24 Mayıs 2021 Pazartesi

Operating System Myths

 

There are two pernicious myths about operating systems: First, Linux (1) is difficult to use for casual users. Second, Windows operating systems are easy to use for a casual user. What is “a casual user”? Here, it refers to a user who engages with the computer mainly via applications in order to surf the web, watch movies, play games, check emails, make spreadsheets etc. and doesn’t really tinker with the computer unless necessary. They don’t do anything too intricate or specialized.

1. Linux is actually quite easy:

First of all, it’s free. When you just need something to get your system running, Linux is the easiest option you can get, far easier than pirating Windows. Ubuntu for example, installs really fast and without causing any trouble, with helpful instructions on its website. If your computer is not really powerful, Linux has lightweight distributions too. More importantly, you control what you want to install.

Linux’ arcane reputation comes from “the terminal”(2) but really, a casual user can totally have all the functionality they need without ever opening a terminal nowadays. However, using the terminal is not that difficult either, mainly because a casual user doesn’t need to have in depth knowledge. When you want to do something, you search the Web and get the exact lines of code you need to enter. After using this function for a little while, you might discover that the terminal is quite useful and even easier to use than a graphic interface in some cases!

Linux has a huge list of open-source software for all kind of utilities, once again open-source software is actually more beneficial to a casual user than a professional one; because community oversight brings more security and functionality as well as nothing beating the ease of using software without having to deal with any DRM.

You can still even use a lot of Windows software! Some of them are natively available to Linux, but even those that aren’t have workarounds now. In particular, Linux has come a long way in terms of running Windows games. For example, a lot of Steam games will run perfectly fine with an easy to enable add-on, lots of others become playable with a little tweaking and, and even the number of native ports is growing.

When I switched to Ubuntu, among the first things I have discovered is how fast file transfer is. For years I have thought that it was about the USB cable or my external hard-drive… no, the hardware can be very fast actually, with the correct software. Also searching files work now. There are probably lots of small quality of life things that make everything easier that are too minor to notice.

Lastly, if a casual user wants to dig deeper, the Linux environment is just more welcoming. It usually takes much less effort to achieve complicated tasks on Linux than on Windows thanks to the baked in accessibility.

2. Windows is not easy to use!

Promoting Linux is fine and good, but it is especially important to debunk this widely-spread talking point, because it is not only free advertisement and anti open-software propaganda, but also actively lets Microsoft get away with worse and worse software. This needs to be stressed, because while Microsoft’s output has always had inconsistent quality, nowadays it is getting more and more actively hostile to the users:

Installing Windows at all can be pain: You have very little control over what it is actually installing and Windows loves to install bloat (3) on your computer. Also, get ready to download lots of updates, whether you want to or not!

Seriously, Windows updates have been quite atrocious for a long time now. They are not just security fixes, often “improvements'' on apps you are probably not using, sometimes changes to settings on your computers, and can leave a big chunk of files behind (for restoration in theory, but made meaningless by the frequency of updates). Windows has a history for introducing all kinds of (sometimes fatal) bugs. Most importantly, updates have been mandatory for years, until Microsoft finally allowed users to decline updates(but only until the next supported build). Despite what tech companies might tell you, willingly giving up the control of your systems is not casual, it’s being a consooomer.

Deleting non-system apps and files should be a pretty casual affair. But Windows 10 is rather picky about it. Say, I want to delete Cortana, but I can’t. There is probably a way, but users need to do research and make potentially dangerous changes to their system just because the OS arbitrarily makes things difficult.

Windows was never that great at deletions in general. A lot of software have separate files across many directories, sometimes not everything is deleted and there is lots of residue in the Registry Editor. The reason there are so many different clean-up software available is that casual users would prefer things to be actually deleted when they press delete!

Windows loves to invade your privacy nowadays. Thankfully, you can disable (hopefully all) data-mining stuff, but the fact that it enables those without asking is at all so infuriating. It preys on the casual user’s naivety.

Security was always kind of an issue. While it is quite better compared to the heyday of anti-virus software, you can never be sure what the newest version of Windows will bring. Of course, compromises on user control is in of itself, a security problem.

Apart from increasing hostility and fatal errors, the worst thing about Windows is that it is not outright terrible, but just functional enough to make people get accustomed to a mediocre computer experience. There are just lots of small annoyances that most casual users probably think as normal:

  • As I mentioned above, searching stuff is somewhat painful. Especially because the Start Menu search bar is rather useless.

  • Naming files seems to be buggy, if a file name starts with an uppercase letter and I attempt to turn it to lowercase, it reverts back to the uppercase. Only changing the file name to something different first works.

  • When I have an external memory drive plugged, if I do slightest modification on anything, the USB will refuse to be unplugged with the safe option.

  • Blue screen of death” shouldn’t have been so widespread. There is a good degree of improvement on stability, but again, all can go haywire in an update.

  • Whenever the computer slows down to a crawl the Task Manager becomes near useless, because it doesn’t have priority over other programs. This has happened to me so many times, only resolving with a forced shutdown.

  • Things like System Restore or hardware repair won’t work when you need it the most.

  • Windows isn’t very good at explaining itself. Most of the time, you will get no clues as to why an error is occurring, various stuff like “fix the issue” or “search the problem” are rarely helpful, there aren’t many tips or directions beyond the most basic of the basics. This isn’t too much of a flaw in terms of OS design per se, but it shows that it doesn’t do much to deserve being called “user-friendly” either.

  • Similarly, citing “gaming” as a positive for Windows is rather ironic because Microsoft’s forays into creating PC gaming environments have been disastrous: with first Games For Windows Live infesting games, now Microsoft Store proudly occupying The Start Menu. It has a host of problems, for example some games bought in the store run perform worse than the same game bought fromSteam. God forbid that a casual user might expect Microsoft software to perform well on Windows.

Windows Bad, So What?

While Windows can be quite bad on occasion, that’s not the main point. I am not writing this out of mere commitment to open software or disdain of Microsoft, though both are very valid stances. I am not writing this as a computer nerd who bashes everything she doesn’t use because she has fallen in love with her tools, either.

No, I am writing this because we need to stop giving free advertisement to Microsoft and making people stop fearing computers so much. Perhaps 10-20 years ago, concerns about Linux were understandable. Most people use Windows because it came with the laptops they have bought, it was their first OS, and used for years before even knowing any alternatives existed, and even when they heard about Linux, it looked like it’s own small world, it was often used on expensive workstations, there were so many distributions and modifications, you needed to know what you are doing, back then the internet wasn’t as widely available and there were not a lot of resources to support new users. Linux was used by programmers, by geeks, by server admins, it wasn’t for them. Besides, people have always been somewhat aware that Windows isn’t that great, but they thought they needed it. We all need Windows right?

The answer however is that no, we don’t. We don’t need Windows. While it is often just okay to use, It has never been the best at anything an OS does, and there are only a few true reasons to prefer Windows over a Linux distro.

  • Wanting to use specific software that only works well on Windows.

  • Developing software specifically for .NET, Win32, and similar environments.

  • You are using a computer you have no say on it(e.g a workplace)

For any purpose you can think of, there is probably a specialized Linux distro. For most casual users, Linux can do anything they want, and more. Don’t heed endless nerd fights about distros, just use a mainstream one like Mint or Ubuntu, and you will be fine.

I don’t even recommend dual-partitioning your computer to keep Windows. Even if you can find a free version (4), I advise against keeping it, because the business model which Windows is developed for is becoming more hostile to users, especially casual users. You can be never too sure that an update won’t blow up your computer.

If you can, avoid Windows. Support free, open software. There has been never a better time for it.


...

(1) Linux is actually the name of the kernel used in the GNU Linux family of operating systems, but y’know, everyone knows what you mean when you say Linux.

(2) In the past, computers were used by typing text commands. Today, this can be achieved with Command Prompt on Windows and Bash on Linux. While Windows and Mac greatly de-emphasized command-line interface in favor of a graphical one, in late 1990s Linux was used for professional tasks, so the users both favored the power of the commands and didn’t want the computers to slow down by GUI. Although many distros have nice GUIs today, Linux can still be entirely operated by a text interface. The interface is called terminal because Linux and its ancestor UNIX were often used in mainframe computers: Big, towering machines which are accessed by multiple users through a terminal screen without its own hardware, kind of like ATMs.

(3) Anything you don’t want on your computer

(4) I have access to a student edition of Windows 10 because of my university’s agreements, but of course “free” also includes pirating and Microsoft more or less implicitly supports that too. It’s always a bad omen when a company wants you to use their proprietary software no matter what (and Microsoft really wants you to use Windows 10).


This article is written thanks to my dearest Patrons, namely: Acelin, Effy, Laura Watson, MasterofCubes, Makkovar, Morgan, Olympia, Otakundead, Sasha. Also thanks to Alex (@jyhadscientist on twitter) for his perfect editing work.

28 Mart 2021 Pazar

Game Criticism

 How can I write better about games? What do I look for in a video game essay, and to some extent, media critique as a whole? Review, retrospective, critique or analysis; for the purposes of this discussion, they are all essays about a released game or part of a game.

A central theory:

For a long time, game reviews were written in order to draw attention to the games as much as, if not more than, to critique them. As these essays were pretty much the only way to get any information on the games, and too many of the reviews served as barely-concealed advertisements, some still do even now. Nowadays, this function is now performed by long video essays; while they are often referred to as critiques, they are really commentated walkthroughs with some critique in them. To be clear, I love those kinds of videos; there is true journalistic value in a traditional review that combines basic impressions and breakdown of a game’s success on performance, accessibility, whether it justifies its price etc, but they don’t have the captivating essence of media criticism in them. A critique essay is different in that, it provides a theory, a core statement from one or multiple perspectives established by the author.

Descriptiveness:

A common beginner’s trap in fiction-writing is to overuse adjectives. Essay-writing has the opposite problem, pages can be easily filled with a swarm of alluring and all-encompassing descriptors like “good”, “bad”, “love” or“don’t like'', followed copious usage of “very”, “really” or “absolutely”. These words are easy to use because they are so simple; yet often, they are loaded with meanings they cannot carry. A sentence such as “I enjoy it but it’s bad” is okay to say casually but sounds utterly meaningless in a text which is supposed to define a perspective to view the game.

Anyone can make a list of “pros” and “cons”, a fundamental requirement for a good essay is to dig under that. I purposely limit the use of these words in my essays so that I can avoid staying on surface level and make my writing more evocative.

Openness

A sibling problem to the lack of creative descriptors is to rely on overly vague words and phrases, most of which are marketing buzzwords, unsurprisingly.

  • Fantasy settings categorically cannot be “realistic”. The sense of believability they are aiming to achieve can be called “verisimilitude”.

  • JRPG” doesn’t mean the game has “turn-based combat” or “anime style visuals”. It just means “a RPG of Japanese origin”.

  • Anime-style” is quite vague too. Does it mean “a bright color palette, somewhat life-like proportions with simplified faces?” That doesn’t say much, at least giving an example from a show, director, studio etc. would be much more helpful.

  • Generic” is not a terrible word in the abstract but assuming that the reader has a similar range of media exposure as the essayist has, however, is.

  • Not a real video game”, alongside terms like “walking simulator”, often collapses the multitude of ways we can understand interactivity into strangely derogatory statements about who gets to sit with the big boys.

  • A Skinner box game/system” is sometimes used as a cooler way to say shallowly repetitive but it is much more fitting to games which are designed to be as addictive as possible, at the expense of the player.

  • Nearly all instances of “objective(ly)” either can be safely removed from a sentence or replaced with a synonym of “definitely”.

  • Subjective(ly)” either means “please don’t harass me over this”, which is sad but understandable, or an eye-rolling way to express preference over an “objective” idea.

  • No “deconstruction”, “subversive” or “ground-breaking” please, unless you have a strong grasp on genre history.

  • If we define “allegory” as it is used in “allegory of the cave”, then it does require a strong hint at authorial intent, at least.

  • Games which are openly backed by publishers are sometimes called “indie”. Quite jarring to read when the author clearly doesn’t know what “itch.io” is.

  • Creators may be “pretentious”, but when applied to individual works the word becomes a roundabout and, dare I say, pretentious way to call them bad.

  • Overrated” doesn’t tell me much. Who is praising the game too much? Why does that matter in the critique? Another inferior replacement for “bad”.

  • Underrated” is mostly harmless but occasionally applied to games which have already entered many best games lists. It is not the same as “niche”.

  • A “niche” game can be said to have sharp features that appeal to people with a dedicated interest. It is not necessarily unpopular, but also not something that would get extensive coverage or be played by every moderately large streamer on release day, either.

  • While it is not very common in game reviews, possibly because video games often aim for a power fantasy appeal, “Mary Sue” is still shallow and very markedly gendered.

  • Words like “modern classic”, “masterpiece” or “magnum opus” lose their weight when they are used for any new slightly impressive game. Writers should exercise restraint and let their experience simmer, and test how it holds up over time.

  • For that matter, “experience” can be easily over-used too. Games-writing can easily drown in words like this if we are not conscious about them.

Truthfully, all words have a potential to feel empty if the author uses them as shorthands for concepts that you have a drastically different understanding of; it is the author’s job to make sure you are on the same page. This is why I force myself to be open with my assumptions, expectations, standards and biases as much as possible. A consistent terminology also contributes to a healthier collective vocabulary for discourse around gaming.

Leaning into the heart:

An objective text about a game would be merely a series of observations without any commentary. An essay will always be biased. A good essay owns up to its biases. It doesn’t make arbitrary separations between taste and “quality”. It doesn’t attack nor necessarily affirm other tastes. It doesn’t downplay its preferences to revere an imagined authority. It doesn’t make vast cultural observations based solely on personal judgement.

I try my best to avoid using subjectivity as an excuse to avoid deeper analysis, nor use objectivity to seem convincing. Nothing is ever too personal to dissect, as often said about humor or music. There is no reason to start sentences with “I think”, “I feel” or “I believe” unless the clarification actually helps. Nothing is too universal to ascend personal preferences, something that some essayists seek to achieve by using words like “fact”, “design”, “system”, “framework”, “writing”, or “cinematography”.

A window to the writer:

Writing a critique is a statement that sharing opinions matters in and of itself. It doesn’t need, and shouldn’t be burdened by a mission to convert people or make a definitive statement that ends a discussion forever. It doesn’t need to provide helpful feedback to the developers, it’s not a beta test report.

Whether I agree with an essay or not doesn’t matter much. A good essay that I agree with helps to put my thoughts into words. If I disagree with it, it gives me insights into someone else’s world. Above all else, a great essay is a journey I undertake with the author, a journey which I discover not only new perspectives on games, but also, new things about myself.

Boldness:

A good essay doesn’t mince words. It isn’t swallowed in the pitch dark hole of nuance. It is exactly as positive or negative as it wants to be. More than that, great essays often go beyond the dichotomy of praise and criticism, they dissect and rebuild the object of critique in fresh, complex and imaginative ways, unrestrained by authorial intent or common cultural observations.

However, I can understand the hesitance. The audience of video games are often defensive to the point of inciting harassment towards game critics simply over mentioning things that exist in the game. Frequently, any sign of confidence receives accusations of being aggressive or pretentious, especially when the writer is perceived as undeserving e.g a woman. Paradoxically, there is also an incentive to bring out as many flaws as possible, to take a beloved game down a peg, and to be loudest and the most confrontational voice in the room.

This is another reason why staying true to the heart is so important. In great essays, even the harshest words can sound passionate. A purely nitpicky essay in contrast, often grasps at straws, contradicts itself multiple times or worse, will be flatly dishonest about the source material and it becomes clear that the writer doesn’t really care about the game they have chosen to write about.

Responsibility

Even essays with a small audience base like mine have an impact on people, it colors their opinion about media in some way. If my essays paint a fledgling creator’s work in an excessively unfavorable light, or drunkenly sing about the newest corporate game that carries an undeniable amount of taint within it, what do they add to the discussion? This is not a matter of tone nor a call to uphold some vague idea of fairness and certainly, no media is beyond critique but rather, critique is not always the most important thing to write about with regards to media. What always matters is, essays shouldn’t cause harm.

Highlighting creators

Game industry has a crediting problem and it spills into media about games too. It’s all too common to only name studios and publishers, and maybe a couple of famous directors. But most games are collaborative efforts and individuals leave a lot of footprint in the games they work on. So, we should grow a habit of highlighting creators whenever appropriate.

Including content warnings

Playing great games with full knowledge often allows us to play the game in more enjoyable ways that a blind playthrough simply cannot provide. Seeing something for the first time is not really that crucial. However, it is still a unique experience we can only have once. It doesn’t matter how old or popular a piece of media is, it is guaranteed that the significant majority of the world has not seen it. Readers also have a right to know if they will read something mood-crushing or triggering. This is why content warnings, both for spoilers and sensitive material alike should be a standard practice for essays. This way, essayists can both be considerate and write without caring about spoilers. Indeed, spoiling the game is necessary, there is simply no way to do comparative media analysis, discuss themes or convey the game’s impact without going in as deep as needed.

Diligence

Lack of research is often better at spreading misinformation than blatant lies. A good essay requires avoids falling into the behavior such as:

  • Recycling common video game myths, rumors and factoids.

  • Presenting speculations as facts.

  • Mixing canon and personal reading. To be clear, I don’t put much value on “canon” in my understanding of media, but it is still crucial not to misrepresent the text.

  • Falsely quoting creators. This happens to non-English creators more often, due to mistranslations.

  • Speaking confidently about production, media history, creators etc. without proper sources to back up claims.

  • Exaggerating for the sake of comedy in a way that blends with sincere statements.

Of course, writing a video game essay doesn’t have to be as serious as preparing a doctorate thesis. Nevertheless, double checking information is an ethical duty.

Building upon the essayist’s experience

A common drive behind misinformation is the essayist’s unfortunate belief that their words will be taken seriously only if they sound as authoritative as possible. This is false, there is no need to be an expert on game development, a highly skilled player or have the fortune of playing hundreds of different games. Such perspectives can be also quite interesting but they are not necessarily more valuable than someone who has only recently played their first video game ever.

Another misguided belief is that the author should check every bit of content a game has to offer and make multiple runs if able. Of course it is admirable when the writer is dedicated, but no, games are not inherently entitled to completionism. Most games enter into a predictable routine after a couple of hours, no story is owed endless patience and “it gets good later” can be easily argued as a critical design flaw in itself, especially in a medium that can be highly demanding of time.

More importantly, the author only needs to represent their own experience and there are all kinds of experiences worth writing about! If a game is not worth completing, the boredom or the frustration should be on the page. As far as essay-writing is concerned, there is no wrong way to play. An essayist might decide that they will push the game to its limits, might go to an adventure as a novice player in a competitive scene, try out a game from a genre they normally hate, or tackle games only from very specific standpoint like gay relationships or the quality of fishing mini-games. Even watching someone playing games is a different but valid way to engage with games.

Authors just need to be honest about where they base their opinions from. One thing not to do is to reiterate common sentiments without any personal spin, that’s what review aggregate sites are for. Ranting about a “terrible game” is only fun when the writer has a tangential connection to it .

Freedom from nostalgia

Nostalgia is plainly a bad basis for critique. Not because it is an authorial bias , that’s fine and dandy, but because it is not a true personal connection.

When romanticizing the past, the object of attachment is interchangeable. The game is only tangentially part of the critic’s pink memories, in the same way anything can be fun with friends. It could be easily replaced with a toy, a room, a pair of socks, a roll of toilet paper, a supermarket or a brand of cereals. Because nothing specific about the game is tied to nostalgia, it latches on arbitrary characteristics instead; this can make it difficult for a writer to separate where their usual expectations and standards end and the wild reminiscing of “the better days” begins.

Criticism imprisoned in nostalgia is a fruitless search for an answer. It is an endeavor to come up with contradictory and endlessly-shifting reasons for disappointment with a game, a series or video games as a whole. It is painful to read, because nothing can bring back the writer’s past.

It is perfectly fine to say “I have so many good memories with this game”, but if I can’t even find any reasons why the game gives those memories, there isn’t much point to write an essay, is there?

Brevity

It is invaluable for me to internalize parting ways with my sentences and trim everything down until all words flow from the core idea. It is actually quite easy to write a lot, but finding the perfect length is an underrated craft.

Video essays are infamous for their length, but brevity is even more important for written content. Unless you are a known games-writer or write about new, shiny, topical games; people tend to not read essays over about 4000-5000 words. My personal ideal is the range of 2000-3000 words, that’s enough to perfectly cover all my opinions without going off rails. If there are paragraphs that feel worth keeping but also look isolated from rest, then that block can be expanded into its own article.

Brief beginnings and memorable endings

It’s very tempting to start essays with a weasel like “[insert topic] is popular/important”, and continue it for an entire paragraph. In truth, we all know no one reads those, yet we do it anyway because introductions can be seriously paralyzing. When this is the case, I advise to dive right into the heart of the matter and leave beginning to later. It is much easier to write intros when the essay has a solid shape. When you get ready, you can choose between two main styles:

  • Setting the topic: List the questions and claims that will be examined and define the subject of the critique. Academic essays use this method a lot because the intro can reliably be extracted from the text itself.

  • Setting the mood: An anecdote, some purple prose, a quick rundown of history or a funny quote. Featured essays on magazines or websites often have stylistic touches to make them memorable. I usually don’t do this but they can be fun in the right hands.

Writing an ending is more straightforward. You can summarize your ideas and give a final verdict, that’s a safe and sound method. But an ending can be more than that: “Writing is a journey” is not just a sappy line, an essay can be concluded in such an astonishing way that can transform even any basic opinion into a profound statement. At the very least, the reader will not feel like their time is wasted.

I hope that you find my introspection about games-writing worth your time too!

This article is written thanks to my dearest Patrons, namely: Acelin, Effy, Laura Watson, MasterofCubes, Makkovar, Morgan, Olympia, Otakundead, Sasha. Also thanks to Alex (@jyhadscientist on twitter) for his perfect editing work.

5 Mart 2021 Cuma

The Finale of Avatar The Last Airbender and Pacifism

 

(Full Spoilers for Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Avatar: The Last Airbender(2005-2008) has a four-episodes long grand finale. (Season 3 Episodes 18-21) The one half of it is concerned with Aang trying to reconcile his pacifism with having to kill Fire Lord Ozai, and the other half is the final showdown. This showdown is famous for a lot of things, mostly praiseworthy, but also commonly receives two points of criticism: Aang’s Avatar state being activated out of nowhere and Aang’s eleven-hour ability of “energy-bending”, absorbing Fire Lord’s powers and thus being able to stop him without having to killing him.

Neither of these is a problem to me.

The final episode have such a good tempo that there isn’t too much room to think about the plot contrivances. Also, I have consumed enough media to subconsciously accept grandiose finales of this kind, there is nothing really wrong with magic just being magic sometimes. Most importantly, it is a thematically fulfilling finale:

First, it is not unearned. Aang discovers energy-bending precisely thanks to a ruthless commitment to his philosophy. it’s not like he was dragging his feet out of squeamishness, he is aware what is needed to be done, he is just determined to find an alternate way like he always does.

Second, the show doesn’t bend(heh) its world to push a message: There is just no easy way to make the Fire Nation recognize Zuko as the new ruler as long as the old one is up and going. However, Fire King’s mandate is based on being able to fire-bend. Even better, nothing about this is explicitly stated, instead it silently rewards attentive viewers.

Third, Aang is not only the Avatar, but also the sole representative of his people. Understandably, this would make it much difficult to compromise with his values. Especially when he is fighting someone who is about to repeat an atrocity that has befallen to his people the first time. Aang is not being selfish, not entirely at least, he is carrying an age-old heritage on his back.

Fourth, because Aang’s struggle is very personal, I am not too concerned with agreeing with his stance all that much. This is good because pacifism is a little weird. In the abstract I fully agree with it, but people who espouse anti-violence and respect often reduce the world to just a series of moral encounters, and demonstrate a great deal of ignorance towards structural violence. However, this doesn’t make fiction defending pacifism bad. Fiction does not have to conform to the totality of my worldview, that would make me unable to enjoy most things. Fiction can also explore ethical scenarios that doesn’t map easily to any real-world counterpart. We also need to give consideration to the culture climate the show has aired. Back then, it was very easy to find someone casually defending things like torture or mass-bombing on TV, a children’s show having a you-shall-not-kill stance isn’t that bad. Furthermore, even though I don’t happen to agree with the specifics, it is always satisfying to watch a hero put their feet down and say “saving the world” does not justify everything.

In isolation, ATLA’s final is amazing and deserves every praise it gets. And I am perfectly fine with its messages, as long as it the show’s premises naturally leads to that conclusion.

And herein lies a problem. Three of them, actually, but they all converge in a single, central issue.

1. Aang performs deadly actions

In Northern Air Temple (Season 1 Episode 17), Aang blows a huge pile of snow on a couple dozen climbing Fire Nation soldiers, collapsing the ground they are in. They presumably fall all the way to the ground, from a place where we can see the clouds. After that, we only see a four or five of soldiers running away. Since the show usually puts a great importance to make it clear that people stay unharmed during fights, the contrast strongly indicate that the fallen soldiers are gone, at the very least, Aang does not put a lot of care into that.

In The Siege of the North Part 2 (Season 1 Episode 20), Aang fuses with the ocean spirit and sends huge waves on Fire Nation ships, completely drowning them under water. Even if we accept Aang is fully unconscious during the affair, he still aids a very angry spirit to enact revenge. The very next episode acknowledges the dangerous violence of Avatar state, so Aang himself does not excuse “accidents.” In the episode before the final fight (Season 3 Episode 18), he argues that Avatar Kyoshi’s murder of Chin the Conqueror might be an accident purely, but when she rebukes him, he can’t say anything back, because he is fully aware this is just a cop out.

In Sozin's Comet, Part 3: Into the Inferno (Season 3 Episode 19), Aang blasts a wave of fire to an airship. It takes considerable damage and crashes to the rock formations not too far from the height they are flying. While it is not certain that the crew is dead, Aang’s behavior here stands out so much next to the gargantuan efforts he goes into making sure that the Genocide Guy isn’t dead.

2. Aang faces with the same dilemma before, but the show does not address it.

Fire-bending comes from sun, so during solar eclipses, you can’t do it.. To use this for their advantage, the good guys attempt an invasion to the Fire Nation capital. (Season 3 Episodes 10-11). An episode before, Aang suffers from nightmares because he is not sure he is ready to face the Fire Admin. There is no indication of a moral conflict in these episodes, Aang is just determined to defeat the king.

3. Aang’s allies kill people

In at least three very notable moments:

In Northern Air Temple, Sokka and the engineer guy’s invention cause a huge explosion eliminating a battalion of tanks. Unlike previous attempts to stop the tanks, we don’t get to see what happens to their crew. Yep, they are gone. Very triumphantly too.

In Western Air Temple (Season 3 Episode 12), during the attack of the three-eyed bald assassin, Sokka throws his boomerang and hits the guy. His laser beam eye malfunctions, causing him to explode and leave nothing behind but his metal arm. This is rather peculiar, because the Avatar gang does not see Sokka’s boomerang hitting him, no, they thank Zuko for defeating him. We can safely infer that Aang has no problem with Zuko killing a person, since from his perspective what else could have happened?

In Sozin’s Comet Part 3: Into the Inferno Sokka, Toph and Suki captures an enemy airship, eject its crew to the water safely and ram it into a whole group of airships, with appropriately violent explosions. In the later episode, we see the remains of the ships burning on the sea surface. There is no such scene where the crew members hug the water with minimal injury this time. It defies all reason to assert that no one is harmed here.

We can observe something all across these events: Our heroes put great care into non-deadly solutions, until the show decides that it does not matter. In particular, the fate of Ozai only seems to be an issue when Zuko demands an answer from Aang In short, the events of the show and its themes are in deep, clear conflict.

Even at the moment of writing this, I am a little doubtful of this observation. Because among so many essays, discussions, blogs and takes about ATLA, I have yet to seen a single person talking about anything related to this. Yet, when we look at the show holistically, I can’t help but see something fishy. This demands an answer. I can think of four of different viewpoints that can gives us one: Literal, technical, cultural and personal.

Literal answer: I am reading too much into this

In other words, people only die in this show when it explicitly says so.

This is simply ridiculous.

Even with the most generous reading, the characters still act quite recklessly in light of their previous actions and stated principles. Aang chooses to send a fireball to that ship just as firmly as when he redirects the lightning away from the Fire Tsar. This is the same Aang that gives up fire-bending for two seasons because he fears to hurt people. Sokka rams his airship into the armada just as deliberately as when he devises a plan to peacefully get rid of the ship’s crew. Even people who clearly don’t hesitate violence still avoid to kill whenever they can.

However, the real problem with this answer is that it turns this show into a joke. This is a work that deals with loss of pain, the human cost of war, imperialism and genocide. Aang sees the bare skeleton of his father figure. "Don't think about the things you see" is an insult to both the audience and creators. No, this is a better story than Valkryia Chronicles(2008), thank you very much.

I love reading too much into media. This is not reading too much. Being distracted by the action and character drama is notwithstanding, all of my observations are pretty straightforward.

Technical answer: It was just a mistake

They just didn’t think about the implications. For example, the creators and, really, the audience too knew that Aang wasn’t going to defeat the king in the middle of the season, so we didn’t have to think about the moral question for the time being.

Yet I don’t find this answer all that interesting. I don’t write articles just to point out mistakes in the show, it’s always much more interesting to me to think beyond “intention/mistake” dichotomy. There are no true accidents in a finished work, a story always creates its own meaning one way or another.

Cultural answer: In stories, nameless people don’t matter

Something we instinctively expect from fiction is that it should make the characters interesting enough to care about what happens to them in a story. A creator cannot just clap their hands and put the audience into whatever mood necessary for the scene. Obviously no, it is not sad when an alien monster eats a nameless guy, it’s usually goofy. This doesn’t mean the audience is sadistic, it’s just means the story does not care about depicting the fictional disaster as something to be taken seriously.

But the opposite can be also a huge problem. If the story is about how nameless masses are thoughtlessly consumed in the goals of the villains, it’s not right when the designated good characters do the same thing. This is rightly criticized in video games, yet it is also weirdly common in media that isn’t limited by game design concerns In Star Wars, it is nice to watch Luke desperately trying to see the light in his father but it becomes much less heartwarming when he first also end up slaying bunch of nobodies in the same movie.

It is so hard to take seriously when ATLA spends two whole episodes on morality of murder without ever addressing the elephant in the room. How is the life of the Massacre Man so special in the climax of a hundred year war? Who knows how many Fire Nation conscripts who can’t even fire-bend are dead because of the royal family’s ambition?.  The implication that I should value a cruel monster's life solely due to their proximity to main characters would turn ATLA into yet another mediocre story where the main character can be rewarded with moral purity in complete isolation from their actions and events, because we are demanded to accept that the universe is being reduced to only named characters. (Again Valkryia Chronicles rears its ugly head)

However, this assessment is too harsh. For the most part ATLA has enough depth to avoid being an hypocritical anti-violence tale. There is certainly something more interesting here.

Personal Answer: ATLA is a subversion of pacifism

Throughout the show, we see again and again that despite advising others to the same thing, Aang only hold himself as responsible for being a pacifist.. He is perfectly aware that people die in wars, he does not completely reject having to kill someone to stop a world-ending threat, his concern is to stay loyal to his way of life as much as he can.

Even within these limitations, the philosophy of anti-violence is seriously challenged in Puppetmaster(Season 3 Episode 8). The Avatar team is against Hama’s path of revenge and vicious blood-bending but in the end, Katara is forced to use blood-bending and Bad Extremist Minority is punished by to being locked in the dungeons of her oppressors, the very dungeons that pushed her towards a life of hatred in the first place. She gets no closure, no second chances, no redemption; for the crime of actually killing no one. In comparison, the show depicts someone like Iroh as a wise person who has learned from his mistakes, even though he actually led wars and undoubtedly caused many deaths.

From this, we start to see anti-violence in a different light. In contrast to Hama whose life have entirely subjugated to pain, Aang remains in near total control. He is always capable and lucky enough to avoid having to fight with all his might. The one time he is truly forced to into a corner, he is blessed with two miracles to non-lethally subdue the king. On top of that, he has the support of an unchallenged claimant to the throne, so he can establish an era of peace without having to do anything truly dirty. Aang is able to uphold pacifism insofar he can dominate over life, exercising both soft and hard power whenever appropriate.

In ATLA, pacifism is not a matter of compassion, importance of dialogue, idealism or even preservation of Air Nomad culture. It is a pure expression of power to pacify others into peace. Anything else is only complimentary. Avatar Roku’s mistake is not his mercy towards King Sozin, it’s his inability to sufficiently tame the Fire Nation. Hama is wrong because she pursues vain revenge instead of using her power for things that actually matter. The Punished King has many opportunities to stop the war, but he chooses glory of conquest instead. Hama and Ozai earn a similar fate because they are both swayed by their petty emotions instead of embracing responsibility; the differences in their beliefs and circumstances are almost entirely irrelevant.

This reading feels quite cold for a show that’s often lighthearted. Particularly Hama’s fate feels so dissonantly cruel. Yet it makes sense for a setting where some people are more powerful than others by birthright. Only Avatar can restore the balance, for only they are powerful enough to keep the world in harmony, by any means necessary. I still this reading the most and even consider it a positive one, because it reveals what kind of assumptions one needs to make in order to arrive at a worldview like that in our world.

It also implies that, for all it’s enthusiasm and respect of Asian cultures, ATLA is still an American show to its core, which is quite funny.

This article is written thanks to my dearest Patrons and special thanks to: Acelin, Laura Watson, MasterofCubes, Makkovar, Morgan, Otakundead , Sasha and Spencer Gill.



16 Şubat 2021 Salı

Disgaea 1

 There are essentially three main issues with “grinding” in a video game: Making the repetition interesting, providing meaningful goals and successfully connecting the act to the narrative. These all culminate in one fundamental struggle: It is one of the most artificial player activities in a video game. It resembles learning and building experience only in the most abstract way. What it actually is closer to a job of collecting goods. You sell the goods and then invest the money so that you can collect more valuable goods, invest larger amounts of money, rinse and repeat. Of course here, everything here is governed by an absolute mathematical certainty. There are no risks, no competition, there is always abundant supply and demand. Everything is predictable and the gains only go upwards. As such, by itself, grinding simulates nothing tangible. This is both a strength and a weakness: The feeling it creates is entirely unique but video games often fail to channel this feeling in a truly elevating way. In many games, grinding can be addictive or relaxing, but that’s only because player just happens to find meaning in a low-stress repetitive action and games often fail to make proper use of this kind of engagement, thus grinding mostly exist as a crutch for more immersive or immediately captivating features.

But Disgaea [*] is different. Really different.

It’s so different in fact I have failed to truly understand it for a while. Before going in, I knew it was a “grindy” game. And I began the game like I was preparing for a long trip. I grinded enough to comfortably finish the story levels but did not put much thought or research. I did not even figure out that I could turn off the battle animations. While I enjoyed the game, I made myself a disservice and rendered the game much more intimidating than it had to be. I learned about the ridiculously tough extra bosses, and something in my brain rang like an alarm clock, there was no way I would ever spent any time on that.

After I have reached the credits for the second time, a light bulb appeared on my head. I finally got Disgaea.

I became aware of how cozy it really feels.

The game looks beautiful. Not sublime like Ori and the Blind Forest(2015), nor magnificent like Hades(2020). It is humbly vibrant, but not explosive, expressive and chaotic, but never overwhelming. Takehito Harada’s characters are all part silly and part dashing, ranging from miserable prinnies to handsome samurai ladies, with edgelord majins, maid mages and haughty angels in between. The story cast is equally delightful too: Laharl the shounen-protagonist-looking demon prince, Etna the average demon girl whom you can never be entirely sure how serious she is about her sadism, Flonne the 200% saccharine angel who enjoys violence more than she would admit; both cutscene artwork and battle map sprites are amazing at capturing emotions. Everything has the exact kind of simple but striking adorableness I love. A kind of simplicity that lets the colors shine with attitude. Even small embellishments like palette-swapped characters, the way maps are decorated or the team attack cut-in pictures give me a smile every time. Whether I am the hub in the king’s castle, or at a randomly generated map in the Item World, the game always looks warm and cute, like a comfort cartoon from the dreamy haze of the childhood.

As fine as static visuals are, the game no doubt owes its warmth to animations and the sound design. It is so lacking in visual noise that even smallest things like idle bobbling, walking animations or the little reaction poses when a character is picked up is charming, and remains so after seeing them for dozens of hours. The battle animations are all appropriately glorious for a turn based game but also still feel like a natural part of the world, just ridiculous enough but never too long or dazzling to overstay their welcome. Even when the animations are turned off, the basic moves are still punchy and full of character. The magic knight yells a no-nonsense ”YAH” when she swings her weapon, mages put out a chuckle before casing spells, a galactic demon growls and violently swings its large blade. Setting off a big geo-panel chain and winning stuff at the end of the levels achieves a casino-like, demonic satisfaction, even the simple menu selection sounds make the otherwise static screens quite lively. Some pieces of from Tenpei Sato’s soundtrack particularly embody this cute spirit: such as Running Fire, Akuma Drops, or Fancy Balls; energetic, playful and easy-to-ears music, and don’t wear out their welcome easily; which makes them perfect for grinding. Dark Assembly is nearly entirely menu-navigation, yet Lord Laharl’s Hymn is able to provide it a character entirely on its own. Even in serious moments the game never lets the wondrous fantasy world feeling disappear. Disgaea is perhaps the cutest game I have ever seen, in a way that’s beyond more conventionally adorable games don’t reach. This is especially remarkable when the foremost thing you see in the game is numbers.

Lots of numbers. And some progression bars. But often, a lot of numbers.

Every video game is ruled by numbers, but most of the time they will be partially or wholly buried to make the world seem more naturalistic and to please those who dislike numbers. And sure, there is clear merit in this. Games usually try to simulate, or at least broadly resemble things from the physical world; and while most anyone will tolerate deviations, it is still not pleasant to see the hand that moves the puppets. Some games will go a bit too far and fall into a trap which I will refer as unsimulation: When a game tries to be as life-like as possible only to expose their simplistic game loops in the most grotesque ways imaginable. Zeal to hide any “gameyness” at all costs is the very thing that exacerbates the contrast between the game’s mechanics and presentation.. An hyperrealistic looking game like Red Dead Redemption 2(2018) has exquisite detail on horse balls but it doesn’t have the balls not to have things like bullet time system or instantly consumed food. It has lavish animations for looting a corpse, but in certain cases, the player pick ups items automatically anyway, which makes the added detail feel more artificial than every other game with a looting mechanic. AAA games of this kind are hit by unsimulation the most because they cannot give up the typical game loops sought by the most players yet they are desperate for “the prestige” of not looking like a video game.

On the other end of the spectrum, there is Disgaea. I go to Item World to level up items, I slay demons, my squad levels up, my items get stronger, I obtain stronger items, so I go to their item world, slay stronger demons, the squad levels up more, the new items level up and I get even stronger items. Meanwhile, I level up specialists to make items even stronger, and among other things, I can get experience faster. So that way I can transmigrate(reincarnate) my squad to make them stronger, they can level up fast thanks to already strong equipment, so they can be transmigrated again and again. The numbers go high and high, the limit is the sky. Witnessing this snowball effect is the way the game defines fun. I hindered my enjoyment in the beginning because I grinded to progress the game, and only after the game was successful trained me to see grinding as it’s own progression I started to enjoy it to the fullest.

When I hover on a character, I am welcomed with a spreadsheet of stats, equipment and skills. Even friendly NPCs in outside of maps are still have their battle portraits, levels and health info displayed It doesn’t have a direct gameplay utility, it’s just another cute thing that helps to make gameplay tangentially live in the game world and I love when games put any effort towards that. When the presentation and play systems are in such unity, the game doesn’t need any further goals for grinding. Numbers are their own reward, the plot functions to prepare the player for grinding and tough challenge maps exist to commemorate player’s dedication. The game avoids unsimulation because it doesn't try to conjure a consistent universe and then say "Welp, this is a video game after all?" whenever it is convenient, it builds up a universe whose story can be told through the kind of video game it wants to be.

The game’s openness about its systems is also what gives it a kind of fairness most games don’t have. It’s plainly clear that player characters and the enemies are governed by the same rules. The game never tries to pulls the rug over me. Sometimes I consult guides and charts, but I do so just for the sake of convenience and to squeeze that extra little bit of knowledge about the game; otherwise the game is utmost eager to explain itself. While randomness is a factor in the game, it is there to add some spice, not to “gotcha” the player. Most video game challenges are designed to be a beaten, but Disgaea revels in making me know that victory is always within my reach. The only question is “How can I crush the enemies in the most fun way possible”. I can play the game more tactically, approaching the enemies on a roughly equal power level. I can turn the weakest character into a god. I can devise a route to have a strong character to defeat the extra bosses as quickly as possible. (In fact, there is a glitchless speedrun clocking in 3 hours!) This is a brilliant part of the game; despite how much it is built on grinding, it doesn't really demand that much of it. In both tactics and strategy, there is a real depth this game; and it can be played quite efficiently, which is particularly noteworthy for a game about seeing big numbers. The only true reason to grind is because battling demons and getting more powerful is a great activity for the entire family.

(Story spoilers start here)

It is very fitting, then,the plot is all about crushing any challengers and winning stronger vassals, rinse and repeat. Given that the story is very episodic, the sense of time is quite fuzzy, and there isn’t a lot of any actual danger for most of the plot, fighting extra bosses aren’t a diversion; from the dialogue we can be pretty sure that Laharl defeating Baal is a foregone conclusion. And herein lays the crux of the narrative: The game completely embraces the inevitability of player’s victory and thus, being stronger than any boss is ultimately trivial compared to the emotional growth in the story. Only someone who is mature enough to confront their own heart and stop hiding behind a mask of the “evil demon” stereotype is worthy to become a true overlord. The silliness of the game precisely comes from the contrast between the dialogue that stresses how terrible the demons are and the events that solidly progress to tear apart that. The game can fully bask in the fun of fighting because it never gets too serious or deadly (permanently at least). An armada of 1 BILLION SHIPS are attacking, but it’s okay, Laharl promptly eliminates them in a cutscene without anyone dying. The true serious threat to him is facing the loss of those whom he cared. There is no doubt that Archangel can be defeated, even he is resigned to his fate. In the bad endings, his body lies in the ground, covered in blood. The blood in the question is just a sprite of red puddle, yet it is among the most vivid depiction of blood among all fiction, in large part because there is no blood in anywhere else in the game. Even without the help of Sorrowful Angel, that image alone changes the game so drastically, the entire game turns somber. The failure isn’t so much about the morality of the killing, but rather the inability to conquer your’s deeper fears and becoming the monster you have been hiding behind all this time.

The physical power isn’t meaningless here, in one of the endings, it matures Laharl just enough that he admits he is unfit to rule and walk away to a lone journey hoping he might mature one day. Nevertheless, the true challenge of the game, the test deliberately set up by archangel himself, is to subdue Laharl’s wrath just enough to not kill him, and the means to do so is totally obscured from the player, seems unconnected on the surface and requires a new playtrough to correct it. The only path to salvation for me is kill exactly zero of my allies in a battle. An obscurity like this is something I would lambaste, but the bad ending is actually worth seeing here and, retroactively, it is genius for several reasons: For one, why would anyone inform me about this? Not abusing my characters isn’t really worth a mention, let alone a praise. Two, the game subtly tricks the player into ally-kills. It tells that depraved, meme-faced prinnies explode when they are thrown. Yes of course I would try that, the game even records it like an accomplishment. (There are even more surprises for reaching certain kills!). Three, when I learned about the endings, I became much more careful about the area attacks, but looking from Laharl’s perspective, he would do it only because he intuitively cares enough about his gang. It makes sense to me that only this version of him would have the necessary self-control. Four,  there is something rather poetic about an gameplay element the game did not pay attention previously becoming so important in the narrative, yet another step towards gameplay-story integration.

The good ending is appropriately wholesome. Laharl wholly accepts his sensitive side, he proves himself as a worthy overlord to Etna; Flonne proves her own idealism right and, both literally and figuratively, accepts her own more mischievous, demon-like side, Gordon, Jennifer and Thursday returns the earth as movie stars. This is as happy as Netherworld can get. It is also best kind of validation if you reach here after beating the extra bosses. The game can deliver a humorous yet heartfelt story because it embraces the inherent artificiality of its gameplay. It doesn’t hide it’s theater props, it doesn’t attempt a self-aware meta commentary, it offers no extrinsic reward for grinding; and precisely in this way it creates a level of verisimilitude not many games can achieve. In an interview with the producer Souhei Niikawa, he mentions the game is “..the ratio was 10% on story (practically bonus content) and 90% on game play”, but this is only true in the most superficial way. In truth, Disgaea has a remarkable degree of ludo-narrative harmony and demonstrates a unity of vision across all of its parts normally seen in single-dev games.

(Story spoilers end here)

You might be surprised to read this; but I like Disgaea a lot. Some media become worse the more you think about it. This game is the opposite. From afar, it looks fine but unassuming, but the more I contemplate on it, the more I spend time playing it, it becomes better and better. It has dawned on me that the game was created for me, specifically. Yes, Yoshitsuna Kobayashi had a dream of revelation where he was instructed by the god to make a game which would target me with perfect precision 20 years later. In particular: this game is an excellent study case for how to make grinding compelling: An addictive gaming loop, activities that feels interconnected with the rest of the game and intrinsic satisfaction to spend your hours to make some numbers higher. Disgaea, turns the artificiality of its gameplay over its head to create something that feels tangible beyond just requiring players to spend some amount of time to finish the game’s contents. This strong foundation is then built upon with a very charming presentation and a lovely-crafted story. Compared to contemporary games, it resembles everything people seem to enjoy about gacha games, but it doesn’t prey on your money and time. It just wants you to have a good time on hell.


[*] Playstation 2 title Disgaea: The Hour of Darkness(2003) has a good number of remakes/ports/re-releases. I play the game on Disgaea PC(2015), which is an enhanced port of a remake of the original. Nothing in this in article is concerned with various differences between the versions, nor I will discuss the entire series as whole, so it is safe to refer to this family of games as Disgaea here

This article is written thanks to my dearest Patrons and special thanks to: Acelin, Laura Watson, MasterofCubes, Makkovar, Morgan, Otakundead , Sasha and Spencer Gill.

 











 



23 Aralık 2020 Çarşamba

Grinding

 

I define grinding as “repetitious combat whose primary goal is to increase various statistics about a character ”. It is most commonly associated with RPGs; Players grinding for character levels, items or currency is a natural part of these games. Here, I will discuss some bad and good examples, with various other aspects of a game related to grinding, like experience systems, side bosses, combat systems and so on. Spoilers for Undertale, Persona 3/4, Trails, Withcher 3 ahead, only discussed as minimally as possible.

Definition

Dragon Quest(1986) has set the basic template for console RPGs. Games made of same cloth are somewhat simplistic in terms of mechanics and presentation. The main activity in those games is to get through various dungeons and grind a lot to defeat the next set of enemies. The games not only require grinding, but it is the bread and butter of these games. On the discussion of games, “grinding” is sometimes used to refer any amount of dungeon exploration, or exclusively in a derisive way. In contrast, my definition of grinding is more useful, as when I say a game “requires grinding” or “grindy”, it means the game asks or heavily incentives the player to spend a non-trivial amount of time to engage in repetitious encounters for a certain reward, and for some games, this is part of the appeal.

Emphasizing the appeal of grinding helps us to distinguish it from “padding”, where the game slows down player’s progress arbitrarily. Certainly, badly implemented grinding might feel like padding but the earnestness is the key distinction: Grinding Magikarp or Abra in Pokémon Red(1995) might be rather monotonous, but it clearly is designed to foster a “training hard to get strong” mentality. More cynical designs grind the game to halt to compensate for lack of content, likely because of troubled development. Or something far worse, strong arm them into buying microtransactions. I have nothing but contempt for this kind of design. Some say “Oh it’s not a big deal. Actually it’s kind of nice to get some experience boost”. No! The game is designed to require the boost! It is the worst gaming design trend alongside with making the players gamble with real money. Ever. I will never entertain it as an artistic decision. Stuff like this doesn’t require much discussion, moving on...

Also, while grinding is no doubt an important part of MMOs, everything here pertains to single player only, because I don’t play multi-player RPGs. My brief experience with them is not very good and many of them also guilty of “skip grinding for money” nonsense, but they feel like a whole separate realm on their own and deserve more than my limited viewpoint.

Avoiding Grinding

As games became more sophisticated, they began to reduce or outright minimize grinding, instead moving towards rewarding player’s ingenuity or softening the gameplay to put the rich story or presentation in the center stage. Final Fantasy 7(1997) is an example of both; there are lots of items, spells, special moves that turns the game into a joke; but even without going all out to become god-like powerful, the game is quite gentle, as it is very focused on telling a grand cinematic story, filled with lots of set pieces and mini game. (In other words, it is the prestige game of it’s time) Some games tightly control how much player can progress. In a character-oriented RPG like Fallout: New Vegas(2008), overwhelmingly large portion of experience points and valuable items are gained from quests, combat exhausts non-trivial resources and the player can make a character that can get out of situations without (much) combat. Witcher 3: Wild Hunt(2015) is constructed very similar sans having non-combat builds, but in this case the approach fails and renders the game bereft of any sense of progression. There is a skill tree, but it mostly offers minor stat bonuses: Geralt(the player character) can make their force shield slightly bigger and start to breathe fire at thirty hours in, not exactly the most exciting thing in a fantasy game. In F:NV, leveling up gives cool perks and gimmicks like: getting stronger with radiation, being able to carry a lot, splattering enemies into guts or unlocking gay energy. In contrast, Witcher 3 feels like it is an RPG only to justify its huge open-world, Geralt starts an ace monster hunter and remains an ace monster hunter; what do levels even convey to the player?

Some games use intuitive leveling systems to nudge the player away from grinding too much. Trails/Kiseki series are quite great at this. The amount of experience earned in a battle is much higher if the characters are at lower levels. Conversely, after passing a certain threshold, fighting similar enemies will start to yield a much lower amount of experience. This is quite easy to follow because the experience gained may drop to half just after going up one level for example. Players are spared from worrying about being under or overleveled both.

Some games even turn into a mini-game of its own. It’s fairly common to have special enemies which are tricky to find or defeat but will yield a lot of experience points if done so. Dragon Quest has the famed “metal slime”, Trails in the Sky: FC(2004) has a creature named “pom”. A different and more energetic approach can be found in Trails of Cold Steel(2013). During a battle the game rewards certain actions with experience point multipliers: Doing combos, hitting multiple enemies at once, being first one to hit, using weaknesses etc. This is a really great way to making players seriously pay attention to regular battles without making them excruciatingly difficult.

Some games employ a set of measures to dissuade or outright prevent the player from grinding. In Persona 3(2007), players get through a singular, humongous dungeon. However, it is not open to exploration in its entirety from the start, instead it is gradually opened as the story progresses. Spending too much time in the dungeon will literally make the characters tired and insisting to continue on will make them sick, making them unable to come to dungeons for a few in-game days entirely. At times, they will refuse to come along for personal reasons. Also, in-game days have limited time slots and there are often other activities to do instead of going to dungeons. Ideally, the player should go to dungeon only when it’s necessary. This makes sense narratively too, as the dungeons are not exactly pleasant to be in, conveyed both by it’s visual design and characters talking of it’s oppressive, sickening atmosphere. To ensure that players won’t feel pressured to grind too much, before the day of mandatory story fights, the characters will not complain about being tired; so that players have always a last-minute chance of grinding as they want. Also, the mandatory fights will be always easier than their counterparts in the dungeon. Therefore, being able to reach the limit imposed by the story will ensure that players are more than capable for the story fights.

Level-scaling is a common anti-grinding feature: Instead of enemies becoming stronger as the game progresses, they become stronger as the player gain levels. In theory, it allows a consistent level of challenge without players being too strong or needing to grind. Unfortunately, this method is often implemented in rather problematic ways:

  • A common issue is that games do not tell that they have level-scaling. Players can often divine it only when it becomes too late. Elder Scrolls 4: Oblivion(2006) is quite egregious because of this. The game has a overly complicated (or insufficiently explained) class/skill system. It’s quite possible to end up with a underpowered character because of this. It doesn’t help that there are a lot of at-best-situationally-useful non-combat skills, even basic activities like running might cause the player to level-up depending on the build. [1]

  • When the level-scaling makes the game more difficult on higher levels, some players avoid leveling. In Oblivion, there is a somewhat counter-intuitive[1] way to make a low-level build. In Final Fantasy 8(1998), mandatory fights do not yield experience points, so the method is to avoid non-mandatory fights as much as possible. Doing this makes the player unable to access certain content; in Oblivion some quests and powerful items are locked behind levels, in FF8, the player will only have access to basic spells. Ironically, level-scaling doesn’t even reduce grinding. In fact, it might even cause more grinding in Oblivion. [1] And in FF8, the time spent in battles do not really decrease because the player still needs to farm magic [2] from enemies, which is, quite frankly, much more monotonous than simply defeating monsters in battle.

  • Fundamentally, level-scaling dampens the sense of becoming powerful. Things like turning a previously annoying adversary into a joke, seeing a previous boss demoted to a regular enemy, realizing that I am able to make just a little more damage are what makes RPGs so satisfying. Level-scaling also makes the game world feel more artificial, as it is quite obvious when random bandits start to wear golden armor just to match up with the player.

Level-scaling can be successful however. It works in Elder Scrolls 5: Skyrim(2011) quite nicely as it is subtle enough to be not noticed by many people, I have learned its existence only after reading about it as well. First, instead of continuously growing stronger, enemies and dungeons have their own unique level ranges where the player can still be too weak(bears) or strong(basic undead) for them. Second, there is some degree of randomness so that occasionally the player might get weaker or stronger enemies. Third and perhaps most importantly, the game’s skill system is intuitive and the game is forgiving enough that players are unlikely to find themselves in a considerably disadvantageousbuild. (It also helps that Skyrim doesn’t really pretend that skills like “speech matters” at all). This results in a game truly beautiful in it’s simplicity. It’s kind of wonderful to just walk around the world without ever worrying about being prepared for a fight: If something is big and scary-looking or throws lightning bolts, all needs to be done is to go away and come back later. There are only a few end-game bosses that warrant any kind of planning, everything else just blends into one seamless adventure, it’s very likely that when player arrives somewhere they will be already strong enough to take whatever they encounter. The game can do this while also still being able to make the player that they are actually getting more powerful. This is a not a trivial achievement for such an open-ended game.

Harsher anti-grinding measures can be effective if the fantasy of becoming stronger can be achieved in other ways. Demon’s Souls(2009) and its sequels are among the few Action RPGs series where “action” and “RPG” parts are both important. While grinding is a long process with diminishing returns due to level-scaling, one way to beat any kind of enemy is just responding to their attack patterns. So, the game dilutes the more traditional, statistical progression of RPGs and puts the player’s gradual mastery of combat in its place. The game also features lots of different weapons and equipment, there are a lot of hidden ways to get really powerful. It’s also possible to summon NPCs or other players to help out with to deal with bosses. The game never outright forbids grinding but takes great lengths to make sure that the player adopts a mindset which rejects grinding and accepts challenges head on. Which would be absolutely dreadful to play personally, but it is quite interesting to watch how it affects other players’ behavior nonetheless.

As I discussed in previous posts, when a game has unconventional or counter-intuitive mechanisms it’s very important to seed the correct mentality in the player. Undertale(2015) is famously very anti-grind and this is woven into the very core of the game. Amazingly this doesn’t actually trivialize the combat in the game, player is merely guided against trying to gain experience and can only get the happiest ending if they avoid gaining experience entirely. If the player goes the opposite way however, they will find the that that they have rendered the area they are in completely devoid of life. If they choose to do this from very beginning and continue on the path of sin, the game will enter to a state of constant, dreary, bleak tone. Most encounters will be total pushovers, expect for exactly two. The first one, while isn’t that difficult, catches the players off-guard and more importantly makes it clear that player brought this upon themselves. The second, more famous,difficult encounter takes this up to eleven. While reportedly not being exceptionally tough for a regular of bullet hell games, it is still not only quite difficult for anyone who isn’t accustomed to, it is difficult in the most player-unfriendly ways. The game will begin the fight in the middle of a conversation, feign mercy, mock the player for dying and after a long fight abruptly stop to trick them into quitting. Moreover, every hit only causes 1 damage but they also drain all hit points until only 1 left, so health and armor is useless. The enemy has only 1 hit point, but they will evade all attacks until the very end, so attacks and weapons are useless. In other words, all grinding is utterly meaningless. And, if players persevere through this fight and reach to end of the game, all they are rewarded with is a blank space to stare into, have game crashing to desktop indefinitely or an offer to start the game anew (which by one interpretation, will not even cleanse the evil) The entire game is an elaborate joke on the very concept of grinding. However, it’s important that the game does not tut-tut the player for playing an undesired way but rather it challenges them to question their motivations: Did they reach to the end just because they could? Is that worth it? Perhaps grinding is actually a waste of time sometimes, perhaps not every game needs to be “completed”.

Side Content Grinding

Save for a niche section of games, RPGs of the 2000s and 2010s tend to allow players to get through the “main story” without too much hassle. They will rather put more time-wasting things on the side, such as things to collect; quests to finish, and of course, optional enemies to defeat. “The legendary epic sword of coolness” isn’t for defeating the final boss, that would be an overkill no, it is for the ultimate secret boss. Unfortunately, despite how I can enjoy long RPGs and grinding, Undertale is right about this kind of content: I am often unable to muster enough motivation to care about these extra bosses. They seem to only exist for the sake of completion with hardly any larger context. What does defeating “Emerald Weapon” mean in FF7, that problem fixes itself in the end anyway. Or “Dark Valefor” in Final Fantasy 10(2000) for that matter, it literally comes out of nowhere? Why bother with “Satan” in LİSA: The Painful(2014), he is just some dude whom the players will not even see unless they go out of their way to find him? Such extra bosses often drop remarkable loot but why would someone who already defeated the toughest enemy ever need that? They further serve to highlight how much this kind of content only exist to be bragged about; both for advertising “hours of extra content” and to satiate the drive of completionism alike.

In theory, if something is fun then it’s just fun but even modest embellishments can really make things quite interesting. “Death” from Persona 3 is a fun extra boss because of this: “Death” essentially serves to make sure that people won’t linger on the same floor for too long. It is not only visually striking with its imposing body and over-sized revolvers, but hearing its approach with growlings and rattlings of the chains on its body is appropriately eerie for a creature that will crush the player party easily for a long, long time. Towards the end of the game the player finally becomes barely strong enough to turn the tables on it. Sure, defeating it won’t change anything narratively but it is actually more thematic that way; after all “Death” is a manifestation of the fear of mortality, obviously it won’t go away completely. And, it just feels nice to get some personal revenge and have an opportunity to realize how far I have come. Facing death is what all characters do in P3, so it puts a neat bow on that theme too. More importantly, defeating it doesn’t require shouldering mountains, it only demands the correct strategy and some luck. It is also an interesting inversion of most extra bosses. Instead of being there to justify grinding, it rewards the ability to grind more when defeated. It unlocks extra floors of the dungeon. While it isn’t necessary for finishing the game, it’s still quite neat: It gives the player something to do in the last stretch[3] of the game, allows them to easily reach the level cap(addressing a pet peeve of mine) and gives the opportunity to access and use absurdly powerful end-game Personae[4]. This system both actively enables completionist players by rewarding their efforts by making the game easier to complete and can guide the usually-not-so-completionist- players(me) into completing the game just by just having fun naturally. In contrast, in Persona 4(2008), Death is just a hidden boss in the “new game plus”. It just exists, with no relevance to anything else in the game. Players can get a strong item by defeating it, I guess. Whatever. At least it makes a good showcase for the argument that, difference between a great and an alright game indeed lies in the details.

Another obstacle to create meaningful motivation to grind is that games tend to have narratives in conflict with the idea of grinding. Combat is often something that just happens to the characters, no matter how many is slain by character’s hands. Characters tend to be either against or indifferent to combat; and if the game has a serious narrative concerning loss of lives, explores non-violent solutions in its role-play or has a degree of urgency in regards to “saving the world”, it then feels quite dissonant to ask the player to take time to gather a hundred monster toes for the perfect armor. This is one reason why some RPGs feature eager, fledgling adventurers as their protagonist. Fighting repeatedly makes a lot of sense when the player’s party also enjoys doing them. In Trails In The Sky, fighting monsters is a part of main cast’s job and in Trails of Cold Steel, basic battles are an important piece in worldbuilding, showing that the authorities are neglectful in their promises of defense. A lot of characters in both series have a deep relationship with combat, everything from the weapons they use, why they fight, their strengths and weaknesses are all part of their character. When a character is able to jump in the air and do a cool sword move, that’s just part of the world. While it is obviously unrealistic, the series has mostly consistent and subtle rules on whether a battle will be deadly or not. Slaying gods is not uncommon in video games but they don’t usually explore as to what it means that main character is able to slay a god or single-handedly prevent an apocalypse. This actually weakens the power fantasy somewhat. It makes just a little more difficult to care about min-maxing stats, much less about actually taking on some random overpowered boss. In contrast,feats of main casts in Trails games feels much more impressive precisely because it's made clear that they are not even among the strongest warriors, they are just bunch of brave young people.

Combat

While motivation to grind is certainly important, it’s secondary to the quality of combat itself. The combat should avoid banality and hair-splitting difficulty both at the same time. Even a basic damage multiplier or rock-paper-scissor weakness system goes a long way to stop battles from being sleep-inducing. The stat gains by combat should be at a reasonable pace. Increasing levels or advancement in skills trees should give a palpable sense of improvement but also the overall time spent in combat loops should not be too long. Navigation in menus, the time it takes to execute commands (being able to automate them or turning off animations), the rate where the player needs to re-stock resources to continue grinding. Of course, as I discussed earlier, allowing player to be smart at leveling up certainly helps even when grinding is inevitable.

Let’s analyze Pokemon series from this viewpoint then. Motivation for grinding is implicit in the series: Whether the player desiring to just having a full team in the final story mon, training a late-found or new-born mons or preparing for competitive battling, one thing to be sure is that there is no convenient way to level up fast, some games allow to battle with same trainers more than once(which gives more experience than wild pokemon), there are some items which helps, traded mons also get experience faster but… overall, it’s quite slow. [5] It’s certain that if the player wants battle-ready mons, they will have to spend quite amount of time, defeating same mons over and over. The one alternative is to leave it them to day care and let them level up automatically as the player walks around the world but not only it’s quite limited and slow, it requires constant checks if the player doesn’t want to lose certain moves. [6] However, what makes grinding in Pokemon so dreadful is that not only the battles are so mindless, they also require frequent backtracking to recharge their moves. There isn’t even an auto-battle system. And sure, player can just watch or play something else when they are doing it but… why? Like I play Pokémon because, I want to battle with fun pocket monsters. Why I need to put hours and hours on this, why I can’t just catch something and have it be active member of my team without having nonsensical concerns? And people actually train mons for competitive battles, lots of ones, without using some sort of emulator turbo? This is probably my primary psychological block to play a Pokemon game. I just want to play with various different mons and have fun for couple of hours, that’s often impossible to do without using some kind of generator.[7]

Thankfully, newer generations made some improvements on this issue. The most important of them is that battles finally grant team-wide experience. Wow. On the one hand, it still has grinding, especially one is serious about competitive play. On the other hand, being able to grind six mons at once is still massive and more importantly, the player is now wholly free to experiment with different mons as they like.I am forever baffled at the people who whine about this. Oh, it is too easy, they say. Too easy. Tackling this aspect of the series is outside of this post’s scope, but for now, if I may, allow me to say this: I am still in utmost sadness and pain that Gayme Freak dumbed down this hardcore series for the peasants but having to level up a Beldum was never quite peak gameplay, so it’s not all that bad, dear gamers.

Conclusion

We have examined different approaches to tackle the question of grinding. Classic RPGs are very openly grindy, but they are understandably primitive in their design and this might make sheer monotonousness of such games rather hard to swallow. As the depth of mechanical, textual and audio visual elements have increased, games began to favor livelier and crunchier designs over long-term, gradual satisfaction. Some games have extensive side content, but they tend to be lacking in appeal. There are games with excellent combat mechanics, addictive game-loops or a narrative that strongly contextualizes gameplay but there really doesn’t seem to be any game that tries to strike at the very heart of grinding. There are repetitive games with astounding quality, but never a game has been astounding because of it’s repetition…

Well… no…

There is one….


[1] On character creation, players picks certain skills as “major”, the other becoming “minor”. Skills are developed by using them, growing enough causes a level up and grants boots to the stats which are related to the skill player has developed. To prevent leveling, it’s possible to pick irrelevant skills as major, this way player can grind their skills while also keeping enemies weaker and don’t have to deal with keeping track of their skill growth. This might actually end up increase grinding because players will miss the starting boost to major skills, which can be rather problematic to magic-using characters.

[2] In Final Fantasy 8, the main method to obtain magic is to literally absorb them from enemies using “draw” command. Having magic is also the main way to boost the character stats, so having them maxed out is optimal for every character. Only a small amount can be drawn at a time so this process is quite long, especially if the player also uses the magic for attacking and needs to re-fill every so often.

[3] In last month of Persona 3, the only grand story event left is to wait for the last confrontation. The player is likely reach to end of the dungeon long before the month ends and has already completed most of the other side activities; often, only thing to do with free time is to skip to the next day. Given the rather melancholic tone in the game, having more dungeon to explore is a genuinely refreshing alternative.

[4] In the game, “persona” refers to the physical manifestation of one’s emotions, in the form of various mythological figures. Characters fight by summoning their personae

[5] For a detailed look: https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Experience

[6] Mons learn new moves on leveling up and can learn only four at a time. Normally, the game asks you to whether swap the new move with an old one, however; in day care, new moves are automatically sapped with older ones top to bottom. Recovering forgotten moves is not trivial, actually impossible in some cases, particularly in the older games.

[7] Aside from regular cheating devices, there is software called Pokegen which can create Pokémon, items and other stuff inside an existing save file. It’s rather fun to use, and especially useful to facilitate unusual playthroughs.

This article is written thanks to my dearest Patrons and special thanks to: Acelin, Laura Watson, MasterofCubes, Makkovar, Morgan, Otakundead , Sasha and Spencer Gill.