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探讨单人模式竞争游戏的真正属性

发布时间:2013-12-23 10:16:00 Tags:,,,,

作者:Keith Burgun

我们通常都会说讨论定义是在浪费时间,但同时文字也是我们用于阻止并理解现实的工具。这便意味着有时候,如果我想要在某一领域取得发展,那么阐明之前看起来有点模糊的一个术语便非常重要。

我认为作为游戏设计师,我们可以通过阐明“win”和“lose”这两个词语而具有更大的收获。让我们着眼于有关“lose”的一些最高定义。

“丧失或停止拥有或保留(某些内容)”

“未能获胜,失败”

关于这两个词的使用有一个主要联系。我丢失了车钥匙与我输掉了游戏是两个完全不同的含义,但它们间的共性在于,在这两种情境下,都存在被带离的潜在事物。

在游戏中,失败可能是比赛的结果——在战斗中你也有可能获胜。如果你从未具有获胜的潜能,那也不存在所谓的“失败”了。战斗必须声明:“你必须在Y时间内获取目标X,或者你便算失败。”在比赛中不存在重来一遍的说法——所有的这些都将破坏比赛中的测试。

此外,目标还必须足够清楚,不只是可能出现胜利或失败的结果,同时这两种结果也必须具有合理性。如果我与大师级象棋手玩象棋,这便不能说是比赛,因为我们之间的技能水平悬殊太大。基于对术语的有效定义,我在此获胜的机会真的太小了,远不足以成就一场比赛。

非竞争性的互动娱乐

有时候我们想要基于特别的方式去使用“win”和“lose”。最近在与Ernest Adams的交谈中,他说了一些“计算机在游戏中的遭遇就像奋勇战斗然后经历失败”之类的内容。之后他解释自己并不是真的在说“竞争性游戏”,我发现对于“lose”这一词的使用很有趣,且值得深入探讨。

在讨论所有互动娱乐(让我们将其称为应用)时,我们可以将其划分成竞争游戏与非竞争游戏。有关非竞争应用的例子可以是那些你“游戏”的内容,如《我的世界》或《Garry’s Mod》(我将其称为“玩具),可以是你解决/完成的内容,如益智应用(《Portal》,《Professor Layton》)或基于故事的应用(《质量效应》,《最后生还者》),或任何组合内容,如现代的《塞尔达》游戏,便都使用了所有的这些非竞争元素。

在这些应用中都不存在让你“失败”的方法。许多人错误地假设“死亡”便等于“失败”,但在像上述应用中却不是如此。在这些系统中,死亡只是类似于“你找到了这一区域的拼图,但却意识到这块拼图是错误的。”这并不是比赛中的结果——你有无限的时间和机会重新去实现目标。何止是在解决问题而已。

Secret of Monkey Island(from gamasutra)

Secret of Monkey Island(from gamasutra)

“你在《俄罗斯方块》中总是输!”

有关竞争应用的典例应该是那些多人模式游戏,如象棋,棒球或《英雄联盟》。在这些系统中,我们都知道失败与胜利意味着什么。单人竞争应用中很少这样的例子,但在Rogue游戏和抽象游戏中却比比皆是,如《Candy Crush Saga》或《怪物大危机》。

因为在《Candy Crush》中每个“阶段”都有一个可实现或不可实现的特殊目标。这里存在一个有限的资源设置(通常是回合数),而玩家必须在这些限制下努力去获取胜利。

人们经常说你在《俄罗斯方块》中总是输。首先我们要说的是,这里并不存在“总是输”的情境。如果你真的“总是”输,那就不存在获胜的可能性了,因此也不会有“失败”。你输掉了什么?在《俄罗斯方块》中,最常见的情况是你不能达到一个目标。我们通常说这个目标是“获得超过10万个点数”或“超过Ted的最高分数”,但我们也可以将这一目标说成是一个像皮球—-这并意味着我们可以“在像皮球中获胜”。像皮球并不是一场比赛,也不是《俄罗斯方块》,因为这都不属于它资深的目标。这与《Candy Crush》或象棋是截然不同的,因为这两种游戏都有自己的目标,并且这些目标也是其系统的组成部分。

在比赛中,简单的“获得高分”不能说是目标,因为从自身看来它们是不可完成的。你在什么情况下能够获得“高”分?这需要一些预定的门槛,否则我们便不能判断你是失败还是成功。

“我们的目标是生存”也是不可接受的,因为最终你将不再生存下去,那么我们将如何判断你所幸存的时间长短能否保证你的胜利或失败?再一次地,我们也需要一个门槛。

所以我不会将分数作为Rogue游戏的“目标”。然后便是完成,即到达“游戏的终点”。可能是作为《龙与地下城》或其它角色扮演游戏的一个残留元素,在《Dungeon Crawl》,《迷宫骇客》甚至是我自己的100款Rogue游戏中都存在终点。这可以被当成是目标,除了少部分是玩家非常接近终点外。所以多亏了那些玩了数百次比赛的玩家,Rogue游戏才能成为合理的比赛—-有趣的是,也有许多玩家为不会遭遇失败而庆幸。但只是对于少部分玩家而言,“完成”变成了一个合理的比赛。

让我们以我非常喜欢的一款游戏为例,即Michael Brough创造的《 868-HACK》,这真的是一款有趣,富有创造性的单人竞争游戏,或者说是Rogue游戏。不过它也遭遇了我现在所说的问题。当我在玩一款游戏时,我真的不知道自己是胜利还是失败了。当游戏结束时,我得到了一些数值,我便会想,这些数值到底意味着什么?

为什么它如此重要?

Rogue游戏,《俄罗斯方块》,《868-Hack》以及其他应用都是基于“决策型比赛”的核心。这里至少存在一个目标,而机制的设定都是为了让决策变得更有趣。

但是因为这些应用都缺少明确的目标,所以我不能获得等式的一个重要部分—-胜利/失败条件。胜利/失败条件很重要,因为这是你在游戏过程中所做出的一系列决策的最重要的反馈。在某种程度上游戏中的决策(关于实现目标)可能是复杂的/有趣的。如果目标本身都是模糊的,玩家便不清楚自己在游戏中做出的决策是好的还是糟糕的。

成本和我的建议

最根本的问题在于,我们大多数人都不能有效理解单人竞争游戏的本质属性。我们通常将其当成是某种奇特的模拟游戏,并阻碍着我们去创造更棒的系统。有人认为Rogue游戏是一种“惩罚”,因为所有游戏的结局都是死亡。但这真的不能说是一种惩罚,足球游戏中计时器走到了尽头才是“惩罚”。我们习惯于玩基于故事/基于结局的益智游戏/奇幻模拟单人模式应用,我还遇到过一些严肃游戏设计师认为Rogue游戏的前景一片渺茫,因为他们认为“输掉所有的进程是不科学的!”而在现实中,他们会认为“输掉进程”只是在保龄球比赛中输掉而已。

我认为因为缺少明确或有效的目标,我们正在削弱着自己的设计。我已经玩过了许多优秀的竞争游戏,但实际上它们都缺少了明确且合理的目标。在我看来,这是这种情况导致玩家脑子里滋生出更多的紧张感。这并不是正面的紧张,即那种在两个复杂且有趣的选择中纠结着。相反地,玩家被迫选择“我需要尝试着做什么?”最终,当我们呈现了一个带着模糊目标的系统给玩家时,我们其实也在为他们布置工作任务——就好像他们需要完成一些设计工作似得。他们做出了一些设计,如“我将打败10万个点数,这便是我的目标”,然后他们便一直追随着这一目标前进,同时琢磨着他们的设计是否出色。也许他们将快速获得8万个点数,并开始怀疑自己最初的目标,然后重新进行调整。这是混乱且让人厌烦的。玩家想要的是专注于玩一款真正优秀的游戏。而作为设计师我们的工作便是提供给他们这样的游戏。

这与那些创造玩具的人不同,因为玩具并不需要一个建议目标。就像Rogue会提供一些生存/杀死怪物/到达最终目标等建议,但却不存在明确的目标。将这与《Garry’s Mod》或乐高相比较,它们都未曾建议任何目标。

所以对于那些正在创造一款单人竞争内容的人我的建议是做出一些动态的难度调整,除非你的内容是发生在“比赛间”。每当玩家进行比赛时,根据他能否到达100个点数(举例),这一比赛的结果要么是赢要么是输。放弃游戏将导致失败。如果玩家获胜,他将获得一些元游戏体验点数。最终,如果他获得了足够的胜利,他便能够“升级”,而那时候系统将变得更加困难(注:我建议,如果可能的话不要增加所要求的点数。因为你肯定不想处罚优秀的玩家更长久地进行比赛)。如果玩家输掉了许多游戏,他便会降级,即他在下一次所面临的比赛将变得更加简单。对于我自己的4X策略游戏《EMPIRE》,我便是基于这样的系统进行创造。

你可以效仿我那即将问世的战术游戏《AURO》所做的那样。这是受到高尔夫球和保龄球的启发。在我们的比赛模式中,你将在线与具有同样技能的随机对手进行比赛(游戏邦注:就像许多在线游戏那样)。当找到对手时,游戏将为地图生成,怪物/道具放置等创造一个随机种子。然后,玩家双方将挑战同样的种子,并比较分数。他们将重复这些行动,直到其中的一名玩家获得两轮的胜利,那时候我们便知道谁是胜利者了。

这里存在的好处在于我们可以生成一系列非常奇怪且随机的情境—-也许在一个关卡中布满了可能一枪就将你毙命的Yetis,或者在一个关卡中所有充满弹性的煤泥将从四面八方射向你。我们无需担心平衡,因为如果玩家面对一些太复杂或太简单的方法,问题就变成你们两个人中谁可以凭借所拥有的道具获得更高的分数?

单人模式竞争游戏世界充满各种有趣的可能性,但前提是我们开始更好地理解媒体。我们所做的并不能始终明确竞争应用和非竞争应用之间的界限。我们是在多人竞争游戏中这么做,但是当面对的是单人游戏时,我们便会感到困惑。如果有一天我们能够真正搞清楚它们的区别,那么整体的游戏类别将得到巨大的完善。单人竞争游戏具有永葆青春的潜力—-即可能成为你愿意玩好几年的游戏,然而其它单人游戏却有可能逐渐被消耗掉。这一长寿的潜力是非常巨大的,并且“开发时间:高质量的玩家时间”比例也很突出,所以我希望能够出现许多开发者去致力于这些问题。

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

You Don’t “Always Lose” in Tetris: The Real Nature of Single-Player Competition

by Keith Burgun

It’s often claimed that arguing about definitions is a waste of time, but words are also tools that we use to organize and understand reality. This means that sometimes, if we want to make progress in a certain area, it’s useful to clarify a term that was previously a bit fuzzy.

I think that we have a lot to gain as game designers by clarifying the words “win” and “lose”.  Let’s look at some top definitions for the word “lose”.

“be deprived of or cease to have or retain (something)”

“To fail to win; fail in”

There is a significant connection between the two major usages of this word.  I lost my car keys and I lost the game have two different meanings, but the commonality between them is that in both situations, there was some potential thing that was taken away.

In games, losing can only be an outcome of a contest – a thing which you had some potential for winning.  If you never had any potential for winning, then there is nothing to be “lost”.  A contest must state, “you must achieve goal X by Y date/time, or else you lose”.  There can be no do-overs, undos, or quicksaves in a contest – all of these will destroy the test in contest.

To clarify further, a goal must be clear, and not only must winning and losing be possible, but both outcomes should be reasonably likely.  If I were to play chess against a grandmaster player, that would not be a contest because the skill gap is simply too large.  Some astronomically small chance for me to win is not enough to make something a contest, by a useful definition of the word.

Non-competitive interactive entertainment

We tend to use the terms “win” and “lose” in strange ways sometimes.  Recently in a conversation with Ernest Adams he said something along the lines of “the computer’s job in a game is to put up a good fight and then lose”.  While he later explained that he’s not really talking about “competitive games”, I find this usage of the term “lose” very interesting and worth talking about.

Discussing all of interactive entertainment (let’s call them apps), we can divide that huge space up into competitive and non-competitive games.  Examples of non-competitive apps would be things that you “play with” such as Minecraft or Garry’s Mod (which I call “toys”), things that you solve/complete, like puzzle apps (Portal, Professor Layton) or story-based apps (Mass Effect, The Last of Us) – or any combination, such as the modern Zelda titles, which arguably use all of these non-competitive elements.

In these apps, there is no way you can “lose”.  Many tend to make the critical error of assuming that “dying” equals “losing”, but in apps like those above, it isn’t.  Dying in these systems is much more akin to “thinking you found the right jigsaw puzzle piece for this spot, and then realizing it was the wrong piece”.  It is not set inside of a contest – there is an unlimited amount of time and do-overs for you to achieve the goal.  It’s only a matter of solving, or even simply doing.

“You Always Lose In Tetris!”

Obvious examples of competitive apps are those that are multiplayer, such as Chess, baseball, or League of Legends.  In these systems, we all implicitly know what losing and winning means.  Single-player competitive apps are more rare, but Rogue-likes and abstracts such as Candy Crush Saga or Critter Crunch roughly qualify.

This is because Candy Crush’s “stages” each have a specific goal, which can be achieved or not-achieved.  There is a limited set of resources (usually, number of turns), and the player has to work within those limitations to try and win.

People often say that you “always lose” in Tetris.  First of all, there can never be an “always lose” situation.  If you really do “always” lose, then there’s no possibility for winning, and therefore there can be no “losing”.  What have you lost?  Tetris, at least the most common versions of it, fails to have a goal.  We can – and often do – prescribe a goal to it, such as “get more than 100,000 points” or “beat Ted’s high score”, but we can and do prescribe goals to a rubber ball, too – that doesn’t mean that we can “win at rubber ball”.  Rubber ball isn’t a contest, and neither is Tetris, because neither includes its own goal.  This is in contrast to Candy Crush or chess, both of which have their own goals as part of what those systems are.

Simply “getting a high score” is unqualified to be a goal in a contest, because they are not achievable on their own.  At what point have you gotten a “high” score?  There needs to be some predetermined threshold, otherwise it’s impossible to say whether you failed or succeeded.

“The goal is survival” is also similarly unacceptable, because ultimately you’re going to stop surviving, and how do I judge whether the length of time that you survived warranted a win or a loss?  Again, we need a threshold.

So I don’t consider score to be “the goal” of Rogue-likes.Then there’s completion – reaching the “end of the game”.  Probably there as a vestigial element from D&D or other “role-playing games”, there is actually an end to Dungeon Crawl, Nethack, and even my own 100 Rogues (wherein I can tell you first-hand that the ending is there “because other Rogue-likes had an ending”).  This does technically count as a goal, except for the fact that a tiny percentage of players ever come close to completing them.  So only for players who have played hundreds of matches do Rogue-likes become a reasonable contest – and what’s funny is, there are players who get so good that they have almost no chance of losing anymore.  There is just a small slice of players for whom “completion” becomes a reasonable contest.

Take a game that I like a lot – 868-HACK by Michael Brough.  It’s a really interesting, innovative single-player competitive game that many would call a Rogue-like (I wouldn’t; I think it’s just an original single-player competitive game, not much more Rogue-like than Tetris or Klondike Solitaire).  It also suffers from the same problem I’m talking about right now.  When I play a game, I really have no way of knowing whether I’ve won or lost.  The game ends, and I get some number, and I’m kind of like “Ok…”  What does that number mean?

Why does it matter so much?

Rogue-likes, Tetris, 868-Hack and many other applications are, at their core “decision-making contests”.  There is at least a suggestion of a goal, and the mechanisms are arranged in such a way as to make decision-making interesting.

However, due to the lack of a clear goal in any of them, I’m not getting a crucial part of the equation – the win/loss condition.  The win/loss condition matters a lot, because it is the most important feedback for the series of decisions you made during the game.  Decisions in a game are actually only hard / interesting to the extent that they relate to achieving the goal.  If the goal itself is unclear, then it’s impossible to really know when you’ve made better or worse decisions during a game.

The cost, and my advice

The underlying issue is that most of us have difficulty understanding the real nature of single-player competitive games.  We often still think of them as some kind of fantasy simulation, and that holds us back from creating better systems.  There are people who think that Rogue-like games are “punishing” because (essentially) all games end in death.  That’s not punishing, any more than the timer running out in a football game is “punishing”.  We are very used to playing story-based / completion-based puzzle/fantasy-simuation single-player apps, that I’ve met serious game designers even who think that the prospect of Rogue-likes is ridiculous, saying things like “it’s not reasonable to lose all your progress!”  In reality, they should be thinking of it as “losing your progress” no more than you’re losing your progress when a match of bowling ends.

I think we’re really undercutting our designs by having unclear or bad goals.  I’ve played a lot of games that would be great competitive games but for the fact that they lack a clear, reasonable goal.  What this does, in my opinion, is it causes a good amount of tension in the player’s brain.  Not the good kind of tension, where the player is deciding between two difficult and interesting choices.  Instead, the player is forced to choose “what am I even trying to do?”  Ultimately, when we present a system with unclear goals to a player, we’re actually giving them work – specifically, design work that they have to do.  They make some design call, like “ok, I’ll go for beating… 100,000 points, that’s my goal”, and all the while they have to pursue that, while at the same time wondering if their design call was a good one.  Maybe they’ll gain the first 80,000 points really quickly and start to doubt their original goal mid-game, and then have to re-tweak it halfway through.  It’s messy and annoying.  Players should be able to focus on playing a really great game.  It’s our job as designers to provide them with that.

This is distinct from people who create toys, because toys don’t have a suggested goal.  Rogue-likes, for example suggest that there is some survival/killing-monsters/reaching an end point goal, but no clear goal exists.  Compare this to Garry’s Mod, or Legos, neither of which suggest a goal at all.

So what I advocate, for anyone making a competitive single-player thing, is something like dynamic difficulty adjustment, except it happens “between matches”. Every time the player plays a match, this match will result in either a win or a loss, depending on whether he reaches, say, 100 points.  Abandoning the game results in a loss.  If the player wins, he gains some meta-game experience points.  Eventually, if he wins enough, he “levels up”, and now the system becomes more difficult (note: I recommend not scaling up the amount of points required if possible and instead turning other knobs.  The reason for this is that you don’t want to penalize better players by having to play longer matches).  If the player loses a bunch of games, he de-levels and the next match he plays becomes less difficult.  I’m working on a system like this for my 4X-style strategy game, EMPIRE.

Or you can do what my upcoming tactics game, AURO, does.  It’s partially inspired by things like golf and bowling – here’s how it works.  In our Match Mode, you play online against a random opponent of similar skill (like in many online games).  Once the opponent is found, the game generates a random seed for map generation, monster/item placement, etc.  Then both players play that same seed, and compare scores.  They repeat this until one player has won two rounds, and then a winner is declared.

What’s nice about this is that we can generate a super-wide set of completely weird and random situations – maybe one level is FILLED with the giant Yetis who will kill you in one shot, or maybe one level is all bouncy slimes that bounce you all over the place.  We don’t have to worry so much about balance because even if the player is presented with something way too hard, or way too easy, the question is, who, of the two of you, can score better with what you’re given?

The world of single-player competitive games is full of exciting possibilities, but only when we start to understand the medium a little better.  What we’ve been doing is failing to draw a clear line between competitive apps and non-competitive ones consistently.  We do it when it comes to multiplayer competitive games, but when it comes to single player, we get confused.  When we figure this out, an entire category of games will be dramatically improved.  Single-player competitive games have the potential to be evergreen – games that you can play for years and years, whereas other kinds of single-player games are generally consumed.  This potential for longevity is huge, and the “Dev Hours : Quality Player Hours” (as Dan C put it) ratio is really excellent, so I hope we have a lot of developers working on these problems.(source:gamasutra)


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