Gears of War and the Story of the Gameplay

A few years ago, way back in the year 2011, Cliff Bleszinski answered a fan question on Twitter. The fan asked, "What is more important, story or gameplay?" In other words, is it more important for a game to look great and tell a deep story, or is it better for a game to focus on playing well and provide great fun to the player? In my opinion, the answer varies depending on who you ask. You have people who can do both very well, you have games which are notable for refining one into artwork, and you have developers who can do one very well and need to focus on the other for a sense of balance. As for Bleszinski, he enigmatically tweeted back, "The Story of the Gameplay." Here we were expecting one or the other, but here is the curveball response.

I have occasionally obsessed over this answer ever since that day. What does that mean, the story of the gameplay? Does he mean one or the other? Does he mean both or something else entirely? On one hand, we can see it as Bleszinski being a wise guy and end it at that. Me, I like to give more credit than that. If not to Bleszinski, than to the concept itself. I happened to have tweeted back, asking Cliff if he was referring to an actual concept. I never heard back. So in the absence of any clarity from the source, let's figure out what it could mean ourselves. For reference, we will use Bleszinski's own Gears of War and its sequels.

For the uninitiated, Gears of War is a series of third-person shooter games. You take on the role of Marcus Fenix and a thrown-together squad of soldiers as they fight a seemingly hopeless war. The enemy? The Locusts, a race of invaders that emerged from underground to claim the planet. The interesting thing about the Locusts is how their ground troops are largely similar to humans to the point where they even use firearms and similar military tactics. Thus the conflict is more similar to fighting a standard war against a cunning and strategizing foe than any old alien invasion. Weapon choice, focusing targets, positioning, finding cover, and aiming true are all vital and you can't win if you lack any of them.

"@Culbec: @therealcliffyb what's more important, story or gameplay?" The Story of the Gameplay.
— Cliff Bleszinski (@therealcliffyb) March 16, 2011

The tweet that sparked this discussion

So now that we have our game, how do we tackle our concept? Let's break it down. "The story of..." refers to an event which is communicated between people, either recalling something that happened or making something up. "... the gameplay" refers to any factor that goes into how the player interacts with the game and their success is determined. Putting it together, we are looking for outstanding events that occurred while playing the game, perhaps even events that define the experience as a whole.

In the first Gears of War, one part of the story requires you to hold your ground at the entrance to a manor. Locust forces can only pour in through one entrance to get at you, but you can look out a window to pick them off before they even get there. That only works for so long until they bring out a larger enemy which cannot be whittled down before it reaches you. Further - I may be remembering this incorrectly - there are multiple of them at once. Therefore this sequence requires you to pick your targets, reserve your powerful ammunition for when you need to take down a big enemy, and position yourself so you can take effective cover and fire back.

I was stuck in this sequence for a very long time, and I was only playing the game on medium - medium! To be fair, the middle difficulty is called "Hardcore" so I at least knew what I was getting into. The strategy I employed was staying on the high ground to either side of the entryway where the Locusts came in. I did this to stay out of the way of rockets launched by the appropriately named Boomer enemies. But in the end, it was always the same deal. The Boomers were able to take too many hits and they just had to blow me up once to make me start the whole thing over. Something had to give every time.

After taking one rocket too many, I started to evaluate my options. I left the safety of my high ground to see what else the terrain had to offer. The manor entryway had tables, banisters, a dual stairway leading up, and raggedy couches. Surely, the couches were not suitable cover against bullets and explosives. But I tried it anyway. Furthermore, I positioned myself not to the side, but in front of the entryway. The Boomers would be able to fire at me as soon as they got in range, but the opposite was also true. This strategy resulted in a complete reversal. Being able to shoot as soon as I saw the whites of the Boomers' eyes meant I could start working the Boomers down before they even got close to the door. The Boomers fired back, but my couch proved to be a surprisingly formidable shield. The first Boomer died before it landed a foot in the entrance hall and the second one could only get a few steps in.

All at once, I made use of all of Gears of War's features. Strategy, position, cover, predicting enemy behavior, and aiming for weak spots. This experience really drove in how much thought went into this games design. It also makes for a good story.

Knowing how to remove troublesome turret gunners is also crucial. Hardcore mode's description is "You know how to pull off a headshot"

My second war story skips a generation to Gears of War 3. In particular, the game's competitive multiplayer. Just like the campaign, multiplayer requires teams to work as a unit, collaborate on a plan, position themselves well, take cover, pick their weapons wisely, and aim well. There is a good variety of game modes, and my story takes place in the one called "Capture the Leader." You run around shooting the other team, except this time one player on both teams is designated at a leader. The leader cannot die normally, but will be captured instead. The leader can't do anything, and the captor moves slowly while only using a basic weapon. The goal is to keep the opposing team's leader in the captured state for 30 seconds. Should both leaders be captured, neither timer will go down until only one leader is being held.

That said, boy did I have one good round. It started off poorly with our leader taken and dragged into the enemy's half of the arena. As I do often in these games, I died and respawned on my team's side. I had a bit of good luck as I found a boomshot, an explosive not unlike the Boomer rockets. My second bit of luck was seeing the enemy leader with another enemy. I suppose they figured with all the fighting happening around my team's leader, they could just hang out on our side where none of my team would think to look.

I sprung into action, firing a Boomshot that killed the regular opponent and took down the leader. The opposing team's clock ticked down 5... 4... 3... 2... and stayed at two. I picked up the enemy leader and forced the two timers into an impasse. And since the opposing leader delivered himself to my team's territory, I was safe while my team scrambled to free my leader. I positioned myself well behind cover and on high ground.

Suddenly, an enemy ran by. How did he get there and why didn't he notice me? I then realized that we were so far in the game that the spawn points had switched. In other words, the territories had just switched, pitting me in the enemy territory. Though it seemed that they hadn't caught on yet. On the flip side, my team was now entering the field closer to my team's captive leader. After some time, I heard a chime. The opponent's timer vanished and my team's timer began to tick down. That was good, but I was still in their territory and my team was still picking itself up after saving the leader.

Finally, one of the opponents thinks to look up the ramp in his new spawn and sure enough must have caught a glimpse of me. He doesn't have a direct line of sight, so his only option is to get up close and smack me down. He even tosses up a smoke grenade, which fills my screen with white and gray and no trace of his approach. While I hold the opposing leader, I can't use any of the "good" weapons, making do with just a basic pistol. If I were to survive, I would need to find him as soon as he came through the smoke, fire as soon as possible, and hit every one on his head. Those were a lot of stars to align.

And yet, they did end up aligning. I saw, I aimed, I fired, I hit. The opponent fell down and was no longer a threat. Him out of the way, I was uncontested and finished off the leader for the win. I imagine if I opted in for voice chat, there would have been lots of cheering to go around. If you think that's cool, the next round is equally worth talking about. I entered the battlefield and was immediately taken down by a shotgun point-blank. Short but sweet.

You'll see the player's team's counter is at 30 and about to count down. The enemy has no counter because they do not have the player's leader. If the enemy leader were to get away, the player's team would have to start all the way at 30 again

Now that we have these anecdotes, what does this mean for our elusive "story of the gameplay?" My friends, I believe we are onto something. The game is built and designed in such a way that you can have your moments of glory with some luck and skill during typical play. Any game can accomplish this, but I think Gears of War has this very concept in mind. When I think about "typical" game flow, I think about the game introducing its concepts and mechanics, building a player's skill with coasting low-intensity tasks, and then testing those skills against a challenging boss enemy or stage.

Gears of War is different. The game has its mechanics - aiming, reloading, taking fire, running, dodging, etc. - but most problems are not solved alone by practice. You need tactical smarts. You need to know when to apply pressure or when to fall back. You need to recognize a good vantage point where you'll be safe and have a good view of the enemy. You need to know when you're outnumbered and a frag grenade will even those numbers. You need to recognize opportunities to get at your enemy's sides or back. You need to assess if the situation is clear enough for the rest of your team to charge in and control more of the battlefield. You need to think like a soldier and not just know how to use their weapons and abilities.

This game invites war stories because of how it isn't won by "playing hard," and that is where the story of the gameplay comes in. This game is designed in such a way that every moment, decision, and small victory is imbued with a sense of importance. My experience playing this game stuck with me because the way each skirmish played out was as a result of my skill and knowledge. It was hardly ever cut-and-dry how I was going to stop the advancing enemy or force my way into a stronghold. Because this game felt so significant, I can remember all of these events in such vivid detail. The story of the gameplay is not something told by the game, but instead something lived out and told later by the player. No game can guarantee that every player will have their own story of the gameplay, but games like Gears of War sure promote it by engaging the player's tactical thinking.

So Cliff, and Epic Games by extension, whether or not "the story of the gameplay" is a real thing, your game is robust and carefully crafted enough for me to make my own definition. Cheers!

Another game I have stories for days is Bravely Default. Trying out new class combinations makes for riveting conversation. Anyone else feeling deja vu?

And you know what, I like this concept. Making a game so noteworthy to play that you could make a story out of it is a noble endeavor and a mark of true effort. This got me thinking in a broader sense. If we can make stories of out typical play in a video game, what else in our lives can we make stories about that we otherwise would think are not that noteworthy? Is your job more interesting than you may give it credit for? Could you form a story around a meeting or a task you took on? Do you play a sport? Did you witness an amazing play or take part in one yourself? Do you exercise? Is the reason you exercise interesting? Did you dig deep in your own mind to find the will and courage to exercise? Perhaps someone would be entertained and even motivated by hearing it.

Or maybe, just maybe - and I won't imply this is the absolute truth for a moment - you know that your life could be more interesting. Any life could be more interesting. I sure know that's true for my life. This added interest could come in the form of the aforementioned sports, exercise, hobbies, groups, community involvement, and so many more. This discussion was inspired by an Abstruse Goose comic in which the author addresses the concept of a noteworthy day. On an August 4th night, he climbed a pyramid structure and broke his foot on the way down. To quote the comic, "Now I bet you're thinking that climbing a pyramid, screaming 'I Tony Montanta', and breaking my foot was a pretty stupid way to spend the night. But I'll also bet that you don't remember what you did on August 4.'

So just like I would ask myself, "Can I remember what it was like to play Gears of War?" I should also be asking myself, "Can I remember what I did on April 24th?" I like the idea of working within my means to make every day significant. Even just a little more so. 

Kid Icarus: Uprising and Sportsmanship

When Kid Icarus: Uprising came out, I played the game's multiplayer religiously. I just loved the concept: Taking the weapons you built in single-player and pitting them against other gamers? Cool! And I'll stand by my opinion that Nintendo could take online multiplayer scene by storm if they expanded on Uprising's mechanics. But that's a discussion for another time.

For the uninitiated, Kid Icarus: Uprising is an action game for the Nintendo 3DS. You play as the angel Pit who battles the forces of evil in a mythology-inspired world. The controls involve moving Pit with the control stick while aiming and controlling the camera with the touch screen. There's a bit of a learning curve, but you'll unlock a very robust game on the other side. Pit's mobility and powers are influenced by the weapon he's using, and at 108 weapons in this game's armory, you will have your pick. Multiplayer is played the same way, but now you're competing with other players for glory.

I almost exclusively played the game's team-based mode, called Light vs. Dark. In Light vs. Dark, you battle in teams to defeat other players and decrease the opposing team's collective health bar. When the other team's bar is depleted, the last player defeated will turn into an angel. The angel is very powerful, but the other team wins if the angel is defeated. Thus it is a good idea to keep the angel protected.

The first few games of Light vs. Dark I played, my team won. When you win, you see your team's angel help the other team's angel up off the ground in a show of good faith, backed by an uplifting fanfare. When I first lost a game, I was a bit riled up and was not looking forward to what sort of humiliating results screen waited for me. Instead, I saw the exact same image of one angel helping another, smiling at each other, while the same music played. And I thought to myself, "What? No rubbing it in? No condescending musical stings? No huge 'YOU LOSE' covering the screen?"

A sample round of Light vs. Dark. Notice how even though the player loses, the results screen is still triumphant

Slowly, my confusion melted into elation. I no longer felt put on the spot. During the game, I felt frustrated because my weapon and skills were being outmatched. But hearing that music and seeing the two angels being friendly, I only felt the same sense of satisfaction that I would have if it were my team that had won. The game gives rewards to the teams based on who won, and of course my team's consolation prize was small compared to the winning team's purse. I suppose you can interpret that as the game focusing on who won and who lost, but it is only fair that the team which played the better game receives the significant reward.

Thus, we're back to the results screen, the one real opportunity that Uprising had to objectively make the teams feel one way or the other about the outcome of the match. To be honest, it's brilliant. Absolutely uplifting. The game could have really gorged the winning team's ego while stomping on the other teams', but it doesn't. I just couldn't bring myself to stay upset when I saw the angels smiling and that upbeat fanfare. I truly got a sense that the only thing the game wanted me to feel was that the match we just played was a good game. Nothing more, nothing less.

My friends, I want to see more of this: Games themselves promoting good sportsmanship through their presentation. That's not to say there are no examples of it out there, but the more the better.

I know promoting sportsmanship is a tricky business. How do we build a culture of mutual respect without going too far overboard and sheltering the participants? There's no one answer to this, but Kid Icarus: Uprising's approach is a pretty good take. And furthermore, it does this in a way that only a video game can. The bright and positive fanfare gives the losing team something encouraging to see and hear immediate after the game ends. This is the game immediately doing what it can to promote an optimistic outlook for that team. It's a counter-point to whatever frustration the losing players may be feeling following the match that just ended. However, the post-game rewards give a clear indication that not everyone is a winner. The winning team earns a free weapon in addition to a sizeable amount of ingame currency. This is done after the encouraging fanfare to frame the rewards as an incentive. It's as if to say, "Hey, you didn't win this time. But the next time you win, that's what you look forward to earning." There's a balance of themes there that may not be perfect all the time, but it's the best effort I have seen thus far.

When you lose in Team Fortress 2, you're forced to hobble around completely defenseless until you're killed or the next round starts

To contrast, let's bring up another multiplayer game that puts emphasis on the results of a match: Team Fortress 2. Team Fortress 2 is a first person shooter with a dark sense of humor that revels in shamelessness. This isn't necessarily a bad thing. In fact I have laughed with the game's dysfunctional and tongue-in cheek malice many times. And as such, the way this game ends its rounds is equally hilariously mean-spirited.

In Team Fortress 2, once a team wins, the other team can no longer fight back. An announcer shouts "You fail!" and a crowd boos while downtrodden music plays. The losers are stripped of their weapons and their running speed is decreased. In addition, the winning team's weapons are super-charged with critical hits. Essentially, the losing team is reduced to fodder for the winning team to hunt down until the next round starts. To top it off, this whole mechanic is called "Humiliation." And by all means, is there any better word to describe this situation?

So does that mean Team Fortress 2 is an awful game? Of course not. Anyone who plays the game will quickly be made to understand its hard-boiled nature and expect everything to feed into it. Humiliation is intended to be humorous to all parties involved. Objectively speaking, humiliation is a laugh riot. The team without weapons is bowled over by the team with the supercharged weapons? Who would have thought? This may be one of the only times when people are victimized and I'd say the only logical reaction is to laugh.

I'd also like to put in a good word for Uprising's single-player campaign. It is quite the adventure with some fun characters, snappy dialogue and no fourth wall.

If in the end neither game is seriously trying to personally make the loser feel bad, what is the difference that makes this article about Kid Icarus: Uprising and not Team Fortress 2? The keyword here is "authenticity." You can take Uprising at face value and trust it to be authentic with how it presents itself. There are no hidden or double meanings. There's something comforting about a game that works intuitively with how the human mind processes information and meaning. Team Fortress 2, on the other hand, requires a split-second of deciphering. Horrible things happen to your character not because the game is actually mean to you, but as a bid to be so over-the-top that you laugh alongside the game at the absurdity that it presents. So where Team Fortress 2 uses an overabundance of poor sportsmanship as a means of comedy, Kid Icarus: Uprising presents you with good sportsmanship and means it.

As things stand now, there is a lot more inauthentic humor than there is authentic empathy. That's because being inauthentic is easy, people like to laugh, and some cynicism can be healthy. What I want to see is more of the Uprising example. I want to see more authenticity not just in video games, but in the world as a whole. I want to see more people attempt authenticity. I want to see more people speak up for authenticity. I want to see more people react to and promote authenticity. We may believe that authentic culture "goes without saying" and that's why we see less outstanding examples of it in the media. As for me, the fact that I was so surprised to see it goes to show how much more I'd like to see out there.

And now I want to hear from you. What experiences have you had with games promoting good sportsmanship and authenticity? For all I know, there could be a game out there which depicts competition even better than Uprising does. Maybe you saw a movie or read a book where characters set a good example. Heck, maybe some of you have a story about a positive experience in Little League. If you do, I want to see it in the comments.

Borderlands and Media Intimacy

Game trailer for mature audiences

I have a friend who is an absolute Borderlands nut. He has internalized all of the lore, all of the characters and settings, and I'm pretty sure he knows every line of dialogue in the second installment. So naturally, during the run of the first Borderlands, he one day gifts me the game over Steam with demands that we play together. It's a big-name game and it has my good friend so riled up to play it, so I gave it a shot.

For the uninitiated, the Borderlands series is of the first-person shooter genre. You assume the role of an adventurer exploring the world of Pandora. The goal of the first game is to find a mythical stash simply called "The Vault," so adventurers of your kind are known as "vault hunters." You have four vault hunters to choose from, each with distinct weapon affinities and abilities that make their play styles very unique. It's a completely different game to start a new file as another vault hunter. As for the world of Pandora itself... well, the only way I can put it is "violently quirky." Imagine wild west with alien creatures, some future technology, and some of the most endearingly shameless dark humor I've seen in a game. Add in roleplaying elements and an impossible amount of weapon varieties, and you have a game formula that can last the avid gamer a very long time.

So I play Borderlands in a group of three. I had fun, but I really wasn't feeling the game. I was the only person playing for the first time, so the other two just tore through knowing exactly where to go and what to do. I meandered behind them by comparison and maybe got a few shots off. I was basically dragged through the game without any chance to catch my breath and try to get a feel for the game. I should have said something, but I was expecting to pick it up along the way. Coming off from these play sessions, I found Borderlands to be merely a solid shooter with a nice animated design and a sense of humor. For some reason, having this lukewarm response to the game didn't sit well with me, so I played some more. My friends were busy at the time, so I started a new character solo.

The original four vault hunters - Roland, Brick, Lilith, and my man Mordecai.

My friends, the difference was night and day. Playing the game at my own pace allowed for me to truly have a personal playing experience. I could slow down and take in the scenery without anybody having to wait on me. I could actually explore around the landscape and go off the beaten path to see what was over there away from the objective. Without my friends acting as a combined shield and battering ram, all the enemies shot at me and I had to fend for myself. I got to use different weapon types and see which ones suited my playing style and my skills. Heck, I even became aware of an entire aspect of the game.

You see, weapons in the original Borderlands came plain or in one of four "elements." Your weapons could simply cause damage, or also light an enemy on fire, destroy shields faster, destroy armored enemies quickly, or simply have their bullets explode. In a group, I was completely unaware of this because everything died so fast. But alone, I was forced to experiment with elemental weapons. Through my own trial and error, I saw which situations called for which types of weapons and I was able to build my own assembly of weapons that I switched through and used.

Furthermore, I got to learn about my character. I simply picked him because I liked his design, but I came to realize he was perfect for my play style. I tend to favor the handgun weapon types in shooters, and it turns out my character, Mordecai, had skills and abilities dedicated solely to this one weapon type. By building Mordecai into his "Gunslinger" abilities, I became my own wrecking ball of quick reflexes and precise shots. I was finally having the immense fun that was expected of me when playing this game. Nothing against my friends and their most well-meaning approach, but I only could have reached this level of intimate familiarity with the game playing it by myself.

A typical weapon in Borderlands. These things are as plentiful as rain and their attributes are almost always completely randomly generated. You will have lots and lots of guns pass through your hands.

And that brings me to the topic of this article, a concept that I have preliminarily dubbed "media intimacy." I would have called this "game intimacy," but I have realized over time that this concept applies to more than just games. In fact, oral tradition may have the honor of being the first media to engage people in media intimacy. The idiom "curling up with a good book" is a great example of media intimacy as well.

So, what is media intimacy exactly? As I define it, media intimacy is the connection between a person as an individual and any sort of media. If you've ever "gotten into" a movie, TV show, book, or even a live performance, you've experienced media intimacy. You're more than just a consumer. You feel like you're part of whatever it is that you're watching, listening to, or playing. A "fan" of something is a person who is intimate with the media that they are a fan of. Even if all of someone's experiences with the media have only been as with a group, it takes just one individual thought or interpretation to spark an interest. And when this person engages in just thinking about the media on their own terms with nobody else to influence it, media intimacy begins.

Thus, when I played Borderlands by myself and engaged with it on my own terms, I became intimate with the game. The gameplay was more significant to me. The characters were more significant to me. The story, the setting, the individual events and lines of dialogue, all significant. I could more appreciate the game as a sum of its parts and not just as another example of its genre.

The most recent game that showed me a good time via media intimacy is Bravely Default. Such a deceptively complex game, but the most rewarding when you put in what little effort is needed to learn its ropes.

When I came back to playing Borderlands in multiplayer with my friends as my custom-built Mordecai, I was far more proactive. I got right into the fray and knew what weapon to use against which targets. I knew what events were happening, so it didn't bother me when we glazed over the cinematic sequences. I knew what went into a good weapon, so I didn't just pick up and drop anything just because it had an impressive design. We finally were all playing the same game. I was truly a vault hunter and I couldn't be happier.

And by all means, if we can be intimate with our media, why can't we be intimate in other areas of our life? How about business intimacy, or professional intimacy? Art intimacy or, hear me out, social intimacy? The common thread here is you engaging with your chosen topic on your own terms. You need to want it for reasons all your own. That's not to say you can't be influenced by the ideas of others, but the way you process those ideas need to be yours and yours alone. Thinking or acting some way just because someone else said so isn't intimacy. Or at least that's how I see it. After all, if you're taking any of my words to heart, you're engaging in media intimacy right now by taking in my words and processing that information.

Case in point, I am currently taking classes to learn programming. And as it stands, I'm hard-pressed to really get into programming when I just think about it in terms of assignments, grades, and lectures. But when I'm by myself and think of programming languages as fun tools with which to build fun programs, I find it much easier to learn and love programming.

Now I'd like to hear from you. Now that you have some idea of what I'm talking about, what are your experiences with media intimacy? What are you a fan of? Has a game, book, movie, TV show, etc. really made an impact on you? I want to hear about it.

Phoenix Wright and Focus

By now, my Nintendo 3DS is my preferred exercise companion on the treadmill. Sure, other devices offer similar services, but nothing captures my attention like a good Pokemon battle, RPG cutscene, flight around Wuhu Island, or courtroom drama. For today's topic, we will discuss why that last example is so effective.

We all can agree that the Phoenix Wright games really make us think. Capcom's law games create these little worlds of scenarios, character, evidence, and motivations. At its most intense, I have found myself so immersed in a Phoenix Wright storyline that I began seeing the real world in terms of alibis and some way in which a murder could have been hidden.

Officially known as the "Ace Attorney" series, some games in the franchise even star other characters and take place at various times in the world's history. Phoenix Wright just happens to be the most recognizable aspect of the series .

For the uninitiated, Ace Attorney games work your problem-solving skills more than they do your reflexes. You won't be defeating enemies one after the other, nor won't you be grinding up stats, picking up loot, earning weapons, or even much of controlling your characters. The bulk of Ace Attorney gameplay is in its dialogue. You will spend more time hearing characters talk and explain things than you will taking any sort of action.

Everything happens in menus, and every option opens up a colorful and endearing new event

On paper, this sounds dreadfully boring. But in execution, this is perhaps the most enthralling way to play a video game that I have yet experienced. Like I said above, an Ace Attorney game is more than interactive media. It is a window into a world of intrigue and murder mystery. And yes, every court case boils down to murder at some point.

Every chapter follows the same formula: Your main character meets a person who is charged with murder and takes the case to defend this person. From there, you hit the streets to scour the crime scene, find evidence, and talk to people related to the incident. The games are all very linear, so you'll be following a carefully crafted storyline the whole way through. When your investigation is over, it's time to head to court where you will engage in debate with the prosecutor, whose job it is to see your defendant found guilty.

Already you can see how Ace Attorney can keep a person hooked. The gameplay and the storyline are chained at the hip. Whereas most of what happens in a video game is part of the "experience" and you can go for long stretches without continuing the story, Ace Attorney is in storyline mode full-tilt. If the game ever stops, it's because it needs you to nudge it in the right direction. You are never not ingrained in an Ace Attorney storyline for as long as you are playing it.

By now you're probably wondering what it is the player actually does which presents any challenge. Well, there come times in the story where your protagonist will have to put money to mouth and prove their point with some evidence. But they won't do it by themselves. When you hit that impasse, it's up to you, the player, to sift through the evidence and find that piece that will throw doubt on the other person's claims, forcing them to elaborate or admit to lying. So, if your witness claims to have never been at the crime scene and yet you found their phone right next to the body, time to raise an OBJECTION!! Digging up the truth is very rewarding, and watching your character pursue that line of logic further just makes it all the better.

 But allegedly, the victim wrote the defendant's name with his right hand. Curious...

Bringing it all together, what does this game being good have to do with me being on the treadmill? Nothing, directly. But it does help me focus on the exercise. And funny enough, it helps me focus by taking my mind all the exercise almost entirely. And let me say ahead of time that this is a particular sort of multitasking that not everybody can do, so be careful if you try it out.

First, by concentrating on the game I am less aware of my surroundings. Not by a whole lot, just enough to where I am not constantly checking the clock, calories, or distance. This way, I won't be thinking about how much further I need to go. Likewise, since I'm not focused on the strain of the exercise, I won't have any reason to exaggerate how tired I feel just to give myself a reason to cut it short.

Second, the attention that I am not giving to the exercise pours straight into the game. With the amount of attention that game commands, it's not likely to let go of that focus any time soon. The storyline is constantly in motion, so at any time you can just click on it to see more. Further, the conversations and characters are entertaining enough where pretty much any exchange contains at least one smirk or laugh out of the player. There is a lot going on at any time in the game, so you'll be thinking about the storyline and what the newest developments mean for the larger mystery afoot. Even putting the game down to think about something will keep you invested enough to where you won't get bored while exercising.

The game's music is also exceptional and has everything to do with the Ace Attorney experience. The iconic "Cornered" theme is catchy, especially in a capella.

There are two caveats for this method. First, playing a game while exercising requires being able to multitask in a very particular way. While I can stay enthralled in my game, I still need to keep up with the treadmill, maintain balance on the belt, and keep an eye on the timer so I can scale up the speed according to my routine. If you cannot multitask like this, then this whole method could prove dangerous. Practice first on low speeds, even if you already multitask well.

Second, there do come those times in an Ace Attorney game where you will get utterly stumped. The solution is out there, but your thought process won't find it. In those cases, the game's hold can wane. In that case, you may want to switch up for a game that doesn't require problem-solving to continue, like Animal Crossing.

These things aside, I have a great time on the treadmill with 3DS games, Ace Attorney in particular. If the story really picks up, I might even pull some overtime just to keep in the zone.

All of that said, I'd like to hear from you. What activities keep you in "the zone" like a good game does? Which activity would you like to have a zone for? A game-like perspective on that activity may help in accomplishing this. On the other side, what are good games you like to play while doing something else? And on the other side of the other side, what are some things you like to do while playing games? I know I like to wind down at the end of the day by catching up on my videos while playing some Borderlands 2 or Cube World. I look forward to seeing what you all have to say! Until then, game out.

Street Fighter IV and Owning Your Character

There's two things we know about Street Fighter character Guile for sure: His theme goes with anything and his advice to any person is that they "go home and be a family man!" Aside from these very memetic things, I wonder how much about Guile the common internet goer knows? Do they know his actual personality? His back story? His rank in the US air force? I'm sure that people who enjoy studying up on the Street Fighter mythos would know all that.

As for me, I actually did not care much for Guile. It's true. In my younger years, I COULD NOT fathom Guile's moveset. The core of Guile's special moves is the mechanic of holding the joystick in one direction, then quickly moving the other way and using an attack. For the life of me, I could not get that timing down. I guess I rather harbored those frustrated times and continued to overlook Guile for that reason.

In particular, the Flash Kick vexed me. Part of the command was 'up.' As in the same 'up' used in jumping!!

In my recent playing of Super Street Fighter IV: 3D Edition I made it a point to give every character a chance. When I played Guile, all that learned behavior came back. The natural aggression I learned playing Ken, Dudley, Rose, etc. clashed with the campy style that Guile promotes. One of Guile's strategies is to keep in a low blocking position so he can punish impatient opponents. Low block? Come on! This is Street Fighter! I want to go in fireballing and uppercutting! Granted I can now appreciate how intricate the fighting system is and how there IS more to it than quarter-circle-punching my way to victory... my stance on Guile hadn't changed.

In addition, I found Guile to be... well, kind of a jerk. In his win quotes, he tended to be condescending in that 'grown-up' way and put people down after winning over them. I guess that being a soldier, he feels a need to discourage others from combat and fighting and all that. Even so, I wasn't a fan.

A little later, my constant playing of the game lead me to take on a different sort of project. As part of that project, I needed to do a character study of Guile. Mind you, the reason I picked Guile was for his memetic qualities alone. All I really wanted was to get a feel for how he behaved in battle so I can build accurate fight scenes involving him. Naturally, the start of this was rather reluctant.

I got a feel for his martial arts in a narrative sense, but I was left wanting more from the gameplay perspective. Thus, I dedicated some time to practice and study.

In time, I got into it. My advanced gamer reflexes could now pull off the timing necessary for sonic booms and flash kicks. I learned the range of Guile's fierce attacks, doing sweeps to stall and charge a special move, and made it a game within a game to see if I can pull off Guile's Ultra attack, much more actually finish a match with it.

Suddenly, I was hyped for Guile. I was learning while I was mopping up and it was fun. I even took pride in his personal mannerisms like sunglasses, his dedication to his hair, and his occasionally ham-fisted demeanor. Because I lived this character, I internalized more his dedication to his mission and the merits of his patriotism. His attitude towards other fighters still left something to be desired, but I knew more than before that Guile was within his character to say those things. He wasn't particularly condescending... he was just Guile. Rather than accentuate the negative to support my aversion to the character, I looked for all the positive to see. After all, a character that I spent so much time learning can't be all that bad, right?

So... what happened here? I circled around Guile for half my life and didn't give him a second thought. Suddenly I gave him the benefit of a doubt and I'm an overnight family man? Not quite.

See, if Street Fighter came from and stuck to a non-interactive medium, say purely big/small screen franchise, I doubt I could have ever taken a shining to Guile. His no-nonsense personality was too abrasive for me. I would have supported him as a protagonist, but only that far. Expanding on his back story may give me more to judge him by, but the character we have here doesn't change much for it.

The video game angle is what caused this change in outlook. It's one thing to know where a character comes from, but it's another to actually BE that character. Having their skills at your disposal gives you a deeper insight into what it's like to be this character. Of course, we can't experience for ourselves the loss of Charlie or take on the strain of remaining a noble soldier while hatred plays your forced muse.

We CAN, however, slip ourselves into Guile's camo and wield his sonic boom. The more we learn a character and turn to them as an ambassador for the Street Fighter experience, the more influence this character can have on us. Suddenly, we are more sympathetic to Guile's mission. We are right there with him when he grips a fist in agony after a time-out loss. After Guile toasts to a temporary victory, speaking to his friend's tombstone, the word 'amen' may be on the tip of your tongue.

Then again, your experience owning a character in a tournament fighter probably isn't so dramatic or in-depth. At the very least, you'd echo a sound bite or mimic a mannerism when you're feeling particularly proud of a win over a real-life friend.

Movies, TV, books, etc. can do a lot to give you an in-depth look at a character. They can weave words and images, or make the character a consistent part of your life as you follow their journeys. Each medium has an advantage over the other to pull off the same narrative goal. Video games are distinct in that they are capable of saying, "You know what? Here. You take control and see what it's like." It's up to the game from there to use perspective, control, gameplay, scripted events, and much more at its disposal to tell its story.

Of course, not every game is an epic tale or descent into the very soul of its protagonist. Then again, what a game is or isn't depends entirely on the imagination of the gamer.

Tales of the Abyss and Mobile Storytelling

For the last two months of 2012, my Nintendo 3DS was more than just a portable gaming console. It was an interactive movie on the run. It was like a book with gamification tossed into the mix. At any time, I could open my system up and immediately be back in the world of Auldrant; either to train my characters or to advance the storyline happening within.

This may sound melodramatic, but it is accurate to how I felt about the game. So what did I do special that gave me such an in-depth experience? Nothing, really. I just carried my 3DS around and played the game whenever I was otherwise indisposed. I suppose it was just the fact that the game being so close to me physically allowed me to feel close to the game in a figurative way.

What I experienced with Tales of the Abyss is called "immersion." Immersion is somewhat of a buzzword in the gaming community that may have lost a little meaning because of how often it's tossed around. Immersion is the phenomenon of being so focused on something that you lose awareness of the world around you. I was immersed in Tales of the Abyss, and not necessarily only when I was playing the game. It sort of stuck to me as I went about my day. I would be thinking about the game's storyline or planning ahead which abilities I wanted my characters to learn next. If ever I had a moment, I could just dive right in and either push towards the next plot point or change my team around.

You see, Tales of the Abyss is a Japanese Role Playing Game. JRPGs tend to pack a lot of story content. Since I had that story content literally in my pocket, my book analogy is appropriate. Let's say that I played Tales of the Abyss on a home console. I would be setting aside time to play it and probably in long sessions. Because I played it mobile, I only played small bits of it at a time in situations where I didn't necessarily set out to play it. Rather than think of my ToA sessions as dedicated "game time," ToA was instead interwoven into my day. My routine. My life, even.

It doesn't hurt that the game itself is really good. The storyline takes place in a typical medieval fantasy setting, the world of Auldrant. The people follow a religious organization called the Order of Lorelei and live their lives according to a scripture called the Score. You follow the main character, bratty aristocrat Luke Fon Fabre, as he is wrenched from his life of luxury and sent on a fantastic quest to save the world. The game world is just full of interesting locations, the plot twists and turns to avoid being predictable, and the characters evolve in rewarding ways.

This crew will become family. Mark my words.

This stellar presentation is backed with very engaging gameplay. Most of the game takes place in 3D environments that you can run around and explore, but fighting takes place on specialized 3D planes. Combat in ToA is a mix between old-school RPG and fighting games. If you know what that means, you should be at least a little curious. If you don't, just rest assured that combat is fast, has a learning curve, and can be very rewarding when you do well. Your characters gain stats, learn new abilities, and develop the more you play.

Between the storyline and the game content itself, I could be sure that whenever I came back to the game, what I played would be rewarding. By the time I was watching the final scene of the game, I had built up enough investment in the game that I could fully appreciate the events of the game's climax. Once the credits were done and I could fully turn the game off, I just had a moment where I sat back and realized to myself, "It's actually over." I came to the realization that I didn't have Tales of the Abyss to come to for more adventure and training. I wasn't addicted, that game had just been such a consistent part of my days that not having it would take some getting used to.

This, my friends, is why I know that complex mobile games are here to stay. My creativity and zeal for life were kept at steady levels because of the fun and intrigue this game injected into my days. Games can be therapeutic in different ways for different people. The consistent quality of Tales of the Abyss is how it was therapeutic for me. Just having fun and satisfying gaming experiences peppered through my day kept me feeling fresh and chipper.

With an introduction movie this good, you know you're in for a good time.

And now, I want you to think about games which have had these effects on you. A game which you got completely immersed in. A game which helps you relax. A game which gets you fired up for the rest of your day. A game that didn't feel like "a game" when you played it. Remember that zen you feel when you're playing the game. Perhaps you'd prefer to call it "being in the zone." Either way, that feeling is great. If we could bottle that feeling and call upon it whenever we wanted, we would all be much happier with our lives and much more emotionally prepared for whatever may come.

If something comes to mind, feel free to share it in the comments below. Perhaps you'd like to ping me on Twitter, PM on tumblr, or mention on Facebook. I'm available on all social media and will be all too happy to feature your idea. I want to start discussions, not just have them with myself.

I also think I'll be settling into a Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule with this blog. Perhaps I'll bring in other articles from around the web to feature on my off-days. Either way, I'm on a roll so you can expect another post by the end of the week. Until then, game out.

Super Mario 3D Land and Taking off the Training Wheels

I love the heck out of Super Mario 3D Land for the Nintendo 3DS. One of my friends, however, begs to differ. In a conversation some time back, she says that the game focused too much on one of its features and came out weaker because of it.

The feature in question is the game's "Tanooki Suit" power-up. Simply put, the Tanooki Suit's main function allows Mario to hover in air and generally be much more maneuverable when jumping. Since jumping between platforms is the backbone of the game, having this power-up clearly makes things tons easier.

After that conversation, I knew what I had to do. I created a new file in Super Mario 3D Land and set out to play through the game with one stipulation: Never use the Tanooki Suit. This way I can compare the impact of suit versus no suit.

My friends, this game is amazing when you don't use the Tanooki Suit. The stages are tougher to navigate, more careful jumping is necessary, and you even get to explore more of what the game has to offer.

First and most obvious, the game was more difficult. If I missed a jump over a pit, I couldn't just scramble my way back to try again. It was down into the pit with me. If my jump landed me in front of an enemy, that was my problem to deal with. And I loved it. It was practically a whole new game now that all the circumstances had been changed.  I adjusted my play style to account for a lack of a "get out of trouble free" card and was happily on my way.

Secondly, I came to appreciate the game's other power-ups. Despite the game emphasizing the Tanooki Suit so hard, it contained two other power-ups: the fire flower and the boomerang flower. These power-ups give Mario the ability to launch fireballs or use boomerangs to damage enemies. Boomerangs can even collect coins wherever it goes. However, these items offer no mobility upgrades, so they were booby prizes compared to the Tanooki Suit. In fact, I distinctly remember in my first play through going out of my way to avoid these power-ups. I only used the Tanooki Suit with another one in reserve.

See the shadow, the goomba, the tail in the title? It's everywhere, man.

Now that the "default" power-up was no longer in the picture, I was free to make use of the other two. This also added to the fun factor since I had more choices in how to defeat enemies. I could just clear the path from afar, pull some impressive shots by bouncing the fireballs off of walls, or safely defeat bosses by having my projectiles to the work. I could even carry the other item in reserve just in case I wanted to switch up the play style. I also got less upset when I took a hit and lost the power-up. I still had my core abilities and the way I moved stayed the same. In some cases, I would value the extra hit over the actual abilities of the power-up.

Thirdly, there is just more fun to be had when the game isn't too easy. I was amazed at how the game engaged me. Before, I could just float through - in some ways literally - without much challenge breaking my stride. Now I just had my skill, wits, and reaction time; all of which improved to adjust. For instance, I had to jump from a rotating block to reach a collectible item. The window for making this jump was tiny. I had to wait for the platform to rotate into the optimal position and still jump at the very furthest I could to get the most height and distance. I must had stayed at that point for at least half an hour straight, jumping, falling, coming up short, and having to traverse the whole stage again just for another shot. Finally, one particularly focused jump saw Mario perch himself on top of the flag pole. I earned a 1-up and a golden flag. I thought I had passed out and was dreaming. It probably was the most rewarding thing I had done in a video game in a long time.

If I were using the Tanooki Suit, I could have made the jump with a half-hearted effort on the first try. There also is an alternate way to make the jump much easier, but that would have had to wait way later in the game.

At this point, this post probably closely resembles the previous one, trumpeting the praises of the self-imposed challenge. And that is true that it's similar. In this case, rather than add more challenge to build a new skill, we are instead avoiding the path of least resistance to enrich the experience. I'd instead say that the game was built around Mario's default jumping abilities. Using the Tanooki Suit is more akin to an "easy mode" than the default.

I can now see where my friend's frustration comes in. The game wasn't necessarily middling to easy, it actually is pretty well crafted. However, it came bundled with Nintendo's PR move to put the Tanooki Suit front and center for the throwback effect. If only there were an Options menu button that could remove the Tanooki suit, or some method of bringing to peoples' attentions the possibility of playing the game in such a way. I count one single collectible that absolutely required the Tanooki suit to obtain. Otherwise, you could play through the game, as-is, and complete every objective. To prove my point, here's someone beating the game's toughest level without use of the Tanooki Suit.

This whole thing got me thinking on how we use inhibitors in our everyday life to make things more comfortable. These range from physical assistance such as escalators to mental and emotional processes that lead us away from the strain of thinking for ourselves. Go ahead. Try and find at least one thing you "use" in your life that makes it easier but duller. Do you think you could carry on without that thing for a little bit? I'd like to see you try. Others would probably like to see you try. Most importantly, I'd wager that you would like to see you try.