Archives for category: Game Development and XNA

imageOn April 30th, I attended the ZINO Society Entertainment & Lifestyle Investment Forum, a gathering of roughly a hundred entrepreneurs, investors, and experts all focused on entertainment and lifestyle startups in Seattle.

What I got the most value from – aside from meeting Tom Skerritt – was a fifteen-minute panel from industry experts on emerging gaming and Seattle startups. In attendance were representatives from u4ia, Z2Live, ArenaNet and Washington Interactive Network (WIN). It was a good heartbeat on the state of gaming startups in Seattle. Below, you can read the questions raised and the answers given by the panelists. These are fairly raw notes, I’ve summarized where needed. Read the rest of this entry »

As the daily view counts from my First-Person Shooter post tail off, I’m heartened by the amount of support I received from gamers and game makers for the post and the stance it represents. Just by raw volume the sentiment skews positive, but as you can imagine there are voices on the other side of the argument, too.

That’s why I’m thankful to have seen this fantastic advice today from Ann Friedman: The Disapproval Matrix.

In this great handwritten 2×2 you’ll see a number of archetypes you recognize: friends, critics, trolls, even your own internal voice that beats you up daily. A choice quote:

The general rule of thumb? When you receive negative feedback that falls into one of the top two quadrants—from experts or people who care about you who are engaging with and rationally critiquing your work—you should probably take their comments to heart. When you receive negative feedback that falls into the bottom two quadrants, you should just let it roll off your back and just keep doin’ you.

It’s great to have this handy matrix and associated rules if you or your work is out in the public eye. Thanks Ann!

I’m preparing to launch a set of post-mortem articles about my first year as CEO of 4gency and I found a nice clip that reminds me – metaphorically, anyway – of some of the struggles and lessons I’ve learned so far. Just something to keep in mind as I build out these next few articles…

Microsoft has a term they like to throw around: a Career-Limiting Move (CLM). Refuse to take point on a major project from your manager? You’ve just committed a CLM. Accidentally send that witty, opinionated email to a wide audience that includes your Group Manager? CLM. Stand up and throw an iPad at Steve Ballmer at the annual Company Meeting? CLM!

Just maybe, what I’m about to say is a Career-Limiting Move of its own. Maybe it’s a convenient, portable, travel-sized way of ensuring I never get a job again in the industry I love, the industry I threw away every other opportunity (including the chance at a respectable four-year degree) to join, the industry that represents the fastest growing revenue segment of every digital platform ever developed – but screw it, I’ve been in the business a full, stormy, self-doubting decade and the world can hear me loud and clear:

I will never work on a first-person shooter game, ever again. Period.

Read the rest of this entry »

I spent an overlong moment today deep in that ugly part of my brain that manages all the inadequacies. I can’t stand that place; it’s like the Department of Licensing but with fewer interesting brochures, and it happens to effortlessly swamp my good mood like a bus thrashing puddle-proximate pedestrians in a city rainstorm.

Oh, who didn’t see that coming? I’m thirty, and not an astronaut. Maybe that’s the hardest part.

Today they picked the crew to go up to the Space Station for a full year. The US lead is a storied, educated man, deep in Navy tradition. Good schools, good references; it might have been that very moment of synapse that my brain and heart finally linked up to drive the message hard home:

You won’t ever be an astronaut. Read the rest of this entry »

Games are among our most evocative communication mechanisms as a species. With graphics, sound, and interactivity, you can get people to almost any emotional state. But games are clever about showing their hand; they don’t look all that sophisticated. A few blinky bits, exploding things – what’s so nuanced about it? Turns out: an awful lot.

Strategy is sometimes defined as the art of finding fit – choosing a set of mutually-reinforcing tactics that come together to bring you to a desired future. In designing Node.Hack, I took on the challenge of envisioning an emotional strategy; I decided that my first choice would be emotional, and that the rest of the game would follow from there.

So – you’ve got a hacking game. How would you want your player to feel? I picked three primary emotional themes and led with them: paranoia, anxiety, and greed. If you think of the player’s hacking enterprise as just one in a long career of digital misdeeds – a real pro hacker – these emotions don’t seem so far off. I placed myself halfway through the game’s progression: I’ve got plenty of money, but the stakes are higher and I’ve just barely escaped this last system. What would the ultimate mental mixture play to out to in words? How would the player’s mind explain their own choice if it were talking to itself?

I know they’re coming to get me, but this is more money than I’ve ever seen in my life. I have to take this chance.

You could say that every game has some elements of this, and you’d be right. So does one of my favorite movies: Heat (NSFW). But it’s about what the game doesn’t do that represents a faithful dedication to the strategy:

  • Slow, not fast tempo (in action, and in music)
  • Single-hit kills, no replenishing life meter
  • Moments of waiting suspense (movement vs. money)
  • Allow “inevitability” moment where the player knows they will die

Put it together and you have a game that’s a little more like chess than a traditional video game. Players that tested the early version felt addicted to the challenge, but not overly frustrated. When they died, they felt it was something they had influence over, rather than a random bullet from out of nowhere.

To me, that’s success in a video game; reward often, and punish only with a lesson in how to do better. True randomness, while a seductive notion for video games, is something better saved for real life - but that’s a discussion for another post, when we get into the dynamic map generation at the heart of Node.Hack. For now, stay sharp and watch out for those AI.

Want to try Node.Hack? Get it free for Windows Phone at http://www.nodehackgame.com.

Ah, Node.Hack. We have come a long way from Wargames. Truly, a game about hacking computers, played in the palm of your hand on a megabit-throughput smartphone? As children growing up in the 80′s, we would have boggled at the thought. And yet, it’s that very same retro-fueled heart that’s beating at the core of this game.

Does the node-and-bridge architecture remind you of something? Do the representations of the player, the enemies, the loot, do they seem like somewhere you’ve been before?

They do to me – and it’s no accident. I am an unapologetic ASCII-hound, and the simplicity of the single code-page world was an exercise in constraint-fueled design whose challenge has yet gone unmatched.

Tim Sweeney’s ZZT – the grandfather of this kind of game – made it feel like all things were possible. And, during my SysOp days on my bulletin board, I fell in love with a particular doorgame called NetRunner (shown above): a 1993 ASCII-based hacking game that drew inspiration from the card game of the same name, and the stylized anthropomorphism of “node” hacking made popular in the Shadowrun series of RPGs and the visceral writings of William Gibson.

As a developer, I’ve had some direct forays into that world of ASCII graphics with prototype projects like The Agency: Razor One, but today’s modern platforms – phones, tablets, consoles – just don’t play that game anymore. And why should they? Games made of text characters? They fail to impress, they feel like playing on punchcards.

Seriously - Would You Play Something Like This?

But what if a stylized version of that world formed the backdrop, crafted some of the rules, and then let you break them? Could you imagine, being held down to an ASCII world but then suddenly breaking free? Explosions, splashes of binary on skewing vectors, breaking the imagined plane of the two-by-two universe?

I did – and I called it Node.Hack.

Tomorrow, it will be released to the world, and I hope that you’ll enjoy it. There’s a lot of my childhood in its shapes and contours, from the sounds to the interface all the way to the strange notion that somehow, tapping that node with your finger, rather than typing it into a computer console, still feels right – even though we aren’t sure why.

Welcome to the future. Again.

Learn more about Node.Hack at http://www.nodehackgame.com.