High expectations are hard to meet.
More precisely: High expectations are extremely hard to live up to, and can often lead to great disappointment.
I was just sitting on my couch listening to Heather Nova and working on a few story documents for the follow-up to
The Longest Journey. (I say 'a few' because there's never just one. At last count there were at least a dozen different documents covering aspects of the story like plot, characters, locations, and so forth. I like to be able to jump around quite a bit when I write.) I was momentarily distracted and, for some strange and convoluted reason (which began with, of all things, Neil Gaiman's journal - it's ages since I last read it), I ended up scanning Amazon.com's
customer reviews from
the first game.
Most were very generous, and most pointed, not unexpectedly, to the story as the most memorable part of the game.
(Let me ramble for a bit, because I do that rather well.)
I believe that this is unique to the adventure genre. Games are 'supposed' to be about gameplay first, not story. Even RPGs emphasise the play element over the story element. But adventure gamers - traditional adventure gamers, that is - often consider game mechanics secondary to plot. And that's perfectly okay, because games should be as diverse as any other medium. There aren't, shouldn't be, any rules, and there must be room for variety. Where
Halo is all about the mechanics of shooting and running and dying, TLJ (for example) focused almost exclusively on the interactions between characters and the world they inhabited - and not on the relatively simple, perhaps even banal, ultra-traditional (if adventure was a religion, TLJ would be fundamentalism) point-and-click gameplay.
Question is, do the majority of gamers, even adventure gamers, actually play games for the stories or for the gameplay? Is our medium becoming more and more narrow-minded, leaving little to no room for diversity? Would a game that emphasises story over - or at the expense of - interaction be commercially viable two years from now?
Several people have told me that TLJ bored them to death. They thought it was too slow, too convoluted, too dense, littered with endless and self-indulgent monologues, and that there was little to no interaction with the world. That it was, in fact, less a game than a slideshow with voice-overs.
I appreciate comments like that. I take it to heart, because it makes me more aware of my responsibilities both as a writer and a designer; not to please everyone, because that's impossible, but to work hard to not just please
myself, to make the story, the world, and the characters accessible, likeable, and immediately appealing, and to always remember that I'm making a game, not a movie.
We (as in 'creative types') are often quick to cry "short attention span" when players - and readers - put our works aside and label them "boring", but the fact is that most people are so inundated with stories every day, every hour, that we have to work harder to make our stories stand out and catch their attention. I'm quick to judge and to toss aside myself, because I know there's always something else, something more exciting, to read, play, watch, listen to.
What does this have to do with those pesky high expectations, then? Right. Ramble off. I know that the existing TLJ fans - the people we're first and foremost making the follow-up for - played the original game not necessarily for the puzzles, the game mechanics, but for the story. To be absolutely honest, the puzzles weren't particularly original or interesting; they followed the conventions of the genre, but broke no new ground. The mechanics were tried and true, and not particularly revolutionary. The 'game' part of the game was, in my opinion, a bit lacking. Of course, the graphics were just wonderful, the acting solid, and the story was (for a game, at least) quite good.
It was a game that succeeded on merits other than merely being a game.
With the follow-up, we're purposely putting a lot more focus on the gameplay, the game mechanics. Not at the expense of the story, mind you, but in
addition to, and
as important as.
Naturally, this will have implications on how the game plays and is played. If you have been reading my journal for a while, you know that we have made a number of decisions that have caused some (a little) amount of grumbling. Doing away with the point-and-click interface, for example; going all 3D and modern; introducing a new lead character; adding action elements. We have made those changes for both gameplay reasons and for story reasons. This time, there's a more palpable danger, the worlds are more hostile, the stakes are higher, and the characters - who are certainly more hands-on this time around - need to be able to respond appropriately. And while I'm certain that these changes are ultimately necessary and unavoidable, they are also dangerous, because they are certain to affect those pesky high expectations.
When it comes to the story, I'm not a big fan of doing "sequels". That is, I love telling continuing stories that take place inside defined universes, expanding upon the world and evolving the characters. I'd be quite happy telling more stories in Stark and Arcadia (after a short break doing something
completely different, one hopes). What I don't like is telling stories that simply take what people liked about the original and making them "bigger, cooler, flashier". In other words, the next TLJ will not be a sequel in the traditional sense of the word. It's another chapter of the story, but it goes in a very different direction and it's unlikely that anyone will know exactly what to expect.
Expectations, therefore, cannot possibly be met.
This is, of course, both good and bad. It's good because that's the only thing I know how to do. I dislike repeating myself, and I'm sure you would all hate hearing the same story all over again.
At the same time, there's something very comfortable about knowing what to expect, and getting it. Each and every
Harry Potter novel, for example, returns you to Hogswart, to the professors and students and situations you've become accustomed to. That's part of the reason why they're so bloody popular. There are surprises, but there's also a comfortable sameness to it - and I absolutely don't mean that in a negative way - that makes reading every new book like slipping into a favourite sweater.
The story we're working on now, the story for the second
Journey, won't be that favourite sweater. It will be a new sweater, and in time it might turn out to fit and feel better than the old one, but it won't be the same. And it has to be that way, because April Ryan could not go out there and save the Balance all over again. In fact, April could not even be the protagonist all over again. The road she's taken, the things she's seen, makes it harder to empathise with her - and the more complex a character is, the harder it is to get to know, and get inside, that character. April is an integral part of the story, yes, but we could not let the player be April throughout the game. Not this time.
Expectations, therefore, are very hard to meet, because no one will know quite what to expect.
(Can you sense where this is going?)
The decisions we make are sure to disappoint some, and, reading the aforementioned Amazon customer reviews, I'm left feeling slightly ambivalent about having to live up to such vivid and wonderful memories.
There was something fresh and unique about the first game, something that players caught on to, something that's difficult to define - something that was the result of a fresh team making their first adventure, a bunch of early-twenty-somethings wanting, needing, to prove themselves, to create a brand new universe, tell an original story, change the bloody world.
Almost eight years later, I have changed - we've all changed - and the next game will certainly reflect that.
I believe that the story we're now telling is the right story, the only story we can tell; that the characters we use are the right characters, characters that players can empathise with and fall in love with; and that the changes we make to the worlds are necessary and natural. But I'm also aware that, for those who remember the first game fondly, it won't be like slipping back into that comfortable sweater, that favourite sweater. It will look familiar, sound familiar, smell and feel like something you know, but it won't be the same. Your expectations, no matter how high or high low, will not be met.
You can, as they often say, never go back. 'Sequels' are like that. You're never quite sure if you want them to happen or not. Your memories are precious, and you wouldn't want anything to come between you and them. (I'm hearing the Imperial March as I write this.)
So - ambivalence, then, but also relief that we do get to continue, and hopefully conclude, the story. Because, while some stories aren't crying out for any kind of sequel, others are written with holes in them. There were big holes in TLJ, purposely so, leaving the door wide open for a 'sequel-slash-prequel' (the prequel bits will be baked into parts two and three). I don't feel like we're milking a dead cow, because the cow is alive and kicking and doing very well, thank you.
I'm tempted to say; clear your minds and approach the next chapter as you would a new adventure...but then that would somehow defeat the point of the whole 'saga' bit, because you're
supposed to know what's happened. Going into the story with the knowledge of what has been, you are guaranteed a more emotional experience...
...just probably not the one you expected.
There is no right answer. Or, more correctly, no simple answer. But we intend to address all of these issues, and hopefully we will create a game that stays true to the spirit of the first game, appeals to the same audience, tells a deep and emotionally involving story, and improves on the gameplay and the play mechanics - resulting in a more layered, more involving, game experience. And then maybe, just maybe, we will
exceed your expectations.
That would be nice.
