Oh, my Knee is Aching. Bet There’s a Level 100 Dragon Coming.

Age is not a subject that gets a lot of discussion in games. It might have something to do with the fact that the people that made games have been young themselves, but that’s been changing with time. Still, while age might be used as a setting (playing as a father in That Dragon, Cancer, for instance), it’s not used as a mechanic very often. Some games mention it, but it really goes underused in general.

Well, except for Snake. He got old in MGS4. Damn planned obsolescence. 

So, how do games use age? What could they do it that they’re not currently doing? Why would it matter?

Fable, a RPG by chronic-over-promsier Peter Molyneux, is the ultimate example of “oh man, this was so close to being the best thing ever.” Fable was billed as the be-all and end-all of role playing games. You could plant a tree and watch it grow throughout the years. You could kill a child’s parents and the child would grow up and hunt you down for your evil deeds. In reality, it ended up being a charming RPG with enjoyable (if exploitable) mechanics, a fun story, and lackluster expansions.

So much promised potential, so little of it actually there.

One of the few unique things Fable had was its aging mechanic. When you defeat an enemy or complete a quest, you get experience which can be spent to level up a particular attribute, or gain a new spell. Every time you “level up”, you character ages. If you upgrade all of your possible stats, your character ends up being about 65. I found this really odd as kid and, I’ll admit, frustrating. I wanted to be young and powerful, not some old fart. It makes sense though. Age and experience tend to go hand in hand.

I hope I look this good at 65. This guy looks like he could bench press a few mobility scooters, riders included.

The best adventurers might not be the young ones, but the grizzled veterans who know their own strengths and weaknesses. Ageing had no effect on your gameplay, though. You got more powerful as you level up, and you end up as this ridiculously buff old man. The more and more I played it (once I got older), I wanted age to have some kind of effect. It seemed like such a missed opportunity. I’m sure there have been games with ageing mechanics that do effect gameplay, but no mainstream ones, certainly.

The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind is the opposite of Fable in a lot of ways. It’s serious where Fable is cartoonish, complicated where Fable is simplistic, and open where Fable is linear. Though it doesn’t have any kind of age mechanic, ageing plays a certain part in your story. Whenever you level up, you get a short message before you choose how to upgrade your stats. In the beginning, the messages are very upbeat, and almost inspiring.

“You realize that all your life you have been coasting along as if you were in a dream. Suddenly, facing the trials of the last few days, you have come alive.”

— -Morrowind, 1st level up message

Messages like the above can make you realize exactly how much you’ve learned about the game, the enemies you face, and your own abilities. For the first 14 levels, the quotes are about how you’re learning new things, getting stronger, and becoming better. After that, however, they start to take a slightly depressing turn.

“Today you suddenly realized the life you’ve been living, the punishment your body has taken — there are limits to what the body can do, and perhaps you have reached them. You’ve wondered what it is like to grow old. Well, now you know.”

— Morrowind, 14th level up message

Suddenly, experience becomes something very different. It’s not about getting better anymore; now it’s about clawing to hold onto everything you have learned. There’s a kind of horror that comes with these words, and I think it reflects something very real that people feel about getting older. At some point, you peak. Everything after that is just downhill. No matter how hard you work, struggle, or learn, there will be somebody just as good as your who’s younger. The last unique message you get is at level 20, and it always sends a chill down my spine.

“You’ll never be better than you are today. If you are lucky, by superhuman effort, you can avoid slipping backwards for a while. But sooner or later, you’re going to lose a step, or drop a beat, or miss a detail — and you’ll be gone forever.”

— Morrowind, last unique level up message

Games aren’t supposed to do this! They’re not supposed to remind me of the fact that I’m not a digital, immortal, all-powerful avatar! It’s a huge break from the usual young man’s power fantasy and incredibly unique in that regard. Unfortunately, the one thing that Fable and Morrowind share is the toothless nature of their ageing mechanics. Nothing happens to your character despite these messages. You’re the same at level 1 as you are at level 20. Another missed opportunity from a great game.

I think ageing is a really good area to explore in games. As games have changed, they have moved from simpler tales to more complex ideas, like love, sacrifice, family, and grief. I think it would be great if you had a game that could paint a picture of what it means to grow older. What if you could play a Viking, once greatly renowned in your town for your ferocity in battle and your bravery, who has to deal with the fact that your axe gets harder to pick up each day? Would you still go out on raiding expeditions, knowing that your chances of coming back from each one get smaller and smaller? Would you be able to face the sneers of your village for your “cowardice”, or would you face your death? What about a game that starts you at your adventuring peak, and you decide to open a school to train new adventurers? Could you stomach sending young souls off on dangerous quests without going yourself? Do you have a duty to your own thirst for adventure, or to train the next generation? There’s a lot of territory here to cover, and I’m interested to see if any developers think so as well.

Ageing is a powerful sort of thing, but it’s also interactive in a way. You feel it when you get older. You get new creaks and aches, and things don’t work as well. I think games are a really good area to explore what this is like, because they can put limitations on a player. “No, you can’t do a triple backflip slice with that greatsword anymore. You’re 50. Why don’t you try a sensible slash instead?” We’ll see where things go, but I think age is a fruit ripe for picking.

Pickling Games: Atmosphere

Imagine that you wake up on a train. There are only two other people in your car, both say that they didn’t see you get on. The train stops, and with a heaving sigh and a "Well, end of the line" from one of the other passengers, you enter a dirty train station. High above you, gigantic screens show a man, speaking to all of you. He mentions the" generosity of our benefactors” in allowing you to live in “one of humanity’s finest remaining settlements.”  Meanwhile, you can get a better look at the people inside the station. They are frightened, depressed, and extremely wary of one another. The police force abuses the populace with total for fun, taking some into “interrogation rooms” and beating others for nothing more than not picking up a can. You can see the desperation and anger in the citizens who wait for a single bag of food from an automatic dispenser. Walking out of the train station, you are blinded by the flash from a security drone taking pictures of all the populace. “Welcome to City 17”, the overseer says.

Though over a decade old, the opening of Half-Life 2 still stands as one of the best introductions to a world in games.

This is the opening to Half Life 2, considered one of the best video games ever made. A large part of this is because of the well-constructed and designed world and atmosphere of the game. Atmosphere is the salt of the video game world. It adds flavor to normal games and drastically increases the chance of preservation. Those few games that get it right are guaranteed at least a footnote in the history of Video Games.

So, how do you do atmosphere right?

The Shock games (System Shock/System Shock 2/Bioshock 1, 2, and Infinite) are loved by many players.  Every step you takes, every sound you hear, and every new room you see adds to the atmosphere of the game.

From the very opening of System Shock 2 you know that only a thin metal wall separates you from the gigantic cold void of space.  As you move through the station, enemies’ mumbled cries echo around the empty rooms and the slowly decaying station machinery blips and beeps. The game shows you clear evidence of the people living there: audio diaries, magazines left out on beds, and discarded drink cans in the mess hall. More importantly, the layout of station is designed for people, rather than just a level in a game. All of these little things make the space station of System Shock 2 a haunting and unforgettable environment despite uncomfortable combat, a confusing upgrade system, and wildly unbalanced weapons.

The villain of System Shock, SHODAN, adds a huge amount to the atmosphere  with her almost Max Headroom style messages.

If you are interested in western RPGs in the slightest, chances are you have seen a lot of discussion and comparison between The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind and The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. In Morrowind, the minute you step into the playable part of the game (in the hold of a ship), you hear all the sounds you actually might hear on real wooden boat; the creaking of the wood, the water splashing against the hull, and the footsteps of the people upstairs. These little environmental sounds immerse you in the area, to say nothing of the visual aspects of Morrowind.

The first town looks normal, but even that has tons of visual and audio cues that let you know that it’s as close an to a real place as video games can create. The town is built around a few buildings, like the Trade House and the Guard House. There’s a lighthouse near the water and several lower income houses near the less desirable, swampier parts of town. The outdoors themselves are really well put together as well, and give you clues about how this world works. Step a few feet outside any town and the you find mushroom trees, giant bugs that serve as a sort of public transport, and areas ranging from damp swamps to giant mountains hidden in swirling clouds of red ash. Your character reacts to all this like you actually might.  You have to wade through ash storms when you encounter them. They slow your forward movement and force your character to shield their eyes. When you walk under the mushroom trees, you can see various creatures scuttling  underneath and flying gas creatures moving gently from place to place.

The first area you see in a game helps set the tone for the rest of your time int the world, and a lot of games don't use the first area as well as they could.

Skyrim misses a lot of these little touches. The sounds of the world are generic and your character moves the same whether you are trudging through snow or running in a field. The dungeons of Skyrim are almost always designed in the same way. You follow a crescent shaped path only to find a switch at the end which allows you to move from the beginning to the end much quicker. The dungeons are oddly quiet and the exact same color palette and textures do start to wear on you. These details make you feel unconnected from the world and reduce atmospheric quality of the game.

However, there are parts of Skyrim that do further atmosphere, like the lighting and weather systems. In one of the first dungeons, a single fire on top of a pedestal illuminates a broken down chamber, and the enemy slowly crosses the room. The flickering flame and the quality of light make the room seem warm, somehow. You can almost feel the one room of heat in this cold tomb, and feel the trepidation when the enemy emerges from the shadow.

You find the best moments in Skyrim happen when you're exploring. When you trudge up a mountain, over rocks and through a blizzard, only to look up and see an ancient structure slowly appear out of the snow, you get a feeling like you're exploring something that's been untouched for years. You can almost feel the cold that chills your bones and the snow that weighs your feet down. The sense of adventure here is almost unparalleled; what's in that template, just waiting for me to find it?

Discovery is one of the best things in The Elder Scrolls series, and Skyrim definitely has that in spades, but other issues weigh it down when compared with earlier games.

Atmosphere does not always have to be beautiful or inviting; the dark and lonely world of the S.T.A.L.K.E.R games tosses you into a dangerous and tense fight for survival. This series of games takes place in the area around the Chernobyl reactor, famous for its 1986 nuclear disaster. You assumes the role of a stalker, an adventurer who goes into the “Zone” to bring back mysterious artifacts created by disaster.

Most worlds draw you to go outside and adventure, but not the S.T.A.L.K.E.R series. Every time you go out into the Zone you risk getting mauled by psychic dogs, gasmask-wearing snorks, or white eyed blood sucking humanoids that can become invisible at will. The unfriendly humans can be even worse. When walking through “The Zone”, you can hear the haunting cries of the mutated animals and feel a chill run up your spine, you can see the far off light of gunfire and decide whether intervening is smart given your ammunition count and health. You can see the various radioactive anomalies light up as an unfortunate person or animal wanders into them and feel your steps become more cautious to avoid a similar fate. You can feel the cold of the rain and the anticipation for safety upon seeing a friendly group of stalkers around a fire. The world forces you to treat it with caution and respect, making it far more memorable than most video game locales.

If the mutants of the S.T.A.L.K.E.R don't creep you out, I don't want to know you.

Imagine dropping into the cockpit of a space fighter. Immediately, you see the metal bulkhead in front of you that reads “Trevithick Dock.” You select the “launch option”, and your ship is carted through the station until you are on the surface, the black void of space around you. In the distance, you can see millions of stars through the translucent glass of your cockpit. Inside the cockpit, you can see your ships controls, and watch as your avatar responds to your commands, readying to ship for launch. Around you, your audio feed picks up various ships docking and leaving as well as the Dock master’s stern warning not to cause any trouble. You launch your ship off of the landing pad and suddenly, the galaxy is open to you. All you have to do is chose where to start your adventure. This is what atmosphere does. It creates memories that stick with you for far longer than any game can last. 

Welcome to the galaxy, pilot. Where to first?