Video Game Structure

Today's entry is a two-fer, as I will be addressing both Game World Structure and Gameplay Structure.



interview with [a]List Daily. What started me on this post was a comment made by Tony Key, Senior VP of Sales & Marketing for Ubisoft, during anwith [a]List Daily.



" We won't even start [a game] if we don't think we can build a franchise out of it. There's no more fire and forget - it's too expensive."



Now, I'll admit there's a hell of a lot to be said for franchises. If handled well, one respectable franchise can keep a developer on the Gravy Train for well over a decade. (Activision/Blizzard has done this with Starcraft, Warcraft, World of Warcraft, Diablo, and Call of Duty.) Millions of people will line up around the block to buy your game on release day on name recognition alone!



Sadly, however, very few developers handle franchises well. The worst offenders are those of the "This one game sold WAY more than we expected - let's make a sequel!" persuasion and those who simply milk a franchise into becoming a train-wreck mockery of its former glory. (I'm looking at you, hedgehog and Italian plumber!) Another high-ranking category of offenders are those who insist on making a sequel by dragging out a closed story. (Highlander 2, anyone?)



There's nothing inherently wrong with wanting to create franchises, but you have to think things through properly. Most developers have a propensity for really screwing the pooch in this regard - which is a shame because they've destroyed more popular IPs than can be counted by overlooking a few simple-yet-essential considerations.





Game World Structure



There are two major elements to Game World Structure: World Design and Arc of Scope.



World Design generally comes in four basic flavors:

Closed Story & Game World : The overwhelming majority of video games before the turn of the millennia fall into this category. Platformers, first-person shooters, turn-based strategy, puzzle games, etc. The boundaries of the game world are clearly defined and the player really doesn't have any alternative to following a predetermined path. Not that there's anything wrong with this approach - thousands of extremely popular games use this design. One of the many notable entries in this category is Super Mario Brothers.

Closed Story & Open World: These games offer an expansive game world, but tend to limit a player's actual freedom within it. Despite being able to travel pretty much wherever they like, portions of the gameplay content are withheld until the player's character completes certain milestones. Again, there's nothing inherently wrong with this approach - Assassin's Creed, Bioshock, Diablo, and countless other successful franchises have used it.

Perpetual Game World: These games offer an expansive game world as well as tremendous player freedom within it. While there may sometimes be a few caveats (such as the super-sticky amulet from Oblivion), they still leave a world of self-determination for the player. Apart from prompts such as quests, however, the character's actions have no discernible effect on the game world itself. This tends to be the default for most MMOs and other large-scale multiplayer games, as the designers don't want one player's narrative progression to interfere with that of another.

Persistent Game World: These games offer game worlds which are both expansive and affected by the players' activity within them. More common to single-player games (going all the way back to Elite - if not further), some MMOs implement this through a 'phasing system' - characters which have performed certain actions encounter a different 'world' than characters which have not. The bulk of video games earning the "sandbox" moniker also tend to fall into this category.

Keep in mind that World Design and Game World Structure are separate entities. Game World Structure is the entire world in which your game takes place, while World Design is how much of that world the player can potentially experience during the protagonist's narrative journey. Ideally, your World Design (such as the specific Aperature Lab in each of the Portal games) is but one small facet of the Game World Structure.



This is where Arc of Scope comes into play.



Arc of Scope concerns how the player character's narrative journey through the game relates to the game world - which, in turn, determines the potential (and parameters) for a sequel/franchise. When developing the primary narrative for your game (which includes story, mechanics... pretty much everything that goes into a video game), you are making certain explicit and implicit promises with your audience. Need I remind anyone of Aerith in Final Fantasy VII?



And for the love of whatever deity you profess to worship, never NEVER use the "it was all a dream" cop-out. Whatever happens during the main narrative journey of your video game should be considered etched in stone - and unchangeable for all eternity. If the player character overthrows a despot to reclaim their rightful throne, they're not going to be a penniless pauper in the next game. If they're some special being and spend the entire narrative journey wiping out every other special being ("There can be only one!"), don't have dozens more come crawling out of the woodwork later.



Franchises of any kind live on continuity of their World Structure. It is exceptionally rare for any Game World Structure to survive even the slightest disruption to its continuity - and, even then, it takes masterful skill to pull it off. If you're reading this blog, take it as read that you do NOT possess that degree of skill! Professionals with decades of experience manage to botch this up time and again, so do yourself a huge favor and consider this one of the hard-and-fast rules of video game development: "Canon is inviolate - the past CANNOT be rewritten!"



This is why Arc of Scope is so crucial. There may be scores of potential sequels in a particular World Design - just not any involving the same primary character(s) from the first one. Portal does this by using a different protagonist in a different Aperture Science lab. Assassin's Creed does this by having the bulk of the gameplay occur in a virtual world (by way of different historical figures) while the Arc of Scope in the "real world" addresses the escalating conflict between the Templar and Brotherhood factions.



"Aiming low" can also be of tremendous benefit in this department. Think of the old AD&D games and how they scaled. The first game concerns a narrative journey that begins with the main character at 1st level and ends with the main character around 9th level; the second game concerns a narrative journey that begins with the main character at 9th level and ends with the main character around 15th level; lather, rinse, repeat.



The last example should also illustrate why some franchises tend to jump the shark so often. They either wind up with a protagonist that's so powerful (such as Superman) that there's little that can pose a true threat, resort to some sort of 'debilitating weakness' bullshit, or are forced to concoct some preposterously overpowered adversary to try to balance things out.



As much as narrative developers (in all industries) love to use characters with major authority as protagonists, they are also usually the ones with the least autonomy within their worlds. Captain James T Kirk would have quickly found himself stripped of command and polishing photon torpedoes for how frequently he would abandon his post and go gallivanting about on away teams. Kings and Queens (as well as Princes and Princesses) would find themselves confined to royal grounds to avoid exposure to potential threats by the disgruntled masses or deposed for neglecting their royal obligations.



Again, it is best to "aim low". In militaristic scenarios, Sergeants work quite well - as they have enough authority to access a few vital resources yet are anonymous enough to have near-complete autonomy. Fantasy scenarios are so dominant because their worlds are overflowing with mundane little nobodies who are out to find fame and fortune - and are usually competent enough to attain it.



The smaller your Arc of Scope is relative to your Game World Structure, the more inherent potential your game will have for becoming a franchise. J. R. R. Tolkien's Hobbit had a fairly miniscule Arc of Scope, but it was part of a World Structure that even the massive Lord of the Rings couldn't deplete.





Gameplay Structure



In the worlds of film, novels, television, short stories, etc, the traditional Three-Act structure takes a lot of flak - some of it almost deserved. The structure is older than civilization itself and is still around largely due to its sheer potency, but modern times tend to move at a much faster pace. In media res, literally "beginning in the middle", has become extremely popular. People nowadays want to jump right into the meat and potatoes of a narrative (Act Two) and worry about the setup (Act One) later on - often using flashbacks and/or infodumps of exposition.



One of the most-cited reasons as to why so many video games just plain suck is that most writers learn their trade through traditional media. They are taught (and often use) radical avant-garde structures to great effect - yet fail to realize that those same techniques simply do not work for video games. Video games play by an entirely different set of ground rules from most every other form of media humankind has ever known.



Video games need the traditional Three-Act structure ! And I'll explain why.



Every video game needs a tutorial. Every title has its own particular take on video game conventions and, no matter how long-running a franchise may be, each title is someone's first experience with that particular intellectual property. The player needs time to get a feel for the controls and experience the game world before all hell breaks loose.



Act One fits this bill perfectly because, rather than simply watching someone else going through the motions, the player is controlling the character through them. In addition to giving the player the opportunity to become accustomed to the controls, this also allows them to become emotionally invested in both the character and their world.



This isn't to say that there can't be a lot of action going on - far from it! This is the perfect place for lots of activity. But the action in Act One needs to meet four specific criteria:

The actions must familiarize players with the primary control scheme: Things that the player will spend a great deal of their time doing in the game - movement, attacking, jumping, accessing inventory, etc - need to be introduced at a digestible pace. The player needs the opportunity to become as familiar with these actions as the character they are portraying. The consequences for these actions (or failure) need to be minor: Some game developers like to teach players to swim by sticking floaties on them (often using some form of 'guardian' NPC) and tossing them into a tsunami - when they should drop the player into calm water that's just deep enough for them to tread water. Nothing kills a player's enthusiasm for a video game more quickly than their character getting killed in the starting area.

The actions undertaken should not be part of the game's narrative journey: There can be connections, but remember that this is taking place prior to the Call to Action which thrusts the character into the game's narrative journey. (If the narrative journey involves escaping from a zombie-filled metropolis, Act One takes place in a fortified area where the protagonist only contends with the scant few zombies that manage to get in. The Call to Action would be when zombies overrun the defenses, which then thrusts the protagonist(s) into Act Two.)

The duration of Act One needs to be specifically tailored to that game: If Act One is too short, the player hasn't had time to fully establish their investment in the character before being thrust into Act Two. If Act One is too long, the player will become bored and possibly quit playing before ever experiencing the Call to Action. Generally speaking, the point at which the player has all the basics down (but isn't yet fully proficient with them) is the best place to disrupt their equilibrium (with the Call to Action) and hurl them into Act Two.



One popular technique from traditional media which does work well for video games is a type of flash called parallel action. (A flashback reveals something which has happened in the narrative's past, while a flash-forward reveals something that hasn't happened yet. Parallel action reveals something which happens more or less at the same time, but is as yet completely unrelated to the protagonist.) An excellent example from the original Star Wars is the Imperial battlecruiser capturing Leia's ship. As much as video game developers "love them some cinematics", this is the absolute best place to use one.



As a narrative convention, it is ubiquitous enough that the player will naturally understand how it connects to the game's narrative journey; it reveals the major disruption that the player's character will eventually be involved with. This creates anticipation (which keeps the player playing through 'the boring stuff') because the conventions of the Three-Act structure are so well known. The player knows that the Call to Action - the point when the narrative arc from the opening cinematic and the character's narrative journey collide - is not far away.



Like I mentioned in the section about the Arc of Scope, the disruptive force doesn't always need to be world-threatening - it only needs to pose a threat to the main character's priorities within their world. While a high school student spending the day playing hookie has no real impact on anyone other than themselves, the threat posed by a truant officer (or a psychotic faculty member from the school) is a crippling threat to their priorities. (Ferris Bueller's Day Off)



The Arc of Scope for the entire Leisure Suit Larry franchise involved little more than trying to get Larry laid. Numerous genres focus on the protagonist surviving and/or escaping from an intolerable situation or environment. Adventure games typically involve the protagonist trying to obtain a rare treasure (usually an object, but can just as often be a person) from a fortified location.





The next part of the traditional Three-Act structure which needs to be addressed is Act Three.



With very few exceptions (mainly sandbox games and MMOs), a video game will have a satisfying resolution - the point where the protagonist overcomes the source of disruption to either restore the Old Order or establish a New Order. This could be escaping from a post-apocalyptic metropolis that has been overrun by zombies, destroying a powerful doomsday device, rescuing a captive and returning them to safety, defeating a "Final Boss", or whatever else you've concocted for your game. It doesn't necessarily have to be "happily ever after" (the best narrative journeys aren't) but it needs to be satisfying .



The resolution must answer what traditional media calls the Dramatic Question. "Will the hero rescue the princess?" "Will the protagonist lead their companions to safety?" "Will the villain be defeated?" "Will Larry get laid?" Regardless of whether the answer is 'yes', 'no', or something else entirely, the resolution must provide a satisfying answer to this question. If you're aspiring to create an A (or even AAA) title, you should count on having several different resolutions - with the protagonist's actions during Act Two determining which one is encountered.





Act Two - which encompasses every detail of the narrative journey; how the protagonist gets from Act One to Act Three - is the most crucial aspect of video game development. This should be saved for last, but far too many developers (veterans as well as novices) try to do this part first.



BIG MISTAKE!



When planning a journey, you first have to know the starting point and the destination.



If one were to compare building a video game narrative to building a house, Act Three would be when the house is ready for occupancy and Act One would be when you were hired on to do the job. You have to survey the existing lot and determine what the end result(s) should be before you can even hope to come up with a plan for getting from A to B. (Also A to C and A to D if you're ambitious enough to have more than one resolution.)



The solution(s) you come up with for this dilemma will determine how you approach your World Design. How much of your Game World Structure will the player encounter during the narrative journey? How much autonomy will you give the player? How will that autonomy affect which conclusion they arrive at? How will the protagonist acquire the resources they'll need to reach those conclusions?



Now that you've got your blueprints, start building!

Keep in mind that World Design and Game World Structure are separate entities. Game World Structure is theworld in which your game takes place, while World Design is how much of that world the player can potentially experience during the protagonist's narrative journey. Ideally, your World Design (such as the specific Aperature Lab in each of thegames) is but one small facet of the Game World Structure.This is where Arc of Scope comes into play.and unchangeable for all eternity. If the player character overthrows a despot to reclaim their rightful throne, they're not going to be a penniless pauper in the next game. If they're some special being and spend the entire narrative journey wiping out every other special being ("There can be only one!"), don't have dozens more come crawling out of the woodwork later.Franchises of any kind live on continuity of their World Structure. It is exceptionally rare for any Game World Structure to survive even the slightest disruption to its continuity - and, even then, it takes masterful skill to pull it off. If you're reading this blog, take it as read that you dopossess that degree of skill! Professionals with decades of experience manage to botch this up time and again, so do yourself a huge favor and consider this one of the hard-and-fast rules of video game development: "Canon is inviolate - the pastbe rewritten!"There may be scores of potential sequels in a particular World Design - just not any involving the same primary character(s) from the first one.does this by using a different protagonist in a different Aperture Science lab.does this by having the bulk of the gameplay occur in a virtual world (by way of different historical figures) while the Arc of Scope in the "real world" addresses the escalating conflict between the Templar and Brotherhood factions."Aiming low" can also be of tremendous benefit in this department. Think of the old AD&D games and how they scaled. The first game concerns a narrative journey that begins with the main character at 1st level and ends with the main character around 9th level; the second game concerns a narrative journey that begins with the main character at 9th level and ends with the main character around 15th level; lather, rinse, repeat.The last example should also illustrate why some franchises tend to jump the shark so often. They either wind up with a protagonist that's so powerful (such as Superman) that there's little that can pose a true threat, resort to some sort of 'debilitating weakness' bullshit, or are forced to concoct some preposterously overpowered adversary to try to balance things out.As much as narrative developers (in all industries) love to use characters with major authority as protagonists, they are also usually the ones with the least autonomy within their worlds. Captain James T Kirk would have quickly found himself stripped of command and polishing photon torpedoes for how frequently he would abandon his post and go gallivanting about on away teams. Kings and Queens (as well as Princes and Princesses) would find themselves confined to royal grounds to avoid exposure to potential threats by the disgruntled masses or deposed for neglecting their royal obligations.work quite well - as they have enough authority to access a few vital resources yet are anonymous enough to have near-complete autonomy. Fantasy scenarios are so dominant because their worlds are overflowing with mundane little nobodies who are out to find fame and fortune - and are usually competent enough to attain it.The smaller your Arc of Scope is relative to your Game World Structure, the more inherent potential your game will have for becoming a franchise. J. R. R. Tolkien'shad a fairly miniscule Arc of Scope, but it was part of a World Structure that even the massivecouldn't deplete.In the worlds of film, novels, television, short stories, etc, the traditional Three-Act structure takes a lot of flak - some of it almost deserved. The structure is older than civilization itself and is still around largely due to its sheer potency, but modern times tend to move at a much faster pace.People nowadays want to jump right into the meat and potatoes of a narrative (Act Two) and worry about the setup (Act One) later on - often using flashbacks and/or infodumps of exposition.One of the most-cited reasons as to why so many video games just plain suck is that most writers learn their trade through traditional media. They are taught (and often use) radical avant-garde structures to great effect - yet fail to realize that those same techniques simply do not work for video games. Video games play by an entirely different set of ground rules from most every other form of media humankind has ever known.! And I'll explain why.a franchise may be, each title is someone's first experience with that particular intellectual property. The player needs time to get a feel for the controls and experience the game worldall hell breaks loose.emotionally invested in both the character and their world.One popular technique from traditional media whichwork well for video games is a type of flash called parallel action. (A flashback reveals something which has happened in the narrative's past, while a flash-forward reveals something that hasn't happened. Parallel action reveals something which happens more or less at the same time, but iscompletely unrelated to the protagonist.) An excellent example from the originalis the Imperial battlecruiser capturing Leia's ship. As much as video game developers "love them some cinematics", this is the absolute best place to use one.As a narrative convention, it is ubiquitous enough that the player will naturally understand how it connects to the game's narrative journey; it reveals the major disruption that the player's character will eventually be involved with. This creates anticipation (which keeps the player playing through 'the boring stuff') because the conventions of the Three-Act structure are so well known. The player knows that the Call to Action - the point when the narrative arc from the opening cinematic and the character's narrative journey collide - is not far away.the Arc of Scope, the disruptive force doesn't always need to be world-threatening - it only needs to pose a threat to the main character's priorities within their world. While a high school student spending the day playing hookie has no real impact on anyone other than themselves, the threat posed by a truant officer (or a psychotic faculty member from the school) is a crippling threat to their priorities. (The Arc of Scope for the entirefranchise involved little more than trying to get Larry laid. Numerous genres focus on the protagonist surviving and/or escaping from an intolerable situation or environment. Adventure games typically involve the protagonist trying to obtain a rare treasure (usually an object, but can just as often be a person) from a fortified location.With very few exceptions (mainly sandbox games and MMOs), a video game will have a satisfying resolution - the point where the protagonist overcomes the source of disruption to either restore the Old Order or establish a New Order. This could be escaping from a post-apocalyptic metropolis that has been overrun by zombies, destroying a powerful doomsday device, rescuing a captive and returning them to safety, defeating a "Final Boss", or whatever else you've concocted for your game. ItIf you're aspiring to create an A (or even AAA) title, you should count on having several different resolutions - with the protagonist's actions during Act Two determining which one is encountered.When planning a journey, you first have to know the starting point and the destination.If one were to compare building a video game narrative to building a house, Act Three would be when the house is ready for occupancy and Act One would be when you were hired on to do the job.(Also A to C and A to D if you're ambitious enough to have more than one resolution.)The solution(s) you come up with for this dilemma will determine how you approach your World Design. How much of your Game World Structure will the player encounter during the narrative journey? How much autonomy will you give the player? How will that autonomy affect which conclusion they arrive at? How will the protagonist acquire the resources they'll need to reach those conclusions?