Smorgazbord

Feel Fit

GOOD FEEL IS RARE. Feel is in the eye (and all other senses) of the beholder; one person’s meat is another’s poison. So much is ‘red hat’. But ‘Feel’ can mean the difference between remarkable and unremarkable.

Take the iPhone and the Nexus One. In terms of first impressions – visual engagement – the iPhone exudes class before you even touch it. It’s visually stimulating and inviting. Its smooth, shiny façade is dark and mysterious and runs right up to the edges: a smooth, shiny silver frame. It has an attractive symmetry and no clutter: just a small slit at the top and an indented spot at the bottom.

The Nexus sports a banal grey surround, a tiny trackball and buttons that already look worn through use. It all looks rather… meh.

To the touch the Nexus feels cheap. Its matt plastic casing has an odd, almost greasy feel to it. The first time you use the Nexus you have to remove a panel at the back to insert the battery. This act not only feels wrong and unnecessarily invasive, it makes the unit feel more vulnerable.

The iPhone is a solid, sealed unit (arguably a ‘Convenient’ Fail when it comes to changing the battery). It feels streamlined and evolved – an object worth holding and stroking even when you aren’t using it (as people seem to unconsciously do). It’s a good size and a pleasing shape. It has a good weight and balance appropriate for its form. The iPhone is such an even, refined object. It’s almost natural, like a pebble polished over geological time – or curiously unnatural, like an alien artefact from a past vision of the future.

The Nexus feels fake. Its trackball seems extraneous and in use it feels too loose and cheap and slightly gritty, like the ball’s rolling over dirt. It feels like someone’s used, abused and broken it before you.

Sliding between ‘pages’ on iPhone feels good enough to do without reason. It’s all in the details that are so easy to overlook. When you slowly, slightly slide the icons they move smoothly; there’s a slight acceleration, deceleration and momentum. If you let go, the icons snap back with a reassuring speed and, most importantly, a bounce when they hit the edge of the screen. Not only does all that feel good, it makes the icons feel like they exist. (This also reinforces an emotional attachment to the iPhone.)

The Nexus icons move with a disconcerting judder. They start and stop immediately and the whole thing feels uncomfortably jerky. It feels like it doesn’t matter how delicately you stroke the Nexus, the icons move at the same speed.

On the iPhone, however, the speed of the icon motion depends on the speed of stroke. This analogue quality again reinforces a sense of substance. (And the fact that the iPhone acknowledges how you use it in this way is an ‘Alive’ overlap.)

On the Nexus, if I attempt to pull, say, a list of contacts down when I’m already at the top, nothing happens. On the iPhone, there’s a bounce – a tactility sadly missed on the Nexus. To a strict ‘white hat’ wearer this is unnecessary; there’s no point in being so… playful. To those of a sensual disposition, this is essential.

None of these ‘Feel’ Wins make the iPhone any easier to use – any more convenient – but they do make it feel better to use and give it character (an ‘Alive’ overlap). Most of the time convenience is most important, but it’s easy to forgive and forget inconvenience if the feel is strong.

In terms of aural stimulation there’s little to hear. The iPhone’s few basic default sounds are as rounded as the device looks; the Nexus noises are more sparkly, prickly. The sound of the Nexus camera firing is scary, aggressive – so much so that I almost dropped the Nexus the first time I used it to take a picture. The fanfare reinforcing the Nexus shutting down is clipped, which feels clumsy.

Making something feel awesome – so good it’s used regardless of context and purpose – can take time. The something in question needs to be repeatedly used and refined and it can be challenging to identify where the feel might be improved, let alone how to improve it. Making something feel at least ‘not shit’ is a good place to start.

The senses need to be engaged in a consistent manner otherwise not only is feel undermined, the overall illusion is too. To the eyes, ears and touch, a battle tank should feel substantial, like it means business, like it’s capable of fulfilling its known role. (There’s overlap with ‘Drama’ and ‘Convenient’ here; the tank is dramatically enhanced to accentuate its presence and needs to be obviously a tank.) A tank that looks too pretty and fragile, that sounds like a clockwork mouse, that doesn’t handle like it has substance – it isn’t plausible – it isn’t a tank.

The aim is to create the illusion of substance from light. The virtual isn’t real but it needs to feel like it is. The better the feel, the better the connection to the intangible; the more you care and the more likely ‘like’ or indifference turns to love.

Boost Your Quarrel Word Armoury

I threw together a spreadsheet that Quarrellers might find useful.

http://is.gd/6vl4E8

It’s all the two- and three-letters words you can make in Quarrel (124 two-letter words and 1,292 three-letter words, stat pervs). You owe it to yourself to know the best of these as they can help you earn prisoners, slay giants and even turn a whole match around. Why, the mere knowledge of their meaning (definitions not included here BTW) may even enrich your life and make you see the world in a whole new light.



The words are spread over two sheets in tall columns and sorted by score (I couldn’t think of a better way to arrange them). You can always re-sort the spreadsheet.

• SHIFT-click column headings A and B to select them both.
• Select Data > Sort Range from the options up top.
• Click the Data has header row box.
• Click + Add another sort option to add a second sort option.
• Change the sort by and then by order to what you want, remembering to ensure that A > Z or Z > A are consistent.

Moments of Being Quarrel

SO HERE I AM again, quarreling at Calamari Cove, this time with the Elite – Rex, Helena and Kali – and playing in last position (my preference).

It’s been a real roller coaster ding-dong battle. I’m browbeaten and down to my last territory and only two troops (who really ought to be hugging each other for comfort right now) plus one ‘in the chamber’ as it were.

On the face of it, the situation is bleak. But, as is my wont, I haven’t quit because I still believe I can win (because I have before in equally grim circumstances).

Helena’s just wiped out Rex and Kali and is now turning her attention to me, the final thorn in her side. She attacks with seven troops. This is it. Seven against two. Of course I’ll lose. (But I might not.)

I add my Backup Troop for good measure. Now it’s seven against three. Of course I’ll still lose. (But I still might not.)

Eight letters are dealt before me. My gaze tarantellas back and forth across them, picking out potential. I spy J and my heart skips a beat. I see U and G to make JUG and my heart’s racing. I don’t even see the rest of the letters. Helena could have made JUGULAR before or after me for all I know.

The drum rolls, the tension mounts and her troops shout…

“JUG!”

BUT I MADE IT FIRST! To win and take FOUR prisoners! I brought down a giant Helena! I’m on the rebound! BOOMshakalaka! I am invincible and emboldened and come back from the dead to storm the island and win the match in style.

Do you HEAR anyone singing? Do you even SEE a fat lady?

No.

Because even when the bastards have ground you down and are circling to pick at your corpse… NEVER. Give. Up.

That’s Quarrel. A metaphor for life, clearly :D

What’s Your Flavour?

IT HAPPENS A LOT with sweets and me, especially with Jelly Belly but just as easily with, say, fruit sherbets (or sometimes ice cream or, better still, gelato). My mind and taste buds are expecting one flavour, like lemon or lime, but, when engaged, are (typically pleasantly) surprised by pineapple or apple instead.

What’s not so pleasant is when you expect sweet only to be met by savoury. Which got me thinking about colour and flavour expectations and reminded me of when I was a kid and we’d speculate on the flavour of what we’d see while on a lengthy car journey.

The little red car ahead is strawberry flavour. Those Highland cattle in that field are caramels. That speed limit sign is liquorice ripple ice cream with strawberry sauce (or, these days, red pepper stuffed with feta and black olives).

Some obvious colours and likely flavours follow. (I’m struggling to identify some savoury variations here and there.)

R:\MOVE *.* V:\

The world is becoming increasingly intangible; more virtual, less real.

• Will the tangible increase in value as a result?
• Will we become less stimulated by the tactile?
• Will we become less attached to the tangible, less attracted to physical possessions?
• Will we become more frivolous and compelled to consume the more readily available; more consumed by the more conveniently made, stored and disposable virtual goods?

Play With Us

This is the Microtalk I gave at GDC this year. It’s a very shallow explanation of The End and The Way, which are touched on in previous posts but merit more extensive explanation and examples in future posts.

I decided to give the sort of talk that I like to receive: lots of pictures; too much information; intriguing but confusing.

It feels like it took a lot more effort to make a Microtalk than a full-blown one :)

First: the précis…

And now the Microtalk itself…

All the world’s a stage – and a playground.

And we are all players: gamers as performers.

More kidults have more time and money to play; more ways to appreciate play and express through play.

It’s an exceptional time for play.

We are the most playful society ever.

Because of us.

So many ways to play – and to play with players.

So many ways to make play – and to make play available.

But no matter who plays with whom and how, we always need to think like makers and players.

To do unto others as we would have them do to unto us.

I use two sets of broad strokes every day.

They aren’t a panacea.

But they are handy measurements and they challenge me.

Sometimes they overlap.

Often they conflict and need balancing.

They are obvious. So obvious they are easily overlooked.

They are loose. But there are many ways to skin cats.

The End is thinking like a player.

My five key targets are:

Feel

Drama

Alive

Convenient

and Twist

The Way is thinking like a maker.

My five main guiding lights are:

Immediate

Preparation

Toys

Magic

and Moments

To follow The Way we start at The End…

The End manifests in different ways in different forms.

For basic examples here I’m using Orbital – an awesome reimagining of the interesting Gimme Friction Baby.

On the surface it’s a one-button Bust-A-Move.

In substance Orbital’s so much more because it upholds The End.

Make me feel something.

I want sensory stimulus.

This is such a tactile medium – I want everything I play with to feel tangible, reactive, plausible.

I want emotional stimulus.

I want to feel moved, involved, empowered – like I’m making the difference – like it’s always my fault.

Orbital’s cannon rocks at a better, faster rate.

Shots feel more forceful.

Orb travel and bounce feel more substantial.

You feel just out of control, taming a wild stallion.

You feel just enough in control that success and failure always feel like your doing.

The balance feels right.

Make a show – a performance. Arrangements of moments players want to share.

I want dramatic intent, actions and reactions; anticipation; friction; close shaves; exaggeration; spectacle…

I want punctuation through considered rhythm, pace and timing.

I want to make stories not follow them.

Orbital games vary because you make the playscape.

It’s a heady mix of accuracy and uncertainty. You seldom feel totally safe.

There’s tension with every shot that could be your last – then emotional release when orb and dust settle.

It’s a moment-rich rollercoaster heightened by pyrotechnic displays.

Make it personal.

Don’t leave me alone.

I want a living, breathing joy with a character of its own.

A game that’s attentive and informative; caring enough to anticipate my needs and respond fittingly to my performance, achievements and status.

A game with heart and soul.

Orbital recognises key moments of your making – like serial success and near-death experiences.

It records your best scores within the past 24 hours and forever, comparing your performance against your Orbital-playing friends and the rest of the Orbital-playing world.

It shares your achievements in public through Facebook.

Make it all accessible.

I want to ‘get it’ or be inspired to NOW.

I want to play NOW.

I want rapid results.

I want enough direction that I don’t have to make my own games.

I want chores removed, automated or dramatised.

But never too convenient – that’s too easy and boring.

Real-world themes and rules are most convenient.

Orbital is abstract but at least vibrant and simple.

Toys, rules and controls are minimal.

Starting play and replay are instant.

Shot trails and a grid make it easier to measure virtual space.

There’s no time pressure. You can stop, leave and return any time.

Make a difference.

I want surprise and delight.

A meaningful twist in the concept; the components; the treatment; the look, sound, feel…

That doesn’t mean making everything wholly original. There’s no shame in building on what’s established.

It just means making sure the results are distinctive.

Orbital adds a big twist to a novel turn-based action game: a new rule to enrich feel and drama.

In Gravity Mode, orbs exert a pull on shots.

The result is more risk-taking, near-misses and second chances. More dramatic moments. A more exhilarating ride.

That was The End.

Now let’s take The Way…

Don’t think, talk or write about it.

Do it.

Play-act. Sketch. Prototype.

Make a board game. Make something to use and edit.

Development is quicksand.

Don’t aim for perfect first time.

Use frequent, measured iteration.

Kill complexity and bottlenecks.

Beware detail!

Balance all this with Preparation.

Chance favours the prepared mind.

Expect trouble.

Rehearse. Explore.

Get perspective.

Make informed choices.

DO to build repertoire, like musicians and actors.

Repertoire is applied muscle – the practised and reusable.

Maximise editing power and the time to use it.

It’s all in the edit.

Toys are the tools of play – objects honed for fun.

Not play is sleep or work.

By thinking in terms of toys, by seeing all around as toys, you think playful – you think fun.

Forget polygons and pixels.

Focus on toys and toy components to make play.

This reminds me to make illusions not simulations.

To never limit myself to recreating reality.

To fake it to make the virtual seem real.

To keep it consistent to make it plausible.

To keep the workings invisible.

To never forget the whole experience – the overall effect.

And finally…

Define memorable moments.

Use them as design targets and building blocks.

Consider how to best to achieve, chain, pace and acknowledge moments such as:

Repetition.

Concurrence.

Coincidence.

Extremes.

Perfection.

Firsts.

Winning.

Just losing.

The start…

And the end.

Closet Skeleton Fan

YOU CATCH the Women’s Skeleton last night? I’m not a sports fan but this was gripping stuff. I only caught it by accident, channel-hopping. (Ah, the joy of serendipity.)

The likes of athletes competing by running in straight lines or around in cinder circles leaves me cold. The winter sports, on the other hand, tend to be far more engaging - primarily because the competitors and events are dramatically enhanced by accessories to cope with extreme playscapes.

The Skeleton is the pinnacle of winter sports cool. It takes the more ‘conventional’ sledding events and cranks up the drama by reducing streamlined vehicles to minimal chassis.

Hurtling down a narrow tunnel of solid ice, faster than speeding cars on a motorway; your chin centimetres from flesh-grating, bone-crunching death; only able to adjust course or brake by using your legs hanging off the back of a glorified tea tray…

I was so there. I could feel the exhilarating speed - the cold glow of the ice on my face - my stomach and sphincter tightening with every close shave.

The commentator - like most of his peers - talked way too much, desperate to fill the space. But some of his observations did work well to punctuate and accentuate the drama (not to mention make the broadcast feel more alive).

Minor ceremonies reinforce key moments. Timings are constantly (and conveniently) compared with the current leader: how quickly competitors start, hit checkpoints and finish the race.

The use of a more recent TV twist - the ‘ghost’ - to directly compare current competitor and leader was at first confusing but soon became obvious and drama-enhancing.

Replays reinforce highlights - and highlight just how dangerous this sport is.

For all its simplicity it’s a potent package.

It’s the duty of the TV coverage to maximise the feel and drama of the sports, to bring the sports alive, to make appreciating the sports more convenient - and preferably to provide a twist.

There have been marked improvements in the past decade, no doubt in part inspired by electronic games. There’s still plenty of scope to go further but I suspect there’s also a fear of going too far and overshadowing and undermining the sport.