For those who hadn’t heard me say so elsewhere, I attended PAX in Seattle over the weekend. It brought to mind a smaller, friendlier E3, which is certainly an improvement in my eyes, particularly given the complete lack of booth babes. Much of my time was spent attending every single panel in which the staff of Telltale made an appearance, resulting in such brag-worthy experiences as getting called by name whenever I went up to ask questions and even playing the role of Sybil in an audience-generated Sam & Max scene, in which I got to say such classic lines as my now-favourite “I’m an orthopaedic surgeon, baby!” [1] I also ended up spending quality time chatting with assorted internet buddies in person, as well as running into a couple of people I used to know from high school. (I suppose it was bound to happen, considering that Seattle is about four hours away from my hometown.)

The one thing that bothered me throughout, however, was several game companies’ overwhelming tendency to refer to their games as “products” and to their players as “consumers”. It’s unsurprising that they would do so, really, but it also makes me more than a little uncomfortable. What does it mean to “consume” a game, anyway? Did I miss the memo stating that games are to be officially relegated as food items or somesuch? Maybe that’s the reason why they decrease in value as they get older. Hmm…

My latest Adventure Architect article is the one that’s taken me the longest to write, but it also happens to be my favourite so far. Hopefully, you’ll all agree, as it delves into the wonderful world of interactive characters. Obligatory excerpt:

“Sadly, in many adventures, character interaction has presented itself as extra window dressing rather than as a primary gameplay element. At most, it is useful in the way that talking to a character sometimes provides clues as to how to solve a puzzle; other times, it is simply a fun little diversion and nothing more. Save for a relatively minute handful of exceptions, what you say or do to characters has no significant effect on the game itself — if you make someone angry by choosing one dialogue option, it is virtually forgotten by the time you go back and choose a different one. Although a mixture of clever writing and careful limiting of possible choices can effectively maintain the player’s suspension of disbelief in this regard, it still begs the question as to what an adventure game would be like if non-player characters did remember how the player treated them. This is a question I plan to explore at length throughout the making of Chivalry is Not Dead.”

Aaaand, here’s the rest!

The blog MusEditions wrote a fascinating little piece about music in computer games, and Cubert and TGTTPOACS are mentioned therein. I tend to agree with the author in that a game’s music is truly a huge factor that increases my immersion therein; perhaps a big reason I really got into LucasArts adventure games in my pre-teens was precisely because they put such emphasis on music to convey atmosphere. I suppose this is why I’m so flattered that someone has said the same about my own games. Although I know I’ll never have the talent and specialized training of Michael Land, Peter McConnell, or even Jared Emerson-Johnson, I do try and make the best effort possible to recreate the same atmospheric effects through music that influenced me in the classic Lucas games. I’m hoping to do this even better in Chivalry; though the music samples are a bit shorter in order to facilitate continuous looping effects (and to save me some time and space), I’ve been playing with a variety of different styles that I think fit well with the fantasy atmosphere. Time will tell if I actually succeed, I suppose.

On another note, I’ve recently been made feature editor at the somewhat dormant yet soon to be revived Adventure Developers. My my, the writing gigs just keep piling up, now don’t they?

Kickaha over at the Adventure Developers forums posted a very nice writeup of When We Were Kids. One thing it highlighted was uncertainty as to whether the game had a moral it wished to convey, or whether it was simply a product of my worldviews, as most art inevitably tends to be. The short answer is that it’s a mix of both. The long answer is as follows. Have at it.

This game was indeed meant to make a point, though not a didactic one, and certainly not one meant to be a teaching tool in classrooms! Mainly, it was a cynical mockery of how adults generally teach kids to deal with bullies, i.e. by ignoring them, being nice, or telling an authority figure what’s going on. When I was younger and nerdier (hence, a very blatant target for bullying), I quickly discovered that none of these approaches actually worked, and you’ll notice that they don’t work in the game as well. Talking to the teacher only results in her getting annoyed, trying to suck up to Morgan backfires, and not doing anything, well, accomplishes nothing. The only valid options are either to use your wits to outsmart Morgan somehow or (gasp!) threaten her.

But wait, there's more! »