Hand of Fate 2 plays nothing like any other Role-playing game I have encountered, yet very clearly is a Role-playing game. The depth of its combat mechanics and the variations that it layers atop the foundations of its progression and narrative structure are smart and nuanced. The way it challenges the player to continuously achieve and succeed while tackling its chapters is commendable. The difficulty present in its scenarios is intense and unyielding. These phrases could be applied to a number of different titles, and this has something to do with the nature of personality in video games.
Personality is a nebulous term, though it has a great deal to do with the combination of all elements of a game as well as the success or failure of the developer intent. Personality is why people find Dark Souls unforgiving and oppressive. It is why Breath of the Wild is overwhelming, but tranquil. It is why Etrian Odyssey is cyclical and vigilant, and why Xenoblade Chronicles 2 is "anime as hell." Sometimes, the mixture of aesthetics, gameplay mechanics, and narrative produce vastly different kinds of experiences and that equates to a more- or less- memorable game. This is why, if a game is released in the current era with anything less than a memorable personality, it is destined to fall into a pit of obscurity. If you use a turn-based battle system, it had better have a unique mechanic that sets it apart from other games. If you have a derivative story, it had better be redeemed by gameplay. If you have simplistic character progression, the writing had better make up for that blandness.
I have often heard of the term "comfort food" in relation to video games, and I do believe that some genres and releases are made with that sort of intent. However, games are able to challenge and stimulate the individual in ways that other mediums cannot, which is why it is all the more important that the personality of a particular title should be tangible and more importantly easily expounded. This is how some games are given umbrella classifications, such as the infamous "it's the Dark Souls of [insert genre]," but is this truly an aspiration worth pursuing?
A great deal of the discussion I have taken part in as of late is the idea that developers are justified in attempting to recapture the personality or spirit of other, preexisting titles. Outside of creating a title within a genre, these games can target the specific look, feel, and effect that a previous game achieved. Once a medium is established and modern techniques are solidified and broadly applied, they become acceptable to the larger community. In this way, turn-based battles, job systems, overworld traversal, and the other standards of Role-playing games are seemingly unavoidable, but that does not mean they are beyond reinterpretation and evolution. The games that stand the test of time and remain embedded in ones' memory are those that challenge these norms in unique and satisfying ways.
Though this perspective may seem elitist, that is likely because it is elitist. I enjoy first person dungeon crawling, and yet comparing Phantasy Star, The Keep, and Etrian Odyssey would result in many more differences than similarities, which is why I was able to stick with, complete, and add all three to a list of games that I consider worthwhile. Likewise, competency in executing certain traditional elements is admirable, but expertise is far preferable. Atlus has a number of unique intellectual properties with varying level aesthetics and mechanics, and while a number of them feature turn-based battle systems, almost all of them utilize specific mechanics in order to differentiate themselves from one another. Their tools are traditional, but executed, improved, and differentiated with such consistency that it is easy to pick a favorite title and accurately describe the specific mechanics that make it unique.
So, if being able to achieve an above-average level of uniqueness is considered passable, then attempting and failing to execute a unique concept is commendable, but ultimately worth scrutiny and attention. As this site continues to evolve, there will be coverage of a number of games that, though passable in some ways, fail to find success in others, and this is a fact I will not be happy to point out. Being happy about this sort of detail is not in the spirit of proper critique, concern is far more appropriate. If developers cannot learn to utilize their available resources in order to meet the acceptable standard informed by their intentions, they will not find success in the industry. While this is unfortunate, it is something that can be avoided with the right mindset, the right intentions, and most certainly, the right budget.
Over the remainder of the month, I will be presenting a series of three analyses regarding a much beloved- from my perspective, at least- and horribly flawed trilogy of games. They are no works of art, but the improvements and changes they made over the course of the whole series, one that will likely vanish unless some outspoken moron decides to do a critical analysis of them. Please look forward to them, and know that tradition is not so sacred that it can't be wiped clean in order to create something new.
Personality is a nebulous term, though it has a great deal to do with the combination of all elements of a game as well as the success or failure of the developer intent. Personality is why people find Dark Souls unforgiving and oppressive. It is why Breath of the Wild is overwhelming, but tranquil. It is why Etrian Odyssey is cyclical and vigilant, and why Xenoblade Chronicles 2 is "anime as hell." Sometimes, the mixture of aesthetics, gameplay mechanics, and narrative produce vastly different kinds of experiences and that equates to a more- or less- memorable game. This is why, if a game is released in the current era with anything less than a memorable personality, it is destined to fall into a pit of obscurity. If you use a turn-based battle system, it had better have a unique mechanic that sets it apart from other games. If you have a derivative story, it had better be redeemed by gameplay. If you have simplistic character progression, the writing had better make up for that blandness.I have often heard of the term "comfort food" in relation to video games, and I do believe that some genres and releases are made with that sort of intent. However, games are able to challenge and stimulate the individual in ways that other mediums cannot, which is why it is all the more important that the personality of a particular title should be tangible and more importantly easily expounded. This is how some games are given umbrella classifications, such as the infamous "it's the Dark Souls of [insert genre]," but is this truly an aspiration worth pursuing?
A great deal of the discussion I have taken part in as of late is the idea that developers are justified in attempting to recapture the personality or spirit of other, preexisting titles. Outside of creating a title within a genre, these games can target the specific look, feel, and effect that a previous game achieved. Once a medium is established and modern techniques are solidified and broadly applied, they become acceptable to the larger community. In this way, turn-based battles, job systems, overworld traversal, and the other standards of Role-playing games are seemingly unavoidable, but that does not mean they are beyond reinterpretation and evolution. The games that stand the test of time and remain embedded in ones' memory are those that challenge these norms in unique and satisfying ways.
Though this perspective may seem elitist, that is likely because it is elitist. I enjoy first person dungeon crawling, and yet comparing Phantasy Star, The Keep, and Etrian Odyssey would result in many more differences than similarities, which is why I was able to stick with, complete, and add all three to a list of games that I consider worthwhile. Likewise, competency in executing certain traditional elements is admirable, but expertise is far preferable. Atlus has a number of unique intellectual properties with varying level aesthetics and mechanics, and while a number of them feature turn-based battle systems, almost all of them utilize specific mechanics in order to differentiate themselves from one another. Their tools are traditional, but executed, improved, and differentiated with such consistency that it is easy to pick a favorite title and accurately describe the specific mechanics that make it unique.
So, if being able to achieve an above-average level of uniqueness is considered passable, then attempting and failing to execute a unique concept is commendable, but ultimately worth scrutiny and attention. As this site continues to evolve, there will be coverage of a number of games that, though passable in some ways, fail to find success in others, and this is a fact I will not be happy to point out. Being happy about this sort of detail is not in the spirit of proper critique, concern is far more appropriate. If developers cannot learn to utilize their available resources in order to meet the acceptable standard informed by their intentions, they will not find success in the industry. While this is unfortunate, it is something that can be avoided with the right mindset, the right intentions, and most certainly, the right budget.
Over the remainder of the month, I will be presenting a series of three analyses regarding a much beloved- from my perspective, at least- and horribly flawed trilogy of games. They are no works of art, but the improvements and changes they made over the course of the whole series, one that will likely vanish unless some outspoken moron decides to do a critical analysis of them. Please look forward to them, and know that tradition is not so sacred that it can't be wiped clean in order to create something new.
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