You haven’t seen Critters like these…

They’re coming. They’re adorably mischievous. And they’re completely invisible.

Critters is a game concept that uses augmented reality to create the illusion that there is a fanciful, magical, plane of activity overlaid on our own, and the only way you can see into the world hidden around you is through the magical window pane of your tablet or smartphone device.

Read the concept walkthrough here (http://xdev.ca/ENGL794/), but don’t get your credit card out to pre-order just yet; though the technology needed to drive this game mostly exists already, I doubt it will hit store shelves anytime soon. Still, a critter can dream…


Games: Surreal Experiences?

In his editorial titled “An Argument for Surrealism in Games“, Ben Gowing decries the game industry’s obsession with making games look real, at the expense of missing out on the great immersive and escapist value potential found in more surreal games. In fact, Gowing points out the fact that games are necessarily unrealistic:

“The problem I find most troubling with realism in games, is that video games are inherently unrealistic. By definition, even, video games must adhere to some sense of absurdity.” (Ben Gowing)

Trying to be too realistic? Or not realistic enough?

I suppose he’s right in that the video games we play are not real in the strictest sense, and that can turn some players off when the illusion is shattered during game play. But what if they’re just not real enough… yet? While Gowing is discussing these game design paradigms in relation to what consumer-gamers expect and/or want to play (and the fiscal risk that game companies would assume if they veer too far from the beaten path), there is more to consider here than just simple design/gameplay aesthetics and their effects on consumers.

When Gowing places games like Uncharted or Call of Duty (those that aspire to be “realistic”) in opposition to more fanciful titles like Alice: Madness Returns, he makes the claim that the drive to be realistic in the former games both hinders their ability to provide innovative game play and actually reduces their realism because of the many times the constraints of reality are broken to facilitate game play. Players in these “realistic” games don’t die easily, are unreasonably over-skilled, and further extend beyond the realm of what most players would consider truly realistic, thus breaking the illusion.

So I return to my question: what if the games just aren’t realistic enough? I see a parallel to Masahiro Mori’s concept of the “uncanny valley”, where humans experience a linearly increasing familiarity with a non-human object as it appears increasingly human, but very suddenly begin to find the object very creepy in that space preceding what would be nearly indistinguishable from human. The diagram below will help:

Masahiro Mori's Uncanny Valley (source: Wikipedia)

What if our ultra-realistic games today are simply stuck in the deep valley of uncanniness, as they continue getting closer and closer to near-indistinguishable realistic visuals and experiences? If this is indeed the case, then the games of today aren’t trying too hard to be realistic, they’re just not trying hard enough. The constraints imposed by an imperfect rendering of reality make all the chinks in these games’ armour be all the more obvious and off-putting. Players’ illusions of real adventure or combat are being disrupted by the imperfect reality, and writers like Gowing implore game designers to abandon their quest for realism and focus instead on novel fanciful gameplay.

I posit, however, that if games can progress enough—both visually and experientially—to a point where they could be mistaken for real visuals and real experiences, that then the biggest opportunities for novel engaging game play can emerge. Fanciful forests and twisted creatures in Alice: Madness Returns are all well and good today, but if they could be rendered with picture-perfect realism, the horror, magic, and sheer surreal excitement would be magnified all the more.


Angry Birds, Green Pigs.

Or, “how my Android phone and tablet became horribly greased up from everyone swiping their fingers on them all the time.”

Those little birds need some anger management classes. The first Angry Birds game that appeared on the scene (you know, the one that now has hundreds of millions of downloads and which occupies 200 million minutes per day of users’ time) is an unparalleled success. I had high hopes for its latest iteration, and I can say that it certainly did not disappoint.

One of the major draws to this game is how easy it is to play. Thanks to the touch interfaces on the Apple/Android smartphones and tablets, all that is needed to play is a limber finger; no awkward touch interface pseudo-controllers, no buttons to press– just a swipe of the finger is all it takes. And that’s the real magic: the interface– or, rather, the lack thereof.

It’s fascinating how much fun swiping a finger across a touchscreen can be, and how easy it is to draw in players of all ages. The superficial simplicity of the game (aiming a parabolic flight-path arc to hit green pig targets) belies the complex logic taking place in the brain in order to trace these paths. In fact, interfaces found on most traditional gaming devices (such as keyboards, joysticks, or console system controllers) would have difficulty as interfaces to such a deceptively simple, nuanced command like the game requires. Only a computer mouse comes close to the free-form movement required, and from experience on the new Angry Birds for Chrome browser port, still lacks the finesse and startlingly natural feel of touching a finger to a screen.

And herein lies the magic: using one’s finger without any overt interface provides what appears to be a much stronger correlation between a player’s desired intentions and the resulting outcomes. It is this bit of genius that makes the human-computer interaction almost imperceptible, and this is important. Almost any other overt interface would get in the way of the game experience; controls would have to be learned, buttons or keys remembered, and input limited by the physical dimensions of the interface itself. By removing the interface to the gameplay, the element of arbitrary motor skill associated with experienced gamers accustomed to specific game controls (interfaces) is nullified. Players can then focus more on the playing the game, and less on trying to decipher how to tell the machine to do their bidding.

And that’s just bad news if you happen to be a spherical green pig.


ALL YOUR GAMES ARE BELONG TO THIS BLOG.

Well, maybe not all your games. But some, at least.

My name is James, and this blog will be exploring some of the games I’ll be playing during for ENGL 794 (“Video Game Theory”) in the Spring 2011 term at the University of Waterloo. Participatory research, I suppose you could call it… of the fun variety. But make no mistake; this play is taken seriously, looking for interesting patterns, useful themes, and even theoretical tie-ins.

STAY TUNED.

//J