***

(This is the second and final round. Be sure to read Round 1 first!)

To: N'Gai Croal
From: Stephen Totilo
Date: March 3, 2009
Re: My One Request

N'Gai,

Is Graeme Devine even available? The man just shipped a game. And his old company is turning into all sort of new companies. Perfect time to jump?

You know, almost no one ever jumps this way to Team Journalism. There was Todd Zuniga, who turned his back on PR to cover sports games (though I think the more appropriate phrase would be "saved his soul". And there's Matt Hawkins, good old Fort90, who can both make games and cover them. Oh, and your Edge-mate Randy Smith seems to like dabbling in interviewing people, though I sense he's not bailing on game creation any time soon.

I think the pony will be okay and still grow into a majestic stallion.

So you asked, in somewhat different terms, if you were kicking the legs of the innocent, big-eyed pony of games journalism, ramming its shins with steel-toed boots, by stepping away from the reporting field to do stuff on the creative side. I think the pony will be okay and still grow into a majestic stallion.

Seriously, I think the challenge gaming journalism faces is that information yearns to be free, in all senses of the word. That puts a greater strain on those practicing reporting than the exodus of any one reporter or critic. It both keeps people from holding jobs they're good at and it risks diluting the value of crafted, considered, thought-through reporting. In this time of media business crisis, as newspapers shut down across the country, more information is being consumed than ever before. People still want to know stuff. People still want to inform people of stuff. What we need is to continue to ensure that the abilities to both report about games and follow the reporting is economically viable.

I hope people will always want someone out there to ask questions, to be skeptical, to bring to interviews the awareness of so many previous interviews and games and to synthesize all that. You did it well. As long as you inspired at least two people to follow in your footsteps (you did, right?) then you've given us a net gain. The pony's shins can take it.

What kind of changes do I want to see in the games I play and cover?

The reasons are myriad why games ship with lard.

You know, the thing I find odd about games is how flawed it is acceptable for them to be. You can talk to the best developer of the best game and he or she will acknowledge that their game has padding or lame parts or material that didn't work out. Well, most of them would. Some games, like "Braid" and "Portal" and "Wii Sports" don't have any body fat. But most do, even brilliant works like "Grand Theft Auto IV." It's taken as given that games don't have to be as perfect as a great movie or a great novel. The reasons are myriad why games ship with lard.

Among them: 1) developers/publishers don't hone the latter halves of their games due to crunched development cycles and the assumption that players won't finish their games; 2) creators load a game with side quests which don't have to be as good but can add value and fun to the product (you cut the excess paragraphs in a novel and chisel the ridges on a sculpture, but why cut the so-so vigilante missions in "GTA" if they add a little extra fun to the product?), 3) Games last too many hours or cover too much virtual territory ("Far Cry 2"!) to be as consistently good as a great two hour movie. Etc. Etc.

The point is that game creators have this odd acceptance of flaws in shipped product, this strange resignation that these games will be played to incompletion, that so much of them is forgettable. And no one, not even me, can argue that there's profit in crafting games to be any other way.

I wonder what you, with your sensibilities as a writer and editor could bring to that phenomenon, if you could help developers and publishers take out the pruning shears or at least test a new ratio of the good and the excess. What do you think?

Also, what advice do you have to young game journalists out there who are stepping into the field just as you're taking at least one stride out?

I'll let you have the last word.

-Stephen

***

To: Stephen Totilo
From: N'Gai Croal
Date: March 3, 2009
Re:That's a wrap

Stephen,

It's possible that I may have inspired at least two more people to follow in my footsteps as a journalist covering video games. Which means that even as my own head has been severed, metaphorically speaking, two more dreads should take its place. But for the same reasons that you've laid out above, I'd actually like to discourage more people from becoming professional games journalists. It's getting harder and harder to make a living at it, and hey, don't people deserve to make a living from their labors?

I do think that there could be a growth market in amateur game journalism, i.e. people who make their money by other means during the day and write purposefully about games in their free time. Some of the best writing about games comes from people like Bill Harris, Michael Abbott and Iroquois Pliskin, none of whom are paid to blog as best as I can tell.

This young medium still needs to be carefully and forcefully reported on for reasons beyond the promotional.

But this gets back to something that I know is a bugaboo of yours: what exactly is game journalism? Is it just previews, features, reviews and the occasional opinion piece, each dosed with a sprinkling of snark? Or is it something more? The "something more" -- that would be reporting --often requires access to developers and publishers, time to cultivate a variety of sources and money to travel—things that the amateur journalist may be unable to procure or unwilling to provide. That would be a shame, because this young medium still needs to be carefully and forcefully reported on for reasons beyond the promotional; far more so, in my humble opinion, than older art forms whose processes are much better understood.

Moving right along, your observations about common flaws in video games -- weak latter halves, side quests as padding and games whose running times are too long or whose virtual spaces are too large -- are accurate. It’s interesting, however, that you compare them to novels, sculpture and movies. Because you might be more charitable if you compared them instead to serialized works like television shows or comic books. It’s not a perfect analogy, I know, but just as the length of a series’ run is unpredictable, so too is the behavior of players—and both wreak havoc on a creator’s ability to properly pace his or her work, to give it a truly flawless arc.

Games like "Braid," "Portal," "Wii Sports" and "Flower" avoid these problems because they’ve been scoped much more tightly than a traditional AAA game -- but none of these games cost $50 or $60, either. To use another dubious analogy, that’s what HBO does with its TV shows: a typical season falls between 8 and 13 episodes, rather than the 20-plus episodes for a primetime show on regular cable. That’s not to say that shows like "The Sopranos," "Deadwood" and "The Wire" were perfect, but they got much closer because each season was tighter than "Lost" or "24." On the other hand, many video game narratives are the worst of both worlds: they’ve got the plot of a two-hour summer blockbuster stretched out over the length of an HBO TV season.

Many video game narratives are the worst of both worlds: they’ve got the plot of a two-hour summer blockbuster stretched out over the length of an HBO TV season.

So what would I tell developers when confronted with what you’ve so colorfully termed "lard"? Assuming that we’re talking about story-based games, hopefully I’d encounter this problem early enough in the development process to suggest an HBO series television approach to their narrative structure rather than that of a two-hour movie. If this problem popped up later, I’d simply explain why it doesn’t work for me, offer up some ideas on how they might go about fixing it, and stress that it’s generally better to be ruthless about the parts that can’t be repaired. Because that unswerving, unsparing commitment to pervasive excellence is what separates companies like Blizzard and Valve from many others.

Speaking of which, it's time for me to properly scope this exchange and bring it to a close. It's been far too long since the last Vs. Mode, and I hope that we’ll find a way to keep it going Sparring with you has been one of the highlights of my tenure, and even though I’m ready to move on from day-to-day coverage of video games, I couldn’t have asked for a better ending to this phase of my career—or a more auspicious beginning to the next stage of history.

Cheers,

N'Gai

Related Posts:
N’Gai Vs Stephen - N’Gai Explains His Newsweek Departure, Offers Trade

***

(Note: this is Round 1. The second and final round will be published tomorrow)

To: N'Gai Croal
From: Stephen Totilo
Date: March 2, 2009
Re: What's Next?

N'Gai,

So you're making it public finally that you're leaving Newsweek and - gasp - getting yourself into the creative side of video games?

I need you to address a few things about this, and would like you to do so in public.

1) Some will say that you're leaving Newsweek and turning your back on games journalism because you realize that someone who has only been playing games since 1999 just shouldn't be covering them. True or false?

2) Others might say that you have timed your departure so close to the release of "Resident Evil 5" so as to once again glom yourself onto the attention that game is getting, with little regard to how it affects the sensibilities of people in Spain. Fact or fiction?

Beyond that, I have to say: congratulations.

In theory, I should be weeping. I've become saddened by the seemingly constant flow of gaming reporters into the pools of video game development. We lose a Shawn Elliott, we lose a Shane Bettenhausen. We lose an Alex Navarro, we lose an N'Gai Croal. Is Ben Fritz running Ubisoft yet? Is Brian Crecente already rendering guns for the next "Call of Duty"? When do I start writing instruction manuals for LucasArts?

That's how I feel...dismayed, in theory. But I know that every situation is personal and I know all too well these days that economics can keep even the best reporters from a steady gig in games journalism. More importantly, I know that this has nothing to do with economics or the state of gaming journalism. You've been yearning to explore your creative side in video games for a long time.

I would like to hear a bit more about what you'll be doing on the creative side of the gaming business, and what kind of impact you hope to have. Can you do me a favor and finally make games writing good? So tell me about the impact you're hoping for.

And, if you can, tell me who we're trading you for. If you're leaving Team Journalism for Team Development, we've got to get somebody in exchange. I know David Jaffe is obsessed with games journalism, so we might be able to get him -- though, no offense, we might need to throw in a utility player. Thoughts?

-Stephen

***

To: Stephen Totilo
From: N'Gai Croal
Date: March 2, 2009
Re: Like Harold Melvin Without the Blue Notes?

Stephen,

I could say that I'm leaving to master Street Fighter and other pre-1999 franchises in order to both complete my video game education and defend your honor against the Cobra Kai of competitive gaming, Soulja Boy Tell Em.

Or I could say that with the BBFC having certified Resident Evil 5 as One Hundred Percent Racism Free --I mean, what could such noted videogame writers as Tom Chick and Tycho know about such things anyway?--my entire raison d’être as disappeared into thin air.

But none of that would be true. The truth is much simpler: after 14 years at Newsweek, nearly ten of which I’ve spent covering video games in one form or another, I had accomplished pretty much everything I set out to do, journalistically speaking. I’ve been fortunate enough to learn my craft at the feet of some of the most talented and hard-working reporters, writers, critics and editors in the business. Colleagues like Allison Samuels, Johnnie Roberts, Steven Levy and Jack Kroll, and editors like George Hackett, David Jefferson and Kathy Deveny. As much as I’d like to say that I achieved what I have on my own, the fact is that their wisdom, their patience and their example helped make me what I am today.

At the same time, my job at Newsweek let me ask questions, at length, of some of the most gifted artists and craftsmen in a variety of media: the Wachowski Bros, Spike Lee, Eminem, RZA, Aaron McGruder, Shigeru Miyamoto, Hideo Kojima, Will Wright and David Jaffe, among others. And as someone who started out as a college journalist writing movie reviews the same summer I was taking a film production class, I’ve always had that split personality: the critic and the creator. Journalism let me fulfill the critical side. Time after time, it put me in a room with more genuinely accomplished creator, where I could engage them in conversation to help satisfy my inexhaustible curiosity about What Makes This Piece of Art Work and Why Did This Piece of Art Fail?

For someone with my divided soul--to say nothing of my siblings, my friends and my many acquaintances who write for film and television; who perform on stages, in clubs and stadiums; whose work hangs in galleries—it’s impossible to be surrounded by that kind of creativity and not be similarly inspired. And when Newsweek reopened its buyout program in the fall, I said to myself, “I’m 36 years old. If not now, when?” So I decided to make the jump.

You asked me what I’ll be doing next: part of it will involve consulting on video games. It might be a tall order for someone in an advisory capacity to “finally make games writing good,” but I will say that I’ve always been impressed by the way that Dan Houser and his writing partners at Rockstar Games have been able to scale both the script and the performances of the voice actors to the visual fidelity of the onscreen graphics and the quality of the animations, going from more theatrical-scaled performances in the PS2 era to more television-scaled performances in the Xbox 360 age. I’d also tip my hat to Valve’s use of embedded narrative in "Portal" and "Left 4 Dead," where the environment tells a story through graffiti and other means. There’s a lot to learn from there.

As for what kind of impact I hope to have, that sounds a bit grandiose for someone who’s only now crossing over into an industry that’s filled with experienced people. I think what I can bring to the table is a perspective that cuts across multiple genres and even multiple media, given my experience covering everything from consumer technology to pop music. Developers are in the trenches every day, so they have to have a certain amount of tunnel vision, while you and I are fortunate to be able to cast our gaze fairly widely. And while I’m sympathetic to many of the unspoken rules of what makes a game a game, this wider gaze has also made me a bit impatient to see some of the lessons of audience expanding platforms (Wii, DS, iPhone and Facebook) and audience stratification (the rise of “hardcasual” gamers, cross-generational play and other segments and scenarios that only partially overlap with those of the traditional hardcore) incorporated into more titles.

For example, I love "Rock Band," but I don’t understand why most of the songs are locked off in "Rock Band" and "Rock Band 2." And if Harmonix is still doing that despite the large casual audience for rhythm games, I shouldn’t be surprised that Capcom did the same thing by locking off many characters in "Street Fighter IV"—but I nevertheless think it’s an archaic approach to game design that should be reconsidered. Difficulty, progression and failure states are all ripe for rethinking, and if my hunch is correct, hardcore gamers and more casual gamers will benefit from developers taking a fresh look. In fact, as Mitch Krpata points out, maybe we shouldn’t even be talking about hardcore gamers and casual gamers at all.

That’s some of the thinking that I’d like to bring to the developers I work with. But what other kinds of changes, if any, do you want to see in the games you play and write about? Do you think that the greater collective endeavor of gaming journalism is impaired when one of us crosses over, or is it ultimately just another blip? And if we can arrange it, would you accept ["Halo Wars" writer] Graeme Devine in a trade for me? Because in the end, it’s all about the hair, right?

Cheers,

N’Gai

***

Tomorrow: N'Gai and I discuss his offered trade and I blame him for kicking a pony. Seriously. Plus he tells me what I think of the one big change I'd like to see in video games.

On February 6, game design legends Todd Howard (Bethesda, "Fallout 3") and Ken Levine (2K Boston, "BioShock") will join Newsweek's N'Gai Croal and MTV's Stephen Totilo for a New York Comic-Con panel we're calling Vs. Mode Live.

***

N'Gai and I are proud to announce that, one week from today, we will co-host an unprecedented panel at the New York Comic-Con featuring the makers of what many people consider to be the 2007 and 2008 Games of the Year.

The panel is open to all Comic-Con attendees. It will be held from 2:15-3:15 on Friday, February 6, in Room 1A22 at the Jacob Javits Convention Center in New York City. (Comic-Con schedule is here.)

The NY Comic-Con organizers had invited me and N'Gai, but who wants to hear us argue about video games for an hour? You do?

We thought we could make it more interesting by inviting two industry heavyweights to talk about the state of this generation of games and what the future holds for what we will -- or should be -- playing:

*Ken Levine - The lead creative force behind the critically acclaimed "BioShock" from 2K Boston / 2K Australia, Levine played a key role in the development of the beloved "System Shock 2," "Thief: Dark Project," "SWAT 4," "Freedom Force," and more. He's currently working on an unannounced game.

*Todd Howard - The lead creative force behind the critically acclaimed "Fallout 3" from Bethesda Softworks, Howard played a key role in the development of the "Elder Scrolls" games including the heralded "Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion." He's currently working on expansion packs to "Fallout 3."

Not only are Todd and Ken two fantastic game designers. They're also great at talking about games and will surely teach me and N'Gai a lesson or three.

For one hour we'll discuss and debate the current generation of video games. What has happened in the last year? What's exciting about the games we're playing (or making) now? ….And where should video gaming go before this generation is over? Expect a freewheeling exchange. Stay to the end for audience Q&A.

If you know Levine and Howard's reputations, you don't need much more than that to get you excited. So join us at Comic-Con for what we hope will be one of the most interesting gaming panels open to the public in a long time.

See you at the show!

N'Gai and I don't lie. We said a week ago that we'd conclude our grand debate about "Grand Theft Auto IV" by addressing some of your comments. N'Gai's picked three great comments from his blog. I've picked three great -- well, two great and one ridiculous one -- from mine. And we've each had our say on them.

Who made the cut? And how'd you readers push us in new and interesting directions? Read on. Just don't think we'd actually give you the very last word. That's not our style.

(As with all the other 'Vs. Modes' - spoilers abound.)

Stephen: After our preview entry, readers started mostly bagging on the sandbox in "GTA IV" (clearly these were not the same people who were calling me mean names when I wrote about my experience with "GTA IV" the weekend before it was officially released.) Many of the commenters complained that the sandbox was just not developed enough in "GTA IV," and even the defenders of the game suggested that more sandbox elements would surely be restored in the eventual "GTA V."

Of all the things people said they wanted added in, one stood out. Reader Jack Lothian described one added option for "GTA IV" -- one small wrinkle -- that he believes would have had a profound impact on the game:

I'd love GTA games to genuinely introduce moral quandaries, just as I'd love to them to actively pursue a more open approach where mass slaughter isn't the usual answer to any problem. GTAIV isn't that game though- "Kill Mr A or Kill Mr B" ends up being more of a game choice than a moral one (which death will benefit my playing experience). A third option (kill neither, face the personal consequences) would have at least given some deeper scope.

My take: Jack just blew my mind. I've long complained of the binary choices games that are designed with morality systems provide players. That's why I'm happy that "Spore" will give players at least three ways to cultivate their in-game species, instead of just "good" or "bad," "Light Side" or "Dark Side," "kill the Little Sister" or "don't kill the Little Sister." What would I have done if I could have chosen to ignore Playboy X and Dwayne and killed neither? Some would say that offering three choices rather than two is no real improvement. But recalling that specific scenario, I'd have found it even more extraordinary and morally complex if I could have chosen that third path Jack described. Agree?

N'Gai: While discussing how the concept of the "war economy" is addressed in my Newsweek essay on "Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots," I said that "'MGS 4''s gameplay vocabulary and rhetoric reinforce each other to achieve what games do best: radically simplify complex systems--in this case, post-9/11 hot zones--in order to entertain and possibly inform." "GTA IV"'s missions, like many other systems in the game, have radically simplified solutions. So the question that I'd ask you and Jack in turn is, how mechanically complex a game do you want "Grand Theft Auto" to be? Rockstar North could borrow the intimidate-or-negotiate mechanic from Electronic Arts' "The Godfather: The Game; the stun-or-tranquilize options from "Metal Gear Solid;" or the converse-rather-than-fight feature from any number of role-playing games. But these solutions are themselves imperfect. Intimidation/negotiation is yet another binary solution. Stunning or tranquilizing Playboy X or Dwayne doesn't do you much good unless you can subsequently kidnap your target and keep them prisoner. And introducing RPG mechanics could quickly transform "GTA" from an action-adventure game with light RPG elements into a full-blown RPG.

A better solution was hinted at by leifeng, one of my commenters at Level Up, who wrote:

Like several other commenters here, I too was startled by the things I couldn't do in "GTA IV," but it wasn't jet packs or rainbow afros I was looking for. Once I got a hold of some guns I constantly found myself looking for non-violent ways to pass missions and came up short every time. "You mean I can't just shoot him in the leg? You mean I can't just scare him, let him go, and say I killed him, as I did with that Vlad mission? I have to beat this guy up for information? Can I just take him out drinking?"

"GTA IV" is chock full of mechanics and systems that could be employed for, um, conflict resolution, if only Rockstar would support them. Perhaps Niko could set up a three-way call with Playboy X and Dwayne to let them air their differences, using the keypad to select Niko's dialogue options. Or talk them back from the precipice over email, using the Happy Face and Sad Face emoticons to choose the tenor of his replies? Or take both men to the Champagne Room at the Triangle Club, bringing in various dancers to get their minds right? Or, as leifeng suggests, engineer a lost weekend of boozing to get them to squash the beef. Aren't these better, more active, more "GTA" solutions than what you and Jack are suggesting?

Stephen: They're certainly better options than shooting Playboy X with a tranquilizer. Why'd you even mention that? I like your suggestions. They are, mechanically, more "GTA"-ish than choosing to "ignore" Playboy and Dwayne, as Jack had suggested. But they're not to far off in spirit from his idea because they too involve ignoring edicts to kill and finding an alternate path. The challenge with his or your recommendations is that fun usually has to win out in game design, and having a shootout with Dwayne or Playboy X is likely to prove more fun than driving them to the strip club and watching some avatars dance until the two men speak some pre-recorded dialogue and patch things up. So the challenge falls both to Rockstar and to us second-guessers to identify a third choice for the Playboy/Dwayne conundrum that would be equally fun to play through. It shouldn't be too hard for Rockstar, right? The very essence of "GTA" is in making players enjoy the rush of rebellion. So giving the player a way to turn down Playboy and Dwayne's requests (or maybe accepting them ) should be right up the "GTA" designer's alley. Any time we "GTA" players can give a middle finger to what the authorities in a game are telling us to do, we're going to do it -- I hope.

***

Stephen: Following our first real round of exchange, Multiplayer reader Eric Tharnish wrote an interesting comparison between "GTA IV" and "Street Fighter III," feeling like Rockstar, like Capcom before them, had moved too far from a style of gameplay that worked and has, given the direction of "Street Fighter IV, proven to be what the franchise's most ardent fans want.

But who left a more profound comment after Round One than reader rohit, who wrote:

dear sir,
i want to download the sanandreas mode pack .

My take: So do I, Rohit. So do I. N'Gai?

N'Gai: If Criterion Games creative director Alex Ward were here, he'd probably say, "Rockstar already made 'Grand Theft Auto San Andreas.' If you want to play it again, take it down from your gaming shelf and pop it into your PS3." That's what I'd say to you and Rohit, because you're both dreaming kind of small. Instead of the sanandreas mode pack, why not the manhunt mode pack (Niko does "Taxi Driver"!), the bully mode pack (Niko does "Good Will Hunting"!), the warriors mode pack (Niko does "Fight Club"!) or the midnightclub pack (Niko does "The Fast and the Furious")? There are a million stories in the naked city, and a million possibilities in the open world. Stop focusing on San Andreas.

As for Level Up's commentariat, Round 1 resulted in both brickbats--"Delving into Niko's (and other other character's psyche) is crazy--he's a video game character not a human being….Has anyone ever told you guys that you think too much?" said tripl_b--and hosannas--"[W]ould you tell Einstein or Walt Disney that they thought too much?" replied PhilVillareal. (He didn't specify which of us is Einstein and which of us is Walt Disney, though. Readers?) Etchasketchist gently rebuked me for failing to include standup comedians on my list of content that Rockstar North could update via downloadable content. But Level Up reader hage spoke for many when he wrote:

I also found the story to be a fraudulent bill of goods, between the laughable artifice in some of the NPCs (Michelle after 10 seconds in the car: "I'd really like to get to know you better, Niko...") and every time the writers build up a little good will in terms of your emotional investment in Niko they squander it on something completely out of character in the name of a violent filler mission.

Commenter HeyMarkD said the same thing even more eloquently, writing "My Niko would never perform some of the required kills in some of the missions. It's a mix up and it's sort of an 'Uncanny Valley' in terms of gameplay." I'd never thought of applying the concept of the "uncanny valley" to characterization, but it's a brilliant way to repurpose this terminology.

At the same time, I'm wondering whether the fault lies not with inconsistencies in the work of Rockstar's writing team, but with the credulity of all of us. Liberty City is filled with self-deluded characters like Playboy X, Manny and Brucie, who present themselves one way only to be exposed by their behavior. Why do we take Niko at face value? Is it just because he's our avatar? Remember, we never hear Niko's inner thoughts, we just listen to his dialogue and see his actions as we carry them out. (According to my list of The Five Player Roles, we don't inhabit the role of Niko, but rather serve as his guardian angel.) Maybe the gentleman doth protest too much. Maybe Niko is deceiving himself as much as do the rest of the lowlifes he runs with. Maybe as much as he believes he's fatigued with death and killing, he's actually drawn to it? Maybe we have all misunderstood Niko Bellic. What do you think, Stephen?

Stephen: I think Niko's a sociopath and that the only reason Michelle fell for him in 10 seconds is because she was paid to. You already know that I don't think the storytelling in the cut-scenes matches with the storytelling (game-telling, N'Gai?) in the missions. Yeah, maybe that was all the point. Maybe we've been shown that Niko is no more repentant than Tony Soprano in the moments when the gangster isn't sniffling in his therapist's chair. The game left me no choice but to think of Niko as scum. I think the game designers wanted me to feel some sympathy for him. No way. That's why I took such pleasure near the end of the game when I was given the choice to either kill my long-time nemesis or go to work with him. Gleefully -- and over the protests of my in-game girlfriend -- I chose to go to work with him. I sold out whatever values Niko claimed he was supporting early in the game. I rejected what I felt was pressure from the game designers to grant Niko emotional closure. I let him run roughshod, spitting on all who had cared for him. Because that was the only way I could make sense of everything the game had shown me, through cutscenes and gameplay, about Niko Bellic.

***

Stephen: After Round Two, a debate broke out between two Multiplayer readers. Reader Eric Tharnish was back to rightly praise me for besting you in that round (again!). He objected to what he saw as your call for a more "controlled world" and "controlled scenarios." To your defense rode Chico Lou, who said that Eric and you were actually in agreement and that you were calling for greater flexibility in the series -- via the implementation of more branching paths and optional cut-scenes that would accommodate the way a player might be making their "GTA" protagonist behave.

Into this exchange leapt one DSankey:

"One solution to this sandbox vs. story tension is to have an honest-to-goodness nonlinear narrative. It strikes me that Bethesda have forged ahead with this, at least in the console world. In GTA IV, there could have been different missions unlocked depending on who you chose to date, making your date into a major character (and changing the ending). Siding with one crime faction or another would be another way to unlock different missions/stories depending on how the player chose to play. Or specializing in race missions, doing the police computer missions etc."

My Take: I like Dsankey's comment for two reasons. One, it gives me the opportunity to make my joke that I thought only "Resident Evil 5" had "race missions." Two, DSankey is thinking what I was thinking. I don't think you've played through "GTA IV," and you know that I have. I quite liked the moments you described in your last letter, but I think you would have wound up singing my tune if you'd reached the end. And we both would have been advocating the DSankey approach. We shouldn't Rockstar develop a shorter but more branch-able central narrative? Instead of requiring players to engage in more than 60 missions to reach one of two story endings, why not require them to play just 40, with at least 20 alternate missions programmed in case players veered into alternate paths? That way I could get more of the freedom I've been bellowing about while you could still get the more structured, well-crafted missions you've been enjoying?

Are we playing “Grand Theft Auto IV,” or is “Grand Theft Auto IV” playing us?

N'Gai: That's a compelling idea. It's also one that Rockstar North is unlikely to pursue anytime soon, for a couple of reasons. First, as I pointed out above, the genre they believe "GTA" occupies is the action-adventure game, not the (Western) role-playing game. So I'm not sure they believe that they need as much nonlinearity as DSankey suggests. Second, many developers are wedded to the idea that players should experience the majority of the content their games have to offer on the first playthrough, to say nothing of the increased concern that reviewers and gamers will attack their games for being too short. I think that your idea is a sound one. And if Rockstar North were to abandon creating a single, unified narrative (yes it has some detours, side streets and a sandbox, but they ultimately follow a similar path to one of two conclusions) in favor of some truly meaningful narrative branches that led to meaningfully different experiences and endings, I think the "GTA" franchise world, uh, level up.

Speaking of Level Up, Round 2's comments section was deeply influenced by leadoff poster InfinityDevil's exploration of the possibility that a gamer is just as capable of evolution as is a game franchise, writing:

I'm not the same person I was when San Andreas came out, which is why the emotional punch of GTA4 really helps me recommend it to every Rated-M-aged gamer out there. One of my favorite moments included how when getting missions from a bedridden, hospitalized mob boss later in the game the camera stays on the boss while he coughs and struggles to breathe. We are uncomfortable with that mortality, so is Niko, and the virtual camera staying on that old man when I'm looking at it and asking, silently, to please let me look away makes us think what Niko thinks--is this where I want to end up, on my deathbed and still fighting crime family wars?

Marijn, agreed, saying,

[T]his might be the biggest indicator of Rockstar's accomplishments in emotional immersion: that with both who-lives-and-who-dies choices I was subtly nudged toward one of the two choices by the way Niko reacted to the characters. I knew who Niko liked more, and what's more, I agreed with him. It takes some great storytelling to make you want to roleplay the main character perfectly, and whatever the faults of the narrative and characterization, this is one area in which Houser and Benzies acquitted themselves magnificently.

But InfinityDevil's words had the most impact of all on your commenter--or is it mine--Chico Lou, who urged us all to reread InfinityDevil's post, then wrote:

[W]hat InfinityDevil is describing is not role-playing--it's the opposite. He didn't imagine what Niko would think, and then react how Niko might--no, InfinityDevil reacted to a situation as himself, then transferred those thoughts and emotions to Niko. InfinityDevil reverse role-played.

N'Gai: Are we playing "Grand Theft Auto IV," or is "Grand Theft Auto IV" playing us? At the 2008 Game Developers Conference, Playsign game designer Pekko Koskinen asked "Can we think of game design as the art of making fictional behavior?" and "Can we design a player, in the same way we design a game?" Does Rockstar North's halting success in creating a believable Niko Bellic -- or unimpeachable triumph, if you subscribe to my Niko-is-equally-self-deluded theory above suggest that continued improvements in the writing is what the developers need to guide us to better inhabit this role so that we play Niko as he is meant to be played? Or does Rockstar need to further sandbox-ify its narrative so that a million Nikos can flourish without ever feeling as though the character is in conflict with their choices?

Stephen's Take: Can I take a third option again? Cycle your way up the page here and note how your reader HeyMarkD repurposed the "uncanny valley" phrase in the context of gameplay and characterization. The options you're considering, N'Gai, are both attempts to bridge HeyMarkD's uncanny valley. Both approaches would make the game feel more real, it's characters more consistent. They conform to our instincts to want to play in a world we can believe in. They conform to the decision I described about that led me to choose one moral path at the end of the game because it was the only way I could reconcile aspects of the game's storytelling that would have otherwise seemed inconsistent. But, essentially, the two modes you're suggesting are two forms of normal-mapping, two forms of motion-capture, two forms of making the game seem more real.

Consider, if you will, turning back from HeyMarkD's uncanny valley. Consider, to extend the metaphor, going a toon-shaded route or a pixelated one. Consider turning back from the uncanny valley that separates nonsensical gameplay and believable scenarios and embracing a game world that doesn't have to all be consistent, that -- you guessed it -- is unafraid to let its characters where rainbow 'fros, hit people with purple sextoys and send a down-on-his-luck L.A. hood on a sky-diving mission to blow up Hoover Dam. In trying to create a more believable world populated with more realistic characters, Rockstar's game designers face the same challenge video game graphics artists have faced since they tried to convince us that a few pointy polygons were a Lara Croft breast and, later, that the glazed eyes of a virtual Keanu Reeves were as lively as the real things. Realism's hard. It can be worthwhile to pursue. It can be ruinous. It can help some games, but it's not going to serve every game. Here's to watching Rockstar sort this one out over the next decade.

***

Stephen: And that's it for our "Grand Theft Auto IV" Vs. Mode. We hope you liked the format and keep the comments coming. N'Gai and I hope to be back in about a month or so with a new, solid debate.

In the second round of Stephen Totilo's and N'Gai Croal's Vs. Mode, the pair continues to wage their war of words over "Grand Theft Auto IV."

Totilo explains why he liked "San Andreas" better for its player liberation; meanwhile, Croal responds by hailing how Rockstar has married emotion to gameplay in "GTA IV." Who do you agree with?

If you missed Part One, check it out here. As always, these exchanges are mirrored on Croal's Level Up blog.

(And beware -- spoilers abound.)

Date: June 25, 2008
To: N'Gai Croal
Fr: Stephen Totilo
Re: Why I Like "San Andreas" Better

N'Gai,

Clearly, you need to play more "Grand Theft Auto."

- Stephen

P.S. Am I really the enemy of progress? The contradicter of my own theories? A guy who calls for "Zelda" innovation but wants "GTA" to retreat to its old ways?

Nah.

I've finished "San Andreas." I've finished "IV." I know what I'm talking about.

"Grand Theft Auto IV" is simultaneously the best-made "GTA" and the least-"GTA" of the six "GTA" games I've played. I'm all for progress as a game series evolves, but I'm not for a game franchise losing its spirit. And that's why I say I see "Grand Theft Auto IV" as the game that puts its series at a crossroads. It's why I think it calls for commentators like us to offer some feedback about where it might go next.

You asked me why "IV" isn't my favorite "GTA." It's because, of the things that make a "GTA" game a "GTA" game, I most value the gameplay, moreso than the characters or narrative. I've never played "GTA III," but the sensation I got when I first played "Vice City" was liberation. I felt interactive freedom the likes of which make other games feel like prison and "GTA" feel like an escape. Finally I could play a game that would let me have fun while I ignored The Next Thing The Game Wants Me To Do. I could get lost creating action and mayhem of my own. I could at least pretend that I was acting up beyond the bounds of what I was supposed to do in "Vice City." That sense of wicked liberation was enhanced by the real-world setting of the game, a landscape that tempts you to do things in those places that you better not do in reality.

With "San Andreas" I felt even more that "GTA," at its best, represents a sprawl of possibility. The work the developers did that I most appreciated wasn't the enjoyable cut scenes but the expansion of gameplay opportunity. You've read those "San Andreas" lists of gameplay options: you can race cars, bounce low-riders, get fat on burgers, be a pimp, consume Hot Coffee, drive big rigs, play fireman, raid a military base, use a jet pack, fly to Liberty City, ride a bike, play basketball, etc., etc.

Years ago I heard Will Wright observe that so many more things can happen on a real city block than can happen on any city block ever created in a video game. He's right. But I've long felt and long cheered that Rockstar was the studio working hardest to prove Wright wrong. And they were doing it in such a wild way, expanding the possible actions on a city block to include the implausible and the illicit.

That's the trajectory I thought the "GTA" series was on, one with gameplay as the spine of its evolution.

Yeah, I also appreciated Rockstar's non-gameplay achievements. I've enjoyed watching Rockstar develop their chops as possibly the top parodists and working in the gaming medium. I liked their efforts to craft distinct and idiosyncratic characters that, unlike most video game characters, would sometimes do and say things you didn't expect. But a great game critic once told me -- actually, he's said this dozens of times -- that games are first and foremost things you "see with your hands." So I've been championing what "GTA" games have shown my hands, and that's freedom. And gameplay freedom, many gaming fans know, has long been the enemy of plot and character. What you do in a game so often doesn't fit who, technically, the character is supposed to be (Mario's really that violent? Snake is really that clumsy a sneaking soldier?) The way I see it, one thing that Rockstar excels in appears to work at cross purposes with other things the studio is good at. And not all aspects can necessarily be improved equally.

"GTA: San Andreas" remains to me the high point of Rockstar's "GTA" gameplay approach; "GTA IV" curtails it seemingly to reach a higher point with those other approaches: story and character. The reason I questioned the endeavor and asked you what they should do at this crossroads is because there is real evidence that the attempts to create a richer and more consistent sense of character and plot are being undermined even by the more curtailed, somewhat less freedom-loving brand of "GTA" gameplay in "GTA IV." Everyone I've spoken to who has played "GTA IV" can tell me a moment when their manipulation of Niko through gameplay made Niko seem like a different character than the one portrayed in the cut scenes. Friends cite moments when the cut-scene Niko--cautious about causing wanton violence--didn't seem like the guy they had gunning down everyone in sight at the behest of either the player or, more oddly, in order to fulfill a mission scripted by the developers. What do you make of that? I see the game developers writing Niko one way in cut scenes and requiring him to conform to a very different script in some missions. You see Rockstar maturing. I see Rockstar creating a game that sometimes works against itself.

"San Andreas" didn't have these problems, I think, because it resounded with the tones of cartoon criminality and non-seriousness that the gameplay of a "GTA" almost demands of its story writers. Jetpack-riding and rhyme-book-stealing were zany examples of the sprawl of possibility. Anything could happen and anyone could be around in the game to be part of it. The aspects of "GTA IV" that came closest to those tones felt the best to me. I'm thinking of things like the widely praised eccentricity of the character Brucie, who encourages brazen car thefts and considers a good time with Niko to be a helicopter flight through skyscrapers with two girlfriends sharing the seats. A shootout amidst dinosaur bones in what passes for Liberty City's Metropolitan Museum of Art also achieves those twin tones. So does a motorcycle chase in the subway tunnels and a murder during an otherwise buttoned-down job interview. (I should also add that Rockstar's "Bully," with its obnoxious high school cliques, neurotic teachers and consistently mischievous gameplay embodied a slightly milder but equally suitable version of those tones for its open world.)

All that said...

If "GTA" and Rockstar are on a path toward maturity via more restrained gameplay, mission and world design, there are some things in "IV" that I consider extremely promising in that regard:

- I greatly enjoyed the mid-game chunk of missions that Niko becomes a mission partner for several brothers from the same Irish-American family. One brother's a bank robber, another a crooked cop, another an addict, and so forth. The paths of their lives are traceable to one home. The branches of their family tree are the avenues and boulevards of Liberty City's boroughs. I like the idea of a "GTA" being used to trace the divergent paths of a family, to offer some sense of how the character of a family and the members in it is affected and shaped by geography. Getting to know this family by visiting the neighborhoods they've wound up in is a success. And the experience reveals the potency of a matured, controlled bottlenecking mission structure. The pay-off leaves you watching two of the brothers sitting together on a park bench, both of them men you've journeyed with in different places, and knowing that it's your call which one will now die. Only careful planning and controlled design can lead to a moment like that.

- "GTA IV" benefited from the decision to set certain missions at specific times of day or days of the week. The lead-up to a wedding date produced several phone calls regarding preparations.This was a great way to weave anticipation for a key game event into the backdrop of whatever insanity Niko was committing in the days before the wedding. Another bit of controlled planning that I liked was a night mission that culminated in an airborne view of the Algonquin skyline and the fireworks spectacle of an explosion in front of a dark sky. The mission highlighted a nocturnal beauty unique to big cities. "GTA" missions have always been located in specific places. Locating them in specific times is a confident aspect of more restrictive design I'd like to see more of.

See? I'm not against progress.

Can you now tell me what your favorite part of "GTA IV" is? And while you're at it, what was your least favorite?

P.P.S. I never played the multiplayer modes after day one of the game's release. But you know me. Even though I run a blog called Multiplayer, I rarely game with others.

Date: June 18, 2008
To: Stephen Totilo
Fr: N'Gai Croal
Re: Perhaps Emotion Is the Intended Spine of "GTA IV"

Stephen,

I'm not sure how much more "Grand Theft Auto" I need to play to identify what each of us values most about the series' potential going forward. You slyly quoted one of the medium's most dashing observers when you wrote "that games are first and foremost things you "see with your hands.' " Very true. But you're interested in gameplay for play's sake. I'm intrigued by something else.

Yes, you've dressed up your preference in poetic descriptions like "interactive freedom," a "sense of wicked liberation" and a "sprawl of possibility." But while you're busy making like Mel Gibson in "Braveheart," shouting "FREEDOM!" at the top of your lungs as you prepare to storm Rockstar's East Village offices, you're missing out on the developers' fitful achievement in "GTA IV": the way they've married emotion to gameplay.

I'll give you an example; it's my third favorite moment in "GTA IV" thus far. Relatively early in the game, Little Jacob and Badman sent me to take out a rival drug dealer. I got in my car and drove to my destination, using the GPS/mini-map to navigate my way there. Once I arrived there, I assumed that I'd kill him pretty quickly. But that's not what happened. I was informed that I had to trail him to his stash without alerting him to my presence. So for several blocks, I just followed him. Across streets. Through alleyways. In and out of a house. Over a fence. A call came from my cousin Roman -- c'mon, man; can't you tell that I'm in the middle of a hit? -- but I just ignored it and kept going, hopping a stone wall, entering a tenement building and walking up several flights of stairs until finally, I was standing outside the drug dealer's front door.

On the radar, I could see that the drug dealer and two other people were inside. Now, whether it was the tension that had built up over the lengthy, deliberate pursuit of my target or a strange aversion to failing and restarting a mission, I can't be sure. But I nevertheless stood outside the door for what seemed like an eternity, Micro-SMG in hand, steeling myself for the firefight to come. Then I burst into the room and kept squeezing both triggers until I absolutely, positively killed every motherf---er in the room. It was over in what seemed like the blink of an eye, and immediately afterwards, as I came down from the adrenaline rush, all I could remember was the echoing gunfire and motion blurred visuals that accompanied my frantic switching from target to target to make sure that I got them before they got me.

The pacing of that mission; its rising and falling tension; the juxtaposition of the tempo and duration of its constituent parts; its blend of driving, walking and shooting -- all of that was memorable for putting me in a stunned, shaken, disquieted and finally relieved state of mind.

If you're not yet convinced, how about my second favorite moment? After meeting up with Playboy X by way of Elizabeta to carry out a drug deal that turned out to be an undercover sting operation that erupted into lengthy shootout with and escape from NOOSE -- the Liberty City Police Department's equivalent of SWAT -- by way of stairwells, rooftops and side streets, Playboy asked me to take him home. Which I proceeded to do, using the GPS, as always, to guide me towards the dot on the mini-map representing his home base rather pause the game to check his destination on the full map.

I crossed one of Liberty City's bridges without paying much attention to it, because again, I was focused more on the GPS/mini-map than the scenery. So it wasn't until I'd been on the other side of the bridge for at least a minute or so when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the buildings seemed different than they used to. Now I was finally paying attention to the city passing by outside my car window -- really? Could it be? -- when I decided to pause the game and check the full map, which revealed that unbeknownst to me, I had made it into the previously blocked off borough of Algonquin, GTA IV's version of Manhattan.

This may seem like a trivial thing, but since my arrival in Broker (Brooklyn), I'd been periodically looking at Algonquin off in the distance. For instance, after executing Vlad on the waterfront, the game resumes with your character facing Broker. Rather than just head back into the borough, I turned around, walked to the edge of the pier and stared at Algonquin across the water, wondering what and how long it would take me to get there. So to have my arrival in Algonquin take place without fanfare, at the end of a tense shootout and getaway, elicited a feeling of personal and personalized accomplishment, as if I'd uncovered this myself rather than being guided there by Rockstar North.

Still not a believer? Perhaps my favorite moment will convince you. It's the much-talked about choice I -- we -- had to make when deciding whether rub out Dwayne for Playboy X or kill Playboy X for Dwayne. This moment was interesting, and not just because of the way that it's set up entirely over your mobile phone -- first Playboy X asks you to kill his best friend, some time passes, then his best friend Dwayne asks you to kill him. By not jumping into the mission immediately and forcing me to make a choice, Rockstar let me stew helplessly, with this troublesome dilemma hanging over my head like the sword of Damocles, building tension all the while.

I personally wanted to kill Dwayne, because his sad sack, woe-is-me stories about the challenges of living in the real world after years on lockdown were wearing on me. Meanwhile, Playboy X's dynamic optimism, though surrounded by bulls--t platitudes about how he planned to improve his community once he'd made enough money, was more engaging to me. But the cutscenes and dialogue exchanges convinced me that Niko preferred Dwayne to Playboy X. And since the emotional engineering of the game's opening hours had convinced me that Niko was a different brand of thug, I spared Dwayne and killed Playboy X instead.

I didn't expect to get Playboy's loft as a gift from Dwayne for killing his friend-turned-nemesis, but I did. But when I returned to the scene of my crime to claim my prize, I found something else unexpected: Playboy X's photos still lined the wall, a number of them containing his logo. For some reason, it made me think of another X -- Malcolm. Had I rid Liberty City of a dangerous hothead? Or was I unknowingly guilty of murdering the next great civil-rights leader? Even now I regret the decision, for several reasons, but I treasure "GTA IV" for making me feel the weight of my choice, for prolonging my internal agony, and for leaving me with a question to ponder.

I suppose it's possible to accomplish all of this while racing cars. Or while bouncing low-riders. Or while getting fat on burgers; being a pimp; consuming Hot Coffee; driving big rigs; playing fireman; raiding a military base; using a jet pack; flying to Liberty City; riding a bike; playing basketball, etc. But while you're pining for the way Rockstar liberated you from the tyranny of scripted progression, I've found that they've done some highly engaging work of layering more complicated emotional possibilities into their gameplay. This is virgin-ish territory for them, and it's worthy of inquiry. I haven't the faintest idea which came first: the chicken (exploding budgets for 360-PS3 development requiring a scaling back on content) or the egg (narrative and gameplay options that are more tightly focused than sprawling), but I approve for all of the reasons I've listed above. By scaling back on our options to diverge from the main story, Rockstar North allows the main story -- shorn somewhat of distractions, digressions and diversions -- to have more of an impact.

That said, what I didn't like about the game is the gap between the game's enacted narrative (its cutscenes and dialogue) and its emergent narrative (the things that we do as players). This resulted in far too many occasions where Niko -- whom Rockstar North had expertly painted in its opening hours as fatigued with killing and death -- volunteers to commit murder on behalf of someone he's just met. Part of that could be a problem with how the developers chose to handle narrative compression. But even so, the technique they employed with the Playboy X Or Dwayne Dilemma of building in some time between the offering of a mission and the acceptance of that mission could have been an elegant solution to the budgetary constraints that may have prevented Rockstar North from creating enough cutscenes to plausibly support the variety of ways in which gamers choose to play Niko. I don't know how Rockstar North plans to handle this in the future, but as they create more consistent characters with more subtle and complicated relationships with the violence and outlaw behavior that has typified the series, they may have to content themselves with suggesting how they think you should "act" a character like Niko, but eventually step back and create enough varied chatter and cutscenes to support the performance of your choice.

Cheers,

N'Gai

Check back next week, when N'Gai and Stephen tackle your comments and questions in Monday’s final round.

It's been a while since Newsweek's N'Gai Croal and I have disagreed as much as we have in the exchange you can read below. We're arguing about "Grand Theft Auto IV" for the first installment of an all-new Vs. Mode.

Whose side are you on?

Follow the debate below or on N'Gai's Level Up blog. Check back Thursday for Round Two. And, yes, there are plot spoilers below.

Date: June 2, 2008
To: N'Gai Croal
Fr: Stephen Totilo
Re: The Addict And The Animal

N'Gai,

In my favorite mission of "Grand Theft Auto IV," Niko Bellic doesn't kill anyone. He's offered sex, but he doesn't give in.

He's just a chauffeur, essentially. And he makes decision I don't think I'd make in a moment in which the game doesn't give me a choice -- not like it does in several moments praised as the best in "GTA IV."

It is indeed the little things that make "Grand Theft Auto" games so grand. The sequence I just alluded to is one of the littler details in the game. It's a mission involving a drug addict named Marnie, a character who you will only encounter if you bring Niko past City Hall in the game's version of Manhattan after a certain number of hours played.

And, spoiler, what she wants so very badly is for Niko Bellic to help her feed her addiction. She asks for money. She offers herself. And ultimately she accepts Niko's limited charity: a long car-ride to her dealer where no shooting occurs, just a small-time drug deal. The whole time Niko drives her there he tries to talk her out of it. He fails, but under the player's control, he drives her into temptation anyway.

What I just described to you both is and isn't the kind of "GTA IV" you've likely heard about. Yes, I've described a game about crime in the city. A game that features a man who can be controlled to do less than socially acceptable things. But I've also described a game that contains, below its heights of big crime fantasy, some sidewalk-level tragedy. There's a junkie girl. And there's this most violent of men, who has no tool in his arsenal that will help her kick her habit.

You and I have played dozens of hours of "Grand Theft Auto" games. We know them for the mangy untamed beasts that they are. We know that the only thing more impressive than the amount of polish Rockstar applies to each new cityscape of urban delinquency is the amount of these games that remains un-polished. The "GTA" games are incredible in scale and detail, deft in their portrayal of freedom's limits, aurally grand and as entertainingly violent, disruptive and calamitous as any games before them. Still, each game of the series pokes their players with rough edges: missions of awkward difficulty, controls that improve but can still frustrate, characters who don't seem consistent.

I'm left wondering what the developers of "GTA" should try harder with and what hopes for the series they should abandon.

These "GTA" games resist smoothing. They resist efforts to streamline them into a taut, refined experience. The cell phone that keeps Niko connected to his friends, the police computer that locates crimes, and all the other elements of "IV" that replace the contrivance of old games with greater realism are overwhelmed by the game-ness "GTA" can't shake. We're not playing a movie, not by hour 30 or even hour 15 when a player's choice or a developer's one extra set of missions sends Niko the game avatar to do something Niko the character would never do.

"GTA" is an inconsistent beast. And, to go back a metaphor, they make me think not just of an animal that may be both untamed and un-tame-able but of Marnie, the addict. They make me wonder if there's really any way they can ever get beyond their fixation with certain familiar ways.

This new "GTA" was made to be more sophisticated, more grown up, I think. It introduces moral choice. It skips rainbow afros and giant sex-toy weapons for a story that, initially, is a barely violent exploration of the eyes-just-shut start of the American dream. It's a more mature "GTA."

Yet there's a guy at work here at MTV who is inconsolable over the exclusion of planes and tanks in "GTA IV." He wants to wreak mayhem. He sees a "GTA" as the sandbox it was once hyped to be. He wants unhinged "GTA." That "GTA" is in "GTA IV," in any of the spots where rules are broken. It's not there as a cheat-code tank. But it's there when you ignore the game's orders and kill the character the narrative was discouraging you from knocking off. It's there when you ignore dating Kate or bowling with Little Jacob and piss them off. It's there when, even with just the reserved wardrobe of "GTA IV" you find to outfit Niko in a ridiculous ensemble.

In playing "GTA IV" I was reminded that "GTA" is at its most fun when it's tweaking, when it has the shakes, when it can't abandon the violence, the transgressions, the subversions of its own rules. The other style of "GTA" -- the one that bottlenecks its story, that keeps Niko moving forward and lands him with a bunch of mobsters, that picks your vehicle for you sometimes, that tries to keep characters consistent and deliver a moral over the course of 30 hours, this classy, more respectable, more constrained, more cleaned up, rehabilitated "GTA" -- doesn't feel like the "GTA" I've known. Or at least the one I like telling friends about. That "GTA" has always been there, but it's been subdued. With "GTA IV," though, it may be on the rise. Is this the new "GTA" and one that we want?

I played "Grand Theft Auto IV" game with the feeling that it’s the game on which its creators tried to exert their tightest grip, making all the more tantalizing the moments it slipped away. I enjoyed trying to subvert it all the more. To use both of my metaphors again I felt the developers were trying to harness it and clean it up in the service of telling an important story, of being a transcendent cultural work. I feel like they've gone half-way to something new, to a different "GTA" than we've known. And I'm wondering if they should complete that step or if they should hold back.

I'm rooting for more street-level tragedy and comedy, for something messy, for something that isn't built to someday be smooth, mended and gracefully operatic.

What do you think? Do you like the new, restrained, refined "GTA"? Or is it time to bring back the 'fros, the sex-toy weapons and expectation that the story more-so than the gameplay will mean something big? What do we want our Marnie to be and what help do we hope they'll give her?

-Stephen

***

Date: June 13, 2008
To: Stephen Totilo
Fr: N'Gai Croal
Re: Liberty City Is a Platform

Stephen,

It's so tempting to ignore you and write about my favorite moment in "Grand Theft Auto IV." But I'm feeling oddly generous after such a long layoff between Vs. Mode battles, so I'll engage you. Even if I'm a little surprised at your response to the game. After all, you're Mr. Innovation Bias. Shouldn't you be wildly applauding the shock of Rockstar North's new vibe rather than expressing your conservative longing for past "Grand Theft" gameplay, masked as a call for the subversive over the sublime? Eiji Aonuma does the same ol', same ol' with Phantom Hourglass; you say you're getting bored. Rockstar North attempts something novel; you say you miss the way things used to be. The only thing left for you to do is urge them to remake the previous "GTA"s using the latest tech, amirite?

Besides, weren't you the one who advanced the theory that multiplayer was where we would find the bulk of the sandbox-y pleasures of "GTA IV"? You want Rockstar North to roll it for you, when perhaps what they've done is given you the Philly and the Purple Haze so that you can roll it yourself.

Or maybe I'm the one who's been too easily satisfied by Rockstar's more stately, better-controlling opus, while more experienced fans grit their teeth. Take poster Shimuro on NeoGAF. In the thread titled "Final Thoughts: Grand Theft Auto IV and OOT apologists," he opens with a litany of praise for the game before presenting a laundry list of complaints, including:

The game was good, no doubt, but it entirely forgot about its roots. "Grand Theft Auto" is a sandbox game and that sandbox is pretty damn weak. It entirely forgets a certain group of people in favor for people who only care about story. People like me who appreciate both the story and the vast amount of things to do. There is little f---ing around in "GTAIV," it's mostly all serious business. The problem with "GTAIV" isn't that it's "back to basics", because that's false - "GTAIII" has more content and things to do than "GTAIV." It's just a step back in general, lacking the creativity, variety that made the past 3d "GTA"'s memorable….

Summary: Sandbox game this is not. "GTAIV," while doing a lot right entirely forgets its genre roots in the name of "realism" and because certain things were "out of Niko's character" as publicized by Rockstar Games. I dearly hope this is not the direction they plan to take the series in, or I'm going to have to stop playing one of my favorite series and pick up another open-ended series.

If I didn't already know your GAF handle, I'd swear that Himuro was you!

I can't share Himuro's perspective, because I wasn't a connoisseur of the previous games the way he clearly is. But it sounds as though he's articulating a lot of your concerns. For a relative newcomer like myself, the streamlined formula sounds just right, and I've recently learned that one of Rockstar's aims with "GTA IV" was to make it more accessible to newcomers. But in doing so, is Rockstar permanently leaving its most loyal, most die-hard fans behind?

I don't think it's yet time for you and the other dead-enders to render such a judgement because, like you, I recently had a limo ride that blew my mind. Only this limo ride didn't take place in Liberty City. It began in Napa Valley, CA, following the conclusion of Ziff-Davis' Electronic Gaming Summit, where Valve director of business development and legal affairs Jason Holtman and I shared a limousine to San Francisco International Airport. During the 80 minute ride, we had a wide-ranging conversation, giving me a good handle on Valve's philosophy--and its relevance to action-adventure games like "GTA IV" which are designed for the integration of post-release downloadable content.

Take "Team Fortress 2" for PC. The first couple of sets of downloads were additional maps. Then Valve integrated achievements into Steam and added an achievement path for "TF2"'s Medic, complete with a brand-new melee weapon for those who complete it. Next up: an achievement path for the Pyro, a new melee weapon and one of Valve's hilarious intro movies, this time for the Sniper.

Most developers of action-adventure titles extend their games along a single meaningful axis (i.e. maps, vehicles and game types), along with perhaps a second, cosmetic axis (i.e. costumes, decals and achievements). Weapons generally fall under the meaningful category, but they're tricky to add--especially for competitive multiplayer games--because they can throw a game's balance out of whack. If, with every update, Valve can now simultaneously extend "TF2" along multiple axes--two meaningful (maps and weapons) and two cosmetic (cinematics and achievements)--along how many more axes can Rockstar extend a narrative-rich open world game like "GTA IV"? Shall I list some of them?

· single-player missions
· multiplayer missions and game types
· co-op missions and game types
· characters
· interiors
· boroughs (show Shaolin some love, y'all)
· friend paths
· vehicles
· weapons
· clothing stores and clothing
· radio stations
· music
· commercials
· TV shows
· restaurants
· packages
· Web sites
· ring tones
· abilities
· everything else Stephen Totilo believes is missing

I'm sure I've allowed some aspects of the game that could be extended to go unmentioned. But I think you can already see the possibilities inherent in what I've laid out. And that's not even taking into account two final axes that Rockstar has already experimented with in its standalone console and handheld games: time and space.

With "Liberty City Stories" and "Vice City Stories," Rockstar has already shown that it can tell stories in the same physical location at different points in time. Why couldn't the DLC packs let us play as Little Jacob or Dimitri when they first came to Liberty City; or Dwayne and Playboy X as they were coming up in the streets before Dwayne went to prison; or as a new character in events set after the events of "GTA IV." As for space, if "GTA IV" can fit on a single Xbox 360 DVD-9 which holds seven gigabytes of data, what if subsequent titles like a new "Vice City" or "San Andreas" could be saved to the Xbox 360's hard drive to create a single Grand Theft America, a persistent world in which adventures can take place in multiple cities, located in multiple states and set during multiple time periods?

This is what careful game design, downloadable content and sizable hard drives allow. If Rockstar North producer Leslie Benzies is correct in his estimation that "Grand Theft Auto IV" cost $100 million to develop, then the company would be remiss in not exploring some MMO-like business models. (After all, the last game I know of that took four-plus years to develop and cost $100 million to make is "World of Warcraft.") So if Rockstar has spent all of this time and money to establish Liberty City --a sprawling play space that can accommodate many more gameplay possibilities -- it would behoove them to do so, not only with the two planned DLC packs, but well beyond them, as any MMO would do. And if this sounds a lot like the Everlasting Gobstopper of Interactive Entertainment theory that I advanced in our January Vs. Mode exchange on "Burnout Paradise," well, it should.

I want Rockstar to take the possibility space that is "Liberty City" and keep building on it. They can experiment with tone: one expansion pack could be primarily comic; another tragic; another brutal; another frothy. They can set one in the 1970s; another in 2020. I said that Rockstar is showing its maturity by realizing that it doesn't have to be all things to all gamers, but let me revise that statement: it doesn't have to be all things to all gamers at all times. It's wiser to take a slice of what's possible and offer that initially, while gradually, with every content release, adding more layers on top of a very strong foundation.

k

Cheers,

N'Gai

Vs. Mode returns later this week (Thursday we hope!) with Round Two.
And next week, N'Gai and I tackle your comments and questions in Monday's final round.

This entry comes courtesy of Newsweek's N'Gai Croal and kicks off a new round of the most interactive Vs. Mode yet

Whoever said that you can't improve perfection never met the staffs of Level Up and Multiplayer. For the newest installment of Vs. Mode, in which we spar over "Grand Theft Auto IV," we're doing something different. Because as much as we enjoy the clack-clack of our own deep thoughts being typed out for your edification, we like mixing it up in the comments with you, our Dear Readers, even more. So to help make Vs. Mode less dueling monologues and more of an open dialogue, here's how we're tweaking the formula.

Rather than just throw you into the deep end of mine and Stephen's opening exchange, we're kicking off this series with today's brief introductory post to both preview our debate of "Grand Theft Auto IV" and solicit some comments and questions from you. Then, on the final day of our debate, Stephen and I will not only engage each other, but we'll also tackle any statements or questions that you've posted on our respective blogs. Today's topic is "Who Moved My Sandbox?" in which we discuss whether "GTA IV" has gotten too far away from the series' sandbox roots. Some excerpts of what you'll see in full on Tuesday:

Stephen Totilo: This new "GTA" was made to be more sophisticated, more grown up, I think. It introduces moral choice. It skips rainbow afros and giant sex-toy weapons for a story that, initially, is a barely violent exploration of the eyes-just-shut start of the American dream. It's a more mature "GTA." Yet there's a guy at work here at MTV who is inconsolable over the exclusion of planes and tanks in "GTA IV." He wants to wreak mayhem. He sees a "GTA" as the sandbox it was once hyped to be. He wants unhinged "GTA."

N'Gai Croal: I want Rockstar to take the possibility space that is Liberty City and keep building on it. They can experiment with tone: one expansion pack could be primarily comic; another tragic; another brutal; another frothy. They can set one in the 1970s; another in 2020. I said that Rockstar is showing its maturity by realizing that it doesn't have to be all things to all gamers, but let me revise that statement: it doesn't have to be all things to all gamers at all times.

Based on these excerpts, who do you agree with?

Does "GTA IV" need a wilder, richer sandbox, or did Rockstar North get the balance right? Let us know what you think in the comments below. And check back tomorrow for Round 1 of Vs. Mode: GTA.

We thought we'd be done by now.

Today we are.

In our first exchange we both praised the game, but I went off on my feelings about gamer guilt and why so many games make me feel guilty for playing all or even just select parts of them.

In N'Gai's e-mail below he explains the the three types of video game imperfections, complains about the game's grind and suggests a few ways to "Patapon" better.

And then I defend grinding in games. Really, I do.

So when we last left off I asked N'Gai: "Do you ever feel any of that gamer guilt?" He answers below...

(As always, Vs. Mode appears both on MTV Multiplayer and on N’Gai’s “Level Up” blog.)

To: Stephen Totilo
Fr: N'Gai Croal
Date: March 30, 2008
RE: Simple Input, Complex Output

Stephen,

I don't know about you, but my taste in games is so impeccable that I never have to apologize for recommending them. Seriously, though, when I suggest a game to someone, it's either because a) the recomendee is a non-gamer who needs both accessibility and a strong hook to pull them in ("Rock Band"); b) the game is exemplary ("Rez"); c) there's something specific about the game that I think they should check out (the circuit courses in "The Club"); or d) I know that the game will suit their particular tastes (insert fanboy-specific genre here).

That doesn't mean they'll like it—there's a certain creative director of high-octane racing games who will never forgive my recommendation of "Every Extend Extra" and "Everyday Shooter"--but I make no apologies for their lack of discernment. (Just kidding…or am I?) Similarly, people suggest games to me all the time, but I don't always take them up on it. I can remember someone insisting that I play a "Legend of Zelda game -- any "Legend of Zelda" game -- before deciding that he'd himself had enough of the franchise. Maybe if I wait long enough, all recommendations become invalid.

Your point about imperfections in games is worth considering, though. At what point do we decide whether an imperfection is a bug or a feature—or personal taste? The shooting and targeting controls in the PS2-era "Grand Theft Auto" games? Bug. Organizing spreadsheets Managing your party, items and spells in "Final Fantasy XII"? Feature. Getting together with 100 of your closest friends for a raid in "World of Warcraft"? Personal taste—and not my own.

Many games—even some of the best—simulate certain things well and others not so well. They simulate some aspects plausibly and others abstractly or not at all. Is it better or worse, for instance, that the old "GTA" games had floating, spinning pickups for weapons, health and money, while "Grand Theft Auto IV" will integrate them into the world more plausibly? The gap between simulation and reality—or between simulation and shared fantasy—is where the individual's ability to suspend disbelief and give himself or herself over to the simulation comes into play.

Back to "Patapon": is the grind an imperfection? I say yes. It seems like an easy way to pad out a game that otherwise, as designed, isn't very long. Now, it's true that I could go back to any open area to mine it for the resources I needed, but it was still grinding nonetheless. And I'm not as forgiving as you on this point because while the songs are pleasant and memorable, they weren't so good that I would let it slide. Here's how commenter Ginger Yellow described it in response to Round 1 of our exchange:

The grinding is a real pain. It takes a game that should be a joy, and turns into a chore at times. It wouldn't be so bad if stone/ore etc. drops were more frequent, or if the tunes in the mini games changed. I still love the game, I always groan when I come up against an overpowered boss because I know I'm going to have to spend the next few hours replaying the same levels.

A much better solution would have been to let me "sell" my warriors back recover part or all of the ka-ching that I spent on them so that I could use spend it on a better warrior. But in fairness to the designers -- and to return to the suspension of disbelief point I just raised -- they seem to want to make a point about the value of your individual troops. Each class of warrior can only contain so many troops; when you get the ingredients to make a better soldier, you first have to clear a slot in its respective class. And when you clear that slot, the "Patapon" warrior in it dies, in a manner suggesting that the air was removed from its body. (Not to mention that with the death of your warrior goes all the ka-ching and experience points you put into it.) I don't want to oversell its emotional effectiveness, because I certainly cleared slots when I needed to, but doing so was always a bit sad, and I was generally reluctant to do so, as if I were facing an unpleasant task.

So which came first, the annoying design choice or the emotional engineering to support it? Which values should I favor, the gameplay values of the narrative values? At the end of the day, "Patapon" is a game, so if the designers are going to make a choice that leads to something as contentious-yet-omnipresent as grinding, they need to better support that choice so that players focus on something else besides the grind, besides the end that will justify those tedious means. More tunes and better tunes, as Ginger Yellow suggests, would have helped.

You asked me what I think of rhythm as control. I'm surprised that you've yet to mention "Donkey Kong Jungle Beat," a game that you made play a few years back. That game was a rhythm-platformer, so it was necessarily more freeform than "Patapon." "Donkey Kong Jungle Beat" was exceedingly well-executed, but I prefer "Patapon" because I feel as though its RTS gameplay better suits rhythm controls than does a platformer. As to rhythm-"Sims" or Rhythm-"Madden," I don't think that it's an accident that both "Patapon" and "Donkey Kong Jungle Beat" are side-scrollers. I'm not sure that this control mechanism would work as well on a traditional 3-D game.

I disagree with your characterization of "Patapon," when you write of the player's role "[Y]ou are a composer of a soundtrack or you are a preacher or you are a weather pattern above a civilization. You create mood that compels reaction." Well, actually, the preacher part is right, so I'll say that you got one out of three correct. Most rhythm games are variations of Simon Says, in which you're matching a pattern that the game sets out for you. In the battles in "Patapon," you are Simon. It's a call-and-response game: you tap out a beat, and your Patapon army obeys in both song and action. This is what the creators of "The Bourne Conspiracy" game call simple input, complex output, and I think it may be one of the keys to making videogames more accessible to a wider range of potential players.

As gamers, we learn to love inputs of medium to high complexity. But that shuts out anyone who isn't willing to devote the time to learn complex inputs. "SingStar," "Guitar Hero," "Wii Sports," "Rock Band" -- all of these games have radically simplified the inputs, but the output is complex, whether it's hitting a note or knocking down a set of bowling pins. My editor stopped by my office on Friday as I was playing "Rock Band;" he'd heard about it, but never played it. Forty-five minutes later -- having played guitar, drums and vocals on easy for Boston's "More Than A Feeling" and Hole's "Celebrity Skin" -- he was making plans to buy a PS3 and the "Rock Band" bundle. "Patapon" is more abstract than that, so it might take a bit more work to get someone like my editor to step up to the plate. But that said, the controls are accessible enough that he could get into it. It's something more developers and publishers will have to consider moving forward.

I'm going to conclude our exchange with one last complaint about "Patapon." The trailer suggested that there were going to be all kinds of large-scale weapons at my disposal, like catapults and rolling forts. It turned out that there was only one mission that I encountered where there was a catapult. I wanted more. I wanted massive machines that I could unleash on my enemies. I wanted to capture giant beasts and turn them to my side. I wanted to be able to have the tempo of my call affect the tempo of my "Patapon" army's response—or better yet, the tempo of the entire battle. We've talked before about how some games are a rough draft for the sequel, while others spring forth fully perfected. "Patapon" is an original idea, terrifically-executed, with on sizable flaw (the grind), a few imperfections, and large swaths of its possibility space that have yet to be explored. Here's hoping that they get a chance to tackle all of this and more in another game.

Cheers,

N'Gai

***

To: N'Gai Croal
Fr: Stephen Totilo
Date: April 1, 2008
RE: In Defense Of The Grind

N'Gai,

I've news for you: you're not "concluding our exchange." I am. And first up, I'm going to answer all the questions you asked me. Okay. Done.

Now I am free to contend with your criticism of "Patapon," particularly of the game's grinding. I felt the same pain you and your reader Ginger Yellow felt. The grind in "Patapon" did occasionally get me down. I'm certain I silently cursed the game's designers for requiring me to repeatedly grind through a few of the game's levels in order to gain the resources needed to improve my army.

Let's consider what a "grind" in a video game is, why we hate them and what it would take not to hate. When we curse a grind, we're cursing a game for forcing repetitive gameplay, to block advancement without this repetition. But aren't all games, by their very nature, rife with repetition? Isn't "Super Mario Bros." just a lot of repeated hops. Isn't "Halo" just a few specific styles of engagement repeated and remixed for hours on end? Sure. The grind, however, earns scorn because it forces too much repetition. It crosses a line. It registers an excess. The repetition often becomes too much and turns into a grind once the game has forced the gamer to go backward, to perpetrate the game's initially un-offensively repetitive gameplay in levels they've already run through. Gameplay repetition is changed to gameplay grinding. And that's when it's time to get angry.

Except: it's all subjective, isn't it? Where is that line between fun repetition and grinding? Why don't "God of War" games get accused of forcing a grind? Because they don't? Oh, surely, they do. They require collecting orbs to get powers, some of which you need to advance. Does 'God of War" get off because they just don't do it forcefully enough that it's bothersome?

I sense that you and Ginger Yellow may actually know these things about grinds. You may know that they're not all bad. Perhaps it's because you know people who happily grind away in "World of Warcraft" with no complaint. Either nine million people are deluding themselves or grinding isn't all bad. Perhaps the hint to your ultimate softness on grinds can be glimpsed in your mutual desire for more musical variation during the game's grinds -- a request that suggests grinding would be more fun for you two not if the gameplay was more interesting but if said grind was accompanied by a more interesting soundtrack; simple inputs with more interesting outputs.

So admit it. Secretly you love grinds in games.

No?

Overstatement?

I'm picking on you and G. Yellow not because I think you don't know what you want, but because I think it's useful to identify both what it is that annoys gamers about grinds and what gamers believe would make grinding more tolerable. If a grind is really defined by and reviled for its requirement of overly repetitive gameplay, I think all of us hardcore gamers need face the fact that our thresholds for repetitive gameplay are already higher than the average person's. Shock: what we don't see as grinds are probably considered to be grinds by more casual gamers. So if you or I or Ginger Yellow think "Patapon" is a grind, what do you think casual gamers make of "Zelda" or "Half-Life"? Maybe they think it's ridiculous that you have to kill this guy and this guy and this guy and this guy and this guy with the same three swords or guns. Maybe they think that's a grind. And maybe, like you and Ginger on "Patapon," these casual players they think the grind would be made tolerable with a better soundtrack. Or fewer tedious actions. Less repetition? More gameplay variety? Prettier graphical distractions?

[Let's pause a second: Are casual gamers more tolerant of a grind with a better soundtrack? By asking that, did I just describe "Guitar Hero"/"Rock Band" in a backwards way?]

Can grinds in gaming be ground out? I doubt it. Games can't be made to exclude repetition. So we're really just talking about degrees. How much is too much? How much repetitive gameplay should be required vs. being left optional? The better soundtrack solution is one viable remedy because it distracts a gamer from the tedium of doing the same thing again and again. Another distraction, seen in "World of Warcraft" is the presence of friends, often working on that same chain gang grind that you are. "Brain Age" suggests another solution to the grind "problem," two solutions in fact: 1) encouraging short sessions, so that what would be maddening if played eight hours straight is pleasant when spread across 365 days and 2) convincing the player, like a good exercise coach, that high-volume repetition is healthy. The grind will make you a better person. Imagine!

I've heard some "Final Fantasy" fans claim that they consider that series' lavish cut scenes as rewards for tolerating the game's grinding gameplay. That's a "solution" to the grind problem I can't endorse. I doubt you would either.

Let's re-consider whether these grinds we hate can really be excised or if we'd be perfectly happy gamers if they were just accompanied with more pleasantness. You suggested that the grind issue in "Patapon" could have been remedied if the player could sell back soldiers. Maybe. But I prefer your other ideas -- the more varied music; the matching of more of "Pataon"'s hypnotic tap-tap-tap gameplay to levels with vehicles and trainable beasts.

So let's not hate the grind. Let's consider that it might be a necessary part of games. Or, if not, let's drill down on a more fundamental level. If we're going to point fingers at "Patapon," then let's point fingers at "Rock Band" world tour and "Devil May Cry" and a whole lot of other games too -- anything that requires lots of repeated gameplay to progress. Have we tolerated repetition too long? Is that what we all need to apologize for? Or is that the very core of gaming? Is everything a grind, just prettied up to varying degrees of success?

N'Gai, let's get on with a new Vs Mode soon. These letters are always good for getting the wheels turning. But next time, let's talk about a game we really don't agree on. "Burnout" and "Patapon" have made things too cordial, no?

-Stephen

Slight problem: we both really liked this game.

Never fear, however. I think we've got some stuff in here that will provoke you.

• N'Gai lays out the three things that make the game special for him: The Power of Indirect Control, The Importance of Feel, And The Thrill of Iconic Design. And he wonders what it means that he was obsessed with the game for 21 days in the winter but doesn't think about it at all anymore.
• I proclaim that "Patapon" is nifty and doesn't make me feel guilty, stating that "Devil May Cry 4," "Pursuit Force 2" and most other games I've played do make me feel guilt. "Patapon," sweet "Patapon," does not.

Did you say you want criticism of video games, something meaty, something that isn't just a graphics/audio/gameplay review. With Vs. Mode we try to give you that.

Here's a quote from my letter for everyone to chew on:

How many games do we not have to apologize for when recommending them to others? How often do we have to say not to mind the character design or the dialogue or the music or the controls or something else? How many did we in some way suffer? Is the high tolerance for imperfection not unique to gamers, at least to the extent we have to suck it up and try not to be bothered by the bad parts -- or, if you're like me, feel guilty that we spent time with things so full of bad parts?

What follows is Round One of Vs Mode: "Patapon"... (You can read it below or on N'Gai's "Level Up" blog. Round two follows late this week)

To: Stephen Totilo
Fr: N'Gai Croal
Date: March 21, 2008
RE: Pon-Pata-Pon-Pata

Stephen,

What is the best way to prepare for an exchange about a game that we played nearly three months ago? The game in question is "Patapon"--Sony Computer Entertainment's side-scrolling rhythm-based real-time strategy game for the PSP--and for three weeks or so spanning December and January, you and I were both obsessed with it. (Perhaps this is a holiday thing; the year before, I'd been similarly taken with "Metal Gear Solid: Portable Ops," breaking out my PSP at every possible opportunity to recruit soldiers via Wi-Fi with Gotta Catch 'Em All dedication.) So apart from a few marathon "Rock Band" sessions here and there, all I was doing was playing "Patapon." I suppose its possible that had I spent the holidays at home in Brooklyn rather with friends in San Francisco or L.A., I might have indulged in my backlog of console games, but I rather doubt it. "Patapon" got its hooks into me deeply enough that I'd have continued to forsake my 360, PS3 or Wii with nary a trace of guilt.

That was then. Today, I don't really think too much about "Patapon," other than this residual obligation of Vs. Mode and a bit of guilt over never having done the Q&A I planned with the game's creators. How is it possible that a game that so thoroughly consumed me for 21 days and change--that burned through me like a fever--now appears to have barely left a trace, other than a vaguely physical disquiet, an almost muscle memory of when it held my thumbs in grip of an obsession?

That's why I'm wondering how I should prepare for this post, seeing as I didn't take notes during my original playthrough. Should I start over from the beginning? Resume where I left off, frustrated both at my inability to unlock the "stews" that power up my "Patapon" as well as the difficulty of the final boss? Or just search my memory and trust that whatever I remember three months after the fact will in fact be the most salient topics of discussion?

I'll take door #3, and throw out three subjects for us to consider.

1. The Power of Indirect Control

"Patapon" was one of those games that I didn't bother spending much hands on time with at the couple of press events where it was available for play. Not because I wasn't interested; the moment Sony's 2007 E3 press conference was over, I sought out the PR team to inquire about two games: "Echochrome" and "Patapon," so intrigued was I by both games' unique art direction and gameplay. But there are certain games that I feel would almost be a waste of time for me to play during a limited session; that I'd rather wait for a preview build or the finished game so that I can really delve into the mechanics. "Patapon" was one of those games.

When I did finally play it, I wondered whether I'd like the indirect nature of the controls: the fact that while I gave my Patapons their, um, marching orders by way of the various drum patterns, it's not the same kind of precision that you have in a platformer or a shooter. And while it was occasionally frustrating, in the sense of, "Damn, I wish I could have moved them to exactly /that/ spot," I quickly got accustomed to it, and it became part of the game's charm. Truth be told, it was also necessary, much like the games drumbeat controls, because they add just the right amount of complexity to what is at its core a very simple game.

2. The Importance of Feel

Part of what got me thinking of indirect controls and feel was my experience playing "flOw" on the PSP. In the original PS3 version, the controls are inverted, and there seems to be a barely perceptible delay between your gesture and your creature's response. The end result is that you sort of end up feeling that you are the creature moving in fluid rather than controlling some pixels on a screen--the controls give the game its feel. On the PSP, the controls aren't inverted, making it more of a direct control game, and it threw me off completely. It didn't feel like "flOw" at all, and not in a good way, either. It was only when I was killing time in my hotel during South by Southwest that I realized that the delay was in the PSP version, and it started to feel more like the original. But I'd much rather play it on the PS3, where it feels just right.

With "Patapon" once I mastered the controls, they faded into the background in an interesting way. I stopped thinking about the buttons, and that was good, because thinking about what buttons to press was a sure-fire way to lose the beat. Instead, I looked at the screen, listened to the rhythm of the music, tapped out the desired beat, and watched my Patapons respond. (Should we even be describing "Patapon" as a rhythm game, or is it in fact a call-and-response game?) Actually, I didn't so much watch my Patapons respond, because I was already busy planning my next move--Pon-Pon-Pata-Pon? Chaka-Chaka-Pata-Pon? Pon-Pata-Pon-Pata?--while admiring my previous handiwork.

All games exist in the empty space between your thumbs, your eyes and your mind, but for some reason it feels even more so in "Patapon." I tried to locate my role in the experience --was I the Pantheistic God of the Patapons; an Actor playing the part of the flag bearer; or simply my self, the Player--and I found that I was generally myself. I wasn't playing a role inside the experience so much as I was guiding my Patapons to victory from without. Yet at the same time, I felt thoroughly immersed. And I think the reason that occurs has to do with...

3. The Thrill of Iconic Design

There's a mistaken belief that permeates much of the industry, which is that "realistic" graphics will enable videogames to break on through to truly mainstream audiences. But when we consider the success of "Bejewelled," "Peggle," "Guitar Hero," "Rock Band" and "Wii Sports," it's clearly not the case. As graphics technology improves, the exploration of non-photorealistic rendering techniques should go hand in hand with the quest for verisimilitude. Unfortunately, too many developers and publishers would rather focus on the latter, even on the PSP, a platform whose titles could use a complete deign rethink. Thank goodness Sony, at least, is motivated to do so, with games like "Loco Roco" and the forthcoming "Echochrome." Just because it's roughly the power of a PS2 in a handheld doesn't mean that we should be playing PS2 games on the go.

Back to "Patapon:" its art direction cleverly evokes a tribal, hunter-gatherer-warrior vibe in a charming, graceful manner without ever verging into offensive stereotype, which it could have easily done. In our "Portal" exchange, I wrote about the importance of games that leave room for the player to imagine, and not only do "Patapon"'s iconic visuals do this very nicely, the same can be said of its other design elements. The way that the Patapons greeted my return from combat with a campfire celebration for every victory, and with their silent absence when I lost. The overworld menu, which steadily opened up leftward as I progressed through the game, subtly reinforcing the side-scrolling nature of the game. The various battle cries and ululations of the Patapons. It all felt unique, of a piece, and--as I reflect on how much of it I've actually retained--indelible.

It's not perfect, however, which I'll get into more in my next post. But I'm curious as to how much of the "Patapon" experience has stayed with you. Did you like grinding your way to progress like the Clipse on a Virgina street corner, or did you wish you could sell your troops back for the Ka-ching you needed to obtain better warriors?

Cheers,

N'Gai

***

To: N'Gai Croal
Fr: Stephen Totilo
Date: March 23, 2008
RE: Guilt-Free Gaming

N'Gai,

If I reviewed games for a living and had to include in my reviews numerically scored classifications of elements like graphics and sound, I would include one category that would ideally get a low number. That category would be the ability of the game to instill guilt.

And on that criterion, "Patapon" would score as well as any game I have ever played. I recall it fondly. I recall it, unlike so many other games, without guilt.

Guilt? Yes, N'Gai, I was raised Catholic. But I don't think that is why games so often make me feel guilty. Sometimes a game gives guilt because it keeps me indoors when I should be outside (justified guilt). Sometimes I get game guilt because I choose to play a game on a Thursday night rather than perform some more socially approved act, like going to an after-work party (unjustified guilt). Sometimes the guilt I get is caught from the game, a contagious byproduct of the inferiority complex exhibited in games that are trying to be like movies or TV or some other non-game form and are falling short. Such a game makes me feel that if I truly wanted, say, a compelling narrative experience I should have just rented a Hollywood classic or cracked open a book. And sometimes the gaming guilt I feel -- surely you've felt this way too -- is due to the surrendering hours of my life to some level-grind or unforgiving save system or some other junk game design element that hides a lack of true nutritional value.

I don't feel guilt over the beautiful things in life, nor over stuff that's fun in a way -- how does one distinguish these things? -- that's not worth feeling guilty about. Forgive the tautology. Here are come examples:

• "Super Mario Galaxy," refreshingly fun and original in design at every minute I've played of it so far -- no guilt there.

• "Tetris," as pure and perfect a play experience as ever has been made, just a shade harder to put down than it is to pick-up -- minimal guilt there.

• "Devil May Cry 4," enjoyed much of it and finished it a week ago, thought some of it was pretty cool, but now I feel a bit guilty about it. I feel like some of my time was wasted by uninteresting puzzles and repeated levels (beware the backtracking).

• I feel guilt over "Dragon Quest VIII," sensing it was a mistake to spend hours on gameplay and story that did not entertain me, challenge me or surprise me.

• I felt some guilt -- not a ton, but some -- as I neared the end of "Pursuit Force 2: Extreme Justice,," subconsciously calculating that two full games of "Pursuit Force" gameplay more than exceeded my personal bi-annual quota for that sort of thing. Wasn't there something better I could have doing in life than Missions 10-15 or whatever? Some sonnet I could have been reading? Some new episode of Frontline that I could have watched?

There are many possible triggers for my gaming guilt. "Patapon" pulls none of them.

You asked how I remember the game? I recall it fondly. I recall it guilt-free. I recall it the way I wish I recalled more video games: as something altogether fun, captivating, distinctly beautiful, unencumbered by significant flaws. I recall it as a very specific entity, a game that is related to others but sprouted its own new branch. I recall it as the rare game I spent 19 hours playing to completion that didn't feel like it was wasting my time. Like I said, I recall it guilt-free.

How many games do we not have to apologize for when recommending them to others? How often do we have to say not to mind the character design or the dialogue or the music or the controls or something else? How many did we in some way suffer? Is the high tolerance for imperfection not unique to gamers, at least to the extent we have to suck it up and try not to be bothered by the bad parts -- or, if you're like me, feel guilty that we spent time with things so full of bad parts?

There's just one thing I didn't like in "Patapon," one thing to possibly feel bad about even though I never did. That was the need, occasionally, to grind, to send my army of little soldiers through one mission multiple times to earn enough money and materials to forge a warrior who could propel my forces through their next trial in victory. But even this aggravation was ameliorated by "Patapon"'s best quality, its rhythms. To grind a level in "Patapon" is to re-play a favorite song, to re-indulge in a four-minute experience of specific rhythm and flow. A grind in other games is often the repetition of chore; grind in "Patapon is a return to a pleasant ditty.

Let me tell you my favorite memory of playing "Patapon." I was on the subway, my troops marching to the right, throwing spears and slashing swords against their enemies of war. I kept them fighting by tapping out a rhythm that I could hear in my headphones. I tapped it consistently and repeatedly enough that they became super-charged with "fever." A complex, lovely mix of drums and whistles swirled as I stamped my fingers. I kept tapping the rhythm. They kept fighting. And my subway screeched into my home station. Without breaking the rhythm of my button taps, I stood up. I took my eyes off the game and I walked onto the subway platform. I looked down on the game again, but for just a few seconds, maybe two loops of the four-note Patapon rhythm, my little troops were fighting without me seeing them. I had given them charge, swept them up with music. They acted away from me.

The subway moment demonstrated how special this game is. Like you pointed out, we players of "Patapon" are not characters in the game. We are outside orchestrators. We are ourselves. To extend that idea, I believe that we use the game both to order artificial intelligence but to entertain ourselves. In my brief moment of playing but not watching "Patapon," that moment on the threshold between subway and subway platform, I was indulging in both aspects, giving the game's characters commands to do something without me, and giving myself some audio enjoyment by keeping a riff going. One means: two ends. An unusual video game experience. What did it mean? I think it means that playing "Patapon" isn't really like playing many other games. You're not so much a puppeteer, deriving pleasure in how the strings you pull affect something else. Instead, you are a composer of a soundtrack or you are a preacher or you are a weather pattern above a civilization. You create mood that compels reaction.

Consider a version of "Super Mario Galaxy" in which you don't tell Mario when to backflip, when to shoot stars, when to dive underwater, and so forth. Or a version of "The Sims" in which you don't have to manage appetite, bladder, romance and professional aspiration. Imagine versions of these games in which your only influence is your orchestration of the soundtrack. Playing happy music makes good things happen. Playing dissonant, poorly constructed music lets things go awry. These would be games of emotion and mood, evocative and less direct. This is how I remember "Patapon" working, all operating on a more removed level than even the standard god-game. And this is why I don't feel guilt over it: It let me set a mood, enjoy the reaction and in the process drum some lovely music. The game satisfied three senses -- touch, sight and hearing -- beautifully.

For three months it has been over. It's an album I don't feel the need to go back and play again. Not yet. But I recall it like a god, complete book or movie. It used my time well when I was with it, and left me with a good impression.

So I wonder, N'Gai, what do you make of its music? What do you make of the experience of rhythm as control? Does "Patapon" present a lesson of how to extend rhythm game as a control device for any and all other gameplay genres? I know you're about to tell me what's wrong with "Patapon." Let's hear it. But also, tell me, now that you've played a rhythm RTS, would you play a rhythm-"Sims"? A rhythm-"Madden"? Any other game in which "all" you do is make the music that compels the players on the stage.

Oh, and do you ever feel any of that gamer guilt?

-Stephen

N'Gai gets to answer this when Vs. Mode continues later this week (Wednesday, we hope)....

In Round One we did talk about the game: why I went from like to dislike to like for the game, and why N'Gai knew since the day he was born that "BP" would be awesome.

In Round Two we didn't talk about the game as much. I wound up explaining why I think "Paradise" is a better "Animal Crossing" than "Animal Crossing" and soon stopped talking about the game. But then N'Gai got us even further afield. He even proposed that this game points to some sort of nutty One Game Future.

Except that he didn't call it nutty. He left it for me to decide if it was, which I do at the top of today's concluding installment, Round Three. After my letter comes more Mr. Croal, who writes about the possibilities of a "World of Burnout" and a "Little Big Burnout."

Read on for the final letters. And soak in what may be the final drips of sanity we're going to ever pour into a Vs. Mode, given the direction these things are going in...

(These exchanges are mirrored on N’Gai’s “Level Up” bog.)

To: N'Gai Croal
Fr: Stephen Totilo
Date: January 31, 2008
Re: It All Comes Together…

N'Gai,

A "One Game Future," huh? The "Everlasting Gobstopper of Interactive Entertainment." You think that "Burnout: Paradise" puts us on track for that? Because if people enjoy a playground kind of game in which players make the rules of how they want to play… then suddenly one game can be many games in one?

I see where you're going. Who needs "Mario Tennis," "Mario Golf," and "Mario Kart," as separate games when you could just have them in one grand "Super Mario World"? (Nuts, that name is taken … how about "Super Mario Playground"? No? "Super Mario Kingdom"? Like that?). We've all been playing as Mario in so many different games already. Why not just unify his experiences into one persistent experience, sold piecemeal, if need be, but all connected to a grand quilt of a game. Or maybe theme park is a better metaphor. Nintendo's Mii characters, which can appear in multiple games, seem to support this concept. There's also a whiff of it emanating from Sony's "Home."

But when I put it like I just did above, I kind of hate it.

You did acknowledge that you were contorting my original theory. I'd like to re-iterate it, so that we can build off it or contort it again. My big idea, which you've never agreed with before, is that the only games to cross-over to a mainstream audience and become cultural phenomenon are the ones that were made to be played -- or could be played -- in satisfying short periods of time. You could knock through a game of "Pac-Man" or get a thrill causing mayhem in "GTA 3" in five minutes flat. You can feel like you've actually experienced the essence of "Tetris," "Wii Sports" and "Guitar Hero" in just as short a span -- which isn't to say you won't get hooked for much longer. But that's why I don't think "Final Fantasy," as popular as it is, has ever crossed over to the point where it gets mentioned on CNN when a new one comes out. It's why I think, while "Zelda" games are beloved, they do not matter to the world the way "Mario" games do. Almost all of Mario's adventures can be fun and satisfying in short bursts, which gives them a crossover appeal that can attract the attention of people who only play games in that casual way.

What you've praised about the game-like aspects of Facebook and that we've both enjoyed in "Burnout: Paradise" is that they are two types of virtual worlds in which bursts of interesting things can and often do happen. They are not, in and of themselves, casual games. In fact, they are quite expansive things. But little bursts of fun pop up in them frequently. Some of them bubble up from the system, placed in my path for me to stumble on. Some are triggered by other people using the platform. And some are instigated by ourselves. The bursts of enjoyment are there, occurring in discrete, definable moments (a new "Burnout" Showtime run I decide to take down 9th Street in order to break someone else's record; a super-poke I get on Facebook that needs retribution; etc). But the overall experience for me in Facebook and in "Burnout," is, like I said in my last letter, one of just hanging out, for the most part enjoying the serendipity of fun happening rather than either chasing it down or being funneled down a particular defined path of fun. I imagine this is how some people experience "World of Warcraft."

So what if more games were stitched together like this? What if all things driving could exist in Paradise City, so that realistic driving sims and arcade racers and "Twisted Metal" variations and "Pursuit Force" sequels and all sorts of other road-bound gameplay could all be played on those streets, depending on what a player going into Paradise City felt like doing?

I'm torn. On the one hand it seems fun. On the other, it seems like it's antithetical to artful game creation. It could be cool for a game console to be a single holo-deck of fun, one that blurred distinctions between starting one game and then going to the other. But I can't see "Geometry Wars" and "Portal" sharing that same theme park in any way that improves their current status as two separate games. Would we really want all driving games to be mods of a single driving engine? All first-person shooters to be a transformation of the same tool set to suit the experience you want to have at the flick of a game-changing, scenery-transforming button? (Is this where Unreal Engine 4 would bring us?)

You propose an intriguing future I'd like to sample but I'm not sure I would enjoy as the new status quo. Still, it seems like it could happen. Odds are slim. But it could happen. All games together as one…. Interesting. For now, I'm voting "no."

But ask me again when "Little Big Planet" comes out.

-Stephen

P.S. Was I supposed to be writing about "Burnout: Paradise" more? Sorry. I'm still reeling from the scores the Criterion guys are now posting on the leaderboard. I can't keep up! I'm definitely going to enjoy just being a Sunday driver in this one. Leave the fierce competition to the pros.

***

To: Stephen Totilo
Fr: N'Gai Croal
Date: February 1, 2008
Re: "Little Big Burnout"? Or "World of Burnout"?

Stephen,

With the Super Bowl just around the corner, it's somewhat fitting that you fell for my Statue of Liberty play. There were actually two separate ideas that I threw into the teeth of your defense as time was expiring--the One Game Future and the Everlasting Gobstopper of Interactive Entertainment. You chose to tackle the frivolous one rather than the one that was more profound, giving me a clear path to the goal line and another Vs. Mode victory. Consider this post the literary equivalent of me high-stepping my way to the end zone.

The One Console Future is a deceptively logical but wildly improbably idea that, like a siren's song, seduces otherwise savvy people—Silicon Knights' Denis Dyack, Electronic Arts' Gerhard Florin and Eat Sleep Play's David Jaffe among them—into throwing themselves against the jagged rocks of reality. This, even though they know, or ought to, that the two best examples of what a One Console Future would look like are the 3DO (which flopped) and Windows PCs (which is seeing several of its biggest franchises sell orders of magnitude more units on consoles).

As for Jaffe's assertion that publishers might lead the charge for this, I'll set aside the cat-herding nightmarishness of that theoretical consortium and point out the following. First, the folks I've spoken with at EA have always said that their biggest fear is that there would be only one console, because the last manufacturer standing would be free to jack up the royalties. Second, as long as the successful of a console is predicated on charging publishers' royalties to offset the cost of R&D hardware subsidies, someone is going to have to put their skin in the game and take on that risk, and I guarantee you that third party publishers have no interest in doing so. So consider my One Game Future suggestion a modest proposal satirizing this One Console Future that simply refuses to die.

The Everlasting Gobstopper of Interactive Entertainment, however, is the logical outgrowth of the dialogue we've been having in this Vs. Mode exchange. The idea isn't that "Burnout Paradise" morphs into "Gran Turismo" or "MotorStorm," but rather that it maintains and expands its support for multiple styles of play without ever losing the essence of what makes it "Burnout." A number of gamers, including myself, are sad that Criterion didn't include circuit races and Aftertouch. Some might also miss the police cars from previous editions. All of this is stuff that Criterion could bring back as downloadable content, overlaid on the existing world of Paradise City.

You wrote a post earlier today about "Halo 3" and its content expanding features like Forge and Arcade scoring. What if Criterion and EA not only released a downloadable file establishing circuit races, but also let you create your own circuit races simply by driving through the city, automatically blocking off the surrounding streets, as if two "Tron" lightcycles were tearing through Paradise City? What if Aftertouch and Pursuit were one of many modes that you could turn or off, like the game-modifying skulls in "Halo 3"? What if Criterion added a car customization mode, letting you swap out not only Boost Types, but also paint jobs and decals—or design them yourself, as in "Rock Band"? What if they—gasp—brought back classic Crash Mode? That's what I mean by the Everlasting Gobstopper approach to game design.

What's interesting about this is that even as it's the logical extension of the open world approach Alex Ward and Criterion have created, it directly contravenes their precise, deliberate reinvention of the game, which I praised earlier and still love. They chose to leave some things out and replace certain beloved elements with others in the on-disc game, and that was the right decision. But just as Alex has asked us to open our minds about what "Burnout" can be, we have the right to ask him to open his mind about going back to the future and enabling Paradise City to evolve, via downloadable content, into everything that "Burnout" has previously been. Because today's high-end consoles make this possible. The bean counters I mentioned in Round 1 will be happy as well, because they can a) make more money via incremental sales, and b) dissuade people from selling the game back to GameStop because there's nearly infinite pleasure that can be derived from the core game and its add-ons.

Taken one step further, perhaps my One Game Future idea isn't simply satirical. It's not that Burnout becomes "Gran Turismo" or "Need For Speed," but instead that it evolves into "Little Big Burnout," or "World of Burnout." Each disc following Paradise would contain a single, brand-new city, several new cars and Criterion's trademark reinventiveness (yeah, I made that word up) to provide several new race types and modes. But the new city would also support all of the different elements from previous "Burnouts." So if you love "Burnout 1," you would effectively be able to play "Burnout 1" race types on "Burnout 6"'s streets.

In my vision, the disc serves as a vehicle for content that can be played the way Criterion wants us to play it, but we can subsequently transform it into the "Burnout" we want it to be. Eventually, we fans would have multiple "Burnout" cities—ideally, we'd be able to store them on our console of choice's hard drive—multiple race types, event types, vehicles and more to choose from for an evening's entertainment. Talk about gameplay per square inch; if this were to get any denser, we'd be talking about the Black Hole of Interactivity, swallowing up every spare second of our time.

There is a risk here that in supporting all of this customization, the "Burnout" community will devolve into a collection of hyper-niches, like people who only like to drag race along Angus Wharf in Hunter Mesquite vehicles at dusk. But I think that a lot of the biggest AAA franchises will be headed in this direction, and "Burnout Paradise" is an important step along the way.

Thanks for the conversation; apologies for the end zone celebration, and I'm looking forward to next month's debate, which should be pata-pata-particularly interesting.

Cheers,

N'Gai