Blog Post 4: Videogame Lab
In today's session we played and observed a handful of games from a list. The majority were fairly short and simple, but others really needed extra time to appreciate. I wanted to experience the whole game within the timespan of the allotted time, and went for shorter games. Many of these smaller scale games were either small in scale and more of a demo, or short so that the maker could make that one small game shine.
I found that Jurassic Heart and Manbat were both on the simpler demo side of things, though Jurassic Heart does feel somewhat like a contained refined gem. But what I think really makes these games stand on their own despite being short is that their premise is ironic and endearing. What I mean by this is that Jurassic Heart is a dating sim with a stage shy t-rex sweetiepie, and Manbat shows a bat therapist talking to monsters about how to be more scary and help with the other life problems they have. It has a very Nightmare Before Christmas vibe, with that non-seriousness and whimsical atmosphere. Honestly, Manbat is funny and adorable. And it has to have that hook. Its a story, albeit a simple one, but it really has to resonate with a player, otherwise what's stopping someone from playing something else? For Manbat, its spooky and cute, and for Jurassic Heart I feel I don't need to explain. It's one of those hooks that's so out of the blue you just have to check it out. And who on Earth wouldn't want to date a t-rex?
Which brings up another point of discussion. For Jurassic Heart, it requires a story hook even more so than Manbat to be successful. When you play as the bat, you can move, interact, explore the castle the game takes place and enjoy the personalities of the other monsters at your leisure. With Jurassic Heart, its a visual novel with branching paths. These paths are predetermined by the game structure of visual novels and dating sims. The story progress and endings have to suffice so that the player doesn't mind having control taken away, excluding three choices in the game, two of which actually have an effect on the ending.
Would there be much difference if this was just a book or a small animation? Its possible to argue that some things work better viewed rather than experienced? Its here where it really comes up to your opinion. I know many folk who think visual novel type stuff shouldn't be classified as a videogame, but something along the lines of a graphic novel or comic. And maybe I kinda agree with them. But still, I would not have the same experience of making this sweet theropod smile had I just watched someone do it. There's a reason why this wasn't just made into a comic for us to observe. Its meant to be personal to the player, to us.
Though to be fair it is funny to watch someone react to getting the bad ending. That's the key difference between playing and watching someone play. You play the game to be entertained, whatever that entails, and you watch someone play for their reaction the same way you watch a show to see what your favorite character does. My favorite let's players have personalities that I resonate with somehow, either because I relate to them or because I find them very entertaining. I won't get around to playing many of the games the people I follow review, but through their experience of it I can get a glimmer, a piece of what they felt. In some cases, its watching other people play a game that gets me pumped to pick up a game I lost interest in, or pick up a new game I never thought twice about. Watching someone get confused over dating pigeons gets me interested in a game that would get a good laugh out of me. And before I know it I'm crying over my ghost pigeon husband. And then I'll laugh when other people get invested in the character because I know the sucker punch is coming.
Deviating from that discussion of experiencing verses observing, there was another game I came across today though that was simply different. It felt less like a game, but I was still in control nonetheless. Or rather, I felt uneasy with how the game gave me control. Statues, a game where you witness the delusions of a king lead to his death. At first glance, you just press the spacebar to show what he's thinking when the lights go out, and the sound of the mob grows quiet. But I found myself reluctant to press the spacebar as I saw the mob come closer and closer. I wanted to stop it, to get the good ending, to make peace. At first what felt like a creative means of showing dialogue and how delusional and self-centered the king is slowly became this narrative where I, the player, was almost causing this to happen. Sure, any game needs someone to play the game, that's how it works. But that doesn't stop me from feeling like the game's inevitable end, the king's death, was my fault. If I hadn't continued to press the spacebar, the mob would have never reached him. I wanted to save him, to wake him up and have him realize his mistakes, to look outside himself.
Perhaps that wasn't the goal of the creator of Statues. Or maybe they left it intentionally open ended. I don't know. It bugs me that I don't know. Maybe that was the goal of the creator. Maybe it wasn't to get a specific theme across, it was to engrain the experience into my brain, so that I may come upon a meaning that's significant for me. I don't think I would have had the same experience if I had watched someone play it. There's a weight of responsibility to being the player in narrative heavy stuff like this.
I wanna to go back to dating a t-rex in a tie.
I found that Jurassic Heart and Manbat were both on the simpler demo side of things, though Jurassic Heart does feel somewhat like a contained refined gem. But what I think really makes these games stand on their own despite being short is that their premise is ironic and endearing. What I mean by this is that Jurassic Heart is a dating sim with a stage shy t-rex sweetiepie, and Manbat shows a bat therapist talking to monsters about how to be more scary and help with the other life problems they have. It has a very Nightmare Before Christmas vibe, with that non-seriousness and whimsical atmosphere. Honestly, Manbat is funny and adorable. And it has to have that hook. Its a story, albeit a simple one, but it really has to resonate with a player, otherwise what's stopping someone from playing something else? For Manbat, its spooky and cute, and for Jurassic Heart I feel I don't need to explain. It's one of those hooks that's so out of the blue you just have to check it out. And who on Earth wouldn't want to date a t-rex?
He's even wearing a tie! Taira doesn't have an evil bone in his big ol' lizard body.
Which brings up another point of discussion. For Jurassic Heart, it requires a story hook even more so than Manbat to be successful. When you play as the bat, you can move, interact, explore the castle the game takes place and enjoy the personalities of the other monsters at your leisure. With Jurassic Heart, its a visual novel with branching paths. These paths are predetermined by the game structure of visual novels and dating sims. The story progress and endings have to suffice so that the player doesn't mind having control taken away, excluding three choices in the game, two of which actually have an effect on the ending.
Would there be much difference if this was just a book or a small animation? Its possible to argue that some things work better viewed rather than experienced? Its here where it really comes up to your opinion. I know many folk who think visual novel type stuff shouldn't be classified as a videogame, but something along the lines of a graphic novel or comic. And maybe I kinda agree with them. But still, I would not have the same experience of making this sweet theropod smile had I just watched someone do it. There's a reason why this wasn't just made into a comic for us to observe. Its meant to be personal to the player, to us.
Though to be fair it is funny to watch someone react to getting the bad ending. That's the key difference between playing and watching someone play. You play the game to be entertained, whatever that entails, and you watch someone play for their reaction the same way you watch a show to see what your favorite character does. My favorite let's players have personalities that I resonate with somehow, either because I relate to them or because I find them very entertaining. I won't get around to playing many of the games the people I follow review, but through their experience of it I can get a glimmer, a piece of what they felt. In some cases, its watching other people play a game that gets me pumped to pick up a game I lost interest in, or pick up a new game I never thought twice about. Watching someone get confused over dating pigeons gets me interested in a game that would get a good laugh out of me. And before I know it I'm crying over my ghost pigeon husband. And then I'll laugh when other people get invested in the character because I know the sucker punch is coming.
Deviating from that discussion of experiencing verses observing, there was another game I came across today though that was simply different. It felt less like a game, but I was still in control nonetheless. Or rather, I felt uneasy with how the game gave me control. Statues, a game where you witness the delusions of a king lead to his death. At first glance, you just press the spacebar to show what he's thinking when the lights go out, and the sound of the mob grows quiet. But I found myself reluctant to press the spacebar as I saw the mob come closer and closer. I wanted to stop it, to get the good ending, to make peace. At first what felt like a creative means of showing dialogue and how delusional and self-centered the king is slowly became this narrative where I, the player, was almost causing this to happen. Sure, any game needs someone to play the game, that's how it works. But that doesn't stop me from feeling like the game's inevitable end, the king's death, was my fault. If I hadn't continued to press the spacebar, the mob would have never reached him. I wanted to save him, to wake him up and have him realize his mistakes, to look outside himself.
The screen when we read the king's dialogue. Its completely quiet.
The screen we see when we see the whole picture. The background noise is an ominous droning mixed with the roar of an angry crowd that gets louder every time the screen switches back to this.
Perhaps that wasn't the goal of the creator of Statues. Or maybe they left it intentionally open ended. I don't know. It bugs me that I don't know. Maybe that was the goal of the creator. Maybe it wasn't to get a specific theme across, it was to engrain the experience into my brain, so that I may come upon a meaning that's significant for me. I don't think I would have had the same experience if I had watched someone play it. There's a weight of responsibility to being the player in narrative heavy stuff like this.
I wanna to go back to dating a t-rex in a tie.
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