Fates Worse Than Death

For my birthday I got a computer game called Darkest Dungeon. I've been watching this game for a while because it suggested a different approach to adventuring.

See, in most games or stories a hero or adventurer will get stronger or "level up" as they go along so the game becomes easier. It's a power fantasy. In this game, the heroes are traveling through dark dungeons (you could probably have guessed that from the title) and constantly coming face to face with their own mortality and weaknesses. While they do learn and "level up", they also have to cope with the difficulties and horrors of their situation.

These heroes become paranoid, claustrophobic, grumpy, short tempered with each other, and sometimes lose hope all together.

The idea intrigued me, but I don't think that Darkest Dungeon delivers on what I was expecting. Here's why. Though the characters get angry with each other, it doesn't really effect how they interact. Everything is done through a stress score. If one character is grumpy and muttering abusive comments to everyone around them, everyone becomes more stressed. If they get stressed enough, they get their own malady. But they don't really change interaction outside of a few lines of dialogue...and dialogue is one way that this game fails to deliver.

The characters "talk" to each other by little word bubble popping up all the time. Their snippets are great, and I think they do a lot to add to the game. But when I say dialogue, it's a misnomer. These are adventurers with starry eyed goals that get crushed every step of the way. But they aren't talking with each other. They just spout their lines about how they feel. But they never connect with each other beyond their abilities in combat. In tough situations, groups form strong bonds. They grow together, or they fight amongst themselves. Often both. If the characters had some sort of relationships, or if they talked to each other (rather than at each other), it would give the impression that these characters were more real. Here are three examples:

Example 1
Character 1 - I can't go through another door.
Character 2 is more stressed.

Example 2
Character 1 - I can't go through another door.
Character 2 - Just one more door. We'll rest in the next room.
Character 1 is less stressed.

Example 3
Character 1 - I can't go through another door.
Character 2 - Why did you come with us at all? Your constant whining is insufferable.
Character 1 and 2 are more stressed.

So in the first example character 2's reaction is a simple increase in stress. It's easy to calculate, and it does have a result, but as a spectator or player I'm not drawn in because the reaction is just a bunch of numbers. In the second example the character interaction shows some empathy and immediately the two characters are more human because they interacted. Example three shows a different interaction that also builds character depth, but has the negative effect the game is going for. The outcome of each example is the same. A change in character stress. The numbers can track what that mean in terms of the game. But examples 2 and 3 draw me in because the characters seem more human simply by talking to each other.

Now, dialogue and interaction would help strengthen the game. But there is one more way that this game fails to meet my expectations. The characters die all the time. You've got heroes that you're dragging through the dungeon, but you don't care too much about them because they can easily die. I found myself getting attached to a character's abilities, but the character was empty. And what compounds this weakness is that you can recruit a brand new character who looks the same, has the exact same abilities, and you can even change their name to be the same.

I didn't want the characters to die, but I didn't really care when they did. It wasn't really permanent because they could be replaced, and I didn't get attached because death was easy. No. It wasn't just easy, it was the most likely outcome.

You see, since death was so common, it meant less and less each time it happened. It didn't mean nothing, but it wasn't the worst thing that could happen.

What I wanted from this game was real characters who were going on this grand adventure. They would be off in search of glory, fame, love, redemption, whatever. But they'd grow and change because of the trials they faced. Not only getting better super moves, but having to cope with the suffering of life as well. If these characters persisted, then we could feel these changes with them. I'd grow more connected to each of them as the game went on. I'd really be able to see the humanity and feel the losses as they forced themselves to give up some sanity in order to achieve their goals.

You see, when telling a story, death is the end. Sure we can feel bad for characters who die, but the worst things that happen are the things that we have to live with. The choices we look back on and wish we could change. I remember playing Superbrothers: Sword and Sworcery and realizing half way through that the main character was dying. She was saving the world, but every time I beat a boss she would actually lose some of her life and the game was more difficult because of that. And I loved it. I became emotionally attached to the story because I felt like I was losing something, I was losing a friend.

Another game that captures this same sense of loss is Shadow of the Colossus. You guide the main character around, finding and fighting these bosses. You get stronger as you go, but you also become aware that the character is losing himself and at the end of the game he has to sacrifice himself in order to achieve his goal (saving the life of someone he loves).

Darkest Dungeon never quite captured the same sense of connection. Not all games need to tell that story. There are plenty of reasons that it's a good game. But it didn't quite capture what I had hoped it would. We all know that death is a terrible thing. But it is an end. Real suffering comes by living with our weaknesses and still having to reach our goals. We don't know enough about what happens after death. We can't relate to it.

So the Darkest Dungeon is a good game. A really good game for what it is. But by giving us connected characters, who had to live with their weaknesses and mistakes, it could draw me in and make me care. It could be an unforgettable game.

EDIT: 2/15/2015 - Just as a note, I should say that I'm playing this game in an early access state which means that some things will change and I've been pretty impressed with the responsiveness of the developers in making those changes. I will either edit this or write another post if there are significant changes that address my own personal preferences.

Clear Communication

I was at a job interview this past week and the interviewers asked me, "What is good communication?"

I had to think about that for a minute. I don't think that I answered very well. But since I am me, I kept thinking about it and now I have an answer that I'm somewhat comfortable with.

In theory, good communication is when a clear message is sent from one person or group to another person or group and all of the obstacles are successfully navigated.

In practice, good communication requires a number of steps:

1. A message - So real communication starts when one side has a message.
2. Preparing the message - Even if it only takes half a second, we need to get the message from jumble of ideas to the medium. It's got to be a clear message.
3. Making contact - We need to make sure that whoever we're sending the message to is ready to receive our message.
4. Deliver the message - actually saying what we want the other party to hear.
5. Verify receipt - we need to make sure that the other party actually got the message.
6. Check for understanding
7. Follow up if needed

That's my own model that I've been tossing around inside my head. I'm sure there are better models. But I'm satisfied for now.

The interesting thing is how many things can go wrong at any stage in the communication process. I might not know exactly what I want to say. I might not be able to put it into words. I might not have time to get the other person's attention. They might not be able to hear. They might think they understand, but don't. I might not have time for more than a short, "Help me!"

Then there are emotions.

Good communication is useful. But exploring all the ways it can go wrong is much more interesting for our characters and stories because miscommunication happens all the time. Some times it is the speaker or writer's fault. Sometimes it's the reader or listener. Sometimes it's neither. Sometimes it's both. Sometimes it's on purpose.

That's what makes writing about people who are trying to communicate so interesting.

Sharpening the Myth of Recreational Work

So, this past week I had a friend call my writing "sharpening the saw". This is a reference to Stephen Covey's book The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. In his book Covey says that the seventh habit of effective people is sharpen the saw, or in other words, take care of yourself. Relax, exercise, take some me time. For the record, I think that's a good idea. But it got me thinking. Is that what my writing is? Is it just an activity to do so that I can go about the rest of my life more effectively?

No.

To be fair, my friend's comment came during a conversation in which I said in essence, "If I don't write, I am not effective in other areas of my life." So it does fill the same space as sharpening the saw in at least one way.

But here's where it's different for me.

When I was in school I would sometimes procrastinate an assignment. Ok, I procrastinated most of my assignments. When I would finally finish my assignments I would get the same feeling as when I write. A sense of accomplishment. The feeling of relief that I have completed a task that I've needed to get done. I get the same sense of accomplishment after any good day's work.

Sharpening the saw is generally an activity that clears the mind. A diversion. An enjoyment. My friend's example was video games. A perfect entertainment. It helps him de-stress after work.

And his comment got me thinking about a common misconception of many artistic professions. That it's fun. Easy. A game.

I use to think the same thing. I scheduled myself with a heavy workload and then I gave myself time to write so I could wind down.

When I was studying theater it was the same thing. And it's easy to understand. When you go to watch a play, you are enjoying yourself. When you sit down to read a book, you are escaping. When you sit down and boot up a video game it's fun. It's easy to forget that your enjoyment is the end result of hundreds of hours of hard work.

On top of that, it's easy to assume that writers are taking it easy because they choose to write in their free time. Writing can be cathartic. It can be entertaining. It can be relaxing. But most of the time it's hard work. I don't choose to write in my free time because I need to blow off some steam. I choose to write in my free time because no-one is paying me to do it. I write because I have stories that come to life in my mind, begging me to be set free. I have characters and scenes that fill my thoughts whether I look for them or not. I write because when I don't write, I feel like I am betraying the one good gift I have to offer the world. I write because I have to. But I don't write to sharpen the saw.

So, if you want to be a writer, don't be surprised if no one recognizes the hard work you're doing. It's not their fault. It's a different lifestyle.

And, always remember to take time to sharpen your saw.