篇目1，分享以难度图表分析游戏难度变化的方法

作者：Rafael Vázquez

（Xibalba Studios首席游戏设计师Rafael Vázquez针对开发者难以评估游戏实际难度的问题，设计了一种考察游戏难度的方法，并以三款横向卷轴动作游戏为例进行说明。）

数月之前，我在一个新项目的原型制作阶段发现了一个问题。由于团队中不同成员对何谓完美游戏挑战的看法不尽相同，我们几乎无从判断自己的游戏怎样才能设置理想的难度级别。

我知道这对小型且具有多元文化的团队来说更是一个普遍问题，因为大家的技能水平并不一致，所以很难就此问题达成共识。

思索一段时间后，我突然觉得游戏难度不应该与玩家技能挂钩，而应该取决于游戏本身。我们不能将游戏难度视为一种静态的因素，而应该去观察它在游戏发展过程中的变化。

抱着这种想法，我尝试开发一种可以在不考虑玩家技能的前提下，衡量并比较游戏挑战的起伏情况。尽管这种方法还是不够准确，但我认为这至少是一个良好的开端，并希望它能获得开发群体的关注和讨论并因此得到完善。

设置恰到好处的难度并非易事。游戏设置过难，玩家就会很抓狂，过于容易，玩家很快就会感到无趣。这是众人皆知的常识，因此设计师一般都会选择中间路线。但多数时候，我们还是得凭胆量和感觉行事，而这种方式也似乎颇为可行。

游戏难易情况往往取决于游戏类型，以及我们从玩家那里得到的反馈结果。宁静安详的社交游戏和紧张激烈的FPS属于两个截然不同的世界，我们不可将它们的挑战性等量齐观。当你向团队成员解释游戏挑战性时，往往是费了几个小时的口舌，大家还是没有就其难度设置是否合理达成一致。

出现这种情况的原因在于，难度是一个主观因素，它在很大程度与每个人的技能水平存在关联。更糟糕的是，合理的难易程度也要取决于每个人的兴趣点，例如有些人就喜欢《超级食肉男孩》这种游戏。当你想开发一款游戏时，就会发现真的很难找到大家共同的切入点。

但这个问题也并非毫无解决之策——它就是我们能够找到共同基准的难度图表。在深入探讨这个问题之前，我要先声明这种方法并非用于创造游戏难度（设计师恐怕还是得凭直觉制定决策），而是分析游戏难度，以便你的团队成员就此展开有建设性的讨论。这些图表并不能指明游戏应该具备哪种难度，只能说明游戏本身的难易程度。

何为游戏难度图表

这些图表可以解析游戏过程的难度变化情况，主要可分为两种类型：基于时间和基于距离的难度图表。前者会根据玩家体验游戏的时间指出遭遇挑战的时刻（游戏邦注：这里排除玩家暂停和死亡的时间），后者则标注挑战出现的位置（假设游戏开始至结束是一条直线路径）。

这两者各有千秋，但要选择哪种方法需取决于你所测试的游戏类型。《Asteroids》或《几何战争》等街机游戏只能选择基于时间的难度图表，因为这些游戏并不存在奔向目标的位移过程。

但多数FPS中的敌人会在特定地点出现，所以最适合采用基于距离的图表。我个人比较偏爱基于时间的图表，具体原因稍后再谈。

吹毛吹疵者可能会指出，这两种方法实际上还是不能完全摆脱玩家因素的影响；玩家闯过一关的速度，以及完成一个挑战所用时间均与其技能水平有关。

但这种方法已经得到我们团队每一个成员的检验，也是目前我们最靠谱和可行的解决方案。我们只能从不同玩家多次玩游戏的情况中搜集数据，并计算其平均值。事实上，只有进行多次测试之后，难度曲线才会派上用场。足够数量的玩家试过游戏之后，你就会了解玩家的平均游戏水平。

正如前文所述，难度具有主观性，所以如果我们询问测试者是否觉得游戏过于困难，很可能就会得到五花八门的答案（但你还是得向他们提问）。如果游戏难度因人而异，那么我们如何才能衡量游戏难度？诀窍就是让游戏与自身作对比。

假设我们有一个低级敌人会产生X的破坏性，那我们就把它的威胁指数设置为1，这里的威胁指数是指敌人对玩家而言的难度。如果我们有另一个敌人火力是前者的2倍，但其他属性完全相同，那么我们就将它的威胁指数设置为2。

也许这种方法过于简化，虽然地点、位置和其他敌人出现情况等因素也会产生影响，但重点在于，我们得先将最简单的挑战作为一个标准（低级敌人），才能将它与游戏中其他挑战进行对比，这样才能在脱离玩家技能的情况下判断每个挑战的难度。无论你的技能有多高超，行动速度快三倍的敌人，总是比标准敌人更难对付。

但是，敌人的状态并非影响游戏难度的唯一因素。假如敌人是在玩家身后或者从天而降地复生，那么游戏难度也会因其复生地点而发生变化。即使是最微弱的低级敌人，他们突然冒泡的情况也会让玩家瞬间手足无措，形成不容忽视的挑战。

除此之外，会飞的敌人总是比陆地敌人更难缠，藏匿于暗处的敌人亦是如此。但那些心不在焉的敌人，或者缘木求鱼地寻找玩家的敌人，就基本上是小菜一碟了。我们不能低估这种情况对游戏挑战造成的影响，所以我们使用了一个“情况乘数”将其考虑入列。

情况乘数是一个可以根据某障碍物与玩家之间的空间关系说明其难度的数值。但每个乘数的属性主要取决于游戏设计。

在使用双摇杆控制方式的射击游戏中，飞行的敌人并不是个大问题，只要玩家能瞄准目标就能将其击落。所以每种乘数的重要性如何也要看设计师的想法，后者需根据游戏机制的需要检验这些乘数的合理性。

要想判断征服一个敌人的难易程度，有一个好方法就是统计玩家采取攻击行动的次数。杀死敌人的方式越直截了当，就说明敌人越容易对付。

我们可以将敌人难度价值与乘数相结合计算出结果。例如，敌人出现在玩家身后的乘数是1.2，该敌人的威胁指数是3，那么它在玩家身后复出时造成的新威胁数值就是3.6。

我们还要考虑到多数时候，敌人不会单兵作战，他们总会成群结队地出现。在这种情况下，我们就需要添加同一时间（或同一地点）出现的所有敌人难度。在此我们就需要计算一群敌人的难度系数。这也正是我为何更习惯使用基于时间图表的原因，因为玩家可能在同一地点遭遇一茬又一茬的敌人，而且多数情况下是倒下一批又涌现一波。基于距离的曲线图表会让敌人难度数值挤到一块，但这并不能反映实际情况。

所以计算一帮敌人难度的公式如下：

Ʃn=0 = (ETn)(ESn)

n是指一波敌军的特定敌人种类；

ET是指敌人威胁指数；

ES是指情况乘数。

找到一帮敌人的所有难度数值之后，你就可以查看玩家何时或何地遭遇挑战。针对每个关卡的所有敌人都要采用这种算法，这样你就能得到一份难度图表了。

增强功能（或道具）

我尚未提及的另一个层面就是增强功能。关于这个层面的话题已经足够它独立成章了，我们还是得在此提出它对游戏难度的影响。如上文所言，我们在比较一个敌人或一波敌人的难度时，都会先设定一些标准条件。

在那种情况下，我们是假设玩家角色的能力水平保持不变，在晋升等级过程中的技能维持原样。但事实并非如此，玩家在游戏过程中总会有得有失，掌握或者丧失某些能力。这就会产生一个问题，如果你给玩家一颗核弹，原来难对付的敌人可能就再也不是威胁了。增强功能在游戏中随时随地都可能出现，即使是遭遇战也不例外，因此也必须考虑这种因素。。

我们可以将增强功能粗略划分为两种类型：永久性和暂时性。永久增强功能是那些在游戏过程中获取之后就永不消失的功能，它包括新能力（游戏邦注：例如，“现在你可以连跳了！”）以及带有易获取弹药的新武器（例如敌人掉落的装备）。而暂时增强功能则是那些在游戏中容易丧失的东西，例如因死亡而丢失技能，或者弹药有限的武器（例如在整个关卡中仅有6颗子弹）。只要丢失了，它们就不见了。

遇到第一种情况时，我们可以假设游戏标准条件已经发生改变，你可以重新计算敌人在这种新条件下的威胁指数。原先需要打10枪的敌人，现在只需要2枪就能毙命。假如其他条件不变，那么这个敌人的威胁程度已经比原来小5倍。

暂时增强功能就比较棘手了。问题就在于你无法知道玩家在何时会获得这些功能。如果假设玩家都已经获得这些功能，并根据这个条件设计游戏，这势必让玩家因频频出现的高难度挑战而抓狂。解决这个问题并非易事，但我们可以先在之前的标准条件下（假设玩家从未获得这些功能）制作图表，然后用垂直线标出他们获得这些功能的位置。这样即使我们绘制的是最不利的游戏场景，也能够清楚看到何处功能会让玩家获益。

步骤

现在让我们复述刚才提到的步骤：

*首先，确定游戏的标准条件。它应该是玩家在特定游戏片段（游戏邦注：例如一个台阶、关卡或者整个游戏过程）中拥有的最低级威力，它也可以因永久增强功能而发生变化。

*找到基本敌人类型（通常是最弱小或者最普通的敌人）并将其威胁指数设置为1，然后依此为基准调整其他敌人类型的威胁指数。

*进行多次测试。让不同操作习惯的玩家在游戏中闯关，计算他们遭遇每个敌人时的平均游戏时间（基于时间的难度图表）或者平均距离（基于距离的难度图表）。

*查看敌人会出现在哪些情形中，然后根据游戏机制以及敌人的攻击行为，为这些情形分配一个数值。

*确定战况。算出在每场战役中，敌人出动多少次兵力，每次分别都是哪些类型的敌人。

*Ʃn=0 = (Etn)(ESn)将敌人威胁指数与情况乘数相乘，并将每批敌军危害性的结果相加。

*根据敌人首次出现的时间或者距离依次绘制出图表。

举例分析

接下来我要用以上方法为三款不同的2D横向卷轴射击游戏绘制基于时间的难度图表。这些游戏来自不同的掌机设备和年代，这样才能体现这种方法的通用性（这三者也是我最方便找到的游戏）。

这三款游戏分别是《合金弹头》（由SNK于1996年发行的街机游戏）、《闪克》（由Klei Entertainment于2010年开发，本测试采用的是其PC版游戏）以及《铁血兵团：反叛》（由Arc System Works于2011年开发的Xbox Live Arcade和PSN游戏）。

它们表面看起来相差无几，但在某些细节上却极为不同。因为难度图表并不会显示哪一款游戏更困难，所以我需要特别指出这一点。这些游戏难度的评判标准是其本身，不可与其他游戏相提并论，需知《闪克》中的威胁指数1与《合金弹头》中的威胁指数1并不是同种概念。

这些图表可以显示游戏过程中的难度变化情况，以便我们了解游戏发展速度及紧张刺激性。如果图表存在许多高峰，那就说明它是一款速度快，极具紧迫性的游戏；如果图表多数时候呈平缓状态，那就说明这是一款较为“平静”的游戏。

提示：如果想直接衡量游戏进程的速度，可以参考Ben Cousins计算玩家行动的方法。他在《Elementary Game Design》一文中描述了这种方法，你可以通过其个人网站www.bencousins.com了解详细内容。

这些图表从左到右显示了玩家在每款游戏第一关遇到boss之前的情况。我在这里排除了boss遭遇战的情况，因为它们的出现总会改变规则，玩家需要借助特定的机制才能获胜。如果直接将它们与关卡中其他情况作比较，就会让图表产生巨大的高峰，这并不能反映游戏的总体难度。

我们先以《合金弹头》为例，这张图表截取了约1分20秒的游戏内容，从中可以看出，玩家每隔两三秒就会遇到敌人。除了普通手枪之外，玩家刚开始时还可以使用一些手榴弹，虽然数量有限，但却很管用。与其他两款游戏不同的是，其特点是所有敌人的破坏力都一样，并提供了数量可观的暂时性增强功能，其中包括号称“Metal Slug”的坦克。在这款街机游戏中，死亡并非什么要紧的事情，因为玩家每回都可以在原来丧命的地方复生。

从图表中可以看出，游戏的基本趋势很接近横轴，其中夹杂着一些较为平缓的突起，其中有两个大型高峰代表直升机。在标准条件下，它们非常难对付（用普通手枪要打40弹左右才能将其击落）。遇到直升机时，镜头会停滞在此，玩家无法躲过这些敌人，只有击落直升机后才能继续前行。

为了让玩家突围，游戏在玩家遇到这种劲敌之前为其提供了增强道具（红色垂直线），因为游戏中的所有增强道具都是暂时性的，所以游戏会连着多投放一些增强道具，确保玩家至少能够拣到其中之一。

在这个环节将近尾声时，玩家又迎来了一个高峰，遭遇其他坦克的攻击。如果玩家的Metal Slug此时的战斗力尚存，那就无需担忧这个问题，但如果Metal Slug在对付直升机时就已经成了炮灰，那就要做好心理准备了。不过游戏此时会增加玩家坦克的健康值（绿色垂直线），以免玩家在遭遇这些敌军坦克时挂掉。

接下来要分析的是《闪克》，它的第一关约为5分30秒。与《合金弹头》不同的是，游戏设置了不少健康条，这样就不会让敌人的攻击过于致命。玩家在开始游戏时拥有4种武器（游戏邦注：手枪、刀、电锯和有限的手榴弹），你可以同时对付数个敌人。但不利之处在于，除了额外的健康条和手榴弹之外，玩家没有其他任何增强道具。

从图表中可以看出，《闪克》拥有不少阻碍玩家前行的遭遇战，所以它的游戏速度比《合金弹头》更慢。在多数遭遇战中，敌人是挨个逐渐出现，所以其图表曲线呈阶梯状走势。其明显用意是让玩家轻松进入并适应战斗状态，而不是同时应对所有的挑战。

在大型遭遇战之间（较高的曲线突起部分），我们发现敌人总是成双成对地出现，所以挑战性不会太低。

与《合金弹头》一样，它在将近尾声时也有一个高峰，但它的这个高峰恰好是该关卡中最困难的部分。在此之后，高峰迅速下滑，接近于0状态，所有敌人和障碍荡然无存，为便玩家做足准备，迎接后面的boss战役。

有趣的是，游戏中的健康包一般出现于遭遇战之中（它们一般是敌人掉落的健康包），并且多集中于该关卡的后半部分。与此同时，我们在这个过程中只能补充一次手榴弹，这可能是游戏有意让玩家多练习掌握其三种主要武器。

最后一款游戏是《铁血兵团：反叛》，玩家在其中拥有分段的健康条，初级敌人的每一击都会耗损整段健康条。虽然玩家刚开始时只有一把作用有限的机关枪，但他们可以拾取一些增强道具（但这些道具在玩家被命中时会丢失）。其首个关卡（敌人最少）大约6分钟20秒。

游戏虽然拥有一个街机模式（无创建角色的设置），但其最具吸引力的模式却是反叛模式，玩家在该模式中可获得经验值，即使毙命也仍可为角色升级。换句话说，该模式支持玩家刷任务。

首先我们可以看到图表中的直线高峰，它代表玩家遇到miniboss。miniboss威力极大，玩家需要多次命中和强大的攻击力才能把它放倒。但在与之决斗的过程中你会发现，玩家所处地势非常有利，所以miniboss并没有想象中的那般无敌。这也正是我为何建议将boss战役视为特例的原因，因为它们的游戏规则和机制与整个关卡存在较大差异。

撇开miniboss，我们会发现游戏还是具有极为突兀的难度曲线，有一些较为短促的平缓状态和大量的高低起伏，它显然是一款速度极快的游戏。除了高低起伏之外，其曲线在整个关卡中多呈走高趋势，玩家在特定时间段内要打一场需应对更多敌人的持久战。

在关卡开始之初，遭遇战的难度等级约为7，接近尾声时达到30，其难度差距较大，因此适合玩家以刷任务形式体验游戏。在近结尾时我们再次看到玩家遇到一次较大阻力，以及一次短暂的间歇。需要注意的是，游戏中的增强功能几乎是平均分配在这个关卡中，仿佛是游戏机制的一个组成部分。健康条出现频率虽然也很均衡，但总体数量却非常稀少。

结论

我们可以通过标准化的时间（分解其总体时间长度），在同一图表上绘制三款游戏难度曲线。再重申一次，该图表主要作用是显示游戏难度变化情况。在这三款游戏中，游戏难度曲线的平均值均低于10，这在多数游戏的第一关中极为常见。《铁血兵团：反叛》的难度变化最大，而《闪克》则较为稳定，《合金弹头》也较为稳定，只是偶尔会夹杂一些高峰。

如果从每款游戏的总体设计来看，我们就不难发现它们这些差别的合理性。《铁血兵团：反叛》的刷任务机制和持续的增强道具使其得以采用陡峭难度曲线，同时也有助于鼓励玩家失败后再重玩游戏。而《合金弹头》则依靠miniboss增加挑战性，允许玩家进行多次尝试。《闪克》却侧重于游戏的易用性，曲线较为平缓，以便新玩家顺利体验游戏。

分析难度图表不但可以让我们了解游戏构造，游戏粘性所在，而且还可以让我们触及每款游戏背后的设计原理。你在设计游戏的过程中，也可以采用这种方法找到合适的难度高峰，或者排除不合适的难度设置。

当然，这也并非衡量游戏难度的唯一可行方法，但却是排除玩家技能因素，独立考察游戏难度的有效工具。通过绘制图表找到结果后，开发团队中的每个成员都可以更容易看到游戏的难点，更容易共同解决问题。我真的建议你也来试试。

篇目2，分析游戏难度中的挑战与挫折的区别

今天我们要讨论的是一个对于所有类型的游戏设计来说都甚为重要的话题：难度。你有多种方法让游戏变得困难，但不幸的是，多数方法都只能算是取巧的捷径，却不会产生引人入胜的玩法。

许多游戏开发者会觉得有必要将游戏变得更困难，所以他们就添加了各种最终只会令游戏更令人受挫的“功能”。他们说，“但玩家确实比之前更常挂掉，这是一个挑战。”但，这真是的一种挑战吗？或者只是一种无缘无故的困难玩法？

今天，我们就来讨论挑战与挫折之间的区别，以及如何在避免令玩家产生糟糕情绪的情况下添加游戏难度曲线。

难度曲线

人们经常忽视难度曲线的重要性。当然，多数人理解其基本理念：游戏刚开始时很简单，之后越来越困难。不幸的是，难度曲线的概念并不仅限于此。它并不只是游戏变得多困难，还涉及游戏以哪种方式给玩家带来更多挑战性。

关于难度曲线以及训练玩家的话题已经够我再另起一文了，但现在我只讨论一些关于如何确定难度曲线，并且不惹恼玩家的重要理念。

我见过许多游戏一开始很顺畅和容易，但你过了“开始”这个节点之后，你拐了一个弯或者进入一个新区域时，游戏就变得巨难无比。它的难度曲线究竟出了什么问题？最好要让难度曲线自然和逐渐上升，并且将玩家置于检验其能力水平的情形。

在创造游戏难度曲线时，这是开发者需要铭记在心的最重要原则：游戏的挑战性在于其检验玩家技能的方式。简单地制造拥有高HP的敌人并不是最佳方法，游戏应该令玩家觉得自己正在攻克障碍，他在游戏中越来越棒。一款难度平衡感良好的游戏应该考验玩家的能力，而非耐心。

随着游戏不断发展，开发者很容易陷入通过给予敌人大量HP，或者令其一招制服玩家等方式人为地提升难度。有时候这些做法是合理的，但如果除了让游戏“更困难”之外，你就找不到解决这一做法的理由，那就要想想其他增加挑战性的难度了。要在之前的玩法上创造挑战性，并令玩家面临新情况。给予玩家使用自己新技能的理由。

多数玩家更喜欢鼓励在战斗中以策略取胜而非刷任务的RPG是有原因的，那就是他们喜欢优秀的挑战而非挫折。

挫折

那么什么是挫折？它是什么原因造成的？玩家为什么会想关掉游戏并永远不再回头？

当玩家觉得自己的时间被浪费时就会产生受挫感，这就是游戏的错了。

这个说法中有两个要点，让我们分析一下。第一个与玩家时间的价值有关，这在现代游戏中是一个重要的概念。二三十年前，玩家对时间价值的看法与现在极为不同。当时的游戏比现在更困难也更具受挫感。但这并不是说玩家的时间就不宝贵了。当时的电子游戏易用性与现在不同，玩家也没有成百上千款游戏可供选择。而在当今世界，如果某人不喜欢你的游戏——也许他们认为你的游戏不值得投入时间，他们就会直接删除，并在片刻内找到另一款游戏。20年前，如果某款游戏令玩家受挫，玩家也无法选择，所以他们只能一直死撑到将游戏打败为止。

游戏文化也已经发生变化，游戏设计也随着游戏生活方式而变更。你无法在浪费玩家时间中侥幸成功。

那么，我们该如何定义浪费玩家时间的概念？想想你对某一电子游戏咆哮的时刻吧。这也许是你在游戏中挂掉了，并被迫重头开始；也许是你被迫一次又一次地观看冗长的过场动画。也许你已经同boss激战了一个小时，刚要对它发出最后一击时，它却一枪就结束了你，让你之前的一切努力归零并重新开始。

更进一步

我对挫折定义的另一个要点是游戏设计师理解和持续提升玩法的关键。当出现什么情况时，玩家都会怪罪游戏而不自责。

很显然，游戏故障就是一个最大的例子。如果玩家在游戏玩得正高兴时，却卡在一堵墙中，他就不会太开心了，他也确实没做错什么。这并不是故意的，究竟是哪些玩法层面令玩家在屏幕面前咆哮呢？

摄像镜头是3D游戏中的一个普遍问题。它时有发生——摄像镜头突然旋转，导致你在一次跳跃中失手，或者出现一堵墙挡住了角色的视线，或者发现有敌人在攻击自己，而你却无从知晓攻击来源。玩家会觉得自己失去了控制，而令玩家产生失控感恰恰是最不该发生的事情。

在RPG中更难发现这类问题，但这并不意味着其受挫感就更少。这里就有个经常发生的例子。想象一下经典的推积木谜题游戏，玩家的一块积木有时候会卡在角落里。他别无选择，只能离开房间，重置谜题，一切重新开始。你在设计地图时就要考虑到积木可能会卡在角落的问题，或者允许玩家将积木抽出来。要避免那些会让玩家被困的玩法。

这里还有一例，它起源于随机遭遇战的理念。例如玩家在一个困难的地下城中一路斩杀，他的团队成员HP值都相当之低。但游戏胜利在望，所以他义无反顾一路向前。但突然屏幕闪光了，而他恰好正在战斗中。他想碰碰运气，选择逃跑但却失败了。怪物杀死了玩家。这种情况可以通过一些简单的玩法调整来避免。也许怪物并没有在玩家准备逃跑的同时发出攻击。当然，这会让游戏更简单，但却可以避免令玩家受挫的情况。或者你可以一起抛入随机遭遇战。

即使没有随机遭遇战，你的玩家也会责怪游戏令其无故死亡。当制作显而易见的敌人遭遇战时，要认真考虑敌人刷出的地点以及他们的移动方式。要允许玩家躲开敌人（多数情况下），不要在玩家恐慌的时候出现杂乱无章的画面。要将你的遭遇战融入关卡设计中，而不只是随处安插这些情况。

要认真观察玩家挂掉区域中的玩法，要知道这并不是玩家的错。要努力找到给予玩家掌控自己命运的方法。

挑战

现在我们知道挫折感的来源了，它创造了糟糕的难度。而令游戏以好方法创造难度的因素又是什么呢？挑战。

挑战是对玩家技能的检验。任何失败都会让人觉得这是玩家的错。

我已经说过检验玩家技能的情况。这正是玩家希望游戏变得更困难的地方。他们并不想连续数个小时地刷同样的任务，他们希望获得通过新途径使用新技能的机会。想想你的RPG机制。RPG多数情况下是涉及思考的游戏。要鼓励玩家思考，使用战略，并最大化地利用游戏机制。不要一开始就向玩家抛出一切。要随着游戏发展，为玩家呈现那些可用现成工具解决的新问题。这在战斗，在地图谜题中的概念是一样的。随着游戏继续发展，将问题混合在一起，并引进新挑战。当然，要让敌人更难对付，让谜题更复杂，但要记住一定要以挑战促使玩家思考。

当敌人获得更高的HP时，RPG并不会更困难。它有可能更难，但其难度却减少了。如果玩家所要做的一切就只是刷任务，那么他很快就会生厌。要挑战玩家的头脑。

我这个定义的第二部分与指责有关。当玩家在优秀的挑战中陷入困境时，他只能怪自己。

（《超级马里奥银河2》的最后一个关卡很困难，但极具回报性——你每次挂，都会觉得自己犯错了，并在下一次尝试中吸取教训。）

我并不是说玩家应该对自己咆哮——而是说每次死亡对玩家来说都是一次学习经验。他应该能够指出自己所犯的错误，以便下一次再改进。如果玩家死了，就应该给他一次改变挑战策略的机会。也许他是从错误的角度对付boss，死亡教会他尝试另一种方法。总之，死亡应该给予玩家经验。

这是一个要点：优秀的挑战应该能够被玩家顺时而变的能力所克服。优秀的挑战要鼓励玩家发挥自己的最大能力。优秀的挑战要让玩家产生继续游戏的念头。

而挫折只会让他想放弃。

篇目3，免费模式：那些为基础付费率而存在的公共难度问题

市面上我们经常能够听到各种或真或假的传闻，比如某游戏上线首日首充率（或者上线当日的付费转化率）超过10%（正常情况下的免费模式游戏最终整体的付费转化率会远低于这个比值）或者单日流水超过数百万甚者数千万人民币（当然这并不意味着该款游戏的日均充值量能够达到相似的水准），事实上能够让人疑惑的一个问题就是：在游戏远未向玩家呈现核心优质内容的情况下（刚进入游戏，一般都是结束新手引导没多久玩家刚开始能够稍微自主游戏的阶段，游戏尚未完全展开，大部分的系统功能比如玩家与玩家之间交互功能可能都还没正式解锁，游戏还处于单机状态下），开发者究竟是如何驱动沉浸未深的玩家执行这么高比例的付费转化的（国内玩家最忌讳的几乎就是为先预购的内容付费，举个最不合逻辑的比方，单机游戏的预告片做得足够勾魂摄魄也未见有几成的玩家愿意主动花钱购买，而国内免费模式的游戏在只是稍微呈现一点点基本游戏模式并且拖时间刷任务重复堆积的形态已经昭然若揭的情况下，玩家竟然能够高比例地为完全未知定数的内容齐刷刷地付费了，或者说乏人问津的单机游戏和赚得钵满盆满的免费模式游戏在玩家消费问题上最大的差别是，同样在引导第一次消费，后者似乎是模式上设定了更巧妙的温水煮青蛙试验，我们将在以下内容做初步的解构）。

前不久，我们把免费模式的这种设定简单地抽象为（虽然不同的游戏可能在进程上稍微有差异，但整体的设定节奏基本都在这个范畴之内）：玩家在（一般情况下都是单机线阶段）level a所向披靡（毫无疑问所有的游戏设定指数方面，玩家都能够满分完成，成就感爆棚），在level b稍微遇到阻力（基本没有完成的相关难度，只是适当提升了系统npc的数量和数值，当然也可能优化了npc的智能程度），在level c如果不小心就会受挫（这个阶段的玩家整体战斗数值比如攻击性、防御性、技能和可携带的随身道具，与系统给关卡设定的通关数值相当，获胜或者失败已经存在概率了），在level d即使全力以赴也经常挑战不了npc（这个阶段的玩家数值已经全面劣于关卡系统的挑战数值，npc不管在数量上、技能上、智能方面都全面领先于玩家当前的最大值，受挫度十足）。

这个就是我们前面所描述的，在玩家刚过新手引导想开始展示稍微自主能动游戏的时候，在大部分游戏系统尚未解锁使用（当然也包括玩家之间的交互系统和pk系统），游戏尚且处在预览阶段情况下，每一个玩家都必然要遭遇完全一模一样的单机线进程障碍（此时的关卡和npc就像一座大山，玩家如果想要继续往前推进游戏，唯一的方式就是正视这种难度并且消弭掉这层障碍，虽然可以显眼地预测到下一个关卡会是更大的阻障）。虽然目前游戏圈暂时还没有特别明确的概念来阐述这种在游戏尚且只能提供初级模版就要设卡给每一个玩家制造进程障碍以谋求最大程度付费转化率的情况，或者可以直接假称为集体受挫的公共难度，并且这部分难度的消弭一般不以玩家的主观技巧掌握和施展为核心，而是以当前玩家的整体数值量累积为核心，换句话说玩家想要挑战这种公共障碍设定唯一的方式不是让自己的主观能力更强，而是让自己的客观数值更彪悍。

这个就是结论性之一：这类游戏一般不存在任何的操作掌握问题（要么根据引导点击要么根据固定的操作按钮点击，其他的环节都是系统代理完成，如果一定要这么说的话，这种模式下其实玩家也算半个npc，有时候，我们在游戏中能够做的就是看玩家的角色在系统的操作下进行演绎的视频动画），或者说玩家的主观操作能力基本不会得到体现也不能够影响游戏的进程表现（玩家在游戏中很难存在学习障碍，各种功能在游戏的刻意引导下完全一目了然，甚至玩家都不需要亲自了解，只需要配合游戏的进程点击就能够自动获得）；同样也不存在一般意义上会存在的主观难度（所谓的主观难度，大体上是由三个环节促成的，第一个是基于开发者和玩家之间本身对游戏的熟悉度差异，因为开发者淫浸在自己的游戏中对各种功能和节点了如指掌从而获得了某种本能性优异而不自觉地替代玩家思考觉得游戏的设定不存在玩家难度而导致游戏整体到处存在玩家障碍；第二个是基于玩家自身的游戏素养差异，这种差异可能包括对游戏类型的敏感度，对游戏在时间和能力方面的介入程度以及玩家本身对游戏的理解，都有可能使同一种游戏模式在不同的玩家层面出现体验方面的差异，或者说对游戏难度的接受能力就存在因人而异（比如同一个难度系数，某些玩家很享受，而某些玩家则感觉很受挫）；第三个是第三方评价所造成的先入为主的偏见，这种偏见可能来自媒介的评测或者来自少数玩家的主动评论，都可能使游戏在体验前或者体验时蒙上了某种偏离自我实际感受的预设难度）。

从而使得这种预设的游戏障碍在难度上具有了某种特性：障碍的消弭与数值紧密捆绑，而解除的方式就由此被限定为两种截然相反的途径，一种是依靠纯粹自然累积的羊肠小道（各种折磨人的重复和数值小叠加累积，用长时间的投入来弥补中间的巨大差距），另外一种是借助充值消费开辟的通天大道（植入原系统之外的外挂系统，获得无上的游戏借力而改变原先的失衡）。

作为玩家还处在偏单机的阶段，在游戏中以陡然拉升npc数值的方式所制造的游戏断层很快就给玩家提出了一个二选一的抉择：要么用愚公移山的精神移除障碍，要么接受游戏的商用规则用金钱来解锁这种不愉快的进程（有时候，这种感觉其实就是花钱买一段看起来是自己大获全胜的视频）。虽然，这种由开发者主动介入的强力阻断行为，对游戏本身极度不友好，从开发者层面人为阻隔了游戏的延续性，使得玩家面临断崖式困扰（难度曲线瞬间提升至现阶段玩家角色能力不可逾越高度，游戏进程到这里就暂时中断了，用游戏中的大沟壑开始初步遴选潜在的消费型玩家）：游戏我刚刚开始进入点门道，就残忍地面临着还能不能愉快玩的问题（短期无事可做＋只能重复体验vs充钱极大提升战斗力数值）。

从而实现了我们常说的一个判断：（大部分玩家还处在单机阶段时候的消费）消费不是游戏的体验加成，消费只是为游戏障碍开路（当然如果一定要说有体验加成的话也肯定是存在的，毕竟消费了就足够把让你郁闷到死的障碍一脚踹到印度洋，在别人还在苦恼无边的时候，你已经提前站在新的高度，用俾倪天下的方式俯视大部分无奈挣扎的各种蝼蚁人生），所以在游戏中当你发现上一个环节还随便被你虐杀的某小怪在下一个环节就强势进化为对你随便虐杀，玩家就要开始考虑这是开发者在用数值做暗示是时候要充值消费了，因为接下来类似的现象和设定将比比皆是，并且这部分是针对全体初体验的玩家，每个人所面临的选择基本是完全一致的（虽然到这个阶段，玩家已经很明显地感受到了游戏付费优先的态度，因为如果是体验优先的话就很少出现这种莫名其妙的断层障碍了）。

你甚至不需要担心早先游戏圈最老生常谈的一个问题：难度太低，玩家就无聊跑了，难度太高，玩家就受挫跑了。因为现行游戏设定用的是更无解的难度：玩家的主观能力在这里几乎是无效的，所有的游戏变数都只决定于各种参数，换句话说，在玩家没有能力改变当前的数值前，玩家对游戏进程的改变就被注定为无能为力的，障碍就成为纯粹的障碍，这种情况下再来界定玩家基本就都是良心玩家，受挫能力超强，也正因为有这样的玩家，开发层面的参数游戏才会越来越被独尊为极品模式（基础游戏模式和开发者主导的外挂模式）。

而开发者所能主导的外挂模式无非就是强力道具，并且一般被赋予四种属性：第一种是阶段性，只用于匹配某个阶段的特殊效能，过了这个阶段可能还能发挥作用，但为了不影响新道具的贩售而被限定了效能，换句话说在上个阶段风光无比的道具可能在下一个阶段就只是大众化的道具之一；第二个是时效性（包括使用限度），为了配合商用性价值的最大化，部分道具可能存在使用次数的限制或者使用时间段的限制，从而使得道具存在不断重复复制的贩售价值；第三个是稀缺性，虽然可以无限低成本复制但为了维持道具贩售的超高价值而人为限定了道具的出售数量，如果再配合上高参数就能够从稀缺角度人为地使道具的存在极品化；第四个是成品零碎化，使用锻造和合成策略使得单一道具具有分区块出售的效能，将道具的售价从高昂零碎为不同的低价环节以保障有节奏地引导玩家从低阶开始投入消费。

但不管从哪个角度，道具一出来被赋予的使命在还是单机环境下就是消弭npc所制造的人为障碍，并使得自身成为玩家迈向新进程中可以依赖的重要借力点，从而在自己的逻辑上呈现出来不可或缺的属性，驱动了大面积的付费转化需求。这也是我们寻常一直在讨论的议题：游戏经常会出现与整体平衡性相悖的趋势，就是游戏设计师对超级武器的偏好，而这种偏好一旦被植入到游戏商用环节中就必然是先提升障碍台阶，再出道具解决方案（哪怕可能因为这种大障碍导致了游戏进程的人为中断，破坏了持续体验的顺畅性）。

差不多，这个就是达尔文定义中的丛林法则：适者生存（让消费的玩家脱颖而出），背后是我们常解释的另外两个概念，一个是尼采的强人逻辑（让消费的玩家成为主宰者），另外一个是弗洛伊德的压抑释放（让玩家尽全力释放自己的潜意识）。

篇目4，游戏难度设置在于挑战性而非糟糕设计

作者：Corey Moore

在过去几年的游戏经历中我注意到了一些有趣的事。即在面对一些早前游戏时我总是很难打败游戏，但是当面对现代游戏我却总能轻松地赢得游戏，或者很容易就对游戏失去兴趣。当然了，我也曾花好几年时间去提高游戏技巧，使那些曾让我却步的游戏不再构成任何“威胁”。但是当我再次回首去玩一些早前的游戏时却仍旧很容易“死”在其中。比起DOS和NES盛行的时代，今天的游戏似乎更加“宽容”。也许这只是我自己的看法，但你是否注意过如今有多少人是在说自己“完成了”‘游戏而不是“打败了”’游戏？

我曾经听过许多将今天的游戏与早前游戏相比的描写。说到今天的游戏我们脑海中总会浮现出“当机”，“休闲”，“主流”以及“简单”等字眼。一款简单的游戏不一定是糟糕的游戏，但是大多数游戏都需要有一定的挑战。如果玩家不能在游戏中感到任何挑战，他们很快便会觉得游戏是无趣的，而玩家有可能选择自愿接受挑战去添加游戏乐趣。

根据不同游戏类型，玩家想要面对的挑战也有所不同。其中包括使用默认装置，完成最低可能性的任务或毫发无伤地完成游戏等。自古以来许多游戏都只意识到那些100%完成游戏或完成最高难度游戏的玩家，而忽视了玩家所追崇的挑战。《Shadow Complex》便是一个典型的例子，它有完成最低可能性任务的挑战，但玩家仍能够彻底打败游戏。

尽管创造具有一定难度的游戏就必须创造出绝佳挑战，但与此同时难度的公平性也很重要。难度从来不是来自于糟糕的游戏设计。当然了，如果游戏将主要情节设置于隐蔽的地点，并要求使用一系列不合逻辑的触发器去呈现并收集相关内容，那么这也算是一款复杂的游戏。因为游戏将让玩家漫无目的地徘徊，并玩弄每一个按钮以期望得到某些反应。让我们想象如果《神秘岛》未告知玩家该去哪里或者该做什么又会是怎样的情况？如此人们应该不会再认为它是一款经典游戏吧，反而会将其视为极端混乱的游戏。

在Gamespot对于《银河战士3》的评价中有一点非常引人注意，也就是这款游戏拥有极端出色的控制方式，好像Retro（游戏邦注：该游戏开发商）应该创造出更糟糕的控制方式以提升难度一样。但天下没有所谓的控制方式过于优秀的说法。控制方式也是区分好坏游戏的关键因素之一，而故意创造糟糕的游戏设计选项便是一种懒惰的难度设计方法。实际上我可以通过每三秒掴打玩家的脸庞去提高游戏难度。这一点也不有趣，但至少具有挑战性。

我们还需要特别避免的便是反复试错的游戏玩法。在一款优秀的游戏中，玩家将能够收集到所有信息并一次性击败游戏。而强迫玩家多次尝试游戏去找到最佳方法不仅是糟糕游戏设计的表现，同时也将导致游戏难度不断消失。也就是玩家一开始会觉得游戏很难，但是在之后的挑战中玩家可能会觉得只是小儿科。并且这与通过训练去穿越游戏中的复杂部分的做法有所不同。这看起来就像一种试验，尽管最终结果具有很高回报，但是当你完成游戏并再次打开时会发现，战胜游戏仍然不是件易事。某些意外事件虽然能够保持游戏的趣味性，但是如果玩家每次都需要反复挑战一个任务，这便是问题所在了。

当很多人在抱怨当今的游戏越来越简单之时，我们也可以发现其实现代也存在一些极端复杂的游戏。其中一个典型就是《怕死不是好战士》，它的游戏控制方式很有趣，并且能将我们带回8位和16位盛行的时代，而游戏难度也不减当年。几乎在每个屏幕中都隐藏着一些能够将你一击毙命的敌人，并且它们都出现在你最意想不到的时刻。即使你知道陷阱在哪里以及boss是如何移动，你也需要同时掌握控制平台，射击以及闪避等技能才能通过游戏。这便不可避免地需要用到试错法，但是即使拥有了先验知识，游戏也将保持一定的难度。另外一个典型的例子便是《光晕3》。除了残忍的Legendary模式，游戏中隐藏的骷髅也添加了更多的挑战，如没有一个检查点和雷达，并且敌人能够躲过你的射击。

是不是所有游戏都应该达到“怕死不是好战士”这般难度？当然不是，因为并不是所有玩家都想要玩这种游戏。有些玩家更喜欢看到游戏中的故事，也有些玩家不想看到过于残忍的画面。这当然是合理的，尽管也会出现一些人指责你用错了方法。但是对于开发者来说，关键在于不要忘记那些打败游戏并希望迎接更大挑战，但却需要自己想法创造挑战的玩家。通过提供这种挑战，开发者不仅能够与玩家紧密联系在一起，同时也能够延长游戏寿命。

篇目5，分析游戏难度类型及其可能产生的问题

作者：Eric Schwarz

我们经常讨论游戏的难度，比如是否太难？哪部分会让玩家感到麻烦？是否过于容易从而显得乏味无趣？但是我们很少将注意力放在难度的不同基本类型上，正是这种种难度铸就了我们的游戏体验，让我们对游戏所提供的挑战有一定的认识。在这篇文章中，我想列举某些最基本的难度类型以及与这些难度类型的执行等相关问题。阐述游戏中重要的不仅仅是那些挑战，挑战的本质也同样重要。

反复尝试寻找解决方法

游戏中最显而易见的难度类型就是反复尝试以寻找解决方法，这也是目前最为普遍使用的类型。简单地说，这种反复尝试贯穿在玩家开展任务的过程中，通过实验（游戏邦注：比如“没有其他的路可以走了，或许我可以试试这条路”）或建议（游戏邦注：“这些是你要执行的命令，士兵们，马上前往执行吧！”）的形式。至少从理论上来说，这种方式为玩家呈现的主要难度是挑战的程度（游戏邦注：比如敌人的类型和数量）往往会略高于玩家感到舒适的程度，也就是说玩家必须得到提升才能够克服挑战，这种提升包括尝试新的战术、冒着更大的风险做事和拥有强大的意志力或运气等。

正如我们中许多人已经证实的那样，反复尝试这种难度类型有着明显的两极分界线。通常来说，过多的失败会让玩家产生挫败感，但是过多的成功又会让玩家觉得好像游戏对他们而言不够难。除了基本的平衡性之外，这种难度的主要问题在于，难度对不同玩家有着不同的门槛。休闲玩家只是想要享受游戏的故事性，他们并不喜欢游戏中会出现猝不及防的死亡。然而，硬核玩家更为喜欢那些“疯狂的”场景，他们希望每个回合都能够面对挑战，依靠自己的努力去取得每个胜利。最后，开发者便会陷入如下情形：他们要平衡的是同一款游戏中的3或4个愿景，因为不同玩家对游戏难度的需求不同。

当然，步调也是难度衰退和流动中主要关注的东西，通常也是反复尝试的本质。玩家需要游戏中含有各个步调不同的部分，这些部分之间切换迅速而且不会产生过多的问题，比如游戏中让人觉得不具挑战性的战斗和紧张的游戏体验交替出现。在考虑不同的游戏玩法偏好时，将这些构建到游戏中是个很困难的过程。毕竟，虽然平衡游戏中的某个事件并给予玩家他们希望获得的体验较为简单，但是在整个游戏背景之下实现这个目标与前者完全不同。

有适应力的难度设置是种可以解决这个问题的方法。在最基础的层面上，通常的做法是改变提供给玩家的资源（游戏邦注：如生命值和弹药等）数量，或者根据玩家的行为来协调强大和弱小道具的出现频率（游戏邦注：比如玩家在困难环境中会拾到更多“生命值全满”的道具）。这种功能在游戏中极为普遍，原因或许是开发者不愿意去设计不同的难度等级（游戏邦注：作者认为这不是个好想法），或许是因为玩家总有好奇的想法，会选择并不适合他们的难度等级（游戏邦注：每个玩家对“普通”难度等级的理解都各不相同）。

可适应性难度既可以清晰明显，也可以隐藏起来。比如，《Prey》将可适应性难度选项添加到游戏的选项界面中，这样玩家可以根据自己的偏好决定是否启用。而《半条命2》在提供三种不同的难度等级（游戏邦注：简单、普通和困难）的同时，还设置了一层可以用来分析玩家在游戏中的行为过程、资源层次和某些事件完成的简易程度等方面的代码，随后游戏会调整敌人掉落的道具和打破箱子后获得的资源数量等，确保玩家总是能使用数量刚好的生命值和弹药完成遭遇战，但是在此过程中资源的数量又不会让玩家觉得自己完全是安全的或者让玩家的武器装满弹药。有些游戏以更微妙的方式执行这种设计方法，比如在玩家濒临死亡时让其更快地击败BOSS，创造出一种动态的紧张感。

对我而言，可适应性难度可能产生的最大问题是，当作为内置功能添加到游戏中且不可关闭时，玩家就对游戏失去了控制力。尽管我时常从那些单纯为了提升难度而设计得较为困难的游戏中获得极好的体验，但是我完全理解某些玩家并不希望自己希望获得的东西掌控在别人手上。而且，可适应性难度还能够让人产生可预测和内容贫乏的感觉，遭遇战就失去了人为制造的感觉（游戏邦注：人们对《上古卷轴4：湮灭》的批评主要是这个方面）。这样看来，我认为可适应性难度最好的设置就是像《Prey》那样，做成选项菜单中的可选项或者只在某个难度等级中使用这项设置，在最高难度的模式中去除所有的帮助，这会使上述问题得到缓和，让玩家对自己所选取的难度有更为合理的理解（游戏邦注：比如玩家会产生“我选择了最困难的模式，我应该知道这个模式对我来说过于困难”的想法）。

忍耐和消耗

另一种测试玩家的方式着眼于长期而不是短期。从最基本的层面上来说，所有形式的忍耐都围绕资源管理来开展，玩家被给予数量有限的有价值或重要道具，其分配的控制极为精细。在所有游戏中，资源的控制主要通过以下三种方法：

1、“随机”掉落。惯常用法是敌人被打败时会掉落贵重物品，或者玩家打开箱子获得补给品等。根据难度、玩家在游戏中的经历、玩家已经拥有的资源数量、玩家的能力、角色等级、队友数量来控制补给，这样就可以精确地调控游戏的难度，从而提供某种挑战。

2、消耗率。在不同的游戏中，玩家消耗补给的速度也大不相同。比如，在射击类游戏中，战胜较为困难的BOSS或许无需耗费过多的弹药，但是可能需要消耗大量的生命值。相反，在面对大量较小的敌人时，玩家可能需要消耗大量的弹药，但是生命值却不会大幅下降。学会预测玩家继续游戏所需的东西很重要。如果游戏使用的是可适应性难度系统，这或许并不是个大问题，但是即便如此，细致考虑玩家消耗某些资源的速度也会改善遭遇战设计，使得游戏显得更为鲜活，并且能够满足玩家的娱乐需求。战略性地消除某些资源与战略性地提供资源同样重要，因为这可以构建起紧张感，调控玩家进程的步调。

3、玩家的智慧。这种方法较常用于角色扮演类游戏中，聪明的玩家通常会在面对困难的遭遇战之前先期购买药物和弹药等有用的道具。玩家在野外逗留的时间很大程度上受玩家自身的行为影响，以及玩家在购买补给后外出所遇到的事件。游戏很难对这个方面进行控制，坦诚地说，也不应当对其进行控制。应当关注的是玩家能够和不能够做什么事情，然后围绕这个方面来构建挑战，比如负重和疲劳系统，这会轻微限制玩家能够携带的道具数量。但是，强制使用不合理的硬性限制（游戏邦注：比如规定玩家每次最多只能携带3个生命药剂）并非合适的管理方法。

长期消耗可能对许多游戏并不适用，但是以不同的方式来审视消耗可能揭露处某些游戏机制中的有趣成分，或许之前并未察觉到。比如，《俄罗斯方块》之类的解谜游戏中有很强大的消耗元素，玩家的行为、难度等级和提供给玩家的方块会导致游戏界面中可用的空间逐渐减少。在此之上，游戏的速度也是玩家必须细心掌控的资源，因为在游戏过程中方块的掉落会越来越快。尽管没有生命值和弹药等内容，但是《俄罗斯方块》对空间和时间的掌控确实很独到。你应当意识到，消耗和忍耐可以应用的方面不仅仅是实物资源，这种设计会让现有的机制更有深度。

“伪造”难度

这种难度属于反复尝试难度的范畴内，我所说的“伪造难度”普遍存在于游戏行业中，但是颇为依赖游戏题材。伪造难度使用方式多种多样，但总结起来通常都是通过欺骗玩家或者扭曲游戏规则以达到产生挑战性的目的。无论玩家是否在意这些欺骗，这种设计通常都会让玩家产生极大的挫败感和愤怒。

伪造难度最为普遍的形式也可以归到可适应性难度类别，也就是说，通过改变游戏情形中的规则来向玩家提供更大的挑战，通常被称为“橡皮条选择”。关键的区别之处在于，可适应性难度偏向于玩家的喜好（游戏邦注：比如玩家在生命值较低时获取生命恢复道具的可能性提升50%），但是伪造难度更偏向敌人或玩家的对手。然而，因为敌人很少以公平的状态与玩家进行战斗，事实上还经常使用完全不同的规则，这意味着玩家的对手总是瞬间变成了超人，比如突破限制提升速度、攻击力暂时大幅提升、施展出原本无法克制玩家的技能等。

《Mario Kart》便是这种类型难度的绝佳例证，事实上，该系列作品正是因此而备受诟病。尽管游戏橡皮条选择的目标是为玩家提供紧张且令人兴奋的体验，确保每次竞速结束时对手都很接近玩家，但是对于那些更有经验的玩家而言，这种形式的难度带来的只有轻蔑。游戏所产生的错觉足以愚弄技能较差的玩家，因为这些效果都很微妙而且通常会迎合玩家的喜好，但是当同样的系统被应用到足以凌驾于高难度游戏之上的玩家身上时，为跟上玩家的速度，电脑就要被强迫做出令人难以置信的举动，比如使用无耻的作弊、获得比玩家更厉害的道具和能力甚至违反物理学原理。

还有种伪造难度的形式是不真实的挑战。在不真实挑战中，玩家通常被要求做出标准的行为——打败某些敌人或者在规定的时间内跑到终点等。但是，刚开始属于相对常规的任务迅速转变成对玩家反应和能力的测试，因为玩家会不断地被各种无法预测的障碍、陷阱和强大的敌人所困扰。关键在于，在所有这些情形中，玩家毫无防备，根本无法做充分的准备。通常，最后的结局是快速和令人沮丧的死亡，因为玩家认为自己即将取得成功而毫无防备。更为糟糕的是，通常克服这种类型挑战的唯一方法是再次尝试，时常都是从关卡的起点开始，玩家需要铭记前方隐藏的挑战。当这些挑战重重叠加时，最终可能导致玩家极为愤怒。

《侠盗猎车手》系列游戏在这个方面尤为突出。尽管游戏基于任务的架构暗示即将面对的挑战是独立且相对直观的，但是游戏中设置的难度很经常出乎玩家意料之外。以《侠盗猎车手：罪恶都市》为例，我经常提及的一个任务就是玩家需要在规定的时间内到达一连串的检查点。这不像是个很难的任务，不是吗？看起来似乎如此，但是事实上游戏设置其他的卡车等车辆会忽然出现在街道拐角处，如果玩家以全速通过，那么势必会撞上这些车辆，从而导致任务失败。玩家只有预先放慢速度让这些车辆先行通过，才有可能完成。这种情况并非只出现一次，在这次竞速任务过程中会出现5到6此，也就是说即便玩家的做法完全正确，游戏的设计仍然让玩家有失败的可能。《英雄本色》中也有同样的情况发生，敌人会精确地向玩家投掷手榴弹，如果没有经历过几乎不可能避开攻击。

坦诚地说，虽然伪造难度的形式多种多样，但是对玩家而言并不有趣，即便其是以最好的意图构建到游戏中。尽管如此设计的目标通常是为了提供无视玩家技能程度的不可预测或充满挑战的体验，但是往往产生的却是适得其反的效果。最糟糕的情况是，这有可能让玩家觉得游戏中的竞技不合常理，从而离开游戏。与多数难度形式不同的是，开发者应当避免使用这种类型的难度，除非你的目标是让玩家讨厌你的作品。

随机数值

尽管这种难度类型通常在战略和角色扮演游戏中使用，但是随机机制也出现在其他的游戏题材中，包括敌人在战斗中的行为、武器的影响范围和精准度等。

我偶尔会遇见某些被众人嘲笑的基于随机元素的机制，这些人声称此类设计将成功寄于不可预测的可能性而不是玩家技能之上。需要理解的关键之处在于，利用随机数值生成器来构建难度时，挑战并非被“运气”所替代。反而，难度的增加迫使玩家需要对那些完全无法预测的新情况拟定更为睿智的反应，重要的是整个过程的行动而不是个别行动。反复尝试通常测试的是玩家的反应和协调能力，但是构建于随机元素之上的系统测试的是玩家对改变做出响应和新情况的能力。

正如之前所提过的那样，随机元素会出现在所有类型的游戏中，无论这些游戏的难度来源于反复尝试、可能性掌控还是伪造难度。比如，在竞速模拟游戏中驾驶汽车，车辆的操作或者路况中总是有些随机的效果。如此设计并没有什么错，因为通常情况下玩家的技能足以应付任何情况下的随机元素。而且，随机并不一定意味着不可预测，它的意思只是游戏过程中可能出现某种程度的干扰，防止每次发生的事情都完全相同。否则，我们在玩《俄罗斯方块》时就会看到方块总是以同样的顺序重复出现，这就会让游戏显得乏味。

不幸的是，使用随机数值生成器构建系统很容易产生一个问题，尤其是在角色扮演游戏和战略游戏中，这个问题不在于机制本身，而在于玩家对机制的认知和理解。这种事情通常被称为赌徒的误解。最简单的例子便是抛硬币。尽管硬币正面或背面朝上的概率都是50%（游戏邦注：假定硬币按照合理的方法抛掷），但是我们仍然会想象这种相同的概率只适用于系列事件的结果，而不是单独的某个事件。换句话说，我们认为随着硬币一遍遍地被抛出，我们不会将硬币的抛掷当成某个独立的事件，而是看做整体事件的一部分。正因为此，我们也会认为之前的事件对将来可能发生的事件会造成影响。或者简单地说，硬币正面朝上的次数越多，我们就越认为下次抛掷背面朝上的概率会越大。

在游戏行业中，可以将这种情形套用到基于回合制的角色扮演游戏中。某技能使用成功的概率为70%，但是当我们发现技能连续数个回合失败之后就会产生挫败感，我们最终会因尝试改变这个问题而浪费时间和资源。究竟为什么会这样呢？我们可能会认为游戏机制篡改了数值！事实上，情况并非如此。玩家的想法时，由于技能成功的几率是70%，所以使用10次就应该会有7次成功。当然，情况并不一定会如此准确。每次使用技能成功的概率都是相同的，因而有可能出现上述连续数回合都失败的情况。

这个问题并没有简单的解决方案，因为你的对手不是数值，而是玩家的愿景。对于这个问题的解决，许多开发者采用的方式是制定度量，确保随机的概率更具预测性。比如，如果我设定技能的成功率是70%，那么我会在游戏中添加某个技能必定会击中的时间短，即便这在数学逻辑上根本与随机概念不符。情况确实如此，通常情况下，多数玩家会觉得他们所依赖的随机可能性完全不具有随机性，这种随机性被操控来满足玩家的愿景。而颇具讽刺意味的是，如果首先确保数学逻辑的正确性，那么玩家只会认识到游戏可能存在问题。很显然，这是个颇具争议的决定，或许并非所有人都能够认同这种做法，但是满足玩家的愿景总比让这些玩家因游戏不公平或者可能性不正确而产生挫败感要强。

展示是最重要的东西

这个章节的标题可能会引起某些人的愤怒，但是我觉得这个部分在游戏设计中并没有为人所关注，但是这却是需要学习的最重要的方面。就像我已经说过的那样，难度有着各种各样的形式，而且极具主观性。但是，重要的是还要认识到，将难度展示给玩家的方法同样很重要。如同赌徒的误解一般，有时出现问题的并非机制本身，而是玩家认知难度的方法出了偏差。

让我们以近期发布的游戏《Dead Money》为例，这是《辐射：新维加斯》的最新可下载内容。游戏受到了玩家和媒体的攻击，他们认为其难度曲线并不合理。在《Dead Money》中，奴隶凌驾于《辐射》系列作品原本无尽的自由之上，玩家被爆炸物驱赶到某个非常特别而且几乎是线性的路径中，如果玩家过于深入人迹罕至的地区，就会不断遭到伤害。游戏中的许多挑战是摧毁不断播放爆炸声波的广播发射机，而这些东西通常隐藏在桌下、壁橱中和许多难以企及的地方。如此设计的目标在于为玩家创造出某种紧张感，玩家需要在自己被炸弹炸死之前迅速找到广播发射机。

从局外人的角度来看，可以很清晰地明白为何这个机制会让玩家产生挫败感。在即将爆炸时，炸弹线圈会产生某种高音调且持续的哔哔声，玩家需要迅速学会避开。还有个让玩家觉得特别卑微的是，他们被对手以这种方式奴役。其他使用这种设计的游戏通常会让玩家可以迅速地重获自由，尽管培养玩家对对手的怨恨是个很不错的做法，但是如果处理不当，这种怨恨反倒会转移到开发者自己头上。最后，这种强迫性的限制与多数玩家对新《辐射》游戏的愿景（游戏邦注：即开放性的角色扮演游戏，每个情形都可以有多种解决方案）相反。而在《Dead Money》，很多关卡只有唯一的解决方案，而这往往是玩家不喜欢的东西。

但是，《Dead Money》的问题并不在于机制本身。从基本层面进行分析，游戏的任务仅仅是玩家同时间赛跑，去移除环境中的威胁，即在角色被炸死之前关闭开关。就故事线路而言，爆炸循环机制固然很有效，但是本可以被许多相似的机制所替代，而且能够发挥同样的效能。更为重要的是，替换之后就不会像这样让玩家产生挫败感。比如，辐射和毒素威胁在《辐射》的世界中极为常见，那么，为何Obsidian不选择使用辐射的形式在表达同样的威胁呢？有趣的是，这种解决方式确实有在《Dead Money》中使用，但是使用的次数很少。用功能相似但较符合《辐射》设计方式的游戏机制来替代爆炸，我想抱怨游戏难度的人就会少得多，因为在这种情况下，玩家会认为挑战与《辐射》的游戏世界契合度更高，而且从整体上来说限制性更小。

看看周遭熟悉的游戏，我觉得你还会找到更多难度认知成为比难度本身更大问题的实例。我马上就能想出几个来，比如《杀出重围：人类革命》中BOSS不断发出的刺耳讥笑声给对玩家神经的挑战已经超过了BOSS战斗本身。事实上，当将角色与某种类型的难度联系起来时（游戏邦注：比如Boswer和《超级玛丽兄弟》中的城堡），如果角色令人烦恼或者当游戏机制本身并不有趣，就会迅速让玩家产生挫败感。

结论

尽管并不完整，但是这个分析应该会让大家了解不同类型的难度，并且理解为何人们在不同类型的游戏、不同场景和不同难度种类中会变得烦躁不安。创造和精致难度总是处在不断发展中，让所有的玩家都接受设计是件特别难的事情。即便如此，我也希望这篇文章能够让众开发者明白为何会出现这种情况，要在基础设计中采取何种步骤才能够确保游戏有趣且充满挑战性，同时避免让玩家产生挫败感。

篇目1，篇目2，篇目3，篇目4，篇目5（本文由游戏邦编译，转载请注明来源，或咨询微信zhengjintiao）

篇目1，How Tough Is Your Game? Creating Difficulty Graphs

by Rafael Vázquez

[Having trouble figuring out how difficult your game really is? Xibalba Studios lead game designer Rafael Vázquez devises a method for plotting difficulty -- and uses three popular sidescrolling action games to test the theory, in the process explaining how difficulty meshes their overall design.]

A few months ago, during the prototype stage for a new project, I noticed a problem starting to brew. We were having lots of trouble identifying the ideal difficulty for our game, as different members of the team had very different ideas on what is the perfect challenge.

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I know this is a common issue for small, diverse teams, as what one member might think is a walk in the park another will find more akin to torture. The problem was that everyone had different skill levels, and because of this we weren’t going to reach an agreement anytime soon.

After thinking about this issue for some time, it came to me that difficulty in a game should not be related to player skill, but to the game itself. Instead of looking at the game’s difficulty as a static, all-encompassing threshold, we would do better to discuss how it changes throughout the game.

With this in mind, I tried to develop a method to measure and compare how challenge rises and falls across a game, independent of the player’s skill. This article tries to explain this method. It might still be a little rough around the edges, but I believe it’s a good start, and I hope it encourages discussion in the community so the method can be perfected.
Enter Difficulty Graphs

Getting difficulty right is tough. It might seem redundant, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Make the game too difficult, and people will get frustrated; make it too easy, and they get bored. This is common knowledge, and so designers typically strive for the middle ground. Most of the time, we do this by gut feeling, which is fine.

As it is, the game’s difficulty really depends on the type of game and the type of response we want to get out of the player. A calming social game and an adrenaline-pumping FPS are worlds apart in challenge. The problem comes when you try to talk about this challenge to your fellow team. Long hours pass, and no one seems to agree if that game section is just the right amount of tough.

This is because difficulty is subjective; it depends a great deal on an individual’s skill. To make things worse, the right difficulty also depends on what each person finds fun; some people like masocore games like Super Meat Boy. So when you’re trying to create a game, it’s a real problem to find common ground from where to start discussing.

There is a solution, however — a method to find a common base which we can all agree on: difficulty graphs. Before we dive in though, a quick disclaimer. This method is not for creating difficulty (that’s still up to the designer’s gut, I’m afraid), but for difficulty analysis, and as a means to start meaningful conversation with the rest of your team about it. These graphs don’t show you how a difficult a game should be — only how difficult it is.
So What Are They?

They are graphical representations of how difficulty changes throughout the game. This is to say that they plot how challenge changes over time. There are two main types, time-based and distance-based. The first places the spikes in challenge according to the time spent played (taking away paused time and death); while the second places them depending on where the challenges appear (assuming a direct route from start to goal).

Both have their advantages, and some work best depending on which type of game you’re testing. For arcade games like Asteroids or Geometry Wars, time-based is really the only way to go, as there is no real displacement towards a goal.

On the other hand, most FPS use location-based triggers for their enemies, so distance-based graphs work very well. Personally, I like time-based graphs better, and we’ll get to why in a moment.

Nitpickers might have already noticed that both of these still depend on the player. How fast the player goes through a level and how much time it takes him to get from one challenge to the other depends on how good he is at the game, and also at his play style (if he likes exploring, you can kiss time-based graphs goodbye).

The truth is that our medium is experienced differently by each and every one of us, and this is something we have to live with. The best we can do is get data from multiple playthroughs from different people and average them out. As a matter of fact, difficulty curves can only be applied after playtesting the game several times. After enough testers have tried the game, you’ll get a pretty good idea of what the average player experience is.

As you might recall, difficulty is subjective, and asking all the testers if they felt the game too difficult might give you wildly different answers (you should still do it, though). How then can we measure a game’s difficulty if it depends on the eye of the beholder? The trick is we compare it onto itself.

Say we have a basic enemy that deals x amount of damage. Let’s say he has a threat level of 1; this will be our base enemy. The threat level is basically how difficult an enemy is compared to the player. If, on the other hand, we have another enemy with twice the amount of firepower but the same in all other aspects, we can go ahead and say that it is twice as dangerous and give him a threat level of 2.

I know this might seem to oversimplify things, and that other factors like location, position, and the presence of other enemies matter… We’ll get there. The point is that, by taking the easiest challenge present as a standard (your base enemy), and comparing it with other challenges in the game we can quantify how tough each one is independent of skill. No matter how good you are, an enemy that is three times faster is tougher than the standard.

Recap

So, let’s recap the steps:

* First, you have to determine what the game’s standard conditions are. This is the minimum power level the player has during a determined segment of the game (be it a stage, a level or the whole game). This can vary often due to permanent power-ups.

* Find the base enemy (generally the weakest or most generic enemy) and set its threat level to 1, and adjust the threat level of all other enemies in accordance to its stats.

* Playtest. A lot. Have different players with different play styles move through the level so that you can get the average time (if doing time-based difficulty charts) or average distance (if the chart is distance-based) of each enemy encounter.

* Check which situations you find the enemies in, and assign values to those situations depending on how the mechanics and enemy behaviors allow you to fight them.

* Determine how the encounters work. Figure out how many waves there are in each encounter and what enemies they are composed of.

* Ʃn=0 = (Etn)(ESn) Multiply each enemy’s threat level by the situation multiplier and add them all up for each wave.

* Plot them in a graph according to the time when they appeared or the distance from the starting point where you meet them.

Examples

Just to show an example of how they look, I followed this method to plot three different 2D sidescrolling shooters using time-based difficulty graphs. The games chosen come from different consoles and different eras just to show that this method is universal (and because they’re the ones I had easy access to).

GameLoft

The example games are Metal Slug (published by SNK in 1996 for arcades), Shank (developed in 2010 by Klei Entertainment; this test is based on the PC version) and Hard Corps: Uprising (created by Arc System Works in 2011 for Xbox Live Arcade and PSN).

Now, they might seem quite similar on the surface, but they have several nuances that make them different. This is important to mention, because the difficulty graphs do not actually show which game is harder. Remember that the difficulty is measured based on the game itself; a 1 in Shank is not the same as a 1 in Metal Slug.

What the graphs do show us is how the difficulty changes throughout the game, and this in turn gives us clues on the pacing and tension building of the game. Lots of spikes and you can bet it’s a fast-paced, tense game; lots of plateaus and it’s likely it is calmer.

Note: A great method for directly measuring pacing is Ben Cousins’ method of counting player actions. He describes it in his article Elementary Game Design, which you can find at his personal website, http://www.bencousins.com.

These graphs show the first level of each game from start to right before the boss. I’m leaving out boss encounters because they generally change the rules, requiring specific mechanics for victory. Comparing them directly with the rest of the level can cause gargantuan spikes in the chart that are not really representative of how hard the game is overall.

First up, Metal Slug, the shortest of the bunch (clocking at around 1:20). We can see that it presents enemy encounters every two to three seconds. Besides your standard pistol, the game starts you with some grenades, which are a hard-hitting, though limited, weapon. Unlike the other two, it features one-hit-kills (another way to say all enemies do the same amount of damage) and hefty temporary power-ups, including the titular Metal Slug (a tank, basically). As an arcade game, death isn’t a big deal, as each continue will respawn you at the point of death. This is, of course, until you run out of quarters.

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We can see that the basic trend is quite close to the horizontal axis, with a smooth rise throughout the level. There are two large spikes which represent helicopters. Under standard conditions they are quite tough (taking around 40 shots from your basic pistol to take down). The camera freezes and stops your movement until you kill them, making sure you can’t just skip ahead, explaining the plateaus.

To help you out, the game provides you with power-ups (red vertical lines) right before facing them. As all power-ups in Metal Slug are temporary, the game makes sure you have at least one by dropping a bunch of them really close to one another.

There is another rather large spike near the end, once you start facing other tanks. Provided that you still have your Slug, they should be no problem; however, if you lost it to the helicopter, you could be in a tough spot. The game balances this by giving you health for your tank (the green vertical lines) right after the second chopper and just before the tank section, again trying to make sure you don’t miss out.

Next we have Shank, whose first level is around five and a half minutes long. Contrary to Metal Slug, you have a health bar in the game, so enemy attacks aren’t so devastating. Also the game starts you out with four weapons (pistols, knives, a chainsaw, and limited grenades) allowing you to take on several enemies at once. On the flipside, there are no power-ups except health and more grenades, so what you start with is what you get.

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At first glance, we can see that the game is a slower-paced than Metal Slug, due in large part to having clearly-defined encounters in which the player can’t move ahead. We can also see that in most encounters, enemies appear drip by drip, leading to the stair-like form of the curve. The obvious point of this is easing the player into combat, instead of presenting the challenge all at once.

Between large encounters (which can be distinguished by the high plateaus), we find that the game always presents a couple of enemies, so that the challenge never gets too low.

Just like in the previous example we have a spike near the end — however, this is an absolute spike, presenting the hardest part of the level. After this we see a steep decline until we get to zero, the complete absence of enemies and obstacles, in preparation for the boss battle.

Interestingly, we see that health packs are commonly found in the middle of the encounter (usually because they are enemy drops) and tend to be found more frequently at the later stages of the level. On the other hand, only once can we restock grenades; this is most likely due to the game trying to get the player to learn to use his three main weapons.

Lastly we have Hard Corps: Uprising. In this game, the player has a segmented health bar, with the base enemies taking a full segment with each hit. Though the player only starts with a weak machine gun, she is able to pick up several power-ups which are lost when hit. The first level (minus the boss) clocks in at around 6:20 and is easily the longest of the bunch.

Despite having an Arcade Mode (no character building), the game’s star attraction is the Rising Mode, which allows the player to gain experience and permanently upgrade her character even if she dies. In other words, it allows for grind.

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First off, you’ll notice the off-the-chart spike; I intentionally left it there. This is the miniboss (the typical Contra wall). Clearly its power is off the roof — it takes many hits to bring down and has powerful attacks. However, once you battle it, you’ll notice the terrain gives you a great advantage against it, so in the end it’s not really that tough. This is why it’s recommended to treat your boss fights as special cases. They work differently, often with different rules and game mechanics — hence, they don’t really relate with the whole level.

Putting the miniboss aside, we can see that the game has a very spiky difficulty curve, with short plateaus and lots of ups and downs. This is decidedly a fast-paced game. Despite its ups and downs, the mean does tend to go up throughout the level, with longer confrontations and more enemies being faced at a time.

While encounters near the beginning of the level are at around seven, near the end they reach 30. This is a massive slope in difficulty, perfect for a grind-friendly game. Near the end we once again find a major confrontation followed by a brief respite before fighting the boss. Notice that power-ups are evenly distributed throughout the level, as they form an integral part of the game mechanics. On the other hand, health is much rarer, though it is also found at equal intervals.

Conclusion
We can compare all games’ graphs by simply normalizing the time (dividing it by their total length) and plotting them together. Once more, this is not a measure of how difficult a game is, but how that difficulty changes. Here we can see that in all three games, the difficulty curve’s mean is below 10, which is quite usual for first levels. Hard Corps is the one with the highest change in difficulty, while Shank is a lot more constant. Metal Slug is also quite constant with few (though large) spikes.

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If we start thinking about the overall design of each game, we see that these differences make a lot of sense. The grind and permanent power-ups of Hard Corps allow it to have a steep difficulty curve throughout the level, and actually encourages the player to start over several times to pass it. Meanwhile, arcade Metal Slug, which is trying to suck you out of quarters, depends on minibosses to provide challenge, allowing you to beat them in multiple tries (as long as you pay). Shank, on the other hand, seeks accessibility, having a smooth curve, which allows new players to ease into the game.

Analysis by difficulty graphs tells us a lot about a game — not only about the way it’s structured, and the way it looks for engagement, but also about the design philosophy behind each game. It’s also useful while designing your own games as an analytical way to find spikes and valleys that shouldn’t be there.

Of course, this is not the only method of measuring difficulty; however, this has been very useful as it is independent of individual player skill. Once the results are in, everyone in a team can easily see where the trouble spots are, and it makes tackling them together a lot easier. I really recommend you give it a go. You’ll be surprised how much this makes difficulty easier.

篇目2，Difficulty: Challenge vs Frustration

04/10/2013 Despain Game Design 7 comments

Today’s topic is one that is important for all sorts of game design: difficulty. There’s lots of ways to make your game difficult, but unfortunately most of those ways are shortcuts that don’t lead to appealing gameplay.

Lots of game developers will feel the need to make their game more difficult, so they add all sorts of “features” that only end up making the game more frustrating. “But the player is dying more often,” they say, “it’s a challenge.” Well, kind sir—is it really a challenge? Or is your gameplay just hard for no real reason?

Today we’re going to look at the difference between challenge and frustration, and how to add to your game’s difficulty curve while avoiding making your players feel bad about it.

Difficulty Curve

People overlook the importance of a difficulty curve. Sure, most people understand the basic idea: the game starts easy, and it gets harder as it goes. Unfortunately, there’s more to the idea than that. It’s not just about how hard the game gets, but in which ways it becomes more challenging to the player.

I could easily write an entire article about difficulty curves and training the player (and maybe I will!), but for now, I want to cover some important ideas about how to establish a difficulty curve that makes sense for your game, and won’t annoy your players.

I’ve seen a lot of games that start out smoothly and easily, but then you get past that “beginning”—and wham!, the game becomes incredibly difficult as soon as your turn that corner or enter a new area. What happened to the idea of curve? Keep it natural and gradual, and do so by putting the player in situations where his ability is tested.

That’s the most important thing to keep in mind when trying to create a difficulty curve for your game: a game’s challenge lies in the way it tests the player’s skill at that game. Simply making enemies have tremendous amounts of HP usually isn’t the best way to do that. The player should feel like he is overcoming obstacles, that he is getting better at the game the further into it he goes. A good difficulty balance is one that tests the player’s ability, not his patience.

As the game progresses, it’s easier to feel the need to artificially ramp up the difficulty, by doing things like giving enemies ridiculous amounts of HP, or giving them moves that kill player characters in a single hit. Sometimes these things make sense—but if you don’t have a reason for them other than to make things “hard”, then think about other ways to add to the challenge.

Build on the gameplay that has come before, and throw new situations at the player. Give him a reason to use the skills that he has developed in new ways.

There’s a reason that most players prefer RPGs that encourage strategy in battles over level grinding, and that reason is because they like a good challenge, not frustration.

Frustration

So what exactly is frustration? What causes it? What makes a player want to turn off the game and never play it again?

Frustration occurs when the player feels as if his time has been wasted, and that the game is at fault.

There are two important parts to that statement, so let’s break it down. The first part has to do with the value of a player’s time, which is an important concept to understand in modern gaming.

Thirty years ago—or twenty—or hell, ten—players valued their time differently. Games back then were a lot harder (and a lot more frustrating) than they are today. This isn’t to say that players’ time was less valuable. Accessibility to videogames was different, and gamers didn’t have the luxury of thousands of games available to them at a moment’s notice. In today’s world, if someone doesn’t like your game—maybe because they feel that it’s not worth their time—they can just delete it and find another one within moments. Twenty years ago, if a game frustrated a player, they didn’t really have that option, so they kept pushing through until the game was beaten.

Gaming culture has changed, and game design changes to accommodate the lifestyles of games. You can’t get away with wasting your player’s time.

So what is a waste of the player’s time? Think about the times that you have gotten mad at a videogame. Maybe you died and were forced to replay a huge area—maybe you were forced to sit through that long cutscene again and again. Maybe you were just about to land the final blow on a boss that you’ve been fighting for an hour, and he hits you with a cheap shot, leaving you to do it all over again. Or maybe you find yourself in a random battle every other goddamn step you take.

ONE MORE STEP

No Zubat… no Zubat… please no Zubat…

The second part of my definition of frustration is key for a game designer to understand and constantly work into his gameplay. When something goes wrong, the player blames the game, not himself.

Obviously, the biggest example of this is a glitch. If the player’s going along, having a good time, and gets stuck in a wall, he isn’t very happy, and he did nothing wrong. Those aren’t intentional, though. What about aspects of gameplay that leave the player howling at their monitor?

Camera problems are a common cause of this in 3D games. It happens all the time—you miss a jump when the camera suddenly rotates, or a wall is blocking your view of your character, or enemies are attacking you and you don’t know where they are coming from. The player feels like he has no control, and the last thing you want your player to feel is that he isn’t in control.

In RPGs, these kinds of problems are harder to pinpoint, but no less frustrating. Here’s an example that seems to come up a lot. Picture the classic block pushing puzzle, and the player somehow gets a block stuck in a corner. Uh-oh. He has no choice but to leave the room, reset the puzzle, and start all over again. “B-b-but the player shouldn’t have done that”, you say. I counter with “he shouldn’t have been able to.” Design your maps in such a way where blocks can’t get stuck in corners, or (preferably) allow the player to pull them as well as push them. Avoid situations where your gameplay allows your player to get trapped.

Here’s another example, going back to the idea of random encounters. Say that your player has fought his way through a tough dungeon, and his party are all sitting at a dangerously low HP. The end is in sight, so he goes for it. But nope! The screen flashes, and he’s in a battle. He tries his luck, chooses to flee, and fails. The monsters kill the player. These kinds of things can be avoided with some simple gameplay tweaks. For one, maybe monsters don’t attack on the same turn when a player tries to flee. Sure, it makes the game easier, but it prevents situations that cause frustration. Or maybe you could just drop random encounters altogether.

Even without random encounters, your player can find himself blaming the game for out-of-nowhere deaths. When working with visible enemy encounters, think hard about where the enemies spawn and how they move. You want to allow the player to dodge them (most of the time), and you don’t want to clutter the screen to the point where he panics. Incorporate your encounters into your level design, rather than just plopping them here and there.

Scour your gameplay for areas where the player dies and it isn’t his fault. Push yourself to find ways to give the player control of his fate.

Challenge

So we know what causes frustration. That makes for bad difficulty. What makes a game difficult in a good way? Challenge.

Challenge is a test of the player’s skill. Any failure feels like the player’s own fault.

I’ve talked about testing a player’s skill. That’s what a player wants as a game gets more difficult. They don’t want to grind their way through hours and hours of the same things. They want to be put into situations where they can use the skills that they have been developing, and often in new ways. Think about the mechanics of your RPG. RPGs are thinking games, for the most part.

Encourage your player to think, to use strategy. To make the most out of the mechanics in front of him. Don’t throw everything that you have at the player from the beginning. As the game goes on, present the player with a new type of problem that can be solved with the same tools that he’s been using. In a battle, in a map puzzle, the idea is the same. And as the game continues to go on, mix the problems together, and introduce more. Sure, make the enemies harder, make the puzzles more complicated, but remember to challenge the player to think.

An RPG doesn’t get more difficult when the enemies have higher HP. It might be harder, but the difficulty dwindles. If all the player has to do is grind and then he can just bash his way through the battles, then he’ll get bored quickly. Challenge the player’s mind.

The second part of my definition is, again, about blame. When the player messes up, in a good challenge, he has nobody to blame but himself.

The final level in Super Mario Galaxy 2 was hard, but rewarding—every time you died, you felt that you made a mistake and you learned something for your next try.

Now, I’m not saying that the player should be getting mad at himself—that’s easily frustrating. But instead, every death should be a learning experience for the player. He should be able to pinpoint the mistakes he made so he can improve on the next time. If a player dies, it should give him the chance to change his approach to the challenge. Maybe he’s tackling a boss from the wrong angle, and his death teaches him to try another strategy. Deaths should lead to learning.

That’s the important point: a good challenge can be overcome by the player’s ability to adapt to the situation. A good challenge encourages the player to do his best. A good challenge makes the player want to keep playing the game.

And frustration just makes him want to give up.

篇目3，Game Difficulty

by Corey Moore

Of the games I’ve played over the years, I’ve noticed something. Very rarely did I end up beating my older games, yet with more modern games I either beat them or lose interest. Of course, I’ve had many years to improve my technique and some games where I was too scared to progress don’t scare me as much today. However, I’ve gone back and played some old games and they ended up killing me. Games today are a lot more forgiving than they were back when DOS and the NES reigned supreme. Maybe it’s just me, but have you ever noticed how many people today say they’ve finished a game rather than they say they’ve beat a game?

“That’s the way it was, and we LIKED IT!”

I’ve heard a lot of descriptions of games today compared to games of back when. “Dumbed down”, “Made for ****ing casuals”, “Mainstream” and “Simplified” all come to mind. An easy game isn’t necessarily a bad game, but many gamers demand a challenge. Games quickly become boring if the player isn’t sufficiently challenged, and eventually, the player may elect for a self-imposed challenge just to spice things up.

There are several kinds of challenges that gamers like to perform, depending upon the game’s genre. Some of them include only using the default gear, getting the lowest completion percentage possible, or go through the game without taking any damage at all. Many games throughout the ages recognize players who complete the game 100% or complete the hardest difficulty, but only few recognize those challenges that fans come up with. One notable example is Shadow Complex, which has an achievement for getting the lowest percentage possible and still beating the game.

While creating a sufficiently difficult game is vital to creating a good challenge, the difficulty should still be fair. Difficulty must never come from bad game design. Sure, a game where the vital plot coupons are in obscure locations that require a series of illogical triggers to even make visible and several more to collect may definitely make a difficult game, but a good challenge it does not. All it does is force the player to wander around aimlessly, fidgeting every button at everything hoping for a reaction of some sort. Imagine if Myst didn’t provide any ingame clues as to where you are supposed to go and what you are supposed to do. Instead of being remembered as a classic, it would be remembered as an incoherent mess of a game.

In a Gamespot review of Metroid Prime 3, one of the things the reviewed marked the game down for was that the controls were too good, as if the Retro should have purposefully made the controls worse to up the challenge. There is no such thing as controls that are too good. It’s one of the prime factors that separate a good game from a bad one, and purposefully making bad game design choices is a lazy way of creating difficulty. In fact, I could easily make any game harder by smacking the player in the face every 3 seconds while yelling, “boogity-boogity-boo.” It wouldn’t be fun at all, but still challenging.

Another thing that should be avoided especially is trial-and-error game play. In a good game, the payer should be able to collect all of the knowledge needed and beat the game in one clean run. Forcing the player to play through multiple times just to find the correct path is not only an example of bad game design, but also an example of difficulty that disappears over time. Although it’s hard the first time, it becomes an absolute joke the next time. Note that this is different than simply needing practice to get through hard sections of the game. It does seem like trial and, though the end result is much more reward and even after you complete it, it still isn’t easy the next time. Some unexpectedness can keep a game interesting, but if every task is overcome by playing through over and over, there is a problem.

Dirk the Daring: Patron saint of trial-and-error gameplay and using quicktime events before it was popular.

However, for all the complaints about games becoming easier these days, there are still some modern examples of extremely hard games. One of the more famous ones is I Wanna Be the Guy. The game controls well and provides a nice throwback to the days of 8 and 16 bits, but it is also extremely difficult. On almost every screen, there is something hidden that can kill you in one hit, and it often comes from where you least expect it. Even if you know where the traps are and how the bosses move, you will still need all of your platforming, shooting and dodging skills to make it through the game. True, it relies a lot on trial and error, but it still remains hard even with prior knowledge. Another good example is Halo 3. In additional to the brutal Legendary mode, there are also hidden skulls which add even more challenges, such as having no checkpoints, no radar and enemies being able to dodge your shots.

Should all games strive for I Wanna Be the Guy-level difficulty? Certainly not, simply because that is not what every gamer wants. Some people would rather enjoy the story and others don’t want the game to be absolutely merciless. This is all perfectly fine, despite several people who would proclaim that you are playing it wrong. The main point is not to forget about the gamers who’ve already beaten your game and want a bigger challenge, but have to create their own. By providing these challenges, not only does it show a connection to the gamers who have invented them but will also add longetivity to the game.

篇目4，Understanding Difficulty

Eric Schwarz

Although we frequently have discussions about difficulty in games – is it too hard? which parts did you have trouble with? was it too easy and therefore boring? – we rarely direct our attention to the different fundamental types of difficulty which make up our experiences and colour our perceptions of the challenge a game provides. In this article, I’d like to go over a few of those most basic types of difficulty as well as the problems associated with implementing them, as well as bring out that it’s often not just the sheer challenge of a game that matters, but the nature of those challenges that matter.

Trial and Error

The first, and most obviously identifiable type of difficulty that we find in games, and by far the most common, is trial and error. Put simply, trial and error revolves around getting the player to perform a task, either through experimentation (i.e. “I don’t have anywhere to go, maybe I’ll try this”) or outward suggestion (i.e. “these are your orders, soldier, now move out!”). At least theoretically, the main difficulty this presents to the player is that the degree of challenge (types and numbers of enemies, for instance) will always be slightly higher than what the player is comfortable with, meaning that he or she will have to rise to the occasion in order to come out on top, either by trying out new tactics, by taking greater risks, or through sheer force of will and/or dumb luck.

As many of us can attest, trial and error difficulty treads a very fine line. Typically, too many failures, and players will become frustrated, while too many successes and players will feel as if the game isn’t going hard enough on them. The main issue with this, aside from basic balancing, is that different players have different thresholds for difficulty. Whereas a more casual player who’s just enjoying a game for its story will find that more than the occasional death is a turn-off, the hardcore player who plays on the “insane” setting will want to be challenged at every turn and made to work for every single victory. Ultimately a developer might run into a situation where they’re balancing not just one, but three or four versions of the same game, due to the different needs of different players.

Of course, pacing is also a chief concern by and large governed by the ebb and flow of difficulty, usually of the trial and error nature. The player needs to have portions of the game which fly by quickly and without too much issue, breaks in combat to absorb the world and feel unchallenged, and nail-biting experiences that are tense and have a feeling of urgency to these. Building these into a game when taking different gameplay preferences into consideration is a difficult process; after all, while it can be easy to balance a single encounter out to give the player the desired experience, doing so within the context of a full game is another thing entirely.

Adaptive difficulty settings are one way to get around this problem. On the most basic level, this will typically change the amount of resources (health, ammo, etc.) provided to the player, as well as the proportion of powerful versus weak items based on the player’s performance (i.e. more “full heal” pickups if the player is struggling). This feature is actually extremely common in games, either because developers want to avoid providing separate difficulty levels (a poor decision in my mind), or because players have a curious habit of selecting difficulty levels that aren’t appropriate for them (everyone has a different understanding of what “normal” should be).

Adaptive difficulty can be both explicit and hidden from plain sight. Prey, for example, has adaptive difficulty as a toggle option in the game’s options screen, and so it can be disabled based on the player’s preferences. Half-Life 2, on the other hand, while providing three difficulty settings (easy, normal and hard) also has a layer of code dedicated to analyzing the player’s progress in the game, level of resources, the ease at which certain encounters are completed, and so on; the game will then adjust the items enemies drop, the amount of resources available in breakable crates, and so on in order to make sure the player is always kept on edge by having “just enough” health and ammo to get through an encounter, but never quite enough to feel completely safe or fully-loaded. Other games will implement it in still subtler ways, like allowing the player to finish off a tough boss monster just a little bit more quickly than normal if the player’s death is imminent, creating a dynamic feeling of getting through by the skin of his or her teeth.

The biggest issue for me with adaptive difficulty is that, when left as a built-in feature that can’t be disabled, it removes control from the player’s hands.

Although I’ll usually take an entertaining and engaging experience over one that’s simply difficult for the sake of difficult, I also fully understand that some players don’t want hand-holding provided that they explicitly ask for it. Furthermore, adaptive difficulty can also lead to a feeling of predictability and sterility, without a hand-made feel to encounters (which was a major source of criticism for The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion). To this end, I feel that adaptive difficulty is best left as it is in Prey – a toggle switch in the options menu – or specific to a difficulty level, with the hardest mode taking off all assists, which mitigates the problem of too much challenge by allowing the player to rationalize it as his or her own choice (i.e. “well, I picked hardest, I should have known it would be too much for me”).

Endurance & Attrition

Another way to test the player focuses on the long term rather than the short term. All forms of endurance, at their most base level, revolve around resource management, with the player given a limited quantity of a valuable or vital item, its distribution carefully controlled. Resources are controlled in three main ways in just about every game:

1) “Random” drops. It’s quite common for enemies to part with valuables when defeated, or for the player to uncover supplies in crates, chests and so on. By tinkering with the tables that control those supplies, based on difficulty, the player’s progress, the amount of resources the player already has, and the player’s level of ability, character level, number of party members/companions, and so on, difficulty can be precisely controlled and monitored in order to provide a degree of challenge.

2) Attrition rate. Depending on the game, the rate at which a player burns through supplies can be highly variable. For instance, in a shooter, going up against a tough boss monster might not consume too much ammunition, but may consume a huge amount of health. Conversely, going up against many smaller hordes of enemies will end up with a player ill-equipped to proceed, but chances are, a healthy one. Learning to anticipate what the player needs in order to continue in the game is important. If a game uses an adaptive difficulty system, this might already be handled, but even so, careful consideration of how quickly the player goes through certain resources will lead to better encounter design and a game that feels more alive and responsive to the player’s needs. Strategically denying certain resources can be just as important as strategically providing them, too, in building tension and pacing the player’s progress.

3) Player ingenuity. Most common to role-playing games, smart players will often stock up on useful items like potions and ammunition before heading out into a difficult encounter; the duration the player can stay out in the wild before returning to stock up on supplies again is by and large controlled by the player’s prior action, as well as whatever the player might uncover during his or her outing. This is one thing that is hard to control in a game, and frankly, shouldn’t be. Keeping aware of what players can and can’t do, and building challenges around that is a good thing, as are systems, such as encumbrance and fatigue, which can provide a soft limit on how much the player can carry. However, imposing unreasonable hard limits (i.e. “you can only hold three health potions at once”) rarely feels like a fair way of managing this.

Long-term attrition may not be suitable for many games, but looking at attrition in different ways can actually reveal interesting opportunities for mechanics that may go unnoticed with a casual glance. For example, a puzzle game like Tetris has a strong element of attrition in the sense that the available space on the game board is continually shrinking based on the player’s performance, the difficulty level, and which puzzle pieces the player is provided with. On top of that, game speed is another gradually-depleting resource the player must carefully manage as things move quicker and quicker over the course of the game. There is a veritable economy of space and time in Tetris, even though there is no health bar, ammunition counter, etc. to speak of. Recognizing that attrition and endurance can exist as more than just basic physical resources will help flesh out and provide depth to existing mechanics.

“Fake” Difficulty

A subset of trial and error difficulty, what I’ll term “fake difficulty” here is something which is actually quite common in the games industry, but depends a good deal on the genre in question. Fake difficulty is a fairly broad spectrum of difficulty, but in common with all of the various permutations is the fact that they typically revolve around tricking the player or bending the rules of the game in order to provide their challenge – often causing significant frustration and annoyance for players, whether they’re keen to those tricks or not.

One of the most common forms of fake difficulty actually fits within the category of adaptive difficulty – namely, it revolves around manipulating the rules of a situation in order to provide the player with increased challenge, usually referred to as “rubber-banding”. The key difference is that while adaptive difficulty works in favour of the player (for example, you’ll find 50% more health kits if you’re low on health), fake difficulty tends to work in favour of the enemies or opponents.

However, since enemies rarely compete on fair terms with the player, and in fact tend to use an entirely different set of rules, this usually means that the bonuses given to the player’s opposition fall into the realm of super-human – increased speed beyond normal limits, temporary damage boosts, the ability to negate the player’s own abilities when normally they can’t, and so on.

A great (and persistent) example of this type of difficulty can be found in Mario Kart – in fact, the series is somewhat infamous for it. While the goal of the game’s rubber-banding is to provide a tense and exciting experience for the player, making sure that each race is as close a finish as possible, and that enemies are able to always keep players on their toes, in the long run, or for more experienced players, this form of difficulty tends to only breed contempt. While the illusion created is often enough to fool players who are of a lower skill level, as the effects are much more subtle and can often work in the player’s favour, when that same system is put up against players who are able to make a mockery of even the high difficulty levels, the computer is forced to go to incredible levels to try and keep up with the player, to the point of blatant cheating, gaining items and abilities far in excess of the player, and even defying the laws of physics (or whatever analogue exists in the Mushroom Kingdom).

Another form of fake difficulty that rears its head is that of the false challenge. In the false challenge, the player is typically asked to perform a standard feat – defeat some enemies, race to the finish in the allotted time, etc. However, what starts out as a relatively routine task quickly turns out to be an extreme test of reflexes and ability, as the player is beset with all manner of unpredictable obstacles, traps and powerful enemies. The key thing is that in all of these situations, the player is caught off guard, and unable to sufficiently prepare. Usually, this results in a quick and frustrating death, as the player likely felt he or she was successful up until that point. Worst, usually, the only way to surmount this type of challenge is to try it again, often from the very beginning of the sequence, armed with the foreknowledge of the hidden challenge ahead. When these are compounded one after the other, it can lead to rage-inducing moments for the player.

One game series which is notorious for this is Grand Theft Auto. While the game’s mission-based structure suggests that the challenges faced are relatively self-contained and straightforward, it’s very common for the games to prey on the player’s expectations in the worst way possible. One example from Grand Theft Auto: Vice City I frequently cite is a race sequence where the player has to reach a number of checkpoints in a set time. No big deal, right? That would be the case, if it wasn’t for the fact that other cars, trucks etc. are scripted to pull out around difficult corners and immediately as the player passes by at full speed – the player is almost guaranteed to hit these cars and ruin his or her attempt outright, unless he or she is able to slow down and let them pass instead. This just doesn’t happen once, but close to five or six times throughout the race, meaning that even if the player does everything right, there’s still a huge statistical probability that he or she will fail anyway, solely due to the designers pulling a fast one. A similar occurrence can be found in Max Payne, where enemies are scripted to throw grenades at the player at certain triggers, and these are literally impossible to avoid without prior knowledge.

Suffice is to say, fake difficulty, no matter the variety, isn’t fun for players, even if it’s built into the game with the best of intentions. Although often the goal is to provide an unpredictable or challenging experience regardless of the player’s skill level, more often than not it just comes across as mean-spirited, and at worst, can completely turn a player away from the game by rendering attempts at competition null and void. Unlike most forms of difficulty, this type is actually best avoided altogether, unless your goal is to make players hate your guts.

Random Number Gods

Although this is typically a type of difficulty reserved for strategy and role-playing games, random mechanics do exist in a wide variety of genres, whether they manifest in terms of how enemies behave in combat, the spread and accuracy of weapons, or whether or not the player is able to sneak by a foe successfully.

I’ve occasionally seen mechanics based on random elements derided by people, claiming that it takes away from the skill of the player to hinge success upon unpredictable odds. The key thing to understand about building difficulty out of a random number generator is that challenge is not substituted for “luck”, as some might claim. Rather, difficulty arises as the player is forced to respond intelligently to new developments that aren’t entirely predictable – it is the culmination of actions over a period of time that are important, not the individual actions themselves. Unlike trial and error, which typically tests reflexes and coordination, systems built on random elements test the player’s ability to respond to change and to cope with new situations.

As mentioned above, it’s also important to mention that random elements are often a staple in all types of games, regardless of whether or not difficulty is provided by trial and error, by manipulation of odds, or, ahem, fake difficulty. Driving a car in a racing simulation, for instance, there’s bound to be some random effect in the vehicle’s handling, or on varying types of terrain, even if it’s only a small piece of the overall picture. There is absolutely nothing wrong with this, because usually player skill is able to account for random elements anyway. More to the point, random doesn’t necessarily mean unpredictable – it just means that there can be a certain degree of noise or interference in playing the game, to prevent things from playing out exactly the same way every single time. Otherwise, when playing Tetris, we’d see the same blocks always become available in the same order, and that wouldn’t be nearly as fun to play, as the game itself is based wholly around bringing a degree of order to that randomness.

Unfortunately, building systems out of random number generators, particularly in role-playing games and strategy games, it’s easy to fall prey to a problem – not in the mechanics themselves, mind, but in the player’s perceptions and understandings of them. This usually manifests as what’s commonly called the gambler’s fallacy.

The simplest example is a coin flip. Even though a coin only ever has a 50/50 chance of landing heads or tails (assuming it’s a fair toss), we tend to assume that the 50/50 probability applies to all instances of the event in sequence, rather than the isolated event. In other words, we form a narrative as we flip that coin over and over again, perceiving each coin toss not as a single incident, but part of a larger whole – and as such, we also tend to assume that prior events have an influence on future events, or, put simply, that the more the coin lands heads, the greater the chances we think it has of landing tails.

In gaming terms, this can be described in the context of a turn-based role-playing game. A skill might have a 70% chance of success when used, yet we become frustrated when, turn after turn, the skill misses and we end up wasting both our time and resources trying to rectify the problem. What just happened? Surely, the game is fudging the numbers! Well, no, not really. We assume that, because the skill has a 70% chance of working, it should (or will) succeed seven out of ten times, like clockwork. This is, of course, not at all the case, as each individual attempt has the same odds as the last, and therefore, it’s possible to chalk up a huge string of losses despite what should be good odds.

There’s no easy solution for this problem, because you aren’t battling the numbers, you’re battling player expectations. Many developers actually get around this problem by instituting measures to make sure that random odds are, in fact, more predictable. For instance, if I have that 70% chance of success, I might program a clause into the game where it’s impossible to miss more than one time in a row – even if ultimately the math is completely off. That’s right, often, the random odds most players feel they rely on aren’t actually random at all, but instead manipulated to fulfill the expectations players have. The irony of all this is that usually the player only ever notices that there’s a “problem” if the math is correct in the first place. Obviously this is a controversial decision, and not everyone will agree with it one way or the other, but in the end it’s probably better to fulfill player expectations than it is for those same players to wind up frustrated over what they feel are unfair and incorrect odds.

Presentation is Everything

The header here might draw some ire, but I think that this is a lesson that is very much unsaid when designing games, and yet at the same time one of the most important to learn. Difficulty, as I’ve outlined, comes in many flavours and is highly subjective – however, it is also important to recognize that the way difficulty is presented to the player is also just as, if not more important. Similar to the gambler’s fallacy, sometimes it’s not a particular mechanic that’s the problem, it’s the way that players perceive it that’s at fault.

Let’s take a recent example in Dead Money, the Fallout: New Vegas DLC add-on. The game came under attack from both players and press alike for what they perceived as a steep difficulty curve. In Dead Money, the normal endless freedom of Fallout gives way to slavery, as the player is thrust into a very specific and mostly linear path through the game by way of a bomb collar, which will instantly kill the player if he or she strays too far for the beaten path. Many of the challenges in the game rely on destroying the radio transmitters that broadcast the detonation frequency, which are often hidden underneath tables, inside closets, or are otherwise difficult to reach. The goal in this situation is to create tension for the player as he or she desperately rushes to find the radio transmitter before his or her head is explosively removed.

It’s pretty clear, from an outsider’s perspective, to see why this mechanic would be frustrating to players. The bomb collar produces a high-pitched, persistent beeping when under threat of detonation, which players quickly learn to avoid like the plague, for one. There’s also something particularly demeaning about being enslaved in such a way by the antagonist. Other games that do this typically do so in such a way as so that the player regains his or her freedom quickly – while it’s a good way to breed contempt for the villain, draw it out too long and that contempt falls onto the game developer instead. Last, this kind of enforced limitation goes against what most players take the newer Fallout games for, namely, open-ended role-playing games with a variety of solutions for every situation; in Dead Money, frequently there is only one solution, and it’s often the one players aren’t happy with.

However, the problem with Dead Money isn’t the mechanic itself. Analyzed at a basic level, all it is a simple race against time to remove an environmental threat – turn off the switch before you die. The bomb collar mechanic, while effective in terms of the storyline, could have been replaced with any number of similar mechanics and still would have been just as effective. More importantly, it wouldn’t have been nearly as frustrating to players. For example, radiation and toxic hazards are extremely common in the Fallout world – why, then, didn’t Obsidian choose to instead implement the same threat in the form of radiation and, say, vents to clear it up? Interestingly, this variation actually exists in Dead Money, but is used to a much lesser degree. Had the bomb collar been replaced with a game mechanic which was functionally identical, but less at odds with Fallout’s design tenets, I think there would have been far fewer complaints about the game’s difficulty, because in that case, the challenge would have been perceived by players as fitting far better into Fallout’s world, and less limiting overall – after all, if it’s just radiation or acid blocking your way, that’s a much more incidental threat than the villain’s scheming, which if anything comes across as deliberate griefing.

Looking around, I think you’ll find more and more examples of perception of difficulty being a bigger problem than the difficulty itself. I can already think of a few off the top of my head – the jarring and repetitive taunts made by the bosses in Deus Ex: Human Revolution, for instance, are extremely grating on the nerves even if the boss fights themselves aren’t overly challenging with a little preparation. Usually, in fact, associating a character with a given type of difficulty (say, Boswer and his castles in Super Mario Bros.) can quickly cause players to become frustrated and annoyed in situations when that character is either already rather annoying, or when the game mechanics themselves aren’t enjoyable – it gives people a face to yell at.

Conclusion

This analysis, while far from complete, should have given a pretty good overview not only of a few different types of difficulty, but it should also have made understanding why people get upset at different types of games, different scenarios, and different sorts of difficulty a bit clearer. Creating and fine-tuning difficulty is always an ongoing process, and it’s extremely difficult to get it right for all players. Even so, hopefully this piece has shed some light on exactly why that is, and what steps can be taken at a more fundamental design level, in order to ensure that your game is fun to play, and challenging, without being frustrating as well.