Awesome Kansai Game Developers

I had a very long, but very awesome day yesterday. I had some business in Osaka so I left my house in Yokohama early, hopped on a bullet train, and was in Osaka by 10:30 AM. I lived in the Kansai area (Osaka and Kyoto–I was in Kyoto) more than ten years ago as a college student, but I haven’t had many opportunities to go back since then. Since I needed to be in the area anyway, I called up some of the cool game developers I know in Osaka and asked them if they’d have time to meet (well, I “called them up” by sending them e-mail; I wonder if younger kids even say that any more).

So at 11:30 I met SWERY for lunch at his offices near Shinsaibashi. He, along with another designer and the head of production, took me out to a nice tonkatsu place, and we had a pretty fascinating conversation. Couple of tidbits that I thought were particularly interesting about Deadly Premonition: the original design was much less combat-oriented, and though there was some shooting, it was originally spec’d as a way to fight local gang members. Part-way through development the shooting sections were added specifically as a way to increase the appeal to Western audiences. Also, SWERY mentioned that they started with the characters long before they had a story. The characters were designed, and they took a trip to Oregon and Washington, and then later the story grew out. Perhaps that’s why the characters are so strong in that game. The game wasn’t originally designed to be horror: it sort of turned out that way after some of the other elements, such as the shooting, fell into place. We talked about a few other games as well; SWERY played Nanashi no Geemu, but was too scared to finish it (“I was worried that I might really end up cursed!”).

After parting ways, I hopped on a train and shot down to Kyoto to meet Pixel, the lone artist, programmer, musician, and designer behind Cave Story, which was a pretty big influence for me when I built Replica Island. We had an interesting discussion about the common soullessness of modern games (“Art and graphics are great and all, but I think it would be ok if there was a story too,” he said), and the way that platforms like the iPhone have created a new market for non-pro games, but are still home to a lot of mediocre stuff. Turns out he’s a big horror game fan too, though he says that most of the games he’s enjoyed as a viewer rather than a player.

From there I hopped in a taxi and made a short trip over to another part of Kyoto, where I met Dylan Cuthbert of Q-Games (PixelJunk, etc) for dinner. I’ve known Dylan for a while and it was cool to hang out again.

Finally I caught the last bullet train back to Yokohama at 9:30 and made it home just after midnight. Whew. What an awesome day!

Is Alan Wake awake?

A few weeks ago I completed Alan Wake, and I’ve just now gotten around to posting a review. It’s a good game, though it doesn’t try very hard to be scary and it’s a little conflicted about how it wants you to play, there’s really a lot to like. I was particularly interested in the story, dialog, and characters; I can’t wait to see what Remedy does with this series in the future.

A week and a half ago I was at Tokyo Game Show. I’ll don’t have a whole lot to say about it, other than I saw The Third Birthday running (finally!) and I met SWERY, which was pretty awesome. It was not a great year for horror games, though I think that the show was generally better than it was last year. I’ll write up a post about it.

Oh, and Game Developer magazine this month (September) has an article I wrote about my Android game. Check it out if you get the chance.

Do you want me to explore or not?

I’m most of the way through Alan Wake now (at least, I think I am–it’s not supposed to be very long) and so far I’m enjoying it. It’s very different than the Japanese horror games that make up the bulk of this site, and it’s a very nice change of pace. I’ll write more about Alan Wake when I finish it, but for now I want to talk about one specific problem that the game has. This isn’t by any means specific to Alan Wake, but since that’s what I’m playing right now, I’m going to use it as the basis for this post.

Alan Wake, like many other games, rewards the player for exploring areas off the beaten path. Specifically, if you look around a bit, you can find items and certain collectables (coffee thermoses, presumably to keep the protagonist “A. Wake”, and manuscript pages, which add texture and context to the game’s events, and often give you hints about upcoming encounters). The coffee thermoses are not really valuable–they probably lead to some achievements or something, but have no other in-game use. The manuscript pages, on the other hand, are totally key to the experience. It’s the manuscript that fills in the story, keeps the player interested, and prevents the game from devolving into one gun battle in a dark forest after another. This kind of game hangs its game play on its story and context (another “interestingness” example), and regardless of the quality of the story, the detail provided by the manuscripts equates to a much more interesting game. Those manuscript pages are high value, and I find myself going out of my way to find them.

But therein lies the problem. Wake is constantly in a hurry. He never has any time, and the events occurring around him are always just a few inches away from taking his life. It’s a little hard to believe that he’d stop in an old barn and ransack the place for five minutes to try to find a mysterious glowing page or coffee thermos. And yet, to collect these items, that’s exactly what you have to do: rather than playing the character, you have to treat the game like a system, try to second-guess the level designers, and always avoid the main path to the next checkpoint. Wake will say, “I had to get there as quickly as possible,” and the game will present you with a straight shot to “there,” but instead of just running down that strip like we would expect this character to do, Wake (per your command) spends his time running around the edges of the area, trying to jump over boxes and stuff, and generally acting drunk. Eventually he makes it there, but not until every square foot of the navigable space is covered.

Manuscript pages are intended to deepen the story context and give meaning to the game play sections, but instead they cheapen the experience; though their content is interesting, the work you need to do to find them is so out of character that it destroys a lot of the work the pages themselves are trying to do. Wake doesn’t just get in the car and drive to the destination, he stops every 10 feet to get out and look around for no reason. The game ceases to be about Wake’s search for his missing wife, or the darkness that seems to plague him at every turn, and starts turning into a min-max problem where we need to figure out where the most likely hiding spots for extra items are and then traverse there.

And in Alan Wake’s case, this is particularly detrimental because the game suggests that Wake’s actions are pre-determined, and that his will is not free. So now we’re supposed to believe that some guiding force wanted him to run around in circles like a maniac? It doesn’t fit.

This is a common problem in this kind of game, but I think that in Wake’s case, the game play and story, though inter-dependent on each other, are also in conflict. That kind of sucks, because the game play is pretty good and I like the story too. Both are now slightly reduced in quality because they don’t mesh as well as they should.

Deadly Premonition Thoughts Part 4: The Otherworld

This is the fourth (and final) post in a series of posts about Deadly Premonition. You should read the first, second, and third entries first.

THE OTHERWORLD

I really like how Deadly Premonition deals with the Otherworld, a label I am borrowing from the Silent Hill series to describe an alternate reality, infested with zombies and other malicious creatures, that mimics the look and layout of the real world but seems decrepit and decayed. In Silent Hill, the Otherworld is often a form of narrative beat, a way for the characters to pass into a yet-scarier version of the game, a way for the designers to ratchet the tension up another notch (or, in some cases, two or three notches, all at once). Deadly Premonition uses the same sort of game mode a different way: to separate straightforward reality from the world of hidden connections and meaning. Agent York’s descent into each Otherworld is more like a descent into the unconscious mind, where he’s able to find links between things that are not obvious in the real world. This is how York performs his investigation, by finding bits and pieces of seemingly unrelated clues and then linking them together in a way that makes the picture clear. He does this in his dreams, and sometimes the middle of a normal day. But in the Otherworld, York has the ability to physically explore this space. He calls the method “profiling.”

The Otherworld is not a safe place, however. Though York is able to use this nether region to draw conclusions from uncommon sources, he also makes himself vulnerable to the malicious entities that reside in that space. Perhaps, if we see the Otherworld strictly as York’s unconscious mind, we might conclude that these entities are of his own creation, based on what he knows about the case. I think it’s more likely that York is visiting a physical space, a sort of distorted mirror of the real world, where evil takes a different, more substantial

This chase mode? Genius. Annoying, but genius.

form. This interpretation is reinforced late in the game, when other characters enter the Otherworld as well.

In terms of pure game mechanics, the Otherworld gives the designers a way to cleanly break between the open world and a more traditional indoor level design. This is a great place for zombies, gun combat, and exploration, which are all hard to do in an open world setting. The decision to switch not only game modes but also thematic modes when entering the Otherworld is, I think, pretty smart.

Deadly Premonition also uses the Otherworld to do something that is rare in video games: subtle foreshadowing. The game is the best example of foreshadowing that I’ve seen in quite a long time. One of the genius parts of Deadly Premonition is its use of color; the palette of the game slowly changes as Agent York gets deeper and deeper into the Otherworld, until finally the game simply smears a bright red haze over the entire frame. Silent Hill 2 used color to foreshadow, as did Condemned. But there are very, very few games that can make such a claim, and Deadly Premonition does it very well. Foreshadowing extends to level geometry as well; there’s a particular section near the end of the game in which the player must climb an incredibly long staircase (sort of the reverse of Silent Hill 2 and 4’s impossibly long staircases), all while very specific, crazy music plays in the background. The effect is pretty dramatic; the level of tension as the player reaches the door at the top of the stairs is very high.

FINISH IT UP, ZACH

This has been a long, unorganized stream of consciousness about a weird, delightful, scary game. If you couldn’t tell, there’s a lot of food for thought in Deadly Premonition, which I think is a mark of high quality. Though many reviewers may have been turned off by a lack of superficial polish, I think that Deadly Premonition is one of the best games I’ve played in a long time. It’s absolutely worth playing, thinking about, investigating, and examining. It is a rare gem.

Deadly Premonition Thoughts Part 3: Problems, Real and Imagined

This is part three of a series of posts about Deadly Premonition. You should read part 1 and part 2 first.

PROBLEMS, REAL AND IMAGINED

Most of the technical issues with Deadly Premonition are not true problems, just systems that seem to be too simple compared to the modern state of the art. The textures and animation, for example, are pretty low quality. The aiming system is unwieldy, and for some infuriating reason the targeting reticle vanishes once you start to fire. The collision detection is pretty strict and angular. The movement of the enemies makes for challenging gameplay until a certain weapon is acquired, after which the combat is trivially easy (with the exception of one truly annoying enemy that took me five minutes to kill each time). The camera seems jumpy because it always aligns itself with the angle of the floor. These are the sorts of technical issues that crop up in Deadly Premonition; not really bugs so much as areas lacking in the polish we’ve come to expect from modern games. There’s nothing here that really gets in the way of the game play either–no fatal flaws or deal-breaking mechanics. Just technical roughness.

There is, however, a real problem that is worth mentioning. Deadly Premonition swings wildly between closed-off linear game play modes and open world, free form modes. Both are interesting in their own right, but the free form mode in particular has a lot of fascinating features, specifically, the way it manages time. The town of Greenvale is tied to a clock that controls when stores open, how characters move around, when the sun rises and sets, and there’s a huge amount of content here. You can sneak up to a character’s house and look in the window to see what they are up to at any given time. If they are home, they’ll be moving around, doing chores or watching TV. The town feels alive.

But the progression between these two modes is unpredictable. Most of the game is fixed and linear (though sometimes occurring within the open world), but at a few points the player finds himself with no immediate goal and is free to explore. The timing and frequency of these undirected sections is off. The first open world segment appears early in the game, before the player has had a change to grasp how the whole time-of-day system works yet. The player must be at a certain location at a certain time, and indeed, can choose to simply sleep in the hotel until that time approaches if they wish. I think most players are excited to get out and drive around.

Only, there’s not much to do at first; many of the shops open at odd times, and time in the open world mode progresses extremely slowly. Shenmue had a similar system and users complained enough that in Shenmue 2 they added a way for the player to accelerate time while they wait for a specific appointment. This first open world section seems to go on forever–I spent several hours of play driving around the city, running errands, finding items, and talking to characters. There are a few side missions that you can accomplish, but there’s no way to get anywhere close to beating all of them in this early section. Instead, the mode seems to drag on until finally, thankfully, the meeting time approaches and you can get on with the story. And as it turns out, that moment is the only time in the game where the player is given such freedom; every other open world segment is tied to a specific goal, or a short time limit. After spending so much time in the open world mode, I wasn’t excited to go back to it–I wanted to see the story progress, find the killer of the beautiful young girl. When I had a chance to do open world stuff again, I instead opted to beeline for the next obvious goal so that i could see what was going to happen next. Nothing forced me to do this, but since everything is tied to a clock, missing the next deadline would mean a whole ‘nother 24 hour cycle in the open world. That didn’t seem acceptable to me–I was hot on the trail of a serial killer and goddamn it, I’m going to catch him. There was just no time to waste.

I think that the long initial open world section, combined with the subsequent velocity of the plot, sucks a lot of the life out of Deadly Premonition’s dual mode design. I probably only experienced 1/5th of the total content available in the game (though it still took me close to 25 hours to complete) because I was more interested in advancing the story than driving around completing side missions. Perhaps that was the goal–to allow me to select the type of game play mode that I prefer–but it was still annoying.

But that’s the only real complaint I have with Deadly Premonition. The technical flaws were not a problem for me (though I do have a bone or two to pick with the aiming system and instant-failure quick timer events), and the rest of the content was so good that other minor flaws are easy to forgive. And really, when discussing the mechanical parts of the game design, Deadly Premonition gets much more right than it gets wrong.

Next time: Part 4: Deadly Premonition’s Otherworld and Wrap Up

Deadly Premonition Thoughts Part 2: Three Key Successes

This is part two of a series of articles about Deadly Premonition. You should read Part 1 first.

THREE KEY SUCCESSES

The August 2010 issue of Game Developer magazine has a lengthy post-mortem review of Deadly Premonition, written by SWERY (the game’s director) and several other staff of Access Games. The developers select five areas in which they feel Deadly Premonition was most successful: character building, story and world building, distinctive music, casting and voiceover work, and the team’s hardcore passion for the title. I think this is an extremely honest review (the “what went wrong” section is all about the technical aspects of the game that didn’t work out very well, which I mentioned at the start), and I agree with the developer’s selections. In particular, I think that they have hit the nail on the head by naming characters, story and world, and music as the three most important elements of Deadly Premonition.

Deadly Premonition is a mystery, and it revolves around its characters. The central character, Agent York, is highly eccentric; his eccentricity makes him a fun character to play, and gives the story a reason to exist. His approach is unwaveringly serious, whether he is describing the mechanics of the relationship between Tom and Jerry (yes, the cartoon) or inspecting the teeth of a corpse. He’s constantly smoking, something we rarely see in heros today, but for York smoking is a kind of meditation.

One of the key elements of this game that propels it to such absolute quality is the way that York’s character is delivered to the player in the game. York talks to himself constantly, and these conversations serve to reveal much depth in his personality. Even better, the conversations appear to be with the player himself; York addresses you, the person holding the controller, in a way that few games have ever attempted (Metal Gear Solid 2 is the only somewhat similar title that I can think of). These moments of dialog are fantastic, but I particularly enjoyed the discussions York has with Zach (the name he uses to address the player, and eventually an important character himself) while driving. Greenvale is a large area, spread out over a five mile region, and it takes a while to drive around. While in the car, York speaks to the player about his past, his relationships with other characters, and old movies. Few games, let alone open world games, are able to work this much dialog in without stopping for cutscenes; according to the developers, York has over 3000 lines of dialog in Deadly Premonition, accounting for half of the total dialog in the game. Other games have used dialog this way before: Bioshock used reams of dialog to teach the player about key characters and the surrounding world, and Silent Hill 3’s world descriptions are all written in Heather’s voice, teaching us much about her personality. But Deadly Premonition does it better than those games. By the end of the game we feel not only great empathy for York and some of the other characters, but also that we understand his eccentric personality.

I also enjoyed the story in Deadly Premonition. Unlike another game I played recently, Deadly Premonition kept me guessing as to the real identity of the Raincoat Killer (though I did suss another, more important antagonist very early in the game). The story is interesting, and well told. It revolves around Agent York himself, and becomes intensely personal in its final act. It’s a fairly complicated tale, and one that requires a few stretches of the imagination, but it’s pretty interesting. And that’s the point.

The third success named by the developers is music, and I wholeheartedly agree. The soundtrack for Deadly Premonition goes with its content very well. Remembering that this game is directly descended from Twin Peaks, there are a few tracks that are clearly designed to fill the same ominous-yet-strangely-uplifting role that is filled by that show’s main title theme. There’s a lot of acoustic guitar, piano, jazz sax, and humming in the musical landscape–not what you might expect from a horror game. My favorite track has to be the Red Tree theme, which includes a “lunatic improvisational section” to describe the madness that grips the Raincoat Killer’s subconscious. It fits right into freaky Red Rooms, angel twins, old men in wheelchairs and gas masks, and all of the other uncanny imagery that the game throws at you.

Next time: Part 3: Problems, real and imagined.

Deadly Premonition Thoughts Part 1: The Uncanny

I’ve been quiet for a while. I can legitimately blame this on work, and travel, and more work, but there is also another reason: Deadly Premonition took me a while to beat, and it’s taken me even longer to start to wrap my head around. I have a lot to say about Deadly Premonition, but rather than simply post a mega-review, I’m going to split my thoughts up into a few news posts (which I’ll collect at the end for the Deadly Premonition page itself).

This isn’t really a review as much as a stream of consciousness; the game pushes a lot of buttons and rather than trying to enumerate them all, I think I’ll just meditate on the game a bit. That seems like the correct way to approach this particular game.

Before I get started, let me give a short mini-review for folks who don’t care what games mean. Deadly Premonition is Twin Peaks, in game form, as seen through Japanese eyes. Though wacky, it’s fairly low-tech; some of the mechanics are extremely rough, the game play systems feel at least a generation old, and it’s not going to win any awards for prettiness. But what Deadly Premonition lacks in technical polish it more than makes up for in storytelling, characters, and most importantly, its integration of game design and visual presentation. It’s worth playing for any of those pieces, and in combination the game is fascinating. Deadly Premonition is to Resident Evil 5 what Tetsuo the Iron Man is to Terminator 2. If you have any interest in games that experiment with story telling and mechanics, Deadly Premonition is more than worth your time.

THE UNCANNY

The internet, particularly one specific blog about games, has made a big deal out of the ridiculousness of Deadly Premonition. The music doesn’t match the scenes, the characters and dialog are often nonsensical, and the whole thing has a decidedly strange sense of humor. It’s very easy to write this strangeness off as normal “Japanese insanity,” and in truth, there are a few aspects of the game that seem strange because of culture clash. But I think that chalking Deadly Premonition’s strangeness up to the cultural divide is a vast oversimplification; classifying it as weird just because it came from a foreign country does the game, and its designers, a disservice. Deadly Premonition is weird, but the odd, off-beat rhythm that it follows–something Freud calls ‘the uncanny’— is entirely intentional.

The way to think about Deadly Premonition is to consider it the game version of Twin Peaks, the fantastic TV show by David Lynch and Mark Frost. I went back and watched Twin Peaks while playing Deadly Premonition, and the similarities are unarguable; some characters and scenes have been directly lifted from the seminal show for use in this game. At one point I was having trouble remembering which events were unique to the game and which had occurred in the show’s plot as well. Replace the Log Lady with the Pot Lady, substitute the town of Greenvale for Twin Peaks itself, and insert Agent Francis ‘York’ Morgan in the role of Agent Dale Cooper, and you have created Deadly Premonition out of Twin Peaks. To say that one is influenced by the other is an understatement; though the stories do branch and change, for most intents and purposes, Deadly Premonition is Twin Peaks. The game even opens after each reload with a video summarizing recent events, mimicking the way Twin Peaks and other shows open with a short summary of the previous episode.

Both Twin Peaks and Deadly Premonition star FBI agents who use unconventional means to locate their suspects. Agent Cooper throws rocks at a milk bottle while Agent York goes fishing for missing files. They both have a love of food, particularly coffee, and they both speak with a timbre that we, and the other characters in the game, find strange. Both are visiting rural American towns from the big city, both are investigating the murder of a young woman with a double life, and both are outsiders. They both use dreams to guide them, and find significance in bits of evidence that appears inconsequential to the police. Agent Cooper notices a picture of a suspect on a particular magazine page and Agent York gathers clues by reading words out of his morning coffee.

It is within this context that Deadly Premonition must be understood. The game is not a carbon copy of Twin Peaks, but it’s a very close relative, like The Magnificent Seven is to Seven Samurai.

And within the context of Twin Peaks, Deadly Premonition’s strangeness doesn’t seem so out of place. Twin Peaks itself is very strange; there is much that goes unexplained, so many scenes that leave the viewer feeling more confused than ever. This is, after all, a production involving David Lynch, a director who’s never been particularly interested in handing the answers to his audience on a silver platter. No, the strangeness in Deadly Premonition is mostly intentional, as it is in Twin Peaks. Agent York sort of acts like a lunatic because that’s the sort of personality required to resolve the mystery with which he is tasked. Agent Cooper is able to track his ghostly killer because he is able to follow a path that leads away from the rational world and yet eventually arrives at the correct result. Deadly Premonition may be strange, but it’s strange for a reason, and that reason has a lot more to do with its story than just being from Japan.

That said, the sort of unbalanced, off-kilter, uncanny feeling that Deadly Premonition promotes is indeed at least partially the result of culture shock. As I’ve written here many times before, culture shock is an asset to horror because it makes us feel like we’ve lost control. Deadly Premonition does this intentionally as well, but as with many other Japanese games, its very foreignness helps it scare us. The town of Greenvale itself is perhaps the most obvious example of this effect. The town looks like a rural American town in the Pacific Northwest; it has been painstakingly reproduced in digital form by the developers, who visited parts of Oregon and Washington to do location research during Deadly Premonition’s development. As diligently as it’s been recreated, Greenvale feels, to my American eyes (and as somebody who grew up in Oregon), a little like something out of The Twilight Zone. It reminds me of Santa Destroy from No More Heros, another game by Japanese developers that attempts to recreate an American town (though that one appears to be in Southern California). Little things here and there are wrong; for example, not only does each street in Greenvale have a name, the street names change every block. Most streets in Japan do not have names, so perhaps the designers at Access Games misunderstood how street names are used in the US. Or perhaps it was intentional. So much is intentionally odd in this game that it’s hard to tell. Whatever the rationale, the result is that Deadly Premonition can be more engaging and upsetting than it has any right to be.

Next time: Part 2: Three Key Successes

Interestingness Increasing

I’m writing this post from a hotel room in central London. I’m visiting the UK in order to attend the Develop Conference, a Europe-centric conference for game developers. Yesterday I took the train south to Brighton for the first day of the conference, a special day focused on mobile developers, and gave a talk to a sparse audience about my Android game, Replica Island. This is the third big conference I’ve spoken at this year; last year I did about twelve different events, which, thinking back on it now is fairly crazy.

My talk yesterday differed a bit from my normal pitch. I usually spend a lot of time telling game developers how to get the most out of Android phones. While there was a little bit of that in this talk, I decided to spend most of my time talking about my particular game development experience. What went right, what went wrong, what I intended to do and what I learned in the process, that kind of thing.

Something weird happened while I was designing the slides for this talk: though my intention to was speak about how side-scrollers might be successful on a phone, I kept coming back to design ideas that originally clawed their way into my consciousness via horror games. I often reference Jonathan Blow’s point about ‘interestingness’ in my talks; this is the idea that a good game design is one that keeps the player interested any way that it can, be that via interesting game mechanics or art style or narrative or music or whatever. Blow warns that pursuing innovation for the sake of innovation is “misguided” because innovation isn’t always interesting. That idea was certainly instructive in my design of Replica Island: I explicitly chose to base my design on tried-and-true mechanics and then increase the “interestingness” of the game through other means. But it occurred to me while preparing for this talk that the real proof of Blow’s point can be readily found in horror games, and that my approach to making my cute retro side scroller more fun was clearly influenced by common horror game patterns.

For example, take a game like Rule of Rose. I feel pretty much the same way about Rule of Rose now as I did back in 2007: it’s terrible. It’s got fantastic art and an interesting story line, and I dug the music at first, but the game itself is basically unplayable: the collision detection doesn’t work, combat doesn’t work, the dog mechanic doesn’t work; I finally quit playing it because I got stuck in a section where I cannot progress and yet I cannot go back. The game is broken.

And yet, and yet, Rule of Rose has a pretty major following. It has its own high-quality fan site that, by the way, is still being updated here in 2010. Every time I post an angry rant about this game, a couple of hardcore fans come out of the woodwork to tell me to give it another chance (I expect the same result from this post, and it’s not even really about Rule of Rose). Clearly some people didn’t just complete this game, they really enjoyed it.

Rule of Rose is, I think, an excellent proof of Blow’s interestingness idea: though I didn’t get hooked myself, a lot of folks were so in love with the art, the style, the characters, and especially the narrative that they were willing to forgive and ignore absolutely egregious design and implementation failures. There are lots of other mediocre games that have better mechanics but duller story lines (like, say, Cold Fear or Carrier, just to name two), but nobody makes fan sites for those games. It’s not just that those titles are mediocre, it’s that they simply aren’t interesting enough.

When I went about designing Replica Island, I did it the way I expect horror games do it: narrative first. I wrote an outline to the story, decided it wasn’t interesting enough, and then reassembled it as an out-of-order mixture of past events (“memories” in the game) and present day. This narrative structure ended up defining the level progression and pacing for the game. I added a lot of dialog, and I tried to make my characters have a little more depth than the average side-scroller. Taking a page out of the book of traditional horror design, I added snippets of an old diary to each level, each revealing slightly more about the author than the last. I tried to make the narrative interesting first and foremost, though at the same time I worked to ensure that the narrative could be entirely skipped by players who just want to crush enemies. Once that foundation was in place, I spent the rest of my time actually making the game–getting the mechanics right and tuning the levels and doing all the super-important mechanical stuff that makes up most of the moment-to-moment gameplay experience. Ideally, my game should be rock solid without any narrative; just in case it isn’t, or to keep players who aren’t really partial to side-scrollers playing, I tried to use narrative as a way to increase the interestingness of my game. This is, thinking about it now, a throughly Survival Horror approach to game design.

It’s hard to tell how effective I was at actually making a fun game, or if the focus on narrative helped. The user reviews have been pretty good, but there’s no obvious preference exhibited by commenters on Android Market (comments about the narrative seem to fall into “great story” and “tl;dr” categories with equal frequency). I’m certain that the art quality and style (courtesy of my good friend Genki) had at least as much to do with positive reviews as the narrative. And though I messed up the mechanics in a couple of places, the game seems to be generally fun for people to play. I’m quite proud that it’s one of the most-played games I’ve ever worked on.

Standing up on the stage in Brighton yesterday, I struggled a bit to convey this line of thinking to the audience. I mentioned the focus on narrative being a side-effect of my horror research, but I don’t think this was a particularly salient part of the lecture (though I did notice a few raised eyebrows). But thinking about it later, it occurred to me that I probably couldn’t have made a cute retro side scroller for a mobile phone if I hadn’t had horror games in my back pocket as a reference. That’s evidence that the thesis of this site–that the traits of horror games might be applicable to other genres–might be true. That’s pretty cool.

Horror you can buy for ¥980


How can this possibly go wrong?

¥980 is about $10 right now. That is to say, it’s not very much money. It’s particularly cheap for a DVD containing “over 120 minutes of astonishing horror footage.” And yet, that’s exactly what 本当にあった 恐怖の心霊・都市伝説DVD BOX (“Absolutely Real Scary Ghosts and Urban Legends DVD BOX”) offers at that price.

I was more than a little skeptical. I mean, the price point was the first warning sign. The second was that I found this cinematic tour de force in my local Family Mart, of all places, stuffed in-between the weekly women’s magazines and ¥100 onigiri. Family Mart does not sell horror, you know. They’re mostly focused on essentials like potato chips, coke drinks, extra batteries, and umbrellas. A giant box proclaiming to have “real footage so scary you can’t shut your eyes” was a bit conspicuous.

But, I mean, for ¥980, I figured what the hell. Worst (and most likely) case, it’s terrible and I can laugh at it. And maybe, just maybe, there’ll be a gem hiding in those 120 minutes. At 8 yen per minute, you can’t really go wrong. Heck, if I bought this thing off Amazon I’d have to pay for shipping. So I bought it.

This is not the first time I have done this. A couple of years ago I came home with a set of DVDs called Tales of Terror from Tokyo, which sounded terrible and, based on the packaging and box notes, looked like complete schlock. I was pleasantly surprised by Tales of Terror; it turned out that small, 5 minute episodes were a pretty good format and that a couple of the directors involved with the series had produced some pretty neat stuff. I like the idea that a director has a very short amount of time, and probably no budget whatsoever, to find a way to make things scary. Some of the best horror has its roots in simplification by necessity; The Blair-Witch Project is one famous example.

The first hilarious thing about Absolutely Real Scary Ghosts and Urban Legends DVD BOX is that it really is just a box. “DVD BOX” usually means “box set,” here in Japan, but in this case, it’s just a giant, empty box. Well, it’s not entirely empty: there’s some filler cardboard and a single disc. But that’s all. No liner notes, no


There it is in all of its glory. ¥980 well spent.

nothing. At ¥980 these guys are probably making a killing.

The first “story” is a collection of shinrei shashin pictures: photos of regular people in which ghosts are supposed to have been inadvertently captured. The first one is clearly a simple photoshop of the vampire’s face from Nosferatu, and the rest are similarly lame. The sequence of photos ends with the sound of a woman screaming. Not a good start.

Fortunately (and I say “fortunately” because anything is better than watching a video of still photos), the remainder of the DVD contains actual video. The rest of the DVD is a series of “stories” (their word, not mine) about a young woman who ventures into scary, and reportedly haunted, places with her video camera. She carefully climbs a long rock staircase to a supposedly haunted shrine, she ventures into old, abandoned houses looking for certain mirrors that are said to reflect ghosts, and generally freaks herself out. The presentation is more than a little Blair Witch inspired; she keeps a running monologue going and periodically turns the camera to face her (which I found particularly improbable, considering that she’s supposed to be in a scary dark place and the camera is her only source of light). This really is horror on a shoe-string budget.

The thing is, as simple as it is, it almost works. Japan is chock-full of fantastic places to make scary videos like this. It’s got old, moss-covered, dilapidated shrines, there are war-era tunnels and bases to be found, not to mention your standard set of abandoned homes in the middle of nowhere. Even with no budget, the producers of these stories have absolutely fantastic sets to work on because Japan is full of scary-looking places.

But of course it does not work. There are too many basic problems for the scenes to be involving; the reporter woman can’t seem to keep the camera pointed in the way that she is moving so half the footage is a dark view of a floor someplace. And she keeps complaining about how dark it is without once activating the night vision mode on her camera (which the filmmakers make the mistake of introducing to us in the first scene). But the most amazing thing about this series is that nothing actually happens. The reporter ventures into a scary location, gets scared, and then leaves. No ghosts or otherwise scary things ever show up.

And then, and then, as if the producers of this set were on some mission to make the most impotent horror film ever, the series gets even more boring! After the initial reporter has ventured


I’m so scared, I’m filming myself!

into scary-but-ultimately-harmless places several times, a new series starts in which a different girl does mostly the same, but in places that are even less scary (one of the sequences is, I shit you not, about a hill that, according to the DVD, some people think looks like a face). “Oh, I feel something. It’s very sad here. I can feel something like an old man, and he’s very lonely,” the girl drones. Five minutes later the sequence is over and NOTHING HAS HAPPENED. And then another starts and again, NOTHING HAPPENS. The last sequence they mix up a bit by having two girls (!!) and a couple of guys venture into some supposedly-cursed area (if people dying in a location is enough to curse it, every square foot of Japan must be cursed), and talk about it for a while, and guess what? NOTHING FUCKING HAPPENS AND THEY LEAVE!!

This is so far worse, so far, far worse, than I had imagined it could be. At least if they had a guy in a rubber mask I could believe that they were trying. But no, despite the fantastic locales (goddamn face-hill excepted), any potential these sequences might have had for horror is absolutely, completely squandered. They could have made them 10x better without actually spending any more money. Having a guy in a black outfit with a black face mask standing unobtrusively in the corner of one of the scenes, unnoticed by the reporter but obvious to the viewer, would have been enough to push this nonsense into the realm of “potentially watchable.” The reporter people don’t even get properly scared; they just sort of complain about the spot and leave. I mean, come on, I’m going way out on a limb for you guys here. I purchased a video for ¥980. Throw me a bone! Or at least a plastic skeleton! ANYTHING.

I guess that if there is one interesting takeaway from this video, it’s that the filmmakers are obviously working under the impression that their target audience already believes in ghosts, curses, evil spirits–the whole package. They believe their audience to be in such a vulnerable state already that they can get away with simply suggesting that maybe, possibly, according to somebody’s brother’s sister’s mailman’s uncle, there’s a ghost around here somewhere. The whole set operates off this idea that the area is scary because it is potentially haunted; the stories don’t give you any reason to believe in them–you have to be a believer already. And maybe that actually describes some people in Japan.

In any event, 8 yen per minute was a rip-off for Absolutely Real Scary Ghosts and Urban Legends DVD BOX. But at least I got this blog post out of it.

Loading… considers our favorite genre

You might recall that about a year ago, I had the pleasure of attending and participating in the Thinking After Dark conference (my notes: one, two, and three). Now, several of the papers presented at that conference (including, I’m honored to report, my own) are available in the latest issue.

Half of the issue is in French, but for those of you who (like me) don’t speak that beautiful language, there’s still a lot of quality to digest here. I particularly enjoyed William Huber’s Catch and Release: Ludological Dynamics in Fatal Frame II: Crimson Butterfly, and Clara Fern