Archive for February, 2009

Traffic and Game Design

Thursday, February 19th, 2009

Solid new game designers typically have the game research side of things covered, but it’s common for them to miss out on other disciplines. While game design is relatively new, design itself is not. There’s a plethora of subjects that impart useful game design lessons, ranging from psychology and architecture to traffic. Today I’m going to talk a little about traffic.

Freeway design is a science, right down to proper sign placement and how frequently and early the driver should be notified about exits.  The purpose of a road is to get the users from point A to point B. A well designed road system does that as quickly, efficiently and hassle-free as possible. These goals are often mirrored in our game designs. Often, we want to funnel players to specific experiences in the game without giving them the feeling that they’re being led by the nose. We want intuitive paths. We don’t want players to get lost, yet they need to be able to explore and find their bearings. I’m sure you’ve all experienced poorly designed roads that led you astray or caused huge traffic jams. Those are the problems we want to eliminate in our games.

I’m going to use an example from a local road to demonstrate how simple flaws can compromise the integrity of the entire design. Note: the lessons used to solve this problem come from psychology.

First, let’s take a look at the road layout. Cars are trying to reach the freeway (X) and they come from points A and B.

traffic1

During normal work hours, there was usually a two-cycle delay for each car to get through a street light. The morning and evening commutes backed up across this entire stretch of road, leaving cars trapped for up to 30 minutes on this ~1 mile stretch (depending on the point of origin).

On the way to the destination, there’s a longer side path. This side path simply requires paralleling the traffic jam on a minor street and then merging before the freeway entrance. It’s an appealing option to drivers who are stuck in traffic. They bypass the logjam and only have to deal with a small amount of traffic before entering the freeway.  Now, with that in mind: where does the traffic originate?

traffic2

The bulk of the traffic comes from the cars on the side path merging with the main road.

The commuters who used the side path were taking a common self-serving approach to the problem. They knew they could bypass most of the traffic for themselves, but they did not evaluate the problem from a wider perspective to realize that they were responsible for the problem they’re trying to avoid. This is expected behavior. Of course, you may be thinking this is a chicken-egg scenario, because the traffic had to exist for drivers to attempt to bypass it to create traffic. On this point, we can reasonably assume an origin C coming from the north, resulting in the merges before the freeway entrance.

The city/county/whoever eventually solved this problem by removing the option to merge onto the main road via the side path. Traffic immediately plummeted, as it is all about flow. Each time cars cross they create a small delay. Multiply that delay and you get traffic jams. In order to deal with traffic jams, we need to guide people down the paths with as few collisions as possible.

traffic3

I simplified the problem a bit in an attempt to avoid cluttering my point… and because it was a lot easier to draw! All design is interconnected, just like roads. We can learn lessons from studying traffic patterns, just as this traffic problem found its answer in psychology. This problem also demonstrates how critical it is to spend time gathering data and analyzing the problem to find the right solution. The kneejerk response is to add another lane to reduce the traffic, but that would have ignored the cause of the traffic. Design cannot administer random solutions any more than doctors can prescribe random medications.

Stalking the Zone

Wednesday, February 11th, 2009

Lately, I’ve been pouring lots of time into S.T.A.L.K.E.R. Shadow of Chernobyl. I haven’t played anything else quite like it, and I found it drew me in a lot faster than Fallout 3. I’ve been meaning to write about it for awhile, especially after seeing a good Rock Paper Shotgun post on the game a few weeks back.

For those of you who don’t know anything about Stalker, it’s an open-world FPS set in a post-nuclear Chernobyl chock full of RPG influences. It manages to successfully pull off tricks that I’ve hated in other games, because it does them right. What really impresses me about Stalker is how many stories I can tell based on my experiences. Unfortunately, there’s only one story I ever tell because I don’t want to spoil some of the cool elements of the game. Even so, this post contains a few low level spoilers. Here’s that story:

Walking through an underground lab

Walking through an underground lab

I returned to the first area of the game after exploring a big chunk of the world to find a group of bandits had taken a military outpost that I wiped out a few days before. I was able to fight my way through the camp by sneaking around and shotgunning guys around corners. One of the bandits had a secret on him, which creates treasure at a marker on my map. I headed towards the marker, and I found a large band of hostiles fighting off a huge swarm of dogs in a lightly wooded area. There were probably 10 guys and 20+ dogs. They were trying to pick off the dogs as they’d swarm in and attack one guy to try to take him down then flee. I used that as an excuse to start sniping the hostiles. This drew all their attention to me and the dogs began to scatter. I couldn’t get reliable shots with so many guys firing at me, so I swapped to an assault rifle and began darting from tree to tree, poking my head out to fire short bursts at any exposed hostiles. After a long firefight and a couple close calls where I had to use a pistol, I wiped out the band and took all their gear.

I can't see it yet, but I can hear a firefight in the distance.

I can't see it yet, but I can hear a firefight in the distance.

I continued towards my destination, but there was still that huge swarm of dogs. As I ran down the road, I could hear them howling/barking all around me. I kept taking snapshots at them as they ran by the trees and bushes, trying to keep them away from me. Periodically, I’d get swarmed by 4-5 of them and spray bullets everywhere to get them to back off. I killed several of them and ended up arriving at a friendly outpost who took up position to help me fight off the remaining ~10 dogs. What’s cool is that was totally random, and it was a more unique experience than most games ever manage to provide.

Moving on: death is an interesting subject in Stalker. It manages to simultaneously make death completely meaningless and yet moving. NPCs are dying everywhere. There’s no real impact on the world when one of a host of random people dies, and it’s supposed to be that way. It’s a hostile world and most of the people in it are meaningless. And yet, every once in awhile, I’ll come across a body of a loner. When I examine it, I find the loner labeled as a friend. Loners become friends when you do things to help them - protect them from bandits or wildlife, fix them up when they’re wounded, etc. There aren’t many friends in this world, and it’s sad to see them die. It makes me think back to what happened before. There was one specific guy who I’d protected several times before. I’d bandaged him when he was wounded and traded him medikits. When I found his body, it was actually sad.

I stagger and my vision blurs after taking a painful attack.

I stagger and my vision blurs after taking a painful attack.

Even though I’ve never heard it called a survival horror game, it’s a great example of the genre and it stands out from the usual experiences. I’m fighting to survive instead of fighting for the sake of reaching the next fight. Stalker plays mind games. There are strange things in the world, but they aren’t fully explained or presented. They’re introduced gradually. There isn’t always something lurking around the corner. Enemies are everywhere, but it’s less scripted and more a generally dangerous environment. As you travel through the world, your character’s perception of the world changes depending on the environment and the surroundings. They employ a variety of camera filters, visions and sounds. Seeing your vision change plays a critical role in creating the mood. It’s just one element of the detailed and compelling atmosphere that keeps drawing me in.

Colors change and wash out in certain environments.

Colors change and wash out in certain environments.

When it released, Stalker was incredibly buggy. It’s smooth sailing several patches and two mods later. If you play Stalker, I highly recommend the Zone Reclamation Project (bug fix mod) and an endurance mod to raise the weight limit. I’m one of those people who can’t stand small inventories in games full of loot, and I find I carry 600 weight in supplies when the original cap is 50. Stalker isn’t a mass market game, but it’s gold for the right audience.


The MMO Industry as a Raft

Sunday, February 8th, 2009

Eric Heimburg’s post on the MMO industry is a good read, and I’m going to use it as a lead in for the thoughts I’ve been wanting to share on the subject.  If the ideal business world as a whole is a ship construction yard, then the MMO industry is a group of castaways building a raft to escape a deserted island.

Building a Raft…

  • … means you’re passionate and have a vested interest in the outcome. You give it everything you’ve got.  (dedication)
  • … consumes your life, since you’re giving it everything. If you’re not careful, it will devour you and turn you into a shell. (burn out)
  • … can show you that life is nothing like you believed. (disillusionment)
  • … exploits a limited pool of resources for maximum productivity. (high man hours)
  • … means you make do with whatever you can, which leads to gross inefficiency and wasted time. This effectively negates the extra man hours invested in the previous bullet. (lack of tools)
  • … can either save you or kill you. (high risk, high reward)
  • … doesn’t give you a vessel that can withstand the fury of the sea. If you try to use the raft for something it wasn’t designed to do, it’s only a matter of time before a violent wave will destroy it and all your hard work. (fragilty)
  • … doesn’t give you a lot of control once you set sail. No matter how much you struggle, the sheer force of the currents may leave you helpless. Even if you know where you need to go, it can still be hard to get there. (powerless)
  • … means figuring it out yourself, even if it’s already been perfected. (reinventing the wheel)
  • … means you’re alone. (poor communication)

Of course, these characteristics are not isolated to MMO development, and they are not representative of any single developer. Neither are they indicative of the people working on the projects.

This post isn’t intended to be bleak. Growth always comes from learning the lessons of the past.

Login Conference Lecture

Sunday, February 1st, 2009

My lecture proposal was approved, so I’ll be speaking at Login again this May. The session title is Balance Constraints: Lessons from Pirates. It’s similar in format to a postmortem, except it’s specifically aimed at the process of balancing an MMORPG. There’s a mix of balance philosophy and lessons from Pirates. I’m going to talk about what caused the various problems and how we could have solved them earlier.