Why Ghostwire Tokyo deserves a sequel | Third-Party

This week on Third-Party we have code lead Andrew Haining chatting about pacing and influences in Ghostwire Tokyo.

Third-Party is a series of guest blogs where developers talk about specific games, mechanics, levels, and more. This week we have Andrew Haining, code lead at developer No Code, creator of Observation, chatting about pacing and influences in Ghostwire Tokyo. 

I don’t consider myself an expert on Japanese culture or games, but I am a big fan of Shinji Mikami and Tango Gameworks. I’ve always considered the studio’s games critically and commercially underappreciated, so I was planning on playing Ghostwire Tokyo regardless of how well it was reviewed. My experience so far is that they have made a very good game and pushed new boundaries for the studio to hone their abilities. I expect whatever comes next to be even better still.

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I have the impression that following the outstanding critical success and comparatively disappointing sales in 2016-17, Bethesda decided to pivot its games away, slightly, from genres and styles that garner critical praise and towards ideas that tend to sell better. This is speculation, of course – I’ve no idea what is going on inside these studios – but there’s a definite trend with Fallout 76, Wolfenstein: Youngblood, Deathloop, and Redfall. Traditionally, the developers of these games made single-player experiences, but here they are experimenting with multiplayer. 

To their credit, these were all far more successful than other companies’ hamfisted attempts to bolt multiplayer onto single-player games ten years prior. I suspect because it was more of a gentle prod than a mandate, which gave developers the freedom to figure out how the games that they make could be made more mass market. This theory is speculative but I think it holds and I think that Tango, unlike the other studios, came to the conclusion that multiplayer just did not fit its games.

It’s also clear from interviews that Mikami is looking to move his career into a new stage in a way that is both satisfying to him creatively and protects the futures of all the people who depend on him, initially passing the reins to Ikumi Nakamura who directed the game through the first half of its development. From my perspective, she left a huge mark on the game’s development. I think, given recent statements from Mikami about directing one more game, he doesn’t believe he has managed to find a way to do this yet and that maybe he doesn’t consider Ghostwire to be entirely successful.

Something that’s interesting about both directors of this game is that they both have an art background, and this comes across in the end product. There’s a strong sense of visual style and that carries it a long way, but I think as a result of the many competing influences – the two directors, Mikami’s legacy, and the gentle prod from the publisher – the mechanics of the game feel like they’ve been refined over and over. 

In my opinion, one of the most important jobs a director has is in communicating a strong vision of what the game is to the rest of the team. I have a pet theory, for example, that the reason Kojima is so successful at marrying his narrative themes to his mechanics is because his writing is so childish that it’s impossible for the team to get too far away from the thematic context of characters called Porter Bridges or Quiet.

My initial impression of Ghostwire Tokyo was very strong. The opening hospital section of the game had me thinking that Tango had decided to make a first-person stealth horror game inspired by Alien Isolation, and I was excited at the prospect of sneaking around these intriguing creatures conjured from Japanese urban legend. That section, however, didn’t last long at all before transitioning again into a game that felt inspired by Arkane’s (developer of Dishonored) stealth combat forte, and there were clear influences from Doom 2016’s unique combat design. As I played further it evolved into a Ubisoft map janitor game, while still preserving all these elements from all these other games. Along the way, you notice influences from Crackdown and Devil May Cry as well. I don’t think I’ve ever played such a melting pot of ideas before.

This is a game that has a lot to recommend. It reminds me of the first Assassin’s Creed game, like a first pass. It’s impossible to know what will come next and I suspect it won’t be a sequel, but if they did make a sequel it would start from a very strong place. They have the potential to make something exceptional.

One of the most difficult things in game development, to my mind, is pacing. Unlike the film industry where they tend to film lots of stuff and then perfect the pacing in the editing suite, games do not have that luxury. We can’t just cut sections of games out, move them around, go back into production and make some more as they do with reshoots in film. With games, you need to be constantly monitoring pacing during production and editing on the fly. This is a very difficult thing to do at the best of times, and it doesn’t work at all well with the concept of a schedule. If you’re not careful, these decisions can cause development to drag on. 

No one wants to work on the same game for seven years and everyone likes to see their work come out. Not all genres lend themselves easily to this idea. It’s probably most pronounced in the open-world genre, and Tango hasn’t quite succeeded here. In this game, the player should be progressing their skill tree and moving the narrative forward frequently enough to keep them engaged. Tango comes close to nailing that, but the map janitor stuff is slightly too dense and traversal is not quite as engaging as a pure open-world game. Combat is the other major component of the open world and it also doesn’t have the depth of the games it riffs off. The real strength of this game is in its visual design and narrative set pieces, but it blows them all early instead of pacing them throughout the experience.

Modern Western game development is in an age of slavishness to realism. This can often have a negative impact on a game, most notably in the reception to Red Dead Redemption 2, where there were frequent complaints about it being slow because every action the player took needed to be acted out in painstaking detail. There have been times when the trend was inverted. For example, first-person shooters tend to get faster and faster because of a tendency in players to equate being powerful in a world with the quality of the game. This, of course, leads to a power singularity of boring game design and needs to be resisted. 

Finding the balance is key. Excessive dependence on animation can have a negative impact on a designer’s ability to iterate and it has an impact on the pacing of the experience. No breaks in player input can lead to a breakneck pace like StarCraft, where success is literally measured in clicks. The right balance depends on the experience you are trying to evoke and the need to iterate to find something you’re happy with. I believe that the recent Japanese zeitgeist of deliberately moving first-person games away from realistic animations in favor of simpler, faster, non-literal movements is a very good piece of design, and Ghostwire has found an excellent place on the spectrum where they do not impact immersion detrimentally at all and they keep the player experience at just the right pace that suits the game.

With Ghostwire Tokyo, I feel Bethesda’s era of pop hit chasing has most likely come to an end. Redfall was clearly started in this era, but I expect Microsoft will pivot the studios away from this model back towards the prestige games they made their name with. Those are the types of games that sell game passes, lots of high-quality 30-hour games, not 500-hour multiplayer ones. I doubt Bethesda got what it was looking for from any of the games released in this era. Whatever direction its studios head in next, I’m certain it will be interesting and high quality.

Written by Andrew Haining on behalf of GLHF.

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The joy of video game maps as a worldbuilding device | Third-Party

This week in Third-Party, we have Didi Satzinger, art director at Frictional Games, chatting about the joy of maps.

Third-Party is a series of guest blogs where developers talk about specific games, mechanics, levels, and more. This week we have Didi Satzinger, art director at Frictional Games, chatting about the joy of maps.

Hi, I am David “Didi” Satzinger and work as an art director and visdev at Frictional Games. You might have seen some of my work in Soma, Amnesia: Rebirth and A Machine for Pigs. Working for a medium-sized independent studio means I got many hats to wear across a lot of visual development tasks, from GUI design to concept art. Originally I come from visdev for TV and advertising with my main craft being that of a communication- and graphic designer.

I love maps. They help you find your way. Obvious, right? They can show you places from a distance and how they are nested within their surroundings. They give you an impression of scale, of the vastness or tightness of an area. They are little helpers to remind you what to do and where to go. But also important to me is how they can enrich your impression of the world through many subtle (and not so subtle) means. My favorite maps keep your brain working, enriching the overall experience.

I am especially fond of maps in games because here, the act of cartography and the act of building the environment itself are tightly knit together and reinforce one another. During development, a map often exists prior to a space, becoming part of the creation itself.

Third-Party: Creating your own mind kingdom in Wilmot’s Warehouse

This week we have Steve Bristow, design director at nDreams Studio Orbital, talking about creating mental maps in Wilmot’s Warehouse.

Third-Party is a series of guest blogs where developers talk about specific games, mechanics, levels, and more. This week we have Steve Bristow, design director at nDreams Studio Orbital, talking about creating mental maps in Wilmot’s Warehouse.

During the long, hot summer holidays of my A-level years, while my friends lolled in parks, spraying each other with fluids and throwing frisbees and flirtations, I worked in a refrigerated warehouse for a posh supermarket chain. 

The job was crushingly simple: Collect a list of products bound for a destination, walk the tightly packed aisles of plastic crates looking for the items, load them onto a trolley then deposit the trolley in the loading bay of the correct truck. Temporary workers like me didn’t actually load the trucks, that was perm work.

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As a temp, my natural enemy was the permanent worker. They were grown-up school bullies who moved in packs and sneered at the temps, jealous of our youth and our prospects. In retaliation and in our high self-regard, we pitied them and gave them a wide berth. 

Occasionally, I would be forced to ask a perm for help with some item I couldn’t locate or with an edge-case process that I wasn’t taught. I quickly learned to avoid the loitering clusters of meaty hooligans and find the fast-moving old lags who could talk and work at the same time and knew every inch of the vast cooler. They were a different breed; you didn’t see them chatting, they seemed to be constantly optimizing their movements, barely slowing down to pick a crate, minimizing their routes, masters of their domain, kings of their little kingdom.

I used to wonder about them, the strange, unchanging skill set that they had, the library of routes and destinations they maintained in their heads. What motivated them to push themselves each day? They weren’t paid by the trolley, after all. They seemed so far away from who I thought I was. Then, a few decades later, I played Wilmot’s Warehouse, and, within a few hours, I had become one of them.

Wilmot’s Warehouse is a game about managing the contents of a warehouse and, at the same time, your mind. It was developed by Hollow Ponds (Richard Hogg and Ricky Haggett) who had previously made Hohokum, a beautiful toy/game about flying a snakey-kite around a yellow submarine dreamland. Their second game is more structured, bound by walls and blocked out in slices of time with objectives, rewards, and upgrades. Where Hohokum is whirling and hallucinatory, Wilmot’s Warehouse is clean and diagrammatic but both games marry their audio and visual aesthetics to the emotional anchors of their gameplay with exceptional taste and craft.

Wilmot is a square who works in a warehouse. He can carry other squares, a few at a time, or push them around. At the beginning of a shift, a truck arrives and pushes an array of squares, abstracted types of products, into the warehouse. Some types are recognizable, and you and I would agree upon what to call them, others are ambiguous and their interpretations unique to each player. In a minute or two, a shutter will open and I, Wilmot, will be asked to bring multiples of specified types to a panel of customers within a time limit. That leaves a limited time to sort and file the products and it is here that the game’s heart resides.

To begin with, there are only a dozen or so types. I might say that some are types of fruit or musical instruments or varieties of nuts or flags and stack them together. Then a buzzer sounds, the orders come in and I must weave around the mostly empty space, searching for a match amongst the unfamiliar icons and dragging the products up to the counter.

As I progress, I’m rewarded with improvements to my speed, abilities, and capacity. At the same time, more product types are added and trucked in and my mental map of the warehouse must update and expand. More categories, more colors, more abstract icons that I connect to meanings and locations in my mind. My filing system must be reconfigured, the clusters of like-type squares made orderly and compacted to allow me to move between them and access them all as the warehouse fills and the space dwindles. 

Soon there are a hundred or more products arranged and stacked on my floor in groups that, to you, look random and chaotic but to me tell stories and ring memories. By now I’m snatching a glance at the customer orders, mapping an optimal path between the rows and blocks of squares and scooping them up as I glide by. 

Somehow, the time pressure of a shift which, in the beginning, feels intrusive and stressful, becomes a reward. Each order is a challenge that you swat aside with time to spare because this is your warehouse, you made it and you know every inch of it intimately. Nobody else could come in here and do what you can do. It is, after all, a map made of your own mind, your unique associations, images, and ideas of order. To capture something so ephemeral with so few rules and with such a mundane context feels like a kind of poetry to me.

I am not an organized person. I don’t like untidiness but I dislike tidying even more and so I live on a constant and itchy threshold of tolerance for clutter. At face value, I didn’t think that Wilmot’s Warehouse would appeal to me and yet the sparse, lonely atmosphere touched me. The purity of the design, so focused on its emotional intent and so boldly resisting the frills and themes that would have obscured its purpose, kindled a kind of exultation and admiration in me that very, very few games have. 

We talk about agency in the context of vast open worlds with elaborate systems of player expression and representation, but where I often find myself paralyzed and overwhelmed by those games, Wilmot’s Warehouse gave me a little kingdom over which I had absolute knowledge and total control. It demanded complete concentration to maintain that state of flow, but in it, as the world outside got scary and we locked ourselves inside, I barely had to think at all. I found escape, peace, and genuine contentment within my little kingdom’s walls.

Written by Steve Bristow on behalf of GLHF

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Third-Party: Skyrim and Elden Ring – creating a sense of mystery and exploration in open-world design

This week we have Nate Purkeypile, former lead artist on Skyrim, Fallout 4, and more, talking about the open-world design ethos of Elden Ring.

Third-Party is a series of guest blogs where developers talk about specific games, mechanics, levels, and more. This week we have Nate Purkeypile, former lead artist on Skyrim, Fallout 4, and more, talking about the open-world design ethos of Elden Ring.

My name is Nate Purkeypile and I have been in games for over 18 years now, but in all of that time, nothing I have worked on has had as much lasting impact as Skyrim. To this day, Skyrim is played by a shockingly large number of people, and that number never seems to go down. Some players are new, but other people keep coming back to it year after year. Other things I’ve worked on have also done really well, like Fallout 3 and 4, but nothing has had the staying power of Skyrim.

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At the time, we had no idea it would last so long. In fact, while making it, the game was not even that fun for a long time. Things were broken, missing, unbalanced, and unstable. It’s so hard to know how a game will turn out until it’s almost done. It’s not like making a movie where a scene might be shot and you have a pretty good idea of what it’s like. There are so many moving pieces that all need to be complete before it even works at all.

After release, it became clear that it was a big deal and it was going to do better than anything we had ever made. So why is that, and what does that have to do with Elden Ring?

Elden Ring is an amazing game and one that I think will have significant staying power. The open-world design/philosophy of these two games have a lot in common, and this has a lot to do with why they resonate with people. When Skyrim came out, there weren’t that many open-world games. It was a lot harder at the time, but as technology improved and players demonstrated a clear desire to play this kind of game, more and more open-world games launched.

Despite Skyrim‘s success though, I’d argue that very few games actually follow the model of what made that game work. This is not to say those games are bad – in fact, I have enjoyed a lot of that other style of open world. For instance, I think Assassin’s Creed: Black Flag and Watch Dogs 2 are amazing games, but there’s a clear philosophical difference in the way those games are designed compared to games like Skyrim and Elden Ring.

Skyrim and Elden Ring both follow the core idea that wherever you go, you’re going to find something interesting. Side content isn’t clearly lower budget and less fleshed-out. In fact, I’d argue a lot of the best content are the random things you discover on the side in Skyrim. It’s also okay if you miss them. 

That sounds like a terrible idea at first because games are incredibly expensive. It makes sense to point players at all the amazing and expensive content that was made and say “Look at this! This rules!” While you ensure players see more of your game this way, something essential is lost when this happens. Suddenly, instead of being a world to explore, the game becomes a list of tasks. Again, this can be fine and it’s certainly easier to play and make a game this way, but the emotional experience of playing the game is completely different.

So often when playing Elden Ring, I think, “I had no idea this even existed.” Or, “I don’t even know what I’m looking at, this is wild.” That sense of discovery and surprise is key. This doesn’t happen if you hold the player’s hand and tell them exactly where to go. Some games these days even go so far as to list the number of secrets the player has found. By definition, that stops it from being a secret. You already know it’s there, you’re just trying to find out where exactly it is.

One of the things that I built in Skyrim was a place called Blackreach. It is a massive underground cave filled with glowing mushrooms and ruins. It’s big enough to support a battle with a huge dragon. It’s not like any other cave in the entire game – it’s more like a whole new landscape to explore. The player is also never told to go there and it’s a complete surprise when they find it. To this day, I have people who tell me it is one of their favorite places and experiences in a game. That sense of utter shock and surprise has made that place resonate with people for years and years. Also, Blackreach was not even supposed to be in the game and we snuck it in, but that’s a whole different story.

Elden Ring takes that experience of discovering Blackreach and doubles down on that feeling – particularly when you stumble upon Siofra River for the first time. The term “open-world” is used a lot, but I’d argue that Elden Ring is actually more like a very wide and large level. In a lot of open-world games, you can basically go anywhere. Sure, there might be some mountains or cliffs here and there to keep you hemmed in, but you can go basically anywhere from the start. Elden Ring is very specifically designed. It’s paced out to hit you with reveal after reveal, allowing it to constantly surprise you. FromSoftware even cleverly disguises how big the world is with how the map is unveiled.

These days, I’m working on a solo indie game where you hunt monsters from folklore in an open world. It’s called The Axis Unseen, and you can wishlist it on Steam or the Epic Store. After Elden Ring came out, I had someone ask me, “Does Elden Ring give you any ideas for your game?” While it doesn’t give me any specific ideas, it proves that there’s an appetite for open-world games like this. It’s a philosophy I have wanted to embrace from the start and I’m very happy to see a game like Elden Ring do so well. The team at FromSoftware deserves every bit of praise they get for it. Like a lone player following the ghostly echoes of a recently murdered stranger, I’m incredibly excited to be building another world that follows this design philosophy.

Elden Ring is designed so well and you can tell how much time they spent thinking about exploration and mystery. Everything is in a specific place for a reason. Players come to these games to be transported to another world. By designing these worlds in such a specific way, players can feel like they are really there. For that reason, I think Elden Ring will end up becoming as timeless as Skyrim. I have been a huge fan of FromSoftware’s previous works, especially Bloodborne, but Elden Ring is a large step forward, and one that I hope has a lasting impact on games as a whole.

Written by Nate Purkeypile on behalf of GLHF.

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