I have a lot of time for Ubisoft, and I think their E3 presentation this year had by far the most stuff I’m interested in. I also like that they hire an actual media professional who can go on stage without seeming like a quivering PR robot to host their conference. That said presenter is Aisha Tyler, a woman of colour in a sea of white male techs and execs, makes the fact that the couple of niggles emerging relate to the presentation of women in their games all the more galling. But I think this is a case where success has led to the emergence of unexpected problems.
Reading a recent Edge article on Ubi’s editorial team, the squad of advisers who share best practise and approve or reject projects in the sprawling company and its sub-studios, it’s hard not to admire the administrative machinery they’ve put in place to ensure these massive AAA titles are laser targetted at what Ubisoft’s audience want to play. There’s a growing awareness, especially amongst critics, that this is blurring a lot of the company’s games into one Uber-ubi-game, with tropes like Parkour and side missions and taking control of certain locations to open up the map spreading from game to game.
Of course, the reason these open world game play elements are so pervasive is that they work, that they appeal to a broad audience and provide an addictive framework of progression and exploration with lots to do. Some critics may have been disappointed in Watch_Dogs (I haven’t played it yet) for its recycling of bits of Assassin’s Creed etc but it sold shitloads. Maybe not everyone who bought the game was pleased to have the chance to play Chess in the park or engage in optional car racing but the presence of those ticks on the packaging certainly didn’t put them off.
These things appeal to me. They appeal to a lot of people. If there’s a generic gamer brain, a point where the various circles in the big Venn diagram of genres and gameplay options available to Triple A developers overlap the most, Ubisoft are great at marking it out and occupying that territory with populist action potboilers.
And Ubisoft’s E3 presentation was full of that stuff, from Far Cry 4 to Les Assassins Miserables (apologies to whoever on Twitter’s joke that was) to the Division. Even outside that big blurry open world action space each project was the most amped up version of that experience you can imagine – Just Dance was relentlessly poppy and bouncy, the fitness game was the gamiest fitness game ever seen, Rainbox Six Siege finessed that squad shooter thing to it’s most intense and streamlined incarnation.
See marketing target, focus on marketing target, launch mini nuke at marketing target. Boom.
The problem with hitting the tastes of the generic gamer, of the person you get when you smudge all your audience research together and create an archetype of who you’re making games for, is that you end up excluding diversity. You know that X percentage of gamers are white men so that’s who your protagonists are, maybe throwing in black NPC character or secondary playable character because you don’t want to ignore those gamers altogether. And as for women… well, they become what women get stuck with being in a lot of action fiction in films or books or TV, inert sources of motivation for the player.
In aiming for the widest audience, in targeting the universal lizard brain part of the largest spread of gamers, you end up creating regressive nonsense. You have a Rainbow Six demo where two teams of men fight over a frightened woman, guiding or dragging her from room to room as the men shoot each other. You dabble in having female assassins in Assassin’s Creed Unity, then drop it because it requires more mo-cap or different takes of the dialogue for different pronouns and it’s not a budgetary priority because you’re aiming at the generic tastes of uberubigamer so you think it doesn’t matter beyond a scattering of negative headlines.
But it does matter, not just because such a mindset is regressive and exclusionary and blinkered but because variation and diversity is required to keep things interesting. That’s the danger of the editorial mandate, the focus on what already works – there’s no preparation for when the current tricks wear thin. It’s no use building all these detailed cities and jungle covered islands to explore if we’re doing it with the same old characters with the same old motivations about dead or kidnapped girlfriends and daughters. Diversity of characters as well as diversity of scenery, please.
Also, I still want to play an Assassin’s Creed game as Clauda Auditore. Get on that.
I know I said I’d try for one post a week, but as I’m now on full weekday parenting duty (see artist’s impression) and Georgina won’t be doing any nursery time until May, at the moment it’s a push for me to even do Story Gamer and Shiny Shelf, never mind this blog.
However, I am still all over Twitter, so you can follow me there if you like, via the ‘Tweets’ link to the right —>
Will hopefully be back soon, in May if not before.
See, I told you I’d post again soon.
As I’m not getting to write this blog much (do you like what I did there, giving the impression that some mysterious outside force was stopping me blogging, rather than my own disorganisation?), and a lot of Game People and Shiny Shelf articles are flying past without a single mention here, I’ve dropped a couple of RSS feeds into the right hand column >>>
The Game People one is less than ideal, I know (at least, it isn’t if you’re getting the same coding errors I am), but it’s a quick fix to make sure the new content is flagged up here, and goddammit it’ll do for now.
Quick thanks while I’m here to Julio and Steve for all their work on Shiny Shelf, especially Julio who has a lot of good stuff coming up.
… in fact, the customer – and I say this as a customer and consumer, who hasn’t worked in anything even vaguely ‘customer facing’ for years – can often go fuck himself right off a pier.
[UPDATE: OOPS. Someone (Cheers, John!) has kindly pointed out that the article quoted below is a year old. So, while I seriously doubt Amazon have changed their working practices that much (digging back, the issue of – entirely legal – employment practices at their packing centres has been raised a couple of times in the last decade), the first bit of this should be taken with a degree of salt – Mr Attention-to-Detail rides again. The rest… well, I think that still stands, which is why I haven’t pulled the whole piece. Please continue…]
Take this article on working practices at Amazon. For those who want the short version, here’s a simple visual summary:
I’ll leave you to surf the details for yourself, but the most interesting thing is that Amazon don’t deny anything, but instead offer a statement in their defence, which opens as follows:
“Every single member of the Amazon.co.uk workforce, be that a temporary picker in Marston Gate, a permanent packer in Gourock, a customer service representative in Cork or a product manager in our Slough head office, is currently working flat out to ensure that our millions of customers receive the products that they have ordered on time this Christmas. Our number one focus is our customers and everyone at Amazon works hard on their behalf.”
Well, holy fuck, if it’s for the benefit of the customer then that’s all right then, isn’t it? Long shifts, constant monitoring, having to ask for permission to not piss your pants, being penalised for being sick in winter… none of these practices employed against – and I mean against – your workforce matter a shit providing Jimmy Q Fuckwit gets his copy of The Lost Symbol at a rate cheaper than Waterstones, or that little Camelia Queequeg receives her DS pony grooming game on Christmas morn, and not within 28 days after that date. I mean, grud alone knows there isn’t anything more important than the customer.
Fuck the customer. Fuck the customer as hard and as fast as those other nebulous reasons for treating other, usually working, people like shit, the market and national security. If the customer is going to cry a river because they ordered something online and it takes slightly longer to get there than expected, then the customer is a whiny, self-involved, self-pitying little dickwad. (And yes, if the present is for a member of your family, then that’s just a slightly expanded radius of selfishness, and you are still a dickwad.)
Get over it and wait, or go to a shop and pay the full price to get it now. Why should a warehouse of lowly paid staff be sweating blood to get you your underpriced goods at ridiculous turnaround times? What makes you, Mr Customer, so fucking special that you need a slave army to work themselves into the ground so that you get Modern Violation 4 within five days rather than eight?
Aside from anything else, the fact that such priority can be placed on something as blissfully, vacantly fucking trivial as the arrival of Christmas presents shows exactly how empty the talk of Britain being in some deep economic and social crisis is. When we can’t afford to order loads of random shit over the internet, or when those Amazon workers follow the tracking system back to Daddy Visacard’s gated development and raze it to the fucking ground, then we’ll talk about a bloody crisis.
It’s a little early for resolutions, but here’s a wish for 2010: higher, sustainable prices for consumer goods. Yes, HIGHER. High enough that creative people get royalty rates, workers in factories in the far east can feed themselves, and that delivery people in warehouses everywhere can be allowed to go to the toilet without begging permission from the man with the drum.
Merry Christmas, one and all.
I’d like to say I’ve been busy with manner of significant artistic endeavors since my last post, but that would be a blatant lie. No, in between a number of social engagements (a wedding, the Bristol Comics Expo, visiting family) and the pesky day job, I’ve mainly been throwing my time into Assassin’s Creed on the XBox 360. (Yes, it’s not a recent game, with the sequel due out later this year, but I’m slow like that.)
Assassin’s Creed has proven to be a substantial timesink and sleep-preventer for the last few weeks, up until last night, at which point I very suddenly stopped. (I’ll get to the reasons for that halt in due course.)
For the majority of my time with it, AC has been a great experience. Spawned from the ribs of the last-gen Prince of Persia trilogy, Creed takes the free-running and jumping dynamic of the beloved Sands of Time and applies it to an ostensibly more realistic portrayal of the middle east. You can see how it started out as a possible PoP title, and evolved into something else – instead of slowing time and battling demons, protagonist Altair runs around the Holy Land in the 12th century fighting guards and stealth assassinating his prey. There’s a conspiracy thread to the plot, and an SF framing sequence that cleverly, but arguably unnecessarily, contextualizes the game mechanics within the fiction, but otherwise this is far removed from the fairytale mood of the best PoP titles.
Most of the time, it works very well. The mechanics and missions are samey – fight guards to rescue citizens, climb buildings to fill in the gaps on your map, eavesdrop on certain citizens and pickpocket evidence from others, then when you have investigated enough use what you know to go in and kill your target – but the execution (if you’ll pardon the pun) is so good that I could easily forgive the repetition. The central movement mechanic, which allows you to fluidly run, climb and jump around beautiful environments, is tremendous fun, and aside from the first person free-running of Mirror’s Edge has the greatest sense of joyous, athletic exploration I’ve played yet.
What AC has over Edge is its atmosphere, the sights and sounds of exotic cities. Climbing to the top of a church or temple, and ‘synchronizing’ to gain an overview of the city below you, is a stunning experience. Between the cities is an open world of rolling hills, little villages and military encampments that can be ridden across on horseback. It’s a game that, were it not for your grisly job and whole armies wanting to kill you, you’d quite like to live in. As it is, it’s a pleasure to run around seeing the sites, exploring for collectible hidden flags and the like.
So far, so good. Having got over an initial hump with one of the mission types I was away, assassinating targets, racking up various sub-missions and opening up all the districts of the game’s three main cities. Some of the main targets were difficult to kill, but there was always a way to manage it – when surrounded by enemies, there was always a way to get to relative safety, ways of disabling or thinning the herd so that you could pick them off one by one. Sometimes it took multiple attempts, but with stealth, evasion, and the odd well-placed throwing knife, even difficult missions could be conquered. I was having fun, I was unlocking achievements, I was near to the end. Stealth, evasion, strategy – these were my watchwords as an assassin.
And then all of that went right out of the fucking window. Having taken it upon yourself to stop the big bad guy and bring peace to the land, you rush to confront him. Along the way, you get a couple of tedious fights in boxed-in areas, but even then you have a bit of leeway to play clever. So not much fun, but largely bearable. However, when you confront said villain, before you can fight him directly you’re surrounded by nine or so of his men, three of whom are rock hard templar bastards who can take a mighty chunk out of you with one blow. Oh, and you’re confined to a tight area with no environmental features to help you.
Yes, after a couple of week’s mastering stealth kills and acrobatics, you get stuck in a fucking hell for leather arena battle. At which point, if you’ve not got the head-to-head combat mechanics mastered to twitch perfection, you’re fucked. I was fucked, because I hadn’t learned to take whole armies on head first, because that wasn’t the bloody game I’d been playing. The game had actively taught me to be clever, and then decided to kick me repeatedly in the ballsack for doing so. It’s a nasty bait and switch – take the mechanics you’ve been learning, strip them away and force you to do something completely different. I failed, and failed, and failed for about an hour.
Then I gave up. Nasty trick to play, Assassin’s Creed. After all that enjoyment, I’m not sure whether I’ll ever master the skills necessary to get through that fight, which is a bloody shame and a pain in the arse. By all accounts I’m not the only person pissed off with the descent into gruelling hack and slash in the game’s last hour (hour! I must have been so close to the end, yet so far), so hopefully this’ll be fixed in the sequel. I’m still looking forward to Assassin’s Creed 2, to getting back to the running, jumping, exploring action in the new setting of a sumptuous renaissance Italy, but the way my experience of the first game has suddenly ended has left me a little wary, and fairly pissed off.
Damn it, Ubisoft. Why’d you have to do that to me?