore, if they ever even had a reason."

I'm not sure you knew either, Paul. Maybe it was just for the money and drugs, maybe it was quiet guilt after deserting the IDF or maybe it was just because you didn't know how to do anything else. It doesn't matter now. I called it- you're gone, I'm not. You got paranoid and sloppy. Seeing Mossad agents everywhere (as if you, a backpacker gone mercenary, were their most pressing concern), you took too many risks. Going in with the prince, and rattling the APR, you brought the whole hive down upon you. Upon us. I did what I could, but with the pistol and rifle both jammed and the RPG launcher literally broken in my hands, the Jackal's old machete couldn't keep us both alive. I turned and you were already gone.

The permanent death Far Cry 2 engagement continues. Ben's second post is here and Michel's is here (and my part one is here if you missed it). Unlike the other two, I didn't opt for the buddy expansion to the first mission, since I remember the shantytown being a deathtrap my first time through. The "special forces" and their supplies in the desert were dispatched easily. After that, I ran a number of missions for the local arms dealer, looking to kit out my weapons as quickly as possible.

The tension I identified in the first sessions has largely dissipated. As both Ben and Michel have noted, Normal difficult really isn't that hard. Even with lots of rusty, fragile guns and malaria flaring up, I've only required one buddy rescue. And that was due to my failing to make this jump, looking for a diamond briefcase. I guess Paul told Josip to go looking for me at the fort, where he found me, blacked out after banging my head on a rock.


Despite this, and after losing Paul at the hidden gold ambush, it's still not as tense as that first hour was. I'm currently without a main buddy and Josip isn't rescue-ready yet (not sure if I need a new main buddy before that will reset or not). I've got another arms caravan to ambush and we'll see if running that without a net will prove more alarming.

But unless things get demonstrably harder very soon, I think I'm also upping the difficulty as soon as I get a new buddy (I may be a little crazy, but not that crazy).

Still, playing the game this way gives the game a feeling distinct from the first time I played it. Maybe I'm more aware of the overall aesthetics and themes, but the game feels more dire, more grim than last time. I'm looking forward to seeing where else this goes and, ultimately, where it ends. Hopefully it will be with a bang, and not with a whimper. With a literal bang would be even better.

(conclusion in part three)

Far Cry 2: On the Permanent Death Bandwagon

Oh, how I detest you, Paul.

Ben Abraham recently began a fantastic experiment playing Far Cry 2 with (user-imposed) permanent death. The constraints are simple- play on Normal difficulty and stop when you die. No second chances, we're playing for keeps. Michel jumped and, as I'd been looking for a reason to revisit FC2 again anyway, I'm getting aboard the train too. Plus, this feeds into a few posts I'm going to be doing in the near future quite well.

Truth be told, I'm not too optimistic for Andre Hyppolite. I barely made it to the hotel's entrance before a rocket reduced me to unconsciousness. I fear this a very dark harbinger for Andre's end.

Ben and Michel covered the introduction/tutorial well, so I'll be brief. But I have to note that the game feels incredibly tense. Every staccato burst of gunfire is horrifying. My assault on the first safehouse, guarded by only two militiamen, was nervewracking (possibly because a lucky shotgun blast killed me there at my first time playing). It was also a little surreal killing the first militiaman. I hadn't killed anyone in Pala. Now I'd killed a man, in cold blood (he didn't even get a chance to draw), simply for guarding a hut. All because a man named Carbonell told me to do it. For most games, this is completely de rigueur. But honestly, it's pretty disturbing if you stop and think about it.

At the lumber camp, it's quite apparent scouting will be far more important now. Previously playing, nearly all my scouting was through a rifle scope, but I think a well-planned approach is going to become far more important this time.

And, of course, whom do I rescue but the odious Paul Ferenc. That smirk permanently etched upon his face is similarly carved into my mind. Or, more appropriately, the casual disregard for suffering it contains. Paul's not in love with conflict per se, he simply doesn't care in the least about who gets hurt, as long as it isn't him. If he can get some money or some laughs, all the better. At least the bloodthirsty warlords act with intent.

I don't think this will end well for either of us, Paul.

(continued in part two and part three)