Final Fantasy VIII sucks. Right? Worst Final Fantasy Ever. Right? Am I right? Come on, you all hated that game, right?

Well, I did.

I mentioned previously that Final Fantasy VII was the first “real” Final Fantasy I played, so I wasn’t really expecting the change-up in both the presentation and tone of Final Fantasy VIII. Nor was I expecting a much more complicated character advancement system.

So as I continued to play the game and Squall refused to act like a hero (i.e., like Cloud) I became more and more frustrated. My frustration increased as battles got tougher and tougher because I wasn’t using the Junction system properly. The result was that I ended up borrowing a Game Genie and cheating in order to finish the last boss so I could finally see the ending. And while the ending was nice, my feeling was not of elation, but “I’m glad that’s over.”.

But I recently began to feel a bit of nostalgia for FF8. Had I really given it a fair shot? Could I get more enjoyment out of it with another playthrough? I remembered the game having some wonderful characters – I hadn’t cared much for Squall, but Selphie, Zell, and Quistis were all great characters. And there were some aspects of the storyline – the Gardens, the Sorceress – that I thought were really well done. Was I up for trying it again?

And the answer was yes. I booted up Disc 1 and started a new game. This time I paid a lot more attention during the Junctioning tutorials and realized that I had neglected a vital aspect of the game – basically, drawing magic from enemies and junctioning it to character statistics.

Character advancement in Final Fantasy VII was very much like a ladder. Get enough XP and you (and your materia) get more powerful. Use your Limit Break 100 times and you get another one. Pretty simple.

Final Fantasy VIII’s advancement is much more like a graph on two axes. On the axis going up, you’ve got your level. Yes, gaining a level will make you more powerful in FF8. But on the other axis, you’ve got your junctions. Drawing out tons of magic from enemy characters and junctioning it well can make characters much more powerful without having to level. This is important, because in FF8 monsters level up as you do – you’ll never get the upper hand on a powerful monster just by levelling, because it will level with you. You need the extra edge that good junctioning provides. And high-level characters that also have good junctions are godlings. This was what I was missing in my first playthrough – drawing magic can be very tedious, so I didn’t do it. But levelling up is tedious as well, and you don’t have to draw nearly as much as you level. And if you’re smart, your Guardian Forces can learn abilities that allow you to refine magic from items, which means you have to draw even less.

But what about the whole “Squall is a jerk” aspect?

I’ve heard tell that Squall didn’t translate well from the Japanese, which is a possibility. But even so, on my second playthrough I’m finding him a much more interesting character – much deeper than the “obvious hero” type. Why is Squall so introverted? Why is so abrupt and hostile, even to his friends? He’s scared! He’s terrified in the way that only a teenager with the rest of his life in front of him can be. He’s afraid of death, and afraid of the rest of his life. Once you realize this, a lot of his behavior (like his sudden outburst upon learning of Seifer’s death) becomes easier to understand.

So in the words of my good friend Moof, I was doing it wrong. I was putting my own expectations on the game rather than taking what it gave me. Once I stopped doing that my characters became superpowerful and the game overall has become much more enjoyable.

But I still think Metal Gear Solid 2 sucked.

Was talking with a friend here at work, and the conversation drifted onto the topic of how difficult it is to create a game that hits big in all three markets (Japan, Europe and the US). The cultural differences can really make a game resonate well with one market, while another goes “Meh.”

Which reminds me of the first time I played Final Fantasy VII. The only Final Fantasy I’d played previously had been Final Fantasy Legend II for the GameBoy, which I’d enjoyed, but which hadn’t really given me the full force of the FF milieu.

So I’m at an overnight LAN party with a bunch of friends. We’re taking a break from blowing each other up, and I notice that the host has a PSX and FF7. I ask if I can play it for a bit, and he agrees.

So I begin to play. I watch the intro movie, which is very good. The game starts in media res, which I always enjoy. The combat system is kind of simplistic, but that’s okay. Cool stuff happens, the reactor blows up, Cloud gets separated from his companions and meets Aeris. Aeris asks Cloud to escort her home, and she does. So far, so good.

On the way home, they’re attacked by a house. Literally. A house stands up, grows arms and legs, and fights our heroes. And I think to myself, “Uh…I’m fighting a house. That’s really, really weird.”

If you’ve been reading the site long, you’ll know that I’m heavily into coherent experiences – worlds that are simulated, rational and internally consistent. Fighting houses isn’t really included in there anywhere.

And at that moment, I realized that if I wanted to play this game and enjoy it, I was going to have to consciously shelve my preconcieved notions about what an RPG was and was not, and just accept the game for what it was. If I didn’t, then little things like fighting houses were just going to rankle me until I finally gave up on it.

And so I did. And, of course, I ended up being thoroughly rewarded by the game for doing so. And apparently a lot of other people got past the house thing as well (probably much easier than I did).

But I can’t help but wonder…what kind of US cultural vestiges in games don’t go over well in Japan? What would be their equivalent to fighting a house? A study on this subject would doubtless make fascinating reading, and could lead to better games for both sides.

Note: I know, I missed Wednesday’s update. I’ll try to make it up with a supergood post today.

Okay, if you’re here, it’s because you’re interested in good game design. While I’ve talked about many games that I feel have good design, I haven’t yet started to delve into what I think good design actually is. It’s time to do so now.

Good game design, in my opinion, can be boiled down to a single maxim: Give the player interesting, meaningful choices.

Let’s break down that sentence.

Give – You are the GameMaker. You have willingly taken it upon yourself to attempt to create an enjoyable experience for your players. Take that seriously.

The Player – Lots of game designers think of the player as a passive consumers for the designer’s content. This line of thought gives us games like Metal Gear Solid 2. Know the truth: the Player is not your student, your recepticle or (God forbid, but some designers do think like this) your adversary. The Player is your partner. It is together that you make a great play experience.

Interesting, Meaningful Choices – The player must be able to make choices that alter the outcome of the game. He needs to make these choices often (or else he’s simply watching and not playing) and making those choices needs to both interest the player and have a meaningful consequence within the game.

And now for some examples. Let’s start with the bad.

Metal Gear Solid 2 – While the early parts of this game are not terribly egregious, as the game goes on the cutscenes get longer and more confusing and the actual gameplay portions get shorter and less interesting, until you’re literally ending a cutscene, running down a hall, and starting another cutscene. Metal Gear Solid 2 simply takes too many decisions away from the player in favor of presenting the story Hideo Kojima wants to tell.

Dragon Warrior – This game has the most egregious violation of the “make the choices meaningful” rule I’ve ever seen. At the end, when you rescue the princess, she asks “Dost thou love me?”. If the player answers no, she responds, “But thou must. Dost thou love me?” And she’ll continue to ask the question until the player gives the “right” answer.

Now, I’m picking on Dragon Warrior a bit here – it’s not a bad game, but this is a classic case of giving the player a choice that means nothing. Reminds me of that Animaniacs short where Yakko, Wakko and Dot are running an Italian restaurant: “Marinara or red sauce? Calamari or squid? Ham or prosciutto?” They’re all the same.

In fact, this is something console RPGs in general tend to do – you get choices, but they don’t mean much, if anything. Pick the insulting conversation choice and either the person you’re talking to will blow it off or you’ll get to try the choice again until you get it right.

Anachronox – Okay, I really liked Anachronox. I thought it was a well-done game beginning to end (or rather, beginning to Rictus’ ship, which is where I’m currently stuck). But in the game you have these rocks called Mystech that give your characters magical powers. About halfway through the game, you gain the ability to customize your Mystech by putting bugs of various colors on them (no, I’m not kidding).

There are several million bug-color combinations, and most of them don’t have any real helpful effect – they don’t make the Mystech more powerful overall. There are a few payoffs, but finding them takes a lot of effort and the game tells you up-front that while customizing your Mystech may be helpful, it’s not necessary to complete the game.

So this system gives the player many, many choices – it’s just that the system isn’t interesting enough and doesn’t have enough meaningful outcomes. It didn’t even inspire anyone enough to write an FAQ for it. (Side note: Designers, if you really want to know how popular your game is, check how many FAQs it has on GameFAQs.) Fortunately, the player is given the choice of whether or not to fiddle with this system at all, which prevents it from ruining the whole game.

Okay, now let’s move on to the good:

Grandia II – Grandia II combat is a delectible menu of choice options, each of which have immediate, visible results. The game also gives the player all the information he needs to make his choices intelligently – where each player and monster is on the action bar, how much mana and special points spells and special abilities cost, and how many hit points each monster has and what elemental effects they are vulnerable to. Note that Final Fantasy combat hides a great deal of this information from you…Final Fantasy X combat felt very stilted and procedural after Grandia II’s exciting, free-flowing melees.

System Shock 2 – I’ve got a whole article about System Shock 2’s RPG system, but what I wanted to point out again is how things perceptibly changed for me after I upgraded my character. That’s very important – a change that isn’t perceptible to the player is no real change at all.

And now, the grand mama:

Tetris – There’s a reason this game is as popular and pervasive as it is. The player has all the information he needs, his every decision is vital and changes the game board in an obvious and predictable way. Players respond to this, it gives them a feeling of control, which makes them want to play the game.

And now you know the fundamental root of my design philosophy.

Soon: More on the Player as your partner.

One of the first games I ever played that tried to present itself as a unified experience was Legacy of the Ancients, released back in the Day (the Day in question being 1987). It had a fun and cohesive storyline, the best graphics of its time, minigames that were fun and were integrated into the main game well, music that fit the mood, and fun sound effects (the swamp squishing between your toes goes SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!). Even the copy protection was integrated into the gaming experience.

Needless to say, I like that kind of stuff, and LOTA was the first game to “wow” me with the sheer level of detail it provided in an attempt to present a cohesive game world. It’s been a while since a game has knocked my socks off in a similar manner.

If you want to try Legacy of the Ancients (and you should), you can download the Commodore 64 disk images from the unofficial official site. However, the site suggests PC64 or CCS64 as the emulator to use; I disagree. VICE runs the images well without the need for a patch and is free. You can also save state right from the emulator, making it unecessary to deal with LOTA’s slow save process (those old 1541 drives didn’t do anything fast…)