Dandara is not an easy game.
One could attribute this to the speed of its primary attack function, labyrinthine design, limited health and energy regeneration systems, or perhaps most obviously the punishing currency mechanic, but I would argue otherwise. The most unfamiliar aspect of Dandara, and what largely sets it apart from other games, is its movement system. This aspect dictates the momentum and difficulty of almost every moment of game, and without it, Dandara would likely be a lovely conceptual experiment in Afro-Brazilian artwork and storytelling, but would fail to make an impact otherwise. The addition of this system pushes Dandara into a whole new level of interactivity, even when most of its content is deliberately and intentionally scripted. While linearity in an interconnected-world action platformer (I ain't callin' this a Metroidvania) is not usually considered much of a positive aspect, I would argue that Dandara is actually much better because of this choice, and that the developers at Long Hat House are all the more clever and thoughtful because of these limitations.
In order to understand Dandara's difficulty and the effectiveness of its movement system, we'll have to discuss the economy of space.
Limitations Upon the Developer and Player
Before video games became as complex a medium as they are in the current era, deliberate design prevailed over all else. Popular franchises lived on the intentions of their developers, who hoped to iterate and improve with each new entry in a series. In action platformers and many other genres, this meant a focus on tight level design that used gameplay gimmicks to present interesting folds upon the pre-established motifs and systems to which the player was already familiarized. This is why people fondly recall the names of levels and specific boss encounters, and why the independent game industry, whose developers more often than not attempt to recapture the feeling of older titles while working within a much smaller budget, is currently thriving. The more limitations that are placed upon a developer, the more deliberate the mission and design of their product must be in order to make some sort of impact.
Often, an over-reliance on systems and organic gaming experience allows for players to create and share their own memories, but it comes at the cost of less-imaginative and experimental players having a homogenized perspective of the product as a whole. Many developers have the liberty of granting players options within the foundations of their gameplay, allowing intricacies to be exploited from within the motifs of their game's design. Combination attacks, sub-weapons, wall-jumping- these are options that open up the variety and experimentation within a limited space. However, limiting options and approaches is often a means of encouraging precision. Older games in the Ninja Gaiden and Castlevania series gave players options with a high level of commitment and threw enemies with specific movement or attack options, reducing room for error. Additional complexities in level design only furthered the punishing nature of these titles.
We've seen many action platformers since the days of these classic titles, however, and far too often, developers fall back on familiar concepts that are technically sound in order to churn out a high number of levels with lower risk for themselves and the player. The further a concept is stretched, the less enticing returning to the experience becomes. This is primarily why, with four entries released within the span of six years, the New Super Mario Bros. series lost its appeal and excitement, despite the number of unique level gimmicks and several alternative design motifs across titles. This is partially why New Super Luigi U was such a surprise and delight, as it was a twist upon what players had come to expect from the series. Many would show that sometimes breaking the familiar mold of the series would prove more fruitful with their efforts in Super Mario Maker.
The Economy of Space
The availability of resources is something that both developers and players must consider in a particular product. The way mechanics flow into one another, the way obstacles exist and interact with the player, and the amount of workload implementing these elements will take is one way a developer must consider what is economic. The amount of risk or commitment that progression presents, the method of approaching the previously mentioned obstacles, and the room for error are all aspects a player must weigh the in the economics of their moment-to-moment gameplay. Video games are a medium that is meant to be experienced to their fullest, so weighing the difficulty of a title is often important in ensuring a satisfying experience. Aesthetics can contribute to enjoyment as well, but most experienced, or at least, knowledgeable developers are inherently aware of this and establish a distinct visual and narrative style through their artistic team. Even so, art assets themselves are another economic consideration.
Where Dandara's most evident merging of both developer and player economies lies, however, is the economy of space. Because its movement systems are extremely restrictive, they simultaneously present a wide variety of options for the developer while limiting player options. The Salt of Dandara possesses tight corridors peppered with different enemy types, each with their own unique movement and attack patterns. Dandara herself is equipped with the ability to bounce between surfaces within a certain reach, meaning the developer is already acutely aware of how much space the player has in order to execute attacks and progress. Each surface the player can traverse is very deliberately scaled and positioned, so that players will be able to utilize them either easily or sparingly while navigating combat and the world itself. Many spaces are difficult or impossible to reach from certain angles, and a number of one-way corridors exist, funneling the player to certain objectives and limiting their room for error. Not only this, but in the later areas of the game, space becomes so limited that players can only attack enemies from extremely specific vantage points.
The amount of availability and degree of advantage that a certain position grants a player during gameplay is a fundamental aspect of the economy of space. The player is able to gauge this as they become more familiar with the movement and attack systems of a certain title. Additionally, the developer can use the limitations of these systems in order to raise of lower the difficulty of a certain segment. While very tight corridors allow for a great deal of freedom, the amount of enemies within them can change the level of hostility as well as the room for error. This does not even begin to address the complexities present in enemy movement and attack patterns, which can themselves limit the economy of space. While Dandara's movement is brisk and snappy, her game is more than often the opposite- stopping to look at how a series of enemies is positioned and where the best areas of approach lie is paramount for safe and efficient navigation of the Salt. While I found myself dashing madly through hallways attempting to avoid enemies earlier in my playthrough, I soon realized that a methodical approach and understanding of the developers' intentions was often much more sound, never reducing my room for error but helping me lower my own risk in committing to an option.
Mastering Dandara (Or at Least, Becoming Competent)
In understanding the systems behind Dandara's economy of space, I began to understand what the developers considered difficult and recognize the kinds of engagements they prioritized in ramping up the difficulty of the game. While this is most frequently means introducing newer, less-familiar enemy types to the player, Dandara's deliberate level design allows for combinations of previously encountered enemies to be paired with less surface area in order to achieve the same effect. There are moments in Dandara where the placement of a single enemy can offer its own substantial challenge. Long Hat House pushes the idea further with sub-weapons that increase the potential of certain positions, as well as those that actually further limit the economy of space. In understanding the economy of space, I found my deaths to be just as frequent, but my loss of collective Salt to be much, much lower. Weighing the options present in certain positioning, having certain sub-weapons prepped for specific engagements, and a general understanding of the limits of movement, I pushed further and further into the depths of the Salt, more confident than ever.
This is not to say Dandara is predictable- in its second act, the game throws particular curveballs at the player that re-contextualize the once-familiar level architecture, and its even better because of it. Its a mixture of these important elements- movement, enemies, and level design- that makes Dandara such a delightfully unique experience, but it is by no means the sole exemplar for this design. Many other action platformers use the economy of space in more traditional ways, like Wayforward's Shantae: 1/2 Genie Hero and Atooi's Mutant Mudds, but retain their own levels of difficulty due to other mechanical considerations. But platformers that offer economy of space in an additional, unfamiliar dimension are almost always standouts. Dakko Dakko's Scram Kitty and His Buddy on Rails uses sticky walls and limited jump height with a clever shmup attack system to demand a high level of precision from players. Terry Cavanagh's VVVVVV pairs gravity switching with a bit more freedom and tons of immobile obstacles to create hard-as-nails scenarios. It's Dandara's limitations on movement and surface, however, that create its unique feel and brand of difficulty, something that requires a redefinition of approach on the player's part in order to understand. This is why adjusting to its challenge can prove immensely difficult as well as satisfying.
And it's got an amazing aesthetic, atop that.
Do you have any examples of action platformers with intriguing limitations, or utilization of the economy of space? Would you like to hear me gush about Scram Kitty? Do you think Dandara is a Metroidvania? Feel free to leave a comment below, and if you enjoyed this article, I encourage you to read some of my others regarding RPGs and other releases, or share it with a friend who might appreciate it!
One could attribute this to the speed of its primary attack function, labyrinthine design, limited health and energy regeneration systems, or perhaps most obviously the punishing currency mechanic, but I would argue otherwise. The most unfamiliar aspect of Dandara, and what largely sets it apart from other games, is its movement system. This aspect dictates the momentum and difficulty of almost every moment of game, and without it, Dandara would likely be a lovely conceptual experiment in Afro-Brazilian artwork and storytelling, but would fail to make an impact otherwise. The addition of this system pushes Dandara into a whole new level of interactivity, even when most of its content is deliberately and intentionally scripted. While linearity in an interconnected-world action platformer (I ain't callin' this a Metroidvania) is not usually considered much of a positive aspect, I would argue that Dandara is actually much better because of this choice, and that the developers at Long Hat House are all the more clever and thoughtful because of these limitations.
In order to understand Dandara's difficulty and the effectiveness of its movement system, we'll have to discuss the economy of space.
Limitations Upon the Developer and Player
Before video games became as complex a medium as they are in the current era, deliberate design prevailed over all else. Popular franchises lived on the intentions of their developers, who hoped to iterate and improve with each new entry in a series. In action platformers and many other genres, this meant a focus on tight level design that used gameplay gimmicks to present interesting folds upon the pre-established motifs and systems to which the player was already familiarized. This is why people fondly recall the names of levels and specific boss encounters, and why the independent game industry, whose developers more often than not attempt to recapture the feeling of older titles while working within a much smaller budget, is currently thriving. The more limitations that are placed upon a developer, the more deliberate the mission and design of their product must be in order to make some sort of impact.
Often, an over-reliance on systems and organic gaming experience allows for players to create and share their own memories, but it comes at the cost of less-imaginative and experimental players having a homogenized perspective of the product as a whole. Many developers have the liberty of granting players options within the foundations of their gameplay, allowing intricacies to be exploited from within the motifs of their game's design. Combination attacks, sub-weapons, wall-jumping- these are options that open up the variety and experimentation within a limited space. However, limiting options and approaches is often a means of encouraging precision. Older games in the Ninja Gaiden and Castlevania series gave players options with a high level of commitment and threw enemies with specific movement or attack options, reducing room for error. Additional complexities in level design only furthered the punishing nature of these titles.
We've seen many action platformers since the days of these classic titles, however, and far too often, developers fall back on familiar concepts that are technically sound in order to churn out a high number of levels with lower risk for themselves and the player. The further a concept is stretched, the less enticing returning to the experience becomes. This is primarily why, with four entries released within the span of six years, the New Super Mario Bros. series lost its appeal and excitement, despite the number of unique level gimmicks and several alternative design motifs across titles. This is partially why New Super Luigi U was such a surprise and delight, as it was a twist upon what players had come to expect from the series. Many would show that sometimes breaking the familiar mold of the series would prove more fruitful with their efforts in Super Mario Maker.
The Economy of Space
The availability of resources is something that both developers and players must consider in a particular product. The way mechanics flow into one another, the way obstacles exist and interact with the player, and the amount of workload implementing these elements will take is one way a developer must consider what is economic. The amount of risk or commitment that progression presents, the method of approaching the previously mentioned obstacles, and the room for error are all aspects a player must weigh the in the economics of their moment-to-moment gameplay. Video games are a medium that is meant to be experienced to their fullest, so weighing the difficulty of a title is often important in ensuring a satisfying experience. Aesthetics can contribute to enjoyment as well, but most experienced, or at least, knowledgeable developers are inherently aware of this and establish a distinct visual and narrative style through their artistic team. Even so, art assets themselves are another economic consideration.
The amount of availability and degree of advantage that a certain position grants a player during gameplay is a fundamental aspect of the economy of space. The player is able to gauge this as they become more familiar with the movement and attack systems of a certain title. Additionally, the developer can use the limitations of these systems in order to raise of lower the difficulty of a certain segment. While very tight corridors allow for a great deal of freedom, the amount of enemies within them can change the level of hostility as well as the room for error. This does not even begin to address the complexities present in enemy movement and attack patterns, which can themselves limit the economy of space. While Dandara's movement is brisk and snappy, her game is more than often the opposite- stopping to look at how a series of enemies is positioned and where the best areas of approach lie is paramount for safe and efficient navigation of the Salt. While I found myself dashing madly through hallways attempting to avoid enemies earlier in my playthrough, I soon realized that a methodical approach and understanding of the developers' intentions was often much more sound, never reducing my room for error but helping me lower my own risk in committing to an option.
Mastering Dandara (Or at Least, Becoming Competent)
In understanding the systems behind Dandara's economy of space, I began to understand what the developers considered difficult and recognize the kinds of engagements they prioritized in ramping up the difficulty of the game. While this is most frequently means introducing newer, less-familiar enemy types to the player, Dandara's deliberate level design allows for combinations of previously encountered enemies to be paired with less surface area in order to achieve the same effect. There are moments in Dandara where the placement of a single enemy can offer its own substantial challenge. Long Hat House pushes the idea further with sub-weapons that increase the potential of certain positions, as well as those that actually further limit the economy of space. In understanding the economy of space, I found my deaths to be just as frequent, but my loss of collective Salt to be much, much lower. Weighing the options present in certain positioning, having certain sub-weapons prepped for specific engagements, and a general understanding of the limits of movement, I pushed further and further into the depths of the Salt, more confident than ever.
This is not to say Dandara is predictable- in its second act, the game throws particular curveballs at the player that re-contextualize the once-familiar level architecture, and its even better because of it. Its a mixture of these important elements- movement, enemies, and level design- that makes Dandara such a delightfully unique experience, but it is by no means the sole exemplar for this design. Many other action platformers use the economy of space in more traditional ways, like Wayforward's Shantae: 1/2 Genie Hero and Atooi's Mutant Mudds, but retain their own levels of difficulty due to other mechanical considerations. But platformers that offer economy of space in an additional, unfamiliar dimension are almost always standouts. Dakko Dakko's Scram Kitty and His Buddy on Rails uses sticky walls and limited jump height with a clever shmup attack system to demand a high level of precision from players. Terry Cavanagh's VVVVVV pairs gravity switching with a bit more freedom and tons of immobile obstacles to create hard-as-nails scenarios. It's Dandara's limitations on movement and surface, however, that create its unique feel and brand of difficulty, something that requires a redefinition of approach on the player's part in order to understand. This is why adjusting to its challenge can prove immensely difficult as well as satisfying.And it's got an amazing aesthetic, atop that.
Do you have any examples of action platformers with intriguing limitations, or utilization of the economy of space? Would you like to hear me gush about Scram Kitty? Do you think Dandara is a Metroidvania? Feel free to leave a comment below, and if you enjoyed this article, I encourage you to read some of my others regarding RPGs and other releases, or share it with a friend who might appreciate it!
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