游戏邦在:
杂志专栏:
gamerboom.com订阅到鲜果订阅到抓虾google reader订阅到有道订阅到QQ邮箱订阅到帮看

游戏机制层面也可以带来巨大情感冲击

发布时间:2012-03-26 15:03:48 Tags:,,,

作者:Matt Waldron

介绍

你认为游戏通过何种方法来传达情感,你最先会想到什么途径呢?可能你想会是游戏故事剧本,故事、情节发展和角色间的对话对玩家的情感响应最为重要。或者你可能认为会是角色发展,游戏中与玩家关系最密切的便是主角,游戏对这些角色的处理会控制玩家的情感。或者你可能认为会是乐谱,毕竟电影行业普遍认为,电影只有在后期制作中完成音乐内容后才会显示出其生命力,作品想要表达的内容才会被观众意识到。

如果可以进行多项选择的话,多数人会认为,上述所有因素与其他情感表达因素的结合,可使游戏成功地对玩家造成强大的情感冲击力。当然,这种看法是对的。从图像设计到过场动画的使用再到其他结构元素,所有这些都为游戏的情感冲击力发挥作用。

我想要讨论的是某个能够显著影响游戏情感冲击成败的游戏设计元素,这个元素与“艺术性”元素并无关联,那就是游戏物理(游戏邦注:从更基础的层次来说,就是代码)。

艺术和机制

通常情况下,游戏的“艺术”层面(也就是创意元素)和“机制”层面(也就是让游戏能够运行的元素)被认为是相互独立的:负责为游戏设计物理引擎的程序员和负责创造游戏角色外观的概念美术人员往往会对另一方的工作内容知之甚少,这两者间的对话往往以“我不理解他的做法”而告终。

但是,机制和艺术间的交叉点比众人想象的要多。作为一名为电子游戏作曲的音乐师,我时常感觉到自己必须根据机制层面上的限制或需求来做音乐层面上的决定。从高创意层面上看,为过场动画作曲需要机制方面

的配合,在恰当的时候播放合适的音乐。从更偏向于机制的层面上来看,对于那些针对移动设备制作的游戏,或许分配给音效的内存数量有限。那么,作曲师的任务不仅包括创造相对较短和简单的循环旋律,还必须选择能够在较低保真度下听起来依然舒适的音效,必须寻找能够为多个目标服务的音效。

另一方面,负责游戏机制层面的人能够理解艺术层面的东西也非常重要,艺术层面需要遵从游戏机制层面,制作切实可行的艺术内容,因而机制层面也必须考虑到艺术层面,使游戏的质量得到提升。

游戏情感冲击实例

shadow-of-the-colossus(from geektyrant.com)

shadow-of-the-colossus(from geektyrant.com)

为进一步说明上述观点,我们以Team Ico作品《旺达与巨像》中主角信赖的坐骑Agro为例。我们的主角一开始呈现的信息很少,他在战斗间歇期几乎没有说话。独自漫步在Colossi的大地上,旺达事实上只与两个角色产生互动:Dormin和Agro。Dormin是个神,在大部分游戏故事中,他的职责只是指引旺达前往下个任务。类似于《最终幻想》中的做法,他会随机附身在城镇中的某个角色身上,告诉玩家下个城镇的位置。也就是说,与我们产生情感维系的只有旺达和Agro。

《旺达与巨像》于2005年发布于PS2平台,正处在拥有超强图像等能力的下一代主机的研发过程中,Team Ico在游戏玩法和图像上做出了令人惊叹的成果。Agro是个设计精妙的角色,它的移动颇具现实主义色彩,是个友善的AI角色。但是,游戏的机制表明Agro也有出错的时候。偶尔,它会在小障碍前停下来。如果你在狭窄的区域降低了速度,那么它就不愿意再加速奔跑,最多只是慢跑。如果你在与巨像战斗时忽略了它,那么可能会在战斗结束后发现自己很难找到它。在游戏早期熟悉控制方式的时候,我觉得自己在控制Agro的问题上碰到了很多麻烦,它给我带来的烦恼远超过它的作用。甚至在某些情况下,我会产生自己只需徒步前行的想法。

但是,随着游戏的进展,我能够越来越熟练地控制Agro。当我到达与Sand Tiger作战的关卡时,我可以控制Agro飞速奔驰,然后180度大转弯,将箭矢射入巨像的眼睛。Agro成为某些高难度巨像战斗中制胜的关键,而且随着游戏逐渐到达高潮,我同Agro间的关系变得越来越紧密。

Shadow_agro(from gamasutra)

Shadow_agro(from gamasutra)

在游戏的最终战斗中,你(游戏邦注:这里指的就是游戏主角旺达)和Agro发现正处在不断塌陷的桥梁上。Agro不断地向塌陷的另一端奔跑。在某个时刻,Agro意识到自己的速度不及桥梁倒塌的速度,于是故意急停将你抛向安全的地方,自己坠落到悬崖下的河流中。在电子游戏历史中,这可能是你感受到同电影或音乐等媒介同样强烈的情感冲击的时刻之一。故事设计得很精妙,而且效果很完美:在你的最后战斗来临时,Agro作为完全无辜的角色做出了牺牲。这对玩家产生了强大的情感冲击。

我情不自禁地想,无论这个事件的艺术层面执行得多么完美,比如毫无瑕疵的音乐、足以传达Agro决定的图像和动作制作方面的精妙,这些都无法实现如此真实的情感冲击,真正的情感维系来源于之间游戏过程中对Agro的控制。我敢说,假如Agro在游戏最后关头没有如此出色的表现,这个事件所带来的情感冲击力就不会如此真切。毕竟在之前的游戏过程中,Agro带来的麻烦甚于好处,我可能不会对它的牺牲有什么明显的情感反应,从而使这悲壮的一幕淡化成“我还是自己走过去吧”这种冷漠的想法。

结论

依我的经验,玩家与电子游戏角色间的情感维系并非持续性的线性发展,而更类似于原子的电子结构:需要获得某些能量才能从一个层次升华到另一个层次。在这种情况下,就可能在一瞬间出现的显著情感差别,只要这种能量出现,玩家就会感受到情感冲击。这种电子结构使游戏的机制层面在成功创造玩家和游戏角色间的情感维系时显得更加重要。即便我们认为游戏开发中的艺术层面能够产生的情感维系更多,但机制层面往往能够产生出意想不到的突出效果。

我希望,这篇文章能够让大家认识到,游戏制作中的艺术层面和机制层面都是创造成功游戏的关键元素,这两个层面的目标是相同的。很多情况下,我发现游戏在开发中将这两个层面对立,这种情况不应当发生。通过对游戏的深层次理解,尽管这两个层面的重点有所不同,但他们必须理解二者是个整体,展开合作才能制作出更为精妙的游戏。(本文为游戏邦/gamerboom.com编译,拒绝任何不保留版权的转载,如需转载请联系:游戏邦

Conveying Tragedy in the Key of C Sharp

Matt Waldron

Introduction

When you think about the way in which emotion is conveyed through a game, what is the first thing you think of? Perhaps you think of script-writing: that the form of the story, plot development and dialogue between characters most prominently dictates the magnitude of a player’s emotional response to a game. Or perhaps you think of character development: that player’s first and foremost relate to the game’s principal characters, and the treatment of these characters determines the magnitude of the player’s emotional interest in what becomes of them. Or perhaps you think of the musical score: after all, it has been said in the film industry that a movie is dry and lifeless until the score is completed in post-production and the full manifestation of the product realized.

If not being made to pick a favorite, most would say it is a combination of the above factors, along with several others, that determines how successfully a game is able to create a powerful emotional impact on the player—and this view is, of course, correct. Everything from graphic design to the use of cut scenes to sound and other textural elements contributes to the emotional impact of a game.

In this post, I want to discuss an element of game design that can significantly influence the success or failure of a game’s emotional impact that is not so commonly associated with what be deemed an “artistic” concern: the physics of the game (or, at an even more fundamental level, the coding).

The Artistic and the Mechanical Universes

Often times the “artistic” side of a game (that is, the creative elements) and the “mechanical” side of a game (that is, the things that make the game run) are thought of as nearly mutually exclusive universes: the programmer who designs the physics engine for a game and the concept artist who creates the look of the game’s characters tend to know the other’s craft only to the minimum extent required, and the two are prime candidates for an awkward conversion that ends in both muttering “I simply do not understand that person.”

There is, however, far more overlap between the mechanical and the artistic than is commonly acknowledged. As a musician who has dabbled in composition for video games, I have countless times found myself in situations where I have had to make musical decisions based on restrictions or requirements originating from the mechanical side of things. At a still highly creative

level, writing the score to a cut scene requires one to do a spotting session to determine certain moments where a musical “hit” should occur. Once these hits are mapped out, the composer is left with a limited number of choices in terms of tempo and time signatures he can employ. At a more mechanical level, perhaps a game is being made for a mobile device and has a limited amount of memory that can be allotted to sound. Not only does this obligate the composer to a fairly short, easily looped melody; but also he has to choose sounds that will be aurally decent in low fidelity and must try to find sound effects that can be pitched up or down to serve multiple purposes.

On the flip side of the coin, it is important that those in charge of the mechanical aspects of a game understand their obligations with respect to the artistic side, for much as the artistic side most conform to the mechanical for the game to be viable, the mechanical must consider the artistic side in order for the game to be effective.

An Illustration of Emotional Impact in a Game

To illustrate this point further, consider Agro: the protagonist’s trusty steed in Team Ico’s Shadow of the Colossus. Our main character is initially presented to us with very little exposition (particularly if one did not play Ico before, a game itself shrouded in a good deal of mystery that offers little in the way of transition) and he does not speak any real lines

for the duration of the game. Alone in the land of the Colossi, “Wander” really only interacts with two characters: Dormin and Agro. Dormin is a deity whose role for the majority of the story is simply to point Wander towards his next task, and as such, if one will tolerate a Final Fantasy metaphor, he more closely resembles a random character wandering about a town who is programmed to tell you where the next town lies than a party member or principal character. What this all amounts to is that as the audience we only really have the relationship between Wander and Agro with which to identify and form an emotional bond.

Considering the fact that Shadow of the Colossus was introduced on the PS2 in 2005, right in the midst of the development of the next generation of consoles with far superior graphical capabilities, etc., what Team Ico was able to achieve with the game in terms of gameplay and graphics is nothing short of astonishing. Agro is a beautifully designed character that moves realistically and possesses a generally keen AI. However, mechanically speaking Agro is not without faults. She will occasionally get hung up on the most minor of obstacles and come to a complete screeching halt. If you lose your momentum on a somewhat narrow strip of land she will completely refuse to accelerate to anything above a canter. If you lose track of her while battling a Colossus, you may well find yourself shouting “Agro!” over and over, only to see her go screaming past in some random direction while certain doom descends upon you. Early on in the game, while still getting the familiar with the controls, I found myself cursing and taking issue with Agro more than I found her useful—on more than a few occasions I gave her the old “I think I’ll walk from here” drop off.

However, as the game progressed I became more and more skilled with Agro, and by the time I reached the Sand Tiger getting Agro to a full gallop, turning 180 degrees and firing an arrow with perfect precision into the Colossus’s eye was no major issue. Agro became a vital piece of many of the most difficult Colossus battles, and as the game moved towards its climax the relationship with Agro became stronger and stronger.

**Spoiler Alert**

As you approach the final battle of the game, you (and I use the term “you” instead of “Wander” deliberately here) and Agro find yourselves on a bridge that begins to collapse behind you. Agro races towards the opposite bank. In a very subtle moment executed to perfection by Team Ico, Agro realizes she cannot outrun the collapsing bridge and comes instantly to a halt deliberately to toss you to safety, and subsequently tumbles off the cliff into the waters below. There exist probably only a handful of moments in all of videogame history that take hold of you emotionally with the same strength that can be realized through the mediums of film or music (assuming a truly excellent film or a song of significant scope)—this is one of them.

Story-wise, it makes perfect sense: you need the final battle to be mano-a-mano to heighten the impact of the showdown, and as a completely innocent character, Agro needs to be absent during the aftermath that concludes the game. This is not a moment hacked together from the generic “let’s kill off a character ‘cause it will be sad” perspective—this is story-telling at its very finest.

And yet I cannot help but think that no matter how perfectly the artistry of the event is executed: how flawlessly subtle the music is, how the graphics convey the deliberate nature of Agro’s decision, the grace of the cinematography—the emotional impact of this event would not be nearly as substantial, indeed, I dare say it could be rendered entirely ineffective, if Agro did not control as well as she ultimately did in the course of actual gameplay. Had using Agro in the course of the game been more chore than advantage, coupled with a few persistent glitchy elements, I could easily envision myself having little to no emotional response to Agro’s sacrifice. An incredibly powerful moment could have dissolved into nothing more than a final “I’ll walk from here.”

Conclusion

In my experience, the level of emotional attachment a player experiences with respect to a video game character is not so much a continuous linear gradient scale, but more closely resembles the electron structure of an atom—that is to say, there are certain energy thresholds that will cause a quantum ‘jump’ from one discrete level to another. In this case, there is a sudden and immediate distinction between being apathetic about a character and emotionally invested in the character that occurs for the player—apathy can instantaneously leap to meaningfully invested (and vice versa) once a certain threshold is crossed and the switch flips in the player’s mind, the decision to care or not care made. This type of quantum structure makes the role of the mechanical aspects of a game all the more critical and impactful when it comes to successfully creating an emotional bond between the player and the game’s character(s), for even if we concede that the mechanical aspects play a comparatively minor role in developing an emotional bond between the player and a character with respect to the artistic side of game development, we must recognize that the impact of the mechanical, even if somewhat limited, has a chance to be the factor that determines which quantum level the player lands on, viz., the quality of the physics of a playable character could be the factor that tips the scales between apathy and emotional investment.

To be honest, I wrote this article more to express what I felt was an important observation than to argue a specific side of a debate, and so I am limited in terms of what I can offer to the reader as a conclusion. I suppose the best lesson one can draw from this observation is that those on the artistic side of a game’s production and those on the mechanical side must recognize that both are essential to creating a successful game, and must understand the common goal they work towards. So often I observe these two sides of the same coin treating each other with disdain, as if each exists primarily to impede the progress of the other. This should not be the case. Through a realistic understanding of what needs to be accomplished in a game, these two sides, even if they do not perfectly speak each other’s language, must understand that what they bring to the table is only a part of a greater whole, and only through collaboration with those individuals talented enough to contribute pieces to the puzzle can a truly great game that is effective in its entirety be realized. (Source: Gamasutra)


上一篇:

下一篇: