High on a Hill

Crikey, standards are really going up. The new Enigmatis looks pretty darned polished.
But let me ask you this: Does it have a goat chocolatier? Eh?

You know how the saying goes: If you can't beat 'em, you're not very good at beating.

The Insecurity of Reinvention

Been a taxing week - one of those weeks where you question your work a tad too deeply. (We're in the land between paradox and non sequitur people!)

I'm currently assembling the hints system and it's about as mind-spangling as things get. It's nice to take a break for a couple of days to tidy my thoughts.

I've briefly allowed myself a tour of the recent reviews of M3 - just enough to perk me up a little, and not so much as to perpetuate a dependency on public adoration. :o)
And boy, I'm blown away. The scores keep going up and up, all across the board, raised on the shoulders of so many kind and encouraging comments.
As that comforting glow soaks into my soul, a panic eel spasms in my gut. All those high expectations! Can I really lead my team to an even greater victory? I've changed my approach to design and game narrative so much, and everything is once more uncertain. I mean, this game is, thus far, an unfiltered nozzle into my head, and that's a scary premise.

What do the greats do?
On the one hand, you have the MCF team who reinvent with breathtaking courage from game to game; on the other, you have the unfalteringly successful ERS team(s) who pump out 'cookie cutter' games with unnerving regularity.
The upshot is pretty straightforward: each new MCF game garners a host of negative reviews from those who dislike the new systems, techniques, and mechanics. The ERS games seem only to receive negative reviews concerning the lack of originality. ('More of the same' is a recurring review.)
And, in both cases, these games hurtle to the top of the charts and make heaps of money.
I'm quite sure my bosses would prefer that I adopted the ERS approach. But I simply can't do that. To deny myself the opportunities to improve and experiment and to push boundaries is to deny myself of everything that is necessary for my creative survival.

My new hints system is, to the best of my knowledge, radically different to all others in the iHOG genre.
I've replaced the insipid omniscient hints (Collect the bacon slicer from the mortuary) with a character.
So now the hints are imbued with personality, and we move a little closer to turning a 'penalty' into a 'reward'. Furthermore, we increase immersion every time we shun omniscience in favour of important, narrative-driven characters.
I've also broken the hints into smaller increments. When coupled with the interactive in-game map, this method overcomes all the issues we experienced with the previous system.

One unforeseen by-product of all this is that the hints have rather ballooned.
Now that the hint can 'see' where the player is, 'he' needs to respond appropriately in order to sustain believability:

PLAYER has not visited mortuary. PLAYER is not in town.
HINT PERSON: Let's head into town and have a look around.

PLAYER has not visited mortuary. PLAYER is not standing outside mortuary.
HINT PERSON: There's a mortuary on Gallows Corner. Let's have a looksee.

PLAYER has not visited mortuary. PLAYER is outside mortuary.
HINT PERSON: I don't like the look of this place at all. Let's go in!

PLAYER does not have bacon slicer. PLAYER is not in mortuary.
HINT PERSON: Hey Edwina! I'm sure I saw a bacon slicer in the mortuary.

PLAYER does not have bacon slicer. PLAYER is in mortuary.
HINT PERSON: Ooh look! A bacon slicer! We can use that to create an origami pig!

(N.B. The hints are organised into linear bundles of loops. At the final 'idiot' stage of a loop, I've chosen to lead the player not just to the current choke, but also to the next.)
It's a teeny bit painful to compose a full ms of hints, knowing that any one player might only require a small clawful of lines from that almighty document.

The other problem - and this was not unexpected - is wrestling parallel game-play into a linear hint system. I faced this in M3, but in M4 the player might have three or four tasks open at once, and our intelligent, self-aware hint must intuitively assuage the player's current concern, whilst shepherding her to the next point in a linear system.

And I think these are possibly the moments when we most question our judgement - those moments when we are entrenched in something that is difficult and untested.
In my head, it's a brilliant system and everyone loves it!
But we're fast approaching the time when nigh on a year's worth of ideas and decisions will crawl from my head and into the outside world with all its glorious reality.
Man, if it stayed in my head it would be the best game of all time - the best, very lonely game of all time.

Should end on a high. Let's pick a review...

Absolutely beautiful game. The story was so touching, and the music was gorgeous. I even loved the side story that opens up once you finish the main game. It takes a lot to impress me, or keep me wanting to play, and this one definitely grabbed me completely.
[Jamie Machia of New York.]

And finish up with an actroid. Utopia or dystopia? (Ah, let's face it: they're all gonna end up as sex toys.)

Make Over

Tattoo fail.

So, if you're up for playing our little game of 'find the essence', I'd advise you to scroll down to the previous post first, ensuring that you pay no heed to the illustration in this post. Then meet back here when you've had a thought or two.

One advantage I have over my art team is that I get the instant hit. Sal will call me over and I'll wheel across to her desk, my heart fluttering with anticipation, and I'll arrive at her side as a player: I get an instant response, and that response is paramount in making decisions. Similarly, I wheeled over to Ben recently and my immediate response was something like 'Wow: that's a powerful scene. I'm getting the storm clouds preparing for battle behind a mighty stone cathedral and a derelict bridge languishing in the shade of blossoming trees; I'm getting the river and the graveyard of steam boats. I get the sense of destruction and unholy power - and the sense of change, as the beauty and tranquility of the town is falling away to reveal something much more sinister.'
Nice.
However, I also found two elements which didn't work so well: the first distracted, the second was weak. Ben's composition was so overwhelming that he had created a regular vertical two-thirds of the way across the painting, and as a part of my instant hit, I found the sense that the piece was a kind of cut-and-shut of two distinct paintings. To remedy this, I recommended that Ben bled some of the golds across to the river and into the steam boats.
Secondly, his lamps were not achieving their potential. We had created an opportunity for orange street lamps (of a Victorian gas lamp style) set against the impending storm, and Ben had not quite made the most of the bright oranges - rather, he had stifled the glow beneath his adored repoussé metalwork. Two simple fixes upon a magnificent hit.

We all face this problem - the problem of become involved in the work and losing the perspective of a fresh-faced outsider. My solution is to take regular breaks, or to leave a work for a short time, and then to return with a slightly fresher perspective. But there's no substitute for having trusted eyes on your side.

So to Sal.
Which sounds like a great name for a character! So-to Sal. So Tosal. So To-Sal. Sot Osal. Soto Sal. Hmm. I like.
The narrative elements bombarded my bones like emotive X-rays, and lit up a panoply of responses...

I didn't really get enough of the sense of the Puritans' evil. Also, I wanted to feel more that Brites had been overpowered - that many burly men had swarmed about her and had actually relished the idea of harming her. To this end, we had already suggested this prepared intent by introducing the dual-functioning step ladder: on the one hand, it served as a functional means of crucifying her (and we acted this out to experience the problems of crucifixion); on the other hand, it demonstrated that the Puritans had come prepared, which is to say that this was part of a plan that had been brewing for a while.
As you'll know, I'm extremely fond of using devices that serve more than one function! Maximum impact from minimum work!
I knew we needed at least one more Puritan in there. I also wanted to up the evil ante. Imagine there's a crucifixion going on. You'd be horrified right? You'd probably be glued to the execution - at least momentarily.
I wanted this extra Puritan to have his back turned on the execution. Consider the effects of this. Perhaps this is his seventh crucifixion of the day and he's now bored of them. Pehaps he cares so little for the woman that he bears no interest. (Also, in body language terms, the act of turning one's back on another is the ultimate rejection and a powerful narrative tool!)
I then faced a new problem: What if the player invents an alternative, inappropriate reason for this action? Perhaps she will read the disinterest as revulsion? Perhaps she will invent a narrative (and this happens constantly and unfalteringly and we have to retain control throughout) whereby this extra character is so upset that he has turned away to vomit?
I read through the text again, looking for something with which I could regain control of the narrative, looking for some means of demonstrating evil.
We talked recently about motives and about humiliation. I found Brites' flowers and saw an opportunity to create an unnecessary action in this foreground Puritan: he tips her flowers from her basket. Also, by bringing him into the foreground, we were able to get something more from his expression, knocking a few of his teeth out and going for something of a leer.
To close the scene off a little more - to hone the sense of claustrophobia - I asked Sal to paint in some foliage across the top. We also looked at Brites' clothing and decided on a more authentic peasant dress with longer skirt and bodice; and then - and here's more duality - to return her bare legs to the scene, which were necessary for the crucifixion pose, we tore away a section of dress, which creates all manner of wonderful additional connotations. And lastly, I had Sal add a scabbard and sword to the torch bearer.
And all of these reactions, considerations, and resolutions occurred within me in under two minutes. And that's something that never ceases to amaze me about the writer's wily brain!

Sal is still learning about clarity - about simplicity and cleanliness. Consider all of my requests, and then decide how clearly these narrative features percolate from the illustration. (In particular, I had Sal use almost iconic flowers to keep the player from reading those small gangs of pixels as teeth or buns or anything other than flowers.) Do you get the torn skirt? Do you get the gappy grin and malevolence in the foreground Puritan? Is the sense of claustrophobia pervasive enough?

There we have another skill required by the art director: When do I let stuff through? How much of my bosses' real, actual money do I allocate to, say, a clearer flower? Or even a stronger narrative? Should I have let the previous illustration through? Or, for the sake of fifteen minutes work, are the effects worth the cost?

As a rule of thumb, anything within the first hour of gameplay needs to be as near perfect as we can achieve, as this constitutes the trial period, and is where the player decides whether to purchase the full game or not.
Also, anything that functions to drive forward the story and, hence, anticipation, context, and a powerful climax, needs to be as clear as an invisible crystal.
However, provided that the milestones are met, we face the miasmic question:
When is a heap not a heap?

Gem Polishing

No caption could improve this.

Phewee.
Been a fascinating few weeks. Of course, I'm more than happy to share them with you...

Much of my time has been spent mentoring dear young Sally and her impossibly short skirts.
It's a role I take very seriously. (The mentoring.)

What's fascinating is to witness Sal's transformation - seeing how effortlessly she absorbs certain requisites, and how she struggles with others. There have quite literally been tears and laughter. This is Sally's story as seen through the eyes of her art director - me.

Technique
Much of technique is easily assimilated. Sal already had a good grounding; in particular, she demonstrated a sophisticated control of form. Years of life drawing can drum this into an artist: if you don't quite capture the subtle curves of a leg or shoulder, your work sucks. Sal is a whiz with curves and with pose and, in the main, composition.
She has struggled on and off with the style, but guiding her through the more clandestine and vainglorious halls of Photoshop, and providing her with hands on demonstrations, have worked wonders. Thing is, Sal is good at leaving her comfort zone, a rare trait born predominantly from a desire to improve, and an ability to listen.
Technique is largely about tools - about the means by which we can achieve an end.

Judgement
So what is that end?
I gave Sal an illustrated keepsake task.
She was required to create an illustration for a piece of text. The text related the crucifixion of Brites, bride of the cyclopean blacksmith Oban.
I was interested to see how she would interpret the text: which mood/s would she aim for? How would she decant the essence of the text? (Note that I was never in doubt that Sal would understand to choose a mood and then pursue that mood with robust technique.)
Sal went for loneliness. She depicted Brites nailed to the tree, her head hung, and nothing more.
This really was missing the point of the text. It was the evil of the Puritans that was paramount - an evil which would bond the player to Oban - his sorrow and his lust for vengeance.

Immersion
This is a topic that Ben and I discuss frequently.
Sal's next attempt at her crucifixion scene was an improvement. She worked in the Puritan nailing Brites to the tree. But the scene still seemed superficial.
Ben and I have noticed that this ability to enter 'the zone' - to tune out the real world and to step into the fantasy world - is one of the recurring characteristics that distinguishes the good artist from the bad. Oh yes, this applies to the writer too in bucket loads.
I sat with Sal and we walked through the events leading to the crucifixion, taking in the scene and smelling the sea air and then listening to the gulls and then the nails being hammered through bone and the sadistic laughter of the bystanders. We talked about how Brites would behave and how the Puritans would behave. We sought the key ingredients - and only the key ingredients - that would capture the very heart of the mood which we had decided upon.
We chose the moment immediately after the crucifixion. We found wooden steps which the executioner had used to reach up to work; we found his aide who would hold Brites' limbs to the tree, and we found authentic early 18th century tools and costume. We found expressions and relationships. We found the drama of the scene.
Often, Sal finds little trouble capturing a mood through the thoughtful implementation of her techniques; but she tends to capture a secondary mood over the primary mood, and this is a question of judgement - a deep understanding of the function of any scene.

Sal's third attempt captured enough of the essence to receive the thumbs up. I'll probably make some notes and add them to the wishlist for later: I'm still not wholly sold, but it's more than adequate to the task.

Design
I've come to realise that this is a rare talent, and not the fundamental skill which I imagined all good artists must wield. We need many icons and elegant designs and concepts in the game; and yet they all fall to Ben and I to originate. Beyond her occasionally questionable judgement, I've watched Sal painting in little flourishes and spending sometimes hours on details which I would then ask her to remove in a flash because they detracted from the key functions in some way. Everything we add to a work must perform an important function. If it doesn't, then it is clutter and detracts from the whole. Check out these famous logos. To add or to remove any element of any of these logos is to detract from its success. And this is precisely what Hemingway referred to when he spoke of the mot juste.


Designing narrative for an illustration is a task fraught with danger. The slightest nuance in a facial expression, a stance, the shape of a leaf, can all mould the viewer's response, and the more we add, the more chances we create of introducing something inappropriate or contrary or disparate.
Sal, like so many other creatives blessed with raw talent, finds it difficult cutting through to the essence, and masks this shortcoming with superficial ornaments. And let's be fair, it's one of the toughest skills to learn, and is seldom absolute!

In Sally I see enormous potential. She has good technique, and an attitude that allows her to build upon her tool set. And she uses her technique to create emotional responses. The subtleties and judgements come in time through experience...

I've just finished the new dream cards and I'll be posting the full set of eighteen cards along with a little insight into some of those subtleties and judgements as soon as possible. And remind me to talk a little about how I'm attempting to add character to each puzzle!
Oh, and we have a goat chocolatier outstanding if I'm not much mistaken.

There's one particular skill that a creative director needs which an artist doesn't: I need to be able to immerse myself instantly in a multitude of assets. I'll breathe the air of any given dream card, and at any moment be torn from that vivid microcosm and throw myself into Ben's scene, then back into my own work, then into Sal's painting, then into a 3D scene...
That's my day and it's splendid!

P.S. Speaking of school reports, here's what my son wrote on his end of year report under 'funniest moment':
My funniest moment was when my class began a conversation about my dad's ear. Even Mr. Kittle was interested in the topic.

But check out the irony in this misspelt statement from his teacher:
Accademically, [he] has excelled in all areas of the curriculum...
(Oh, there were many more spelling mistakes in that report! Sigh.)

P.P.S. Actually, I've just spent a few minutes studying Sal's crucifixion scene and I know just what's needed! See if you can figure out how best to capture the essence of that text, and I'll post our solution soon...