New Rule

What is the source of the unique holding power of games? The April Fool’s Day jokes came and went this year, and from the WoW Bard class a la Guitar Hero to the Zelda movie, they were pretty fun. But watching people drool over the Zelda trailer, and then watching them wail in despair when they realized it was a spoof was intriguing. The reactions to WoW were even stronger. What is it about these games that inspires such enthusiasm? How did these companies achieve this level of indoctrination?

Every gamer can point to a game or three that they love. And I don’t mean simply enjoy multiple times — I mean they maintain an irrational, obsessive fascination with it. They know all the characters and all their backstories, all the relevant stats, they treat rare items and achievements as the stuff of real-life legend, they spend their spare time reading fluff novels about the universe. This goes way beyond just playing the game. Raph Koster argues in his book, A Theory of Fun, as does Greg Costikyan more or less in general, that in the long run the theme or color of a game is immaterial to the experience of play. Whatever premise is applied to the simulation or system, the mechanics are what matter in the end, and the hard-and-fast gameplay is what brings players in and keeps them coming back. By this argument, shooter players will play whether they are shooting rockets at demons or cotton candy at fluffy bunnies.

I don’t necessarily disagree with this. Certainly I feel that, at the more advanced, hardcore levels of play, the experience of play is dominated by the math. I’ve played Starcraft long past the point where I thought of my units as giant, slavering bug monsters and started thinking them as X number of Y DPS. Every WoW player to hit 70 knows this phenomenon. But if it is true that the fluff in a game ultimately ceases to matter, then why does this sort of beyond-the-controller obsession exist?

Consider a few IPs that have wildly popular universes associated with them: Zelda, Warcraft, Final Fantasy, Warhammer. For the players that play these games, the experience is way beyond the actual game. It includes a level of attention and investment along the lines of fanatical devotion. Sports fans do this, particularly in Europe where football hooligans engage in often-deadly ritual violence over their loyalty to their teams. In examining why people play games and what makes them like or dislike a particular one, the element of indoctrination exists as an anomaly on the graph. People who are indoctrinated to a particular game universe will play those games even if they are bad. We know this is true because we’ve watched it happen. Why are there twelve Final Fantasy games? It’s the same game every time, the same mechanics and dynamics. If that were all players cared about, they would probably have mellowed out after three or four titles. But something about the Final Fantasy world and characters appeals to them on an instinctual, deeply personal level. Somehow they identify with this universe, and they find that whatever contact they can have with it is rewarding in some way that goes beyond the simple fun of chunking and grokking patterns. The Black Library is a thriving fluff novel publisher with a stable of more than twenty authors who only write about Warhammer. They wouldn’t be in business if there weren’t something emotionally captivating about Warhammer.

This phenomenon is well documented, but what isn’t is just why some worlds succeed at this while others fail. Is it story or character design? Link is a pretty dull character — he doesn’t even speak. Nostalgia and reminiscences about childhood play? WoW is only three years old. The ability to empathize or the potential for immersion? Super Mario World and Sonic are totally surreal. Some combination? One can only assume. In playing games and watching others play we can see obvious enthusiasm, but it remains curious that some games become compelling to this point.

Tags: Game Criticism //