The Elder Scrolls Online's cinematic is bad.

Let's just get it over with: The Elder Scrolls Online's "The Alliances" cinematic looks amazing. Phenomenal. Mindblowing. Like, so good, that at times, you're not sure if it's CGI or actual human flesh you're drooling over.

Sorry, Nord. I got some saliva on your epicly-rendered beard.

Making it feel real is actually where the trailer fails. Aside from storytelling, the purpose of cinematics is to give the player a better view of the game world. To (I'll borrow from Dungeons and Dragon's third edition of the Dungeon Master's Guide for a second here) enhance its verisimilitude; that is, its realness. Cinematics show us things that the game engine, which is primarily focused on making sure the game world itself functions as its own reliable, normalized reality, cannot. They give the game world extra vitality and extra depth because they aren't burdened by having to enforce and regulate in-game laws and physics (cause and effect, randomness/RNG, etc.).

There are certain aspects of the game world/reality that give it its identity. And by that I mean mechanics and style of gameplay-- the way that the game plays and the way that the game runs. The things that separate it from other games. For a cinematic to be successful in enhancing verisimilitude, in making its game world seem not only real but legitimate as its own functioning reality,  it has to incorporate those characteristics. A successful World of Warcraft player-versus-player cinematic, for example, would feature a ton of crowd control... because that's how it is in-game. It wouldn't be a choreographed, no-blows-landed-until-the-end ballet. It would be more like a hockey fight: I just Shockwaved you, and now I'm going to pound away at your face until you can Blind or Howl of Terror or Frost Nova-Blink away and, in turn, start pounding away at MY face.

TESO's cinematic makes the game world look fantastic. Real. Absolutely so. But there is no identity to it. I know it's a completely different game than its predecessors, but to me, the Elder Scrolls series' combat is epitomized by the frenzied, desperate, clanging melee fighting of Oblivion and Skyrim. Gritty, weighty, maybe even a little clumsy-- again, much like a hockey fight-- punctuated by the thudding, infuriating off-balances of shield-blocked power attacks and awkward backpedaling  dodges. Even using magic had a heaviness, an in-your-faceness about it. And the "wtf" aspect of stealth ("How did that guy not see me? And how did I kill him with a single slash to his calves?") is certainly unforgettable.

There is no sense of that in the cinematic. It doesn't feel like Elder Scrolls. The closest "Yep, this is definitely an Elder Scrolls game" moment is when one of the Imperial guards is one-shot by an arrow from the adjacent mountaintop (or maybe when the mage casts the fire spell into the depths of the zombie-werewolf lair). But since the hooded (Daggerfall?) guy who shot it isn't crouched down in stealth mode like he would be in the games, it's hard to be like "OH DUDE THAT GUARD JUST GOT STEALTH-KILLED". It's more along the lines of "huh, cool."

No, "The Alliances" is really just your typical showy, elegant, flowing, make-everyone-awesome-for-the-sake-of-being-awesome action movie combat scene. It's not a bad trailer in the sense that the quality of it is poor (clearly that's not the case at all), but except for the fade to the tingle-inspiring Ouroboros symbol at the end, you could probably use it for any game and have it work.  

The best cinematics are the ones that make the game world more real by showing us its memorable features and characteristics in ways that the game engine itself cannot. Elder Scrolls Online is still being developed, so it's not really fair to criticize it for lacking identity or not depicting aspects of gameplay. But it's certainly disappointing that flash and glamour were chosen over something more substantive, or at least something more true to the series. I understand that it's a completely different game than its predecessors, but I sincerely doubt we'll ever be scaling walls during a siege, soloing a tower full of Imperial guards, or slowly revolving around the outside of a circle with players of the opposing factions in Elder Scrolls Online.

So what's an example of a "good" cinematic? I think Starcraft 2's Heart of the Swarm trailer (coincidentally, released the same day as the Elder Scrolls trailer) is pretty solid. It reflects gameplay and the game world. Vikings switching from air-to-air to air-to-ground? Yes. Siege tanks entering siege mode? That sound makes me shudder every time. I'm not a big Starcraft player, but even the proportion of the quantity of units relative to one another looks right. Except for the nuclear impact of the downed battlecruiser (which admittedly makes sense from a lore perspective), the cinematic is an accurate representation of combat in-game... just with more verisimilitude.

Guild Wars 2: Shared experiences, virtual fate, and the living game world.

Yesterday, Colin Johanson, Game Director of Guild Wars 2, blogged about the future of the game and the much-anticipated January and February updates (initially described as "basically an expansion's worth of content"). Much of the post is your typical "we're trying to make this the best game it can possibly be" and "we're gonna blow your mind with all of these new features" hype, which I'm guardedly-excited and cautiously-optimistic about.

It's easy-- and certainly trendy-- to praise Guild Wars 2's design philosophy as innovative and progressive. But realistically, it hasn't had the revolutionary impact on the gaming world that many anticipated and predicted it would-- there are some definite issues with the weapon-based skill system (and combat in general), encounter design, and the loot/gear model, among others. 

Even still, there are a couple of lines from Johanson's article that I think are particularly significant not only to Guild Wars 2 itself, but the video game industry as well:

"Allowing players to share experiences in an open world where other players are seen as helpful, rather than competition, is a huge component of what makes our game what it is. Open world online games are always strongest when players are encouraged and rewarded to interact as a community, to support other [sic] each other, and when the flow of the game ushers players to go places where they run into other players across all levels and have shared experiences.

...

These key pillars — a sense of community and a dynamic, living world full of different experiences every time you log in — are what makes Guild Wars 2 what it is. ... We’ve shown some of the promise of a truly living world, but we still have so many ideas on how to take this to the next level. Put simply, we’ve barely scratched the surface." 

The focus on "community-driven" (a term he uses in other parts of his post) is intriguing. By definition, every massively-multiplayer game relies on some sort of community. In most games (ignoring purposes of socialization for the time being), in-game communities arise out of a need to achieve a certain end. In World of Warcraft, groups and guilds form, for example, to raid.

ArenaNet, however, seems to be more interested in encouraging, developing, and nourishing in-game community for the sake of community itself, rather than for a particular result. They want the creation of community to be organic; happenstance; incidental. They want players to come together spontaneously, to meet each other by chance when "the flow of the game ushers" them to one another; brings them to "shared experiences".

Sounds like real life, right?

That's what has me the most fascinated. The idea that 'unseen forces' in the game world have the power to bring people together just like in the actual world. Virtual fate, basically.

And that's why the "living world" comments actually have some weight to them. Since the dawn of the video game era, developers and designers have been trying to create "living, breathing worlds" in their games. Humans in general have been trying to mimic and recreate life in their art for millenia. It's nothing new. But again, where ArenaNet differs is that it's not trying to fool us into thinking that Tyria is a reality equal to our own, it's that they're trying to make the game world function as a reality unto itself. Simpler than real life, for sure, but perhaps just as legitimate.  Events occur in a particular part of the map regardless of the player's (or players') presence; NPCs do their thing even if they're alone.

(Taken from the UESPWiki's
"Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary" article.) 

To be fair, such depth of reality has been achieved before. Oblivion and Skyrim feature rich worlds that function and carry on without the player's input. But it's worth noting that Skyrim and Oblivion are single-player games. Guild Wars 2 looks like it's going to try and base the reality around its players, not its terrain or digital inhabitants.

We'll see what comes of all this high-minded talk, and how much Colin Johanson and ArenaNet can do with it. Guild Wars 2 is an exceptional game, but it's not yet the force it should be. Separate from whether or not they succeed, the ideas that ArenaNet and Johanson are proposing could have a pretty significant impact on the future of game design and the capabilities of games themselves, beyond being just a form of entertainment.

Why we play games, part one.

Why do we play games? And is there any real value in playing?

(Keep in mind that I'm examining this under the assumption that circumstances are normal. At this time, I'm not interested in accounting for serious issues like addiction or escapism.)

ENTERTAINMENT

It's fun to play games. Obviously, right? From a quick session of Angry Birds on our phone to an all-night marathon of Diablo or Civilization, video games entertain us. It's what they were created to do. Gaming is a hobby, a distraction, and it keeps us busy and engaged when otherwise we'd be bored.

How can we be bored when we have
virtual livestock to entertain us?

At face value, there's really nothing to be gained by playing solely for entertainment. You sit down, play for a little while because you've got nothing else to do at the time, have some fun, then move on. Your day's no better or worse than it was before; you haven't changed as a person or anything crazy like that. And that's fine. Some people aren't looking for anything other than a few minutes of mental stimulation. 

But there's more to it than that, at least potentially. Why do we find gaming fun? Because there's something more valuable in playing than just simple stimulation. The entertainment factor draws us in, but also leads us to deeper, more meaningful reasons for our gaming. In that sense, it's like a gateway. Not everyone chooses to go through, but many do.

COMPETITION/COOPERATION

Few things come more naturally to humans than competition. We fight each other over property, wealth, partners... everything, basically. Why are professional sports so popular? Why are the Olympics such a big deal? Monetary reasons aside, it's because we, as a species, love competing. We're driven to pit ourselves against one another, sometimes in a friendly manner, sometimes not so much. We don't even have to be involved firsthand as long as it's something (such as a team or brand name) we endorse and support. Look to World of Warcraft's Alliance versus Horde dynamic for an example of that. In such a case, we compete vicariously. And in the same vein of sport, just as much as we feel compelled to spar, we thrive and excel when we work together; when there's a common goal or identity to bond over.

Multiplayer gaming is a natural extension of that. Some games and genres of games are built entirely around facing off against other players: first person shooters like the Call of Duty and Halo franchises, real time strategy game series like Starcraft and Command and Conquer, and fighters like Tekken and Marvel vs. Capcom. Even some MMORPGs, like the original Guild Wars, make human-against-human play. Riot's League of Legends is testament to the appeal of this player-versus-player design-- immensely popular, it dwarfs even World of Warcraft's impressive playerbase of somewhere over 10 million players with 32 million of its own active users. 

Yes. I died.

It's also worth mentioning the rise of eSports and the increasing magnitude and elaborateness of World Series/Superbowl-esque events like the Battle.net World Championship and the League of Legends World Championship (allegedly besting some ESPN baseball game broadcasts in viewership). We want to see events like these and play games like these because they resonate with something inside of us. They touch on the intrinsic human need for competition. And the interesting thing about multiplayer gaming is that it allows us to satisfy such instincts in a relatively safe manner. Or, for some of us, to compete at all when we otherwise wouldn't be able or willing to do so.

Granted, not everyone is driven wholly (or even partially) by competition. But in the same way that multiplayer gaming allows us to compete, it also provides us with the opportunity to cooperate. Just as we have the tendency to wrestle against one another, we also have the remarkable capacity to work together. PvP-heavy games usually involve teams of 2, 3, 5, 10, 15 or more players clashing against other equally-sized teams. In order to succeed or "win", coordination and teamwork is an absolute necessity-- often frustratingly so. Playing as one functional unit is more important than a single individual's performance. And even in many non-PvP games, players often have to group up and join efforts in order to overcome in-game challenges. Raiding in World of Warcraft and Rift is an instance of this. Just as competition can be rewarding, so can cooperation be fulfilling. Again, multiplayer gaming is an outlet for this.

Is there value in this exercise of competition and/or cooperation through gaming? Certainly. Undoubtedly. As I've suggested, I'm sure there's some kind of psychological or sociological significance related to human instinct, need, and drive and multiplayer gaming. This aspect of gaming stands on its own, and as such, deserves its own separate discussion (one that I'll hopefully be able to explore in the future). Unfortunately, I don't think that discussion adds anything of importance to the current one, so I'll be moving on.

OBLIGATION

Many players play because they have to, because they want to, pun intended, keep themselves in game shape. Particularly in the case of PvPers or competitive players, regular playing is required in order to maintain a certain level of skill or competence. As with any performance-based occupation, more time spent practicing almost always equates to improved performance. Players who want to be at or near the top-- even players who just want to be considered "good", or at least "not bad"-- have to play with frequency in order to keep themselves sharp and able. I know I'm making it sound like playing video games requires some kind of intense, brutal training regimen (though for many top-tier players, it does), but the bottom line is you're not going to be able to jump into a match or a game and top the scoreboards if you haven't played in a while.

More like CantaPRO, right?

Some games are actually designed around this concept of routine play sessions. Guild Wars 2, Rift, and World of Warcraft all have systems of daily and weekly lockouts and rewards in place. Particularly in WoW, gear acquisition is based on a weekly cap of currency used to purchase top-end equipment, as well as a cap on the number of opportunities to obtain such equipment from downing a raid boss (once per week per kill). If you don't hit these caps, you're not punished outright, but you do lose out on resources that you can't really get back or catch up on, relative to players who meet the cap every week. Again, particularly in World of Warcraft, since gear is so closely tied to performance (and by association, social rank in some situations), in a sense, you have to play in order to play. You're gimping yourself if you're not maxing out your Valor and/or Conquest points and clearing (at least some) raid encounters every week. In Guild Wars 2, Rift, and to an extent, even League of Legends (with its daily win bonuses), you're turning down free experience, money, and loot if you're not playing every day. It may not be an absolute necessity, but in terms of efficiency, it's pretty persuasive.

"Please... no more."

Do we get anything beneficial out of playing because we have to? No, unless you happen to be a professional. There's certainly some value in dedication and working (playing?) hard to reach a certain goal in-game, but it's more of a perk or a bonus than a reason. If it is the sole reason you're gaming, your energy is probably better spent on something that will produce more-tangible results. Ultimately, playing out of obligation, as you'll often hear, makes the game feel like a second job and generally burns players out.   

No, the interesting thing here is the investment we have in some of these games, the existence of an anchor in a virtual, online reality that keeps us coming back to it because there are consequences if we don't. Do these consequences affect us in our offline reality? Again, unless you're a pro gamer, not at all. So then why do we keep coming back?

Because there's something even deeper that we get from playing games. Not everyone pursues it-- some are content playing for the reasons listed above-- but, like the amazing dramatist that I am, I'll wait until next week to get into that and instead leave you with a cliffhanger: emotional response.

Why it's okay to solo New Year's (Eve).

Given that it's nearly New Year's, and yet another New Year's Eve has passed with me hidden at home, quarantined away from the partygoers and drunkenness in my scroogely sobriety, trying my best to ignore the frightening, naive promises of the coming calendar and the aching contemplations of the past one, I think it's appropriate to say this:

It's okay to be home playing video games tonight.  Even if it feels like the rest of the world is out celebrating and socializing, like you're this huge loser for staying in during the biggest party night of the year-- it's all good.

That probably sounds stupid. Probably sounds overly puritan (not meant to), maybe even antisocial (kind of meant to). But for a long time, I was one of those people who felt this strange obligation, this burden to make sure I had plans for New Year's. To not be doing anything when it seemed like everyone else was was this massive failure to me.

The odd thing is, I've always been a loner, a lone wolf. Just my nature to be solitary and isolated. On top of that, I've always had issues with social anxiety and general social awkwardness. But I always felt compelled to socialize and party, not so much because everyone else was doing it, but because normal people did it. To not do so was... dysfunctional.

I've had all kinds of New Year's. The depressing, lonely kind, the stuff-of-legend kind, and the all-too-common "what the fuck even happened last night?" kind. But the best New Year's I've ever had? Spent it playing World of Warcraft.

Ironically, I don't remember the specifics of the night--  a run through the Nexus (heroic) is really the only thing that sticks in my mind. I was healing, and everyone in the group was very... celebratory. Lots of "Happy New Year's!" and talk of resolutions in party chat (and in trade chat outside of the dungeon group as well). The run was uneventful (there may have been a dance party at the end, but I can't really remember), but being able to participate in the revelry of New Year's (in one degree or another) on my terms was particularly satisfying and meaningful. There was comfort in being able to sit in Dalaran, listen to trade chat, and watch fireworks go off. And when I had had enough of being "social", I could log off and escape it all.

That run-- the bonding with the rest of that dungeon group-- showed me that I could celebrate the holiday in my own way. And not only celebrate it, but find fulfillment in that celebration.

Which raises the question: Is that fulfillment, are the experiences and feelings we derive from in-game events and occurrences, legitimate? Is there any merit to it/them?

But I'll save that discussion and argument for its own post.  In the meantime, have a happy New Year's.  Don't be afraid to spend it playing video games.

An introduction to Ostrapalis.

The cliches are everywhere anymore. Technology is changing the way we communicate. The world is a smaller place now. Social media. Global community. The internet.

And for good reason. We increasingly view the world through the backlit screens of our phones, our tablets, and our computers. The "information superhighway" promises of the 90's have come to complete fruition-- almost the entirety of human knowledge is available and accessible within seconds of a few key presses.  We're driven-- obsessed, even-- by the acquisition of information of any sort.  

Facts, gossip, truth, rumors. Ideas. The latent, slumbering hunger of human curiosity has been fully realized and roused, no longer reserved for the philosophers and the scientists.  Everyone has it now. We want to know-- we need to know--  everything that is happening around us. We're starving for input. Very often this leads us to frivolous pursuits (how many hours have you lost clicking through pointless videos on Youtube, links on Reddit, or pictures on Imgur?), but the underlying drive for data remains.

The speed (near-instantaneous) and power (free, available, and relatively uncensored) of modern communication allows us to sate this hunger. But more importantly, it gives us a way to come into contact with others who are just as hungry and just as willing to feed (and to be fed) as we are. From the desire for society rises society itself. I know they're not the first of their kind, but sites like Reddit and Facebook and Twitter (and more accurately, the internet on a whole) have birthed an entire culture full of subcultures, customs, traditions, taboos, expectations, classes, and practices that involve millions of people in places that, metaphysical arguments aside, don't really exist beyond a hard drive on a server in an air-conditioned room in a datacenter somewhere.

And this is where many people criticize the direction of our "offline" society. All this stuff we do "online" has no meaning or value in the "real world". The people we meet are just "internet friends" and the connection we have with them is questionable and superficial. There's no depth to it. It's not real;  it doesn't exist. And while there are some legitimate points and valid concerns in such a viewpoint, the fact of the matter is that the internetization of our society (and eventually the world) isn't something that can be prevented or stopped. It's what people want. It's convenient. It's useful. As inherently social creatures, it's something entirely natural to the human state. It makes sense.

Ostrapalis is a project aimed at exploring the sociological,  psychological, and philosophical issues of online society,  particularly in the area of massively multiplayer gaming. As online culture grows and continues to develop,  as it begins to play a greater and greater role (as if it's not great enough as is already,  right?) in our lives, it's increasingly important that we make the effort to examine and understand online culture itself and its effects on those who participate in it.

We feel that there is a large degree of validity to online interactions and relationships, and strongly believe that massively multiplayer gaming offers an as-of-yet untapped potential and ability to address issues related to mental health (such as depression and social anxiety). Our goal is to explore those avenues and hopefully bring attention to the subject on a whole.

Please understand that we're not "academics" or "professionals" (yet). We value academic integrity and recognize the importance of factual veracity, but we're far more interested in vocalizing ideas. We think it's really important to get people thinking about what we're thinking about.

After having read this, regardless of your opinion of interactions across and through the internet,  you and I now have a connection,  if only briefly. How fragile and how real it is can certainly be debated, but that it exists (or existed) cannot.  From my chair in my home in southeastern Pennsylvania to wherever you are, I placed an idea in your mind.

Think about it.