Pixelnauts.net

Early arcade staples such as high scores and turbo fire buttons are rarely found in games today. Since the focus of most games has shifted from quick thrills to complex narratives, only one such mechanic, death, still sees wide use. Is it time for the industry to drop this vestige of the golden years or should death continue to serve a vital role in games today?

Clarification is always needed when talking about broad subjects; a category which death in video games easily falls into. When I speak of the 'death mechanic', I'm referring to the act of a player failing. After which, a game over screen appears and a checkpoint is loaded. The question is not whether developers should remove punishments for failing objectives, but if the current system is still necessary for narrative-driven games.

For those that remember the glory days of arcades, having to choose between using your last quarter for an extra life and calling mom for a ride is unforgettable. Watching the "Continue?" countdown was excruciating - especially when your clanking pocket of quarters had dwindled to a single coin. Back then the death mechanic was absolutely necessary; it was the revenue model for games. In an arcade, hardware was provided for free to users, but the software was rented out on a time scale system. While not literally a quarter for 'x' minutes of play (skill was a factor), it was rare to go beyond five minutes without a game over screen.

Consoles changed that. By purchasing the hardware, players subsequently starting buying the software. The need for incentives to keep pumping money into the system disappeared. Granted, a game had to be good enough to warrant a purchase, but the length of a typical session could be greatly extended without hurting revenue. The impact of this economic shift wasn't immediately apparent. Programmers were accustomed to making arcade-style games and players were comfortable purchasing them: something which many Atari and NES carts reflect. But slowly, starting with The Legend of Zelda, developers realized they were no longer constrained by the old model. It was at this point that the doors swung wide open: games didn't always have to be so difficult; narratives didn't have to rely on either a simple opening paragraph i.e. Contra or licensed property to flesh out their world; and most importantly, developers could now incorporate a wider range of emotions - not just thrills and excitement.

Over the following years, the increasing importance of narratives created a personal investment in characters. When Aries died in Final Fantasy VII, players were generally not upset at the blow to their party's fighting ability, but rather for the loss of a beloved character. In contrast, when Cloud died, a restart simply created annoyance. Which of these events has stayed in gamers mind's for over a decade? Maybe that isn't a fair question. After all, Aries' death was crafted to be memorable - but Cloud's failures, with current technology and creative developers, could be too. The fact that a sense of loss in modern games is still primarily construed from scripts is a testament to their fundamentally archaic design.

Few narrative-driven games have any real consequences for poor decisions. Their stories essentially operate as movies with token interactions. Since games with cascading dynamic outcomes are almost non-existant, gratification (the metric of success) cannot be derived from player's choices. Instead, it's measured by the number of times one must replay a level. When broken down to its fundamentals, how truly compelling is that experience? A much better system would be one where a player's action dictates a narrative outcome. By creating real consequences, games appear less like Simon Says and more like the vibrant and dynamic worlds we want them to be. Integrating mistakes into the design structure prevents the most common break in immersion: repeated scenes and dialogue. Since developers have been hyping virtual living, breathing worlds for years, why do they still implement such a counterproductive mechanic?

Probably the most significant reason is simply the fact that it can be almost universally applied. A push toward something new requires intense testing and development time (AKA risk and money) for almost every game. Punishment systems could no longer be 'one size fits all'.

That's not to say it's impossible (or even improbable) for the industry to shift away from the death mechanic. Games like the new Prince of Persia, Fable 2 and the soon to be released Heavy Rain all try to implement replacement systems: perfect examples in showing the creativity required to shed the mechanic. Out of the three, Prince of Persia is the most conservative; a fall results in the prince's companion swooping in for the rescue. She then places him just before his previous jump sequence. While Prince of Persia handles the event as an almost instantaneous and generous checkpoint system, it's so successful because the illusion is never broken. Also, by never taking away more than a minute's worth of progress, the game encourages the risk and exploration at the heart of its series.

Much more daring attempts are seen in Fable 2 and Heavy Rain. While handled very differently, both games push a sense of permanent loss. In Fable 2, your character never dies. After all, the story is centered around a single person. If permanent death existed, then a minor mistake could force players to restart the entire game: hardly an acceptable solution. Instead, what would normally constitute a death is represented by your character being beaten to the ground. After the pummeling, your avatar's health is replenished and his/her face is permanently scarred. No gold, item or progress is lost. In fact, the only 'real' consequence is the negative reaction some NPCs have toward your wound. Yet, players evoked such strong emotions that test groups would pay significant amounts of gold to prevent these scars. They would rather empty their wallet than incur a cosmetic blemish. This fact is astonishing upon further reflection. Players became so emotionally involved in their character that they made the choice to sacrifice resources, unnecessarily, to avoid imperfections. It was easier for many gamers to handle being annoyed then to deal with any permanent repercussions - regardless of their in game consequence.

Unlike Fable 2, Heavy Rain's story contains a large number of key characters. It's decentralized nature permits the use of permanent death. If one of the playable characters die, they're really dead - as in never coming back. Not only will death remove access to areas and story branches in the game, it will remind players that they were directly responsible for the loss of a 'life' which cannot be remedied; something players must deal with until the credits scroll.

These systems are far more compelling then the status quo. While many gamers think they want more 'difficult' games, I believe it's only in lieu of developers offering different choices. Narrative-driven games which eschew the death mechanic provide a much more meaningful punishment. While death was originally tied to money, in modern gaming it now has no consequence outside of wasting time. The question is not whether the death mechanic can work, but whether it's the most effective tool for a narrative-driven game. Its reliance on annoyance as the primary incentive for preventing failure isn't nearly as effective as the complex emotions associated with permanent loss. Or if permanent loss isn't applicable, as is the case with Prince of Persia, then why not simply remove death entirely; it's only acting as a barrier to immersion.

While the tide is starting to turn, there are still two major obstacles in place: developers need to become more comfortable taking risks and gamers need to be mature enough to accept the consequences. The industry is starting to take steps in that direction. Now it's time to see if gamers are ready to come along.