A Brief Look at Color Palette, by Console

On Color Palettes

Aesthetics is very important to the experience provided by design, and in the past art assets would be constrained by the ranges of color available and the amount of it usable by the given technology, which would constrain the quality of depiction (that is, until higher resolutions and ranges of color gave way to very artistic spritework). Spritework and the use of limited color palettes are still concepts present in today's game design field, and it is important to keep in mind those limitations. Especially in the case of hacked or edited games.

Interview with Lucas Wells, Game Design and Aesthetics

Foreword

I had originally had a different interviewee lined up for my second interview this week, but they backed out at last minute. Thankfully, my brother studies game design like I do, as well as art. In addition, he has served as a playtester before.

In Regards to Games and Aesthetics

Andrew J. Wells: Wells: Salutations! I am Andrew J. Wells, and I've been writing about various aspects of game design for my blog. Could you tell us your name and what you do?

Lucas W. Wells: Greetings, I am Lucas Wells, an amateur artist and game deisgner with a heavy interest in studying game mechanics within the industry.

Andrew J. Wells: I apologize for requesting an interview at such short notice, by the way. My other candidate backed out on me at the last minute. Now, as someone who is fairly aesthetically minded, how do you think art assets can affect a player's experience while playing a game?

Lucas W. Wells: I feel like art assests are a major part of building immersion within a game, and immersion is one of the most important things a game designer can accomplish. I've always been fascinated by works of art that can draw me into their own little world and make me care about exploring and interacting within it. One aspect a lot of more modern games incorporate is incredibly realistic graphics, which do help with increasing immersion because that's what we see in reality, but quality only goes so far. You can build a world the player gets involved in without photorealism. This takes in a lot of factors, but solely based on art and design, the world has to mean something to the user. It has to involve them in someway, by enticing them to investigate, inspire wonder, set a mood, etc.

Andrew J. Wells: I see! In regards to your previous response, what is your opinion on the possible advantages more stylized graphics have over more realistic ones?

Lucas W. Wells: In a sense, I think it forces innovation. Much in the way that photography inspired a lot of painters to break away from photorealistic renderings, as photorealism pushes more and more towards the norm in game art, other devlopers will strain to create more stylized and unique graphics once the realistic ones become boring. A more unique art style might inspire new mechanics, characters, any number of things within games. By breaking one stereotypical design process, developers might become interested in breaking even more conventions, despite the risks.

Andrew J. Wells: Would you say that bizzare or unconventional mechanics or themes would be better represented in stylization then?

Lucas W. Wells: Not necessarily. Realistic graphics can support more unconventional systems and mechanics, the combination of the two would actually be beautifully striking if pulled off well. I was just stating that an unconventional creative start can also breed more creative ideas down the road.

Andrew J. Wells: Fair enough, though I can see a lot of people out there debating that point, it is something of a controversial topic. However, speaking of controversial topics, there are some games out there whose main draw are art and story, with gameplay taking a 3rd or farther chair. What are your thoughts on those sorts of games?

Lucas W. Wells: Can you give me an example of such titles?

Andrew J. Wells: Well, Heavy Rain would probably be one of the more prominent examples, though Space Funeral and a large number of adventure games, such as To the Moon, have faced similar criticism.

Lucas W. Wells: I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing for games to focus on story and art vs. player interaction. Especially nowadays, where big house titles seem devoid of any plot players actually care about, it's good to see a couple independent and lesser known studios bringing a focus back to storytelling. While gameplay is a massive factor in videogames, defining what exactly counts as a videogame in this day and age is an increasingly problematic challenge. Sometimes it's more of an interactive story than a classic "videogame", but I don't think that's a huge issue, as long as you know what you're getting into before laying your money down.

Andrew J. Wells: I suppose the evolution of video games as an industry is bound to create some outliers, but they do have an important place, I agree with you. Anyway, that's all the questions I have at the moment, thank you very much for your time!

Lucas W. Wells: Certainly! Thank you for choosing me to interview with!

Interview with Ben Connor, Sound Design

Foreword

I conducted a brief interview with Ben Connor, known elsewhere as Fyresale, in regards to some of his thoughts on independent games and how music is involved with them. Ben Connor mainly works with music, and is attempting to release his first album some time in December, 2013.

In Regards to Independent Games and Music

Andrew J. Wells: Salutations! I am Andrew J. Wells, and I've been writing about various aspects of game design. Could you tell us your name and what you do?

Ben Connor: Evening, Andrew! My name is Ben Connor, and I train my skills in sound engineering and music composition for various small projects, as well as practice both fields as a hobby.

Andrew J. Wells: Perfect! I've always cared for music myself, just haven't had much in the way of talent. Now, we've worked a little bit together in regards to independent game design, what are your thoughts on the field as a whole?

Ben Connor: In all honesty, I see the entirety of independent development as an excellent opportunity to show what small organizations and groups can really accomplish, given the lack of support that larger AAA development companies usually have backing them up. I've seen plenty of indie titles that have worked out marvelously, due to the ability of creative minds weaving together ideas and different talents to come up with something great. It's honestly pretty admirable in my eyes.

Andrew J. Wells: That's an opinion I tend to back as well; what even small groups or even individuals can accomplish is amazing, given the main video game industry's habit of slower innovation. You do specialize in music though, so are there any independent games that you feel really use music and/or mechanics effectively?

Ben Connor: One of my favorite examples of that is Darren Korb's work on the soundtrack for Bastion. The rustic, blues-ish feel of the music created for that game helped blend the visual style and story fantastically, in a way that I find rare to see and hear. I'm happy to give props to the people who know how to make their music hone in so well to the overall tone and design of their projects.

Andrew J. Wells: Music is certainly quite important to design, I feel that it is sometimes overlooked with regrettable results. I think you may have (but correct me if I'm wrong) played Sequence, which is a very good example of innovation in the rhythm game genre. What is your thoughts on a game that places mechanics and music at its forefront?

Ben Connor: Yep, I have played through Sequence a few times. It'll forever be one of my favorite music-based games, mostly because of how Iridium Studios designed it to revolve around an RPG-esque mechanic alongside its wonderful rhythm aspects. Sequence is an excellent example that rhythm gaming still has breath, since it did what nobody else tried to do by branching out and breaking new grounds, and the developers pulled it off really well in the long run.

Andrew J. Wells: It is a very good example of the sort of innovation you can't see elsewhere in the field. This is more of a music-oriented question, but if you have played some of Space Funeral, how would you say that the music choices made by the game's creator affects the experience?

Ben Connor: I haven't played all that much of Space Funeral, in all honesty. Even though it's been a bit of time since I tried it, I do recall the tone of the music implemented in the game. Like the rest of the game (from what I can tell so far, anyway), I'd say that the music conveys the overall tone of slight confusion and psychedelia fairly well. I'll have to get back into it and continue playing before I'm able to come up with a better impression.

Andrew J. Wells: Fair enough, though just your initial impression is a much appreciated response. That's all I need to ask, at the moment. Thank you very much for sharing your thoughts with me.

Ben Connor: Absolutely, I'm happy to do so. Thank you for the interview.

Blogcast: In Regards to Castlevania Judgment and Experimental Games

Had technical issues with the embedded player, but the link below will play my audio piece.
  Blogcast linked here

In Regards to Role-Playing and Mechanic Reinforcement

Mystic Empyrean and Role-Playing Games

Paper-and-pencil style role-playing games have been an important part of game design ever since its introduction with games such as Dungeons & Dragons, which was based off an even older game called Chainmail.  Their relevance to the game design field can be seen in many of their elements, but essentially paper-and-pencil games are notable for their mechanics-heavy systems, person-run simulations, and heavy amount of player investment and interaction within the playing group. And while the former two elements, intricate mechanics combined and utilized via personal interpretation and arbitration, are readily apparent usually from just glancing over the usually many-paged sourcebooks, deep player interactions along with mental and emotional involvement is a quality that has to be more played than read. However, mechanics usually do not enforce these role-playing elements, at least not in a fashion similar to how other behavior is usually enforced in videogames. 

While it is true that one of “the most fascinating [aspects] of the process of role-playing lies in the ability to shift personality characteristics within the parameters of the game environment” (Bowman, 2010, p. 127), this aspect is usually promoted but not necessarily worked into the mechanics, which is where Mystic Empyrean stands out. Character building in the game focuses around the selection of personality traits, with different traits contributing different abilities to one’s character. While similar concepts can be seen in other systems, the only way these abilities can be advanced is through the role-playing of those respective traits. At concluding points in the game, the other players at the table vote towards what trait your actions represented best, which then adds points to that trait. This enforces the player to play the character they have either built or have been dealt to the hilt, even if the personality trait being played is a negative one via positive reinforcement. While many role-playing games do involve role-playing aspects that players can really invest in, Mystic Empyrean is one of the few systems that build its rules around that concept.

Bowman, S. L. (2010). The Functions of Role-Playing Games: How Participants Create Community, Solve Problems and Explore Identity. Jefferson, NC: McFarland and Company.

In Regards to Fighting Games, Fairness, and Divekick

Divekick and Competitive Balance

Fighting games are a fairly prominent genre inside the video game industry, originating in the arcades of previous generations and eventually being ported to video game consoles as the technology involved evolved to be better suited to a home marketplace. As a genre, fighting games are one of the few that have always been centered around competition, whether it is between the computer, friends, or international competitors. Fighting games usually contain fairly complex systems that in turn create a somewhat steep learning curve, requiring a degree of skill to be built up before a player can truly play against other players of the game. However, this has a side effect of possibly turning away players who have an interest in a fighting game but aren’t skilled enough to get any enjoyment out of it, thus causing them to quickly lose interest in the game. As Salen and Zimmerman (2004) wrote,  "If your players feel that your game is unfair, that it lacks a level playing field, it is unlikely that they will want to play" (p. 263), and the gap between experienced players and interested newcomers tends to give the impression of unfairness to people encountering any particular fighting game for the first time. However, Divekick’s design works against this disparity.

Divekick’s mechanics build around the use of only two buttons (defined by the user), one for jumping and the other for kicking with the ultimate goal of hitting the opponent first without getting hit in turn. The incredibly simple controls make the barrier for entry almost non-existent; Divekick is one of the few fighting games that can simply be picked up and played by anyone. Despite its uncomplicated control scheme, Divekick also retains all of the tension of mainstream fighting games. Intense moments of what move to make and when, positioning, and how to counter an opponent’s moves are a constant during matches and aggressively pushed into existence by the limited time span and middle line mechanic (which awards victory of the match to the player closest to the center line, in the case no one has been hit when time is up). Divekick may be the fairest fighting game to ever exist, but as a result it innovates a new dimension in a debatably stale genre.

Salen, K., Zimmerman, E. (2004). Rules of Play: Game Design Fundamentals. The MIT Press.

Yume Nikki and Nihilism: Futility as a Game Mechanic

Guest Written by Claire Lewoczko

When Jesse Schell wrote his book The Art of Game Design, he listed 100 lenses, or facets, implemented in game design (Schell 2008). Each of these lens uses a different perspective to make a statement or drive the flow of a game. However, Schell neglected to include a very important lens; the lens of nihilism. Nihilism is a philosophy ascribed to Friedrich Nietzsche, which purports there is no meaning to anything in existence, even existence itself (Snyder 2013).

Yume Nikki is a 2D adventure game made by an unknown individual under the enigma Kikiyama, released to the internet back in 2004 (Read 2009). In Yume Nikki, the player takes the role of a reclusive young woman named Madotsuki. Madotsuki refuses to venture from her apartment, but has the ability to dream vivid, surrealistic dreams. It is in these dreams that the majority of gameplay takes place.

Unlike many games, where a player has an objective or a story to follow, Yume Nikki’s narrative is either nonexistent or cryptic. In the beginning, the game gives the player the instructions to find effect items in Madostuki’s dreams. The game never gives an explanation as to why they should find these effects, nor provides an exposition for the player’s context. Excluding the ending, the game features no dialogue, cutscenes, or narrative to follow. The only narrative that the player can hope to piece together relies on their interpretation of Madotsuki’s bizarre dream worlds, and the disturbing imagery found within. 

Yume Nikki’s absurdist imagery and questionably non-existent story are powerful nihilistic mechanics. In nihilist philosophy, there is no purpose in life (Snyder 2013), much like there is no purpose in Madotsuki’s bizarre, illogical dreams. Additionally, while all twenty four of the effect items are needed to unlock the game’s end, only a handful of the items the player collects serve an in-game purpose (Scutilla 2008). The rest of the items serve as merely as player costumes. Though costume items do have effects when their effect key is pressed, their effects do not interact with the rest of the world, further emphasizing pointlessness. Not only is there no story to drive the player, but the player’s struggles and interactions with the game are largely exercises in futility.

The element that captures the spirit of nihilism most in Yume Nikki however, is the ending. This is the one point in the game that features a brief cutscene. After the player has collected all twenty four effects, Madotsuki wakes up in her apartment everything the same as usual, except for one detail. Stepping stairs stand by the balcony of her apartment. The player can try to interact with the apartment’s door, video game system, and usual items, but Madotsuki refuses to use them. The only thing left for the player to do is to climb the stairs and fling themselves from the balcony. When the player chooses to jump, Madotsuki plunges off the balcony to her death. A black screen with a small, bright red spatter appears, and the credits roll indifferently to a chipper, repeating tune.

Yume Nikki cleverly demonstrates that there is no point in the player’s interaction, or Madotsuki’s life. The sole objective, the collection of the effect items, only brings Madotsuki’s purposeless death. Madotsuki’s death is equally pathetic, because the only objective that brings purpose to the game is while Madotsuki is alive. The futility of Madotsuki’s life and death, and the futility of the player’s actions show how the lens of futility is used to send a powerful message about the game.




Schell, J. (2008) The Art of Game Design: A Book of Lenses. Burlington, MA: Morgan Kaufman.

Snyder, P. (2013, August 10) Something out of Nothing: Nihilism and the Humanist. Retrieved from http://www.ws5.com/nihilism/


Read, C. (2008, August 10). Madotsuki's Closet - About Yume Nikki FAQ. Retrieved from http://www.theneitherworld.com/yumenikki/faq.htm


Scutilla (2008, April 29). YUME NIKKI: Game Guide and Walkthrough. Retrieved from http://www.gamefaqs.com/pc/580358-yume-nikki/faqs/52629

Space Funeral and Surreal Experiences

Weirdness in Regards to Space Funeral

Rogers (2010) describes what he refers to as the Triangle of Weirdness in his book Level Up! The Guide to Great Video Game Design. Essentially, only one of three things can be weird without the risk of alienating one’s audience:  the characters, the setting, or the events that take place in the experience (p. 44).

The small, independently-made game Space Funeral defies this rule, with the entirety of the game consisting of events, places, and characters that could only be described as weird. 

Starting Space Funeral for the first time, the player is greeted by the start menu which has three options: blood, blood, and blood. This bizarre opening scene sets the mood for the remaining experience. The player begins the game by being unceremoniously dumped into Scum Village, the entirety of which is immediately recognized as foreign to the player’s mind. The grass and water are far off-color. The houses are all large, bleeding heads, and everyone there to talk to usually serve to just make one more confused, with the exception of clarifying which direction to proceed in. Over time, the events that take place around the player have the strange effect of making the whole situation less understandable and yet oddly more directed. Your only ally, Leg Horse (a horse made out of legs), is the sole emotional anchor one builds over the course of the game and serves to get the player more involved in the plot beyond the vague advice that two of you are destined to take on the same quest. As the climax of the epic comes to a close, everything makes sense in a fashion, though not in a traditional sense. 

Playing through the game, thinking of it more as an experience instead of as a normal video game lets one see where the game shines. The simple aesthetics are far from the high-quality graphics we see today, and even the sprites from back during the SNES’s time span. Yet their ability to unsettle and build a world, no matter how strange, contributes to the experience presented to the player. The writing adds to this feeling, building a feeling of unease yet being totally functional . The licensed music and somewhat outdated pop culture references create familiarity and yet a surreal detachment. The overall experience reaches a point of clarity in the end, hinting at the overall theme that ties the entirety of itself together. Despite thoroughly defying the notion of building on anything normal and known, Space Funeral shows that interesting new experiences can come from departing from that which is familiar.

Rogers, S. (2010) Level Up!: The Guide to Great Video Game Design. U.K: Wiley & Sons.

Thirty Flights of Loving and Environmental Storytelling

On Narrative Architecture

Environmental storytelling is a powerful tool that video games can use to create powerful experiences that draw the player into the game. In reality, we naturally pick up information from the details in the spaces around us, and use them to make deductions about other people and our surroundings, and it is natural that good narrative design takes this element and implements it in the virtual space of the game. Jenkins (2004) states in his article Game Design as Narrative Architecture:
        Environmental storytelling creates the preconditions

        for an immersive narrative experience in at least one of

        four ways: spatial stories can evoke pre-existing

        narrative associations; they can provide a staging

        ground where narrative events are enacted; they may

        embed narrative information within their mise-en-scene;

        or they provide resources for emergent narratives. (p. 123)

These principles are essential to the designing of narrative, and many of them are prevalent in Thirty Flights of Loving.

Regarding Thirty Flights of Loving

Thirty Flights of Loving is more of a story or experience than a game; though there are mechanics present they serve to add more towards the narrative than the gameplay that is present. Regardless, it still uses the principles described above and it is easy to claim these core elements make up the entirety of the experience.

The only principle not used is regarding the creation of emergent narratives; Thirty Flights is intended as a guided experience, and gameplay is minimal which restricts the possibility for emergent stories crafted by the player's individual experience.

Pre-existing Narrative Associations

Immediately after being dropped into the game, the player's environment and its details call upon some presumed associations in the mind of the player to help establish the overarching mood. The newspapers report of unrest and prohibition, and it is quickly learned by the player that they are a large part in some rather underground activities. The environmental touches, in both the action-packed scenes and the somber, melancholic apartment segments evoke the ideas of crime dramas and noir detective stories.

Staging Ground

It is difficult to divorce this principle from spacial narratives, since it is difficult to thing of events taking place without any form of stage. Thirty Flights only uses a small amount of locations, but hints that these environments are much larger than what is initially seen, and everything from passports to looking out at a quiet city suggests that there is a real and breathing world outside of the player's guided experience.

Embedded Narrative Information

Most of the details of this experience that truly make it special are in its details. The bottles at the bar clearly specify its drinks are non-alcoholic and a sign affixed near the entrance states the government's policy in regards to what is stocked. In hidden places, the beverages are of a illegal variety. Government signs warning the player that it is illegal to access the roof are quickly forgotten when you walk past them. The meager arrangements of the player's apartment speaks to either their modesty or how often they are on the move. The missing leg of one of your companions is also very telling, serving as a detail that marks the sequential order of the game's disjointed events.

Jenkins, H. (2004). Game design as narrative architecture. Computer, 44, s3.

On Cart Life and Realism

Realism and the Simulation Genre

In his book Game Design Foundations, Pedersen (2003) states that "realism and fun gameplay are the critical issues to address" (p.27) in simulations, and while these are present in a majority of simulation games, Cart Life provides a unique experience, combining adventure game mechanics with the traditional system managing common to the simulation genre. Unlike many simulations, Cart Life puts the player in control of a single individual instead of a group or larger, in charge of running a food cart (or in one case, a newspaper stand). The mechanics are intended to realistically simulate running such a business, such as dealing with costumers, setting prices, and making change under a strict time limit. In addition, rent is due by the week, and the games's challenging balance is intended to reflect the experience of barely scraping by. On top of the managing of sales, the player also has to keep track of their character's well-being, and the small amount of monetary resources (along with the difficulty of making more) often puts the player in difficult situations.

Many simulation games have a casual air about them, and time isn't treated with too much urgency, but Cart Life is designed to have the player use all of their time as efficiently as they can. Most of that time goes towards working one's cart, but the meager earnings only cover the ultimate goal of rent with difficulty. Revenue is only gained through the selling of food, often for only a few dollars, and making more food to sell usually turns to eating the stock in order to stay fed. Despite Cart Life's adherence to reflecting the desperate and unforgiving situation of low-income life, the game remains fun. The constant challenge keeps it actively interesting with few dull points, and the adventure mechanics add a degree of exploration and discovery to the environment, with the constantly moving clock a grim reminder of how real life can be.

Pedersen, R. E. (2003). Game Design Foundations. Plano, TX: WordWare.

Primordia and Immersion

Briefly Regarding Primordia and its Genre

Crawford (1982) defines adventure games as those in which "the adventurer must move through a complex world, accumulating tools...for overcoming each obstacle, until finally the adventurer reaches the treasure or goal" (p.33), and further elaborates that they are essentially more puzzles than games. Over time, narrative and writing became more prominent in this genre, possibly in order to immerse the player in the world of the game. While games of this type have improved over time, they are still hindered in comparison to other games by their outdated design and often the story becomes the motivation to work through the puzzles. This isn't a bad thing, for it allows the player to immerse in an experience which would otherwise be somewhat difficult to become attached to. However, this is still a difficult effect to achieve, but Primordia is an excellent example of immersion done well.

Essentially, the world composed in the game is in the distant future, where man has been so long forgotten as to become an object of worship for the remaining inhabitants of the Earth, the remaining robots and their subsequent creations. The strong immersive pull of the writing comes from a combination of of familiar and unfamiliar elements; the character you control is one of the only humanoid-shaped characters in the entire game, and the entire setting combines familiar objects and architecture with foreign places and invented cultural flourishes. While the puzzle-centric trappings are present and are to be expected (though even those feature some unique design), the construction of the writing portion is an example set for other games of the genre.

Crawford, C. (1984). The Art of Computer Game Design. Retrieved from http://www.vic20.vaxxine.com/wiki/images/9/96/Art_of_Game_Design.pdf

Porta Lucis: In Regards to Puzzle Principles

On Porta Lucis

Porta Lucis, a small horror rougelike originally created for a seven-day contest, stands out from other similar pieces in several ways. While keeping with the randomly-generated elements that is a foundation of the genre, what is noticeably absent is the presence of character statistics, with the player's numerical elements being few. This presents rather interesting mechanics between the player and the few entities that can be interacted with in the environment. The lack of character advancement and numerical statistics means that the way the player navigates the labyrinth and deals with its dangerous inhabitants becomes a fine circle of interconnected puzzles, in addition to the other mechanics present such as moving around the map, player death, and locating the staircases necessary to advance.

Porta Lucis through the Principles of Puzzle Design

Schell (2008) defines ten principles of good puzzle design in The Art of Game Design, and a majority of them easily apply in the interactions of the player with his or her environment. While Porta Lucis isn't inherently a puzzle game, the simplicity of the mechanics makes many of the encounters in the game very reminiscent of puzzles, with the added allure of the rules of different puzzles being able to impose on each other.

Make the Goal Easily Understood
The base goal of the game, to advance through the floors, is naturally assumed for the gaming-literate. The smaller problems, however, are clearly listed in the game's built-in instructions. While accessing this information would not typically count as being easily understood, it is clearly listed in the player's actions and is one of the few actions they can take. This makes the goal easily understood.

Make it Easy to Get Started
The game introduces its first obstacle, rats, in the first floor. The player quickly discovers that removing them without trouble is fairly easy, and may even fall into the habit of doing so. Later on, the game presents them in numbers large enough to threaten the player, and their previous knowledge meets the complication that constitutes the puzzle. Plotting out the proper steps to remove the rats without coming to harm creates the atmosphere of a puzzle that slowly becomes more difficult as the number of spawned rats increases.
In addition to this example, the entire step-based mechanic makes navigation into a sort of puzzle. The predictable pattern that the enemies move in makes forming mental paths to avoid them a common activity.
Other puzzles exist in the game as well, such as manipulating light with boxes in order to trap light-sensitive enemies, but being purposefully-difficult achievements they understandably lack the pacing of the player's interaction with the rats.

Give a Sense of Progress and Increase Difficulty Gradually
The prominent floor counter increases by one for every floor cleared, and with every floor the game gets more difficult. This slowly builds challenge for the player, until the challenges get so difficult as to succeed in stopping the player. The presentation of how many floors have passed along with the mounting difficulty clearly show progress and serve to challenge the player accordingly.

Pyramid Structure Extends Interest
Porta Lucis' maps are populated with enemies, and they move around the map along with the player. Each of the enemies can be dealt with in a puzzle-like function, such as proper use of steps or light manipulation, or otherwise by simply running away. These situations can interact together if different enemies are encountered together, along separate puzzles to mesh into a more difficult puzzle. In addition, these encounters ultimately tie into the the goal of trying to pass through as many floors as possible.

Hints Extend Interest and Giving the Answer
Two of the only items the player has access to, matches and pills, serve as both a hint and an answer respectively. Matches can hold the more troublesome enemies away for an amount of time, making their respective puzzles easier to solve. Pills effectively allow the player to skip over the puzzles currently placed in front of them, though it has some penalty to doing so.

In these fashions, Porta Lucis contains very finely linked puzzles, and the mechanics surrounding them allow them to build in ways that challenge the player and create emergent situations. The ability for different mechanics and events to interact together harmoniously is a common goal in creating a good experience.

Schell, J. (2008) The Art of Game Design: A Book of Lenses. Burlington, MA: Morgan Kaufman.

Introductions

A Salutation

My name is Andrew James Wells, and I am a sophomore student at the University of Texas at Dallas. I am currently studying game design under the Arts and Technology major in order to eventually join the video game industry, hopefully as an independent studio. To have my own place in the field of video games has always been a dream of mine, however I only recently began to seriously look into the many elements behind game design, mainly the components of mechanics, dynamics, and aesthetics as discussed in Salen, K. and Zimmerman, E.'s writings (2003). Being something of an artist, video games (and their analog ancestors) being used as a means of expression fascinates me. Whether it is done through the visuals, the narrative, the mechanics, or most importantly a combination of the above, I believe games have a profound ability to affect their audience and the future of their own industry.

Purpose

The main thing I wish to accomplish with this blog is an exploration of game mechanics, narrative, aesthetics, and overall design. The central focus of my observations is to analyze elements of a game and find useful or notable examples of them that are interesting design-wise and/or have something unique in their delivery of visuals or narrative that is relevant to how the audience reacts to the game. Game design is an inherently cumulative sphere of knowledge with the most popular and functioning mechanics quickly becoming adopted throughout similar games of a genre, but it is my intention to look for instances of good design in other pieces. There are many outliers in the field of gaming, such as cult hits, projects from independent studios, unmarketed games such as those found throughout the internet, and older games that are not commonly known. It is my intention to mainly discuss these sorts of pieces and what value they have to the field of game design.

Salen, K., Zimmerman, E. (2004). Rules of Play: Game Design Fundamentals. The MIT Press.