Character creation is a topic which every mainstream role-playing game devotes pages to. Most of these systems are very interested in action resolution, so these pages focus on translating our fictional character to a system that clearly states what this character is, in order for us to know what the character can do.

Few games, however, tell us how to make a fictional character in the first place. Fewer still, guide us to make a fictional character that is suited to take one of the main roles in the stories these games allow us to create and play through. This is what I want to talk about.

Throughout this series I will look at a RPGs (role-playing games) as interactive processes of storytelling in which each participant is part player, narrator and audience. We know that the act of storytelling in role-playing games is quite different from the act of writing a novel, a script or a play. Regardless, there are points of contact between this and those mediums which allow us to use, adapt or extrapolate the tools and practices that are used to create an engaging product or, in this case, an engaging experience.

This series will focus on the process and tools required to make a good protagonist, the lead for a engaging story. The goal is to create a process that is both clear and simple and that can achieve this goal in the least amount of time. If I succeed, you will have a solution that is to be applied to your game and your group but can also be modified to suit your specific needs.

I’ve recently been playing games that share the sandbox label. Like  a lot of things in game design, however, it lacks a formal definition which (right or wrong) would aid communication and facilitate analysis. Here, I will try to describe some of the most prominent features of games that have been adorned with the sandbox label. I don’t pretend to be fully comprehensive and additions or corrections are always welcomed.

Thoughts on the Concept

The term sandbox is evocative of the idea of a geographical location or terrain where play happens; this play is only defined by the sandbox as much as any activity can be defined by its setting. The idea of a sandbox (a literal one) is closer to the idea of kids playing with toys rather than playing a game.

If we extrapolate this to video-games, we could then say that a sandbox would be composed of a setting, a number of elements within that setting and a set of rules that describes the possible interactions between those elements and the actor (the player through his character), those elements among each-other and between both of these and the setting.

One of the more successful parts of the design of Saints Row 2 involves the gradual but constant doling of rewards for basically any action that you can take during the game that falls into one of the four basic game-play types. These four game-play types are:

What I feel is one of the core strengths of the game is that (for the most part, there are a couple of exceptions) the developers have managed to put in quite a lot of mechanical and thematic/fictional variations to those basic game-play types in the form of missions, stronghold attacks, neighbourhood defences and a host of activities and diversions (basically side-missions.) What is most important, however, is that each and every one of these items has a specific and relevant reward for completion usually in one or more of the game’s currencies:

It doesn’t stop there, however, as the game gives you rewards for things done outside of the formally structured sections of game-play. While going around the city you can earn money and respect by driving dangerously, mugging civilians, robbing stores and dealing with rival gang members. All of these things are expressions or variations of the core game-play mechanics and are also thematically/fictionally appropriate to the genre and the tone of the game.

What this means is that, at any time during your play time of Saints Row 2, you have a variety of different things to do which are in line with the mechanical and fictional premise of the game. On the one hand, this means that if you bought into these premises you will most likely enjoy the variety of activities (as most people, me included, on the internet seem to do.) On the other hand, this means that the game constantly acknowledges and rewards you for doing the things that your fictional character would do, considering the setting, tone and type of game.

This works very well.

Talking about games without a shared technical language becomes a tricky proposition rather quickly. I’ve been using a series of terms often among my circle of like-minded friends and I thought some definitions were in order. The purpose of these definitions is to be functional to the exploration and analysis of games; in that way, they help us understand each other better. They are all subject to improvements and suggestions are always welcome.

The next two definitions are used to describe certain aspects of challenges.

More ideas about challenges can be found here:

• Checkpoint Woes

The purpose of this article is to define two terms that can be used to both analyse and build games with. The terms that I’d like to talk about are decisions and choices. Bear in mind that the goal is to define two tools rather than to have any sort of semantic perfection, thus, if you find better terms that suit these definitions make sure to let me know.

In games, you have a decision when you are asked to select between two or more possible paths that are equivalent in value but different in form and/or content. On the other hand, you have a choice when you are asked to select between two or more possible paths each with its own value (that might be equal, lower or higher than the others.) The difference is merely one of function rather than form.

In both decisions and choices, two or more possible paths are presented and each of those has its own set of characteristics. At its core, however, the different options (or paths) must have:

• a) At least one thing you win (or have the chance to win) from selecting the option.
• b) At least one thing you can lose (or have the chance to lose) from selecting the option.

In these simple cases you can have either A) or B) but they must be the same for all options.

Of course, it is not hard to find situations where you have both A) and B) at work at the same time, such as the following one.

From here on, you can make things more complex adding probability and new variables, but the rules remain the same. What is clear, however, is that there is no decision when you are faced with options such as this:

These types of situations don’t constitute neither a proper decision and don’t come close to producing an interesting choice. If no other factors are added, it is just not reasonable to select the option with less benefits (and a damaging consequence) rather than the option with more benefits (and a positive consequence.)

A Matter of Value

What is the main difference that separates decisions from choices? Value. Decisions assume that each option has an equivalent value; choices assume that each option has its own value (that can be different from the rest and which can be known or reasonably guessed at.) When you have decisions, the thing we care about is the act of making the selection rather than the efficiency of the course of action that results from it. When you have choices, the emphasis is places on the efficiency of the course of action that the selection enables, and thus, in the process for finding which option is the best.

When you want to have a decision, it is usually in your best interests to make VERY clear what each option means and the consequence for each choice; you’re interested in the fact that people are making a decision and will face the consequences, not on how well they manage to make that decision. When you have a choice, it is usually in your best interests to let the choosers (the players) work out what each option means and the consequence for each choice; you’re interested in the ability of the players to work out the best solution (the one with the highest value) according to the situation and their plans.

Any game in which chance plays not a part but the whole, is no game at all.

There is a certain pool of games that heavily dips into random events to create unpredictability (to a lesser degree) and extend playable hours (to a greater degree.) All of these games share a number of characteristics when applying this mechanic; some of those characteristics are:

1. The game gives random rewards for completing a series of actions (which might be a challenge, part of a challenge, or a non-challenging series.)
2. These rewards change in both type, usefulness and value.
3. For each particular action, or series of actions, there is a number of rewards that might be given; each of these has a difference chance of being given which depends on rarity and, usually, usefulness.
4. The game utilizes other elements to encourage obtaining the *best* rewards through repetition but does not guarantee the attainment of those rewards (due to their random nature.)

If you have played a MMOG (Massive Multiplayer Online Game), especially those of the RPG genre, you have run into this feature already. Of course, those games do not hold a monopoly over this mechanic: hack and slash games (closely resembling the now mythic Diablo), single players RPGs (like Final Fantasy XII) and even first person shooters (such as Team Fortress 2) have also tried their luck with this mechanic.

People love this. I’ve loved it too at times; times when I was so enthralled by the premise of better, rarer and more exclusive rewards. Regardless of our fondness for it (which is very important, nonetheless) we must address the fact that, for anyone wishing to play a game, these mechanics are simply a waste of time. We are simply not active participants on the mathematics formulae that goes behind the scene and even in particularly twisted scenarios that have us plunge into the depths of repetition to find an item that will help us increase our chances of getting other items, we are still going through the inane (and time consuming) process of rolling dice until hitting a golden number. While the circumstances by which we get to this item might be challenging in of themselves (beating a boss, winning a race and so on), getting the item itself is not in any way a challenge or a game.

Why are we making games like this? Perhaps because they sell well, because people find these very offenders entertaining and love to sink hours upon hours of their time in mind numbing repetition. The question then is, why do we like doing this? Are we making choices or responding to a semi-conscious desire for things to be new and surprising (or rather, the idea that they might be new and surprising?) Even in the face of pleasure (or, what seems more likely, guilt) I wonder if we don’t owe it to ourselves to use our time differently.

I’ve found myself itching for some MMO action lately, though some of the pitfalls of the genre are keeping me from diving in.

• This is the premise: playing an MMO is fun, can be laid back, can have a degree of tactical/strategic challenge and I’m sure most would run very well on my PC.
• This is the boogie-man: MMOs are usually best friends with the dreaded repetition of inane tasks known as grinding. I loathe when games make me waste my time and thus am reluctant to indulge in my itch.

For the purposes of this piece, let’s call grinding to any repetitive activity that it’s not fun by itself and that can’t be circumvented without a heavy penalty within the scope of the game. This includes everything from silly combat to item crafting and drives me absolutely bananas.

Guild Wars

I purchased two Guild Wars campaigns at the end of 2008. As far as I recall, the reasons that drove me to make the purchase included the following:

• Private instances for combat areas: you can either play along other people or by yourself. You can choose when and how to socialize.
• Low level cap: would supposedly get rid of endlessly hunting for the next carrot (i.e. level)
• Typical grinding behaviours were penalized: most of the advancement comes from scripted play (quest, missions and so on.)
• Doesn’t have a monthly fee.

The Plan

I intend to get back into the game with a two-fold purpose. On the one hand we have entertainment. I hope that playing Guild Wars will give me that MMO goodness that I’ve been craving for lately. On the other, I want to analyse the game-play options that the game offers and discover where the (almost) inevitable grind rears its ugly head.

How *You* Can Help

I’m sure the collective you knows one of two things:

1. What is that good, cosy, grindless MMO that I should be playing right now.
2. I’m a naive fool and should run away from the genre faster than Sonic should run away from another 3D game.

So… what is it going to be? Recommend an MMO or flame me on the comment box below.

The checkpoint system has become a staple of console gaming. For players,  they provide a comfortable and immersive experience keeping them in the game . For designers, it allows a tighter control on pacing and the experience of challenges as well as being a subtle tool for rewarding or punishing certain behaviours and managing tension.  However the implementation of checkpoints usually comes with its own set of problems.

From a practical point of view, we call checkpoints to certain places and/or times where the game saves your progress automatically. This then becomes your new starting point should you lose/die/fail during the distance that separates one checkpoint to the next. From a game-play point of view, checkpoints constitute grand divisions between challenges or groups of challenges. The existence of checkpoints divides game-play into segments. Within these segments we can find one or more than one instance of a self contained challenge. These divisions are often quite apparent since they accompany changes in the pacing, scene structure, situation and other elements of the game.

All this quit-saving is getting tiresome.

By providing these grand divisions, checkpoints can combine several different challenges into a bigger challenge that exists at a meta level. This means that not only you deal with the individual challenges but also with a scenario that requires you to sometimes complete more than one of them in successful succession in order to proceed. The result of checkpoints that define segments which include several challenges is lowered margin of error for player within the particular section of the game. If we take into account that replaying sections of the game is the prime resource that designers implement to punish failure, we can see how the checkpoint structure coupled with a higher or lower margin of error defined by the challenges and by the checkpoints at a meta level, determine the punishment for failure.

How Do We Deal with Challenges?

Dealing with a challenge is a complex process that usually involves four different stages. Each of these stages is usually experienced in rapid succession and the player goes back and forth through them while trying to overcome the obstacle. The four different stages are:

1. Adaptation (to a new environment/tools/opposition/so on…)
2. Learning (about the characteristics of the obstacle and the goal; I.e. “What needs to happen and what’s stopping that from happening”)
3. Planning (for a course of action to disable the obstacle and meet the goal)
4. Implementation (of the course of action)

Once point 4 is reached and executed we now have new information (whether our plan seems to work or not) that takes us back to a new adaptation stage repeating the cycle until the challenge has been overcome. Therefore we can say that, at the most basic level, dealing with a challenge requires the ability to know if:

1. what we have discerned about the situation is correct/incorrect
2. our plan to disable the obstacle works/doesn’t work

The ability to fail (both partially and totally) is essential to the achievement of any challenge. Even if complete information was given to the player about the adaptation, learning and planning stages he would still need to know if his implementation is correct and thus needs to be able to access failure. Failure is both a consequence of poor implementation and, most importantly, a vital tool to deal with challenges and obstacles.

Fail and Re-Play

A case of checkpoint deprivation.

Once you have successfully dealt with the adaptation, learning and planning stages of a challenge, re-doing that challenge will only put the implementation stage into play. This only changes when there are incentives (both promoted by the game or from the player himself) to maximize the levels of efficiency in the first three stages or change the rules of the challenge to make it harder for themselves. This is the source of all sorts of re-plays for better ranking/scores as well as master runs and similar challenges. These need to be supported by the game and agreed upon by the player in order to come into play. Disregarding these exceptions we can say that if the subdivision caused by a checkpoint causes the player to re-play a challenge that has previously been bested while there is another that hasn’t, the game is forcing the player to have less fun and be less challenged while more fun and a new challenge is available.

It’s All About Consequences

Games need to have consequences for failure. These add tension and set real stakes for the performance of the player. Many times, the consequences for failure have taken the shape of punishment in the form of replaying a section of the game. While it’s not a bad idea to allow for a specific number of errors before having to replay a challenge, an unsuccessful application of the checkpoint system can cause people to repeatedly replay extended sections of the game that have already been beaten rather than focus on the unconquered challenges. This can lead to higher levels of frustration and boredom and a significant drop in the emotional involvement of the player with the game.

Ideas for Improving the Implementation of Checkpoints

• Checkpoints should follow natural breaks both in the game-play (challenges) and in the fiction (scenes, acts, plot points and so on.)

  Boss encounters are a prime example of something that makes a break both in the game-play and in the fiction. Not only do they signal a pause in the game where the protagonist must face a greater peril to continue with his journey, but often the act of defeating a boss is sufficiently involved (pattern memorization, learning what the boss can’t and can do, devising strategies and so forth) to require it’s own checkpoint. To further improve this, a second checkpoint before the boss battle is trigged should also be available for players who wish to backtrack and explore loose ends or complete optional objectives before tackling the boss. This is especially true in games where no warning is given regarding points of no return like most boss battles.

• Checkpoints should be dynamic.

  Game designers can offer a player that has already suffered several times the penalties for failure a more lenient checkpoint structure that let’s him tackle the precise area he still hasn’t been able to conquer. The change could merely be available for the particular segment and a normal checkpoint structure could be resumed afterwards.

• Checkpoints should honour the value of the player’s time.

  All game-play is, in a way, based on trial and error. When error is severely punished, however, the ability of the players to overcome the challenges is crippled. Checkpoints should be reasonable and let the players work on conquering the section that still has an obstacle (a challenge that has not been beaten) rather than (literally) wasting their time making them replay extensive sections of already beaten content.