Jumping puzzles.
Since the days of the original Super Mario Brothers (if not before) this devilishly horrible mechanic has plagued video gamedom. I've tried for a long time to come up with a game dynamic that I loathe more, but to no avail. The jumping puzzle is the lowest of the low.
There are quite a few reasons I dislike jumping puzzles, though none of those reasons include warmongering or the fact that if said slowly, the word jump creeps me out just a bit. That and "moist". Yeeee! Anyway...
For starters, I'm all about flow when I game. Not necessarily flow as it has been presented by Csíkszentmihályi (though that is important too). Rather flow as in coherence. A sense that everything in a game works together to help build out the all important willing suspension of disbelief. Perhaps this overstates the case - but think of an actor's motivation for playing a part. What is your motivation for doing what you are doing? When you play Half Life, its fairly obvious why you are shooting mobs of angry aliens bent on killing you. And its even somewhat obvious why you might need to, at some point, jump over holes, or fire, or some other obstacle that involves jumping over. But, if I were Gordon Freedman, and I had to jump between really thin beams placed far away from each other, I'd consider strapping the gun onto my back and using my hands (you know, like a sane person) instead of trying to stick a landing that an Olympic gymnast would scoff at.
In all fairness to Half Life, there are (and were) clearly technological limitations to trying to build in a "put your gun away and desperately grab onto anything you can" mechanic. Half Life is a shooter, and jumping puzzles are a change of pace to try and provide varied experiences. It is clearly not a focus of the game, so I don't blame Valve for not investing in a "grab the stupid ledge" button. But by the same token, that destroys the flow of the game. The second you as the player ask yourself "why" and come back with an economic justification for programming resources, or a technical explanation for the impossibility of an in game action, you've ruined the flow. If you can't make the jumping puzzle work in the broader context of the game and its characters, just take it out.
Another problem I have with jumping puzzles is that they inevitably showcase (and magnify) any technical flaws in what might otherwise have been a solid game. Have you ever tried to land a difficult jump in a game where the controls arent tight and your "jump right" ends up being a backwards swan dive into a pit filled with panthers? Or where the camera takes a bad angle and you end up in mid-air unable to see yourself? Or where you realize, as you plummet to your death, 45 minutes from your last save, that the outcropping that you thought was a handhold is actually just a shadow in a really convincing shape and location. The Tomb Raider franchise is one of the few that really makes jumping puzzles work as far as the game world and the story are concerned. But the Tomb Raider games are also some of the most notorious for the aforementioned problems. Thats not a knock on Tomb Raider games - I'm actually quite fond of them. But jumping puzzles (and the environments and controls needed to facilitate them) are much more difficult to design than more traditional levels because there is a lot more that could go wrong. And if there is even the most minute problem with a game, jumping puzzles will almost certainly make it worse.
Lastly, and lets just be honest with each-other here, jumping puzzles are not fun. I won't speak for everyone on this, but at least for me, jumping puzzles are not compelling obstacles in and of themselves. When you engage a squad of enemy aliens, there is clear conflict, and a clear winner and loser. Every time they defeat you, it only adds to the intensity of the rivalry, and increases the thrill of eventually defeating them. A giant rock formation with loose vines is no enemy. I have no animosity towards it. No sense of competition or rivalry. Nor even the physical thrill associated with climbing a real mountain. If you ascend the peak, it is just over. And if I fail to ascend it, if you die and loose 20 minutes of progress, there is no tangible target upon which to release your frustration. One does not defeat the rock, because the rock was not there to be defeated. Its all very unsatisfying, and whats more, not particularly compelling.
With this long introduction as a backdrop, let us move to Prince of Persia (the 2008 edition). A game where you spend nearly all of your time jumping around hanging off... just about everything you can find. There are beautiful visuals (non photo realistic for once) and a simplistically enjoyable combat system, but by and large the game is about jumping puzzles. Its a good game, but lets not mix words here - there are control flaws, environmental flaws, and an entire game worth of largely contrived jumping puzzles (you do more jumping than walking, by a long shot).
Sounds like a recipe for Stubstyle disaster right? Well thats the funny thing. The jumping puzzles in Prince of Persia really aren't a disaster at all.
Because in Prince of Persia, you can't ever die.
Your character's partner in crime, Elika, serves as part sidekick and part guardian angel. No matter what you do, Elika's helping hand is literally always there to pull you out of the abyss and place you gently back on your last stable footing.
Without the fear of death, the stress associated with the typical jumping puzzles is made mute, and you as the player are free to explore and experiment with the game world to its fullest, completely and totally risk free. No frustrating ruined progress. No need to rage on the controls, the environment, or yourself. No need to fabricate conflict with inanimate virtual objects. Just painless gameplay. A limitless supply of do-overs. A jumping game free from the horrors of jumping puzzles. It sounds like a dream come true. And for a while, it is just that.
The problem is, despite the fact that immortality declaws the vicious jumping puzzle, it ruins the game.
There is something about death in games that, at least to me, is quite necessary. Something I don't think I ever fully appreciated until it was removed from the equation. Because in your average game, death is the only metric of consequence. Death is the only means by which to force your improvement. Death is a catalyst for learning.
Death is what forces you to take one final look at that "handhold" before you jump. Death is what teaches you to practice in safe environments before you step into the boss fight. Death is what teaches you to block, at least every once and a while. Death is what teaches you to save more than once every 3 hours. Because death is failure. Failure has consequences. And consequences make you better.
To render one's in game actions totally inconsequential (or perhaps, "even more" inconsequential, depending on your perspective) defeats the whole purpose of playing. It makes the game boring. It ruins the challenge, and waters down any sense of accomplishment. Is your enemy really your enemy if they can't hurt you? If you can't be beaten, what sense of gratification is there in victory? And though different in form, are your opponents really any different than the rock formation with its loose vines and total indifference to your existence?
Prince of Persia deserves a lot of credit for rewriting the script on gaming's public enemy #1. And it deserves a lot of credit for taking a risk with the most fundamental game mechanic of all. The thrill of victory cannot come without the agony of defeat. There is no such thing as fun, as accomplishment with frustration. Even if it means plummeting to our deaths now and again. Or perhaps because of it.
I could have sworn it was a handhold...
Images from kotaku.com, teamxbox.com, and ign.com
Since the days of the original Super Mario Brothers (if not before) this devilishly horrible mechanic has plagued video gamedom. I've tried for a long time to come up with a game dynamic that I loathe more, but to no avail. The jumping puzzle is the lowest of the low.There are quite a few reasons I dislike jumping puzzles, though none of those reasons include warmongering or the fact that if said slowly, the word jump creeps me out just a bit. That and "moist". Yeeee! Anyway...
For starters, I'm all about flow when I game. Not necessarily flow as it has been presented by Csíkszentmihályi (though that is important too). Rather flow as in coherence. A sense that everything in a game works together to help build out the all important willing suspension of disbelief. Perhaps this overstates the case - but think of an actor's motivation for playing a part. What is your motivation for doing what you are doing? When you play Half Life, its fairly obvious why you are shooting mobs of angry aliens bent on killing you. And its even somewhat obvious why you might need to, at some point, jump over holes, or fire, or some other obstacle that involves jumping over. But, if I were Gordon Freedman, and I had to jump between really thin beams placed far away from each other, I'd consider strapping the gun onto my back and using my hands (you know, like a sane person) instead of trying to stick a landing that an Olympic gymnast would scoff at.
In all fairness to Half Life, there are (and were) clearly technological limitations to trying to build in a "put your gun away and desperately grab onto anything you can" mechanic. Half Life is a shooter, and jumping puzzles are a change of pace to try and provide varied experiences. It is clearly not a focus of the game, so I don't blame Valve for not investing in a "grab the stupid ledge" button. But by the same token, that destroys the flow of the game. The second you as the player ask yourself "why" and come back with an economic justification for programming resources, or a technical explanation for the impossibility of an in game action, you've ruined the flow. If you can't make the jumping puzzle work in the broader context of the game and its characters, just take it out.
Another problem I have with jumping puzzles is that they inevitably showcase (and magnify) any technical flaws in what might otherwise have been a solid game. Have you ever tried to land a difficult jump in a game where the controls arent tight and your "jump right" ends up being a backwards swan dive into a pit filled with panthers? Or where the camera takes a bad angle and you end up in mid-air unable to see yourself? Or where you realize, as you plummet to your death, 45 minutes from your last save, that the outcropping that you thought was a handhold is actually just a shadow in a really convincing shape and location. The Tomb Raider franchise is one of the few that really makes jumping puzzles work as far as the game world and the story are concerned. But the Tomb Raider games are also some of the most notorious for the aforementioned problems. Thats not a knock on Tomb Raider games - I'm actually quite fond of them. But jumping puzzles (and the environments and controls needed to facilitate them) are much more difficult to design than more traditional levels because there is a lot more that could go wrong. And if there is even the most minute problem with a game, jumping puzzles will almost certainly make it worse. Lastly, and lets just be honest with each-other here, jumping puzzles are not fun. I won't speak for everyone on this, but at least for me, jumping puzzles are not compelling obstacles in and of themselves. When you engage a squad of enemy aliens, there is clear conflict, and a clear winner and loser. Every time they defeat you, it only adds to the intensity of the rivalry, and increases the thrill of eventually defeating them. A giant rock formation with loose vines is no enemy. I have no animosity towards it. No sense of competition or rivalry. Nor even the physical thrill associated with climbing a real mountain. If you ascend the peak, it is just over. And if I fail to ascend it, if you die and loose 20 minutes of progress, there is no tangible target upon which to release your frustration. One does not defeat the rock, because the rock was not there to be defeated. Its all very unsatisfying, and whats more, not particularly compelling.
With this long introduction as a backdrop, let us move to Prince of Persia (the 2008 edition). A game where you spend nearly all of your time jumping around hanging off... just about everything you can find. There are beautiful visuals (non photo realistic for once) and a simplistically enjoyable combat system, but by and large the game is about jumping puzzles. Its a good game, but lets not mix words here - there are control flaws, environmental flaws, and an entire game worth of largely contrived jumping puzzles (you do more jumping than walking, by a long shot).
Sounds like a recipe for Stubstyle disaster right? Well thats the funny thing. The jumping puzzles in Prince of Persia really aren't a disaster at all.Because in Prince of Persia, you can't ever die.
Your character's partner in crime, Elika, serves as part sidekick and part guardian angel. No matter what you do, Elika's helping hand is literally always there to pull you out of the abyss and place you gently back on your last stable footing.
Without the fear of death, the stress associated with the typical jumping puzzles is made mute, and you as the player are free to explore and experiment with the game world to its fullest, completely and totally risk free. No frustrating ruined progress. No need to rage on the controls, the environment, or yourself. No need to fabricate conflict with inanimate virtual objects. Just painless gameplay. A limitless supply of do-overs. A jumping game free from the horrors of jumping puzzles. It sounds like a dream come true. And for a while, it is just that.
The problem is, despite the fact that immortality declaws the vicious jumping puzzle, it ruins the game.
There is something about death in games that, at least to me, is quite necessary. Something I don't think I ever fully appreciated until it was removed from the equation. Because in your average game, death is the only metric of consequence. Death is the only means by which to force your improvement. Death is a catalyst for learning.
Death is what forces you to take one final look at that "handhold" before you jump. Death is what teaches you to practice in safe environments before you step into the boss fight. Death is what teaches you to block, at least every once and a while. Death is what teaches you to save more than once every 3 hours. Because death is failure. Failure has consequences. And consequences make you better.
To render one's in game actions totally inconsequential (or perhaps, "even more" inconsequential, depending on your perspective) defeats the whole purpose of playing. It makes the game boring. It ruins the challenge, and waters down any sense of accomplishment. Is your enemy really your enemy if they can't hurt you? If you can't be beaten, what sense of gratification is there in victory? And though different in form, are your opponents really any different than the rock formation with its loose vines and total indifference to your existence?
Prince of Persia deserves a lot of credit for rewriting the script on gaming's public enemy #1. And it deserves a lot of credit for taking a risk with the most fundamental game mechanic of all. The thrill of victory cannot come without the agony of defeat. There is no such thing as fun, as accomplishment with frustration. Even if it means plummeting to our deaths now and again. Or perhaps because of it.
I could have sworn it was a handhold...
Images from kotaku.com, teamxbox.com, and ign.com
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