Games As Narrative or Play?
Narratology versus ludology, an old question in a new medium of theory, has become stale and stalemate. Wark plays on this in Gamer Theory (67):
Game Design as a Criterion
Why add this, and how does schediological influence differ from ludological? After all, the ludic elements are how the gamer interacts with the medium, the play of it all. But the play itself is barren in a video game, as any who has been caught by a part of the gameplay mechanic yet left ultimately unfulfilled knows. Konami's Rock Revolution provides a great example of the ludic existing in a familiar format--game simulation of playing music, a la Rock Band and the Guitar Hero franchises--yet being ignored by consumers and panned by critics. Rock Revolution lacked the narrative as a matter of course (even with Guitar Hero: World Tour's attempt at a storyline taken into account, the genre as a whole is essentially narratively empty), contained a ludic element of play, yet failed to capitalize on either with its schediological approach.
Stephen Dinehart: "Dramatic play systems invite the player to co-create a plot through a world that is influenced, if not shaped, by their actions. In this role play, the question is begged of the player 'what kind of character do you want to be?' Begetting the formation of a particular desire in the player, a desire to be. By actively pursuing that desire, the player becomes an active protagonist." Therein lies another avenue of power, another tapping into the ideal, another drug in the addiction. This is where the play becomes limpid and the story becomes intrinsic and the design becomes seamless. When all three mesh, each one complements the other.
Examples, Please?
The examples appear to be few. Large blockbuster sellers like Halo, Gears of War, and Metal Gear Solid fail to fully achieve it. For Halo, the story itself is overwhelmed by the ludic aspect of the multiplayer component. Particularly in the first game, the schediological component, while flawless on the graphics and the controls, failed on level design. Duplication of textures and uninteresting maps mar the effort. For Gears of War, the design was executed flawlessly, and even the ludic aspect of the game worked on multiple levels. Yet, from a narrative point of view, the game was satisfied with stereotypes and cliches to power what should have been a phenomenal science fiction epic. The premise of the story--and the power that it could have derived from it--got lost behind the glitz and the gore. For Metal Gear Solid, the schediological, the ludological, and the narratological components all shined appropriately, but the balance of them became muddled. MGS4 as proof: Too much narrative at certain points, letting the play lapse. The excellence of the design of the levels lead to exploration, but caused a greater disconnect when the narrative asserted itself. The fun became frustration when a perceived unfairness in the final fight lead to hours of repetitive gameplay.
So where can we turn for a perfect mix of all three? Independent games often shine with two of the three criteria: Flower and echocrome both have fantastic design, intuitive controls, but little to no story. Castle Crashers and other games like them suffer from similar problems. Even a game like Siren: Blood Curse attempts to create a credible storyline, but ends up repeating levels and/or missions (poor schedology) or having lackluster and uninspiring control schemes (poor ludology).
Perhaps this is the key to where we should hope to get to. There is no Citizen Kane of the digital interactive medium because there is no one who has thought through all three criteria. Those classically trained storytellers (David Cage springs readily to mind; Hideo Kojima fits this, too) are stuck in certain types of expression that derive from passive visual media and passive textual media, though they can handle schediological approaches well. Those trained in powerful ludological avenues (Masahiro Sakurai) do not fully grip narrative expression, despite possible schediological capacity. Those who capitalize on schediological excellence (Cliff Blezinski) often fail to integrate narrative and, sometimes, even ludological importance.
In order to get the greatest game ever, there must be a perfect balance and harmony: A story of lasting significance, a gaming experience of pure entertainment, and a game design of perfect clarity.
Who's up to it?
Narratology versus ludology, an old question in a new medium of theory, has become stale and stalemate. Wark plays on this in Gamer Theory (67):
But where gamer theory gets stuck is in the tension between thinking games through the forms of the past and the desire to found a--somewhat hasty--claim to a new 'field' or 'topic' of scholarship around some 'new media.' Is the game about story or play? Is the authoritative method 'narratology' or 'ludology'? Questions too ill-framed to answer.Theory cannot answer the question of which is better; the medium, though new, is touching upon a long-held understanding of both concepts. We have never been without play. We have never been without story. The melding of the two is not new, nor is it novel. For fear of sounding tautological: What it is, it is. The game rests on three pillars, as Stephen Dinehart explains. In his article "Dramatic Play," he explores the three areas that meld into the dramatic play that encapsulates gaming excellence, adding a crucial third criterion to this debate. Beyond narrative and ludic properties is also the game design, which touches upon the other two in separate aspects. Where the three converge, argues Dinehart, is 'interactive narrative design.' In other words, the ludological, narratological, and schediological (taken from the Greek word for 'design') confluence.
Game Design as a Criterion
Why add this, and how does schediological influence differ from ludological? After all, the ludic elements are how the gamer interacts with the medium, the play of it all. But the play itself is barren in a video game, as any who has been caught by a part of the gameplay mechanic yet left ultimately unfulfilled knows. Konami's Rock Revolution provides a great example of the ludic existing in a familiar format--game simulation of playing music, a la Rock Band and the Guitar Hero franchises--yet being ignored by consumers and panned by critics. Rock Revolution lacked the narrative as a matter of course (even with Guitar Hero: World Tour's attempt at a storyline taken into account, the genre as a whole is essentially narratively empty), contained a ludic element of play, yet failed to capitalize on either with its schediological approach.
Stephen Dinehart: "Dramatic play systems invite the player to co-create a plot through a world that is influenced, if not shaped, by their actions. In this role play, the question is begged of the player 'what kind of character do you want to be?' Begetting the formation of a particular desire in the player, a desire to be. By actively pursuing that desire, the player becomes an active protagonist." Therein lies another avenue of power, another tapping into the ideal, another drug in the addiction. This is where the play becomes limpid and the story becomes intrinsic and the design becomes seamless. When all three mesh, each one complements the other.
Examples, Please?
The examples appear to be few. Large blockbuster sellers like Halo, Gears of War, and Metal Gear Solid fail to fully achieve it. For Halo, the story itself is overwhelmed by the ludic aspect of the multiplayer component. Particularly in the first game, the schediological component, while flawless on the graphics and the controls, failed on level design. Duplication of textures and uninteresting maps mar the effort. For Gears of War, the design was executed flawlessly, and even the ludic aspect of the game worked on multiple levels. Yet, from a narrative point of view, the game was satisfied with stereotypes and cliches to power what should have been a phenomenal science fiction epic. The premise of the story--and the power that it could have derived from it--got lost behind the glitz and the gore. For Metal Gear Solid, the schediological, the ludological, and the narratological components all shined appropriately, but the balance of them became muddled. MGS4 as proof: Too much narrative at certain points, letting the play lapse. The excellence of the design of the levels lead to exploration, but caused a greater disconnect when the narrative asserted itself. The fun became frustration when a perceived unfairness in the final fight lead to hours of repetitive gameplay.
So where can we turn for a perfect mix of all three? Independent games often shine with two of the three criteria: Flower and echocrome both have fantastic design, intuitive controls, but little to no story. Castle Crashers and other games like them suffer from similar problems. Even a game like Siren: Blood Curse attempts to create a credible storyline, but ends up repeating levels and/or missions (poor schedology) or having lackluster and uninspiring control schemes (poor ludology).
Perhaps this is the key to where we should hope to get to. There is no Citizen Kane of the digital interactive medium because there is no one who has thought through all three criteria. Those classically trained storytellers (David Cage springs readily to mind; Hideo Kojima fits this, too) are stuck in certain types of expression that derive from passive visual media and passive textual media, though they can handle schediological approaches well. Those trained in powerful ludological avenues (Masahiro Sakurai) do not fully grip narrative expression, despite possible schediological capacity. Those who capitalize on schediological excellence (Cliff Blezinski) often fail to integrate narrative and, sometimes, even ludological importance.
In order to get the greatest game ever, there must be a perfect balance and harmony: A story of lasting significance, a gaming experience of pure entertainment, and a game design of perfect clarity.
Who's up to it?
Comments
Have a nice laugh at that. I want to attend one of their concerts someday. Theirs or PLAY!'s, another game orchestra.
Anyway, reading this got me to thinking about what makes up one of my favorite franchises: Kingdom Hearts. When I compared the maps of Kingdom hearts to Kingdom Hearts II, I realized they really simplified it for the sequel. I used to have to look in nooks, crannies and jump to impossible ledges to find treasure chests, but the maps for Kingdom Hearts II have no depth to them. They're pretty 2D.
There is one level in Kingdom Hearts that you cannot progress through until you obtain the High Jump ability. I thought of your LBP stage where your dragon was easily surpassed were it nor for the foot you put in the way. The ability to use High Jump, I realized, is the only foot placed in the game. Sure, the game has puzzles and things, but you're never really required to obtain a skill to move on. If you're not strong enough for the level, either you die or you pass through it by sheer luck.
Now with the story, I like how it gives reasons why you must fight. You have a Keyblade. Heartless steal hearts. You use that Keyblade to free the hearts. Simple. But that's all it really gives you for Kingdom Hearts. In Kingdom Hearts II, however, near the end of the game you begin to question whether what you're doing by freeing hearts is beneficial for the world or if it will ultimately destroy it. The story in Kingdom Hearts II is far more in depth than that of Kingdom Hearts, but Kingdom Hearts gives Sora a more personal story on why he should even be making his journey in the first place. Kingdom Hearts II's story gives Sora a universal reason why he should continue on his journey.
I can see that Square Enix really wants to turn this into a deep franchise, exploring the heart, mind, soul, memories, light, darkness, what makes them up, what happens when they become corrupt.
I still wanna know why Donald duck can get away with not wearing pants but I ALWAYS have to wear mine.
Stupid Donald and your low health bar.
And yet when he's shirtless, they consider that "naked". (Reference: Fantasia 2000) So what? Are they trying to say the lower portion of the human is more beautiful than the top portion? I can even get that from the way the poor creature talks! COMPLETE BUTCHERY!!!