Or maybe a melodrama game
Simon Carless asks, “Can The Industry Make A 'B Game'?”. After proceeding through a list of different B game candidates there arises an uncertain answer: “probably not.” This doesn't particularly surprise me as the topic goes back to the idea of film envy. On the surface, the very term “B game” is simply “B movie” only with the word “movie” replaced with “game.” By that alone it's clear how insubstantial the concept is. Shall we ask ask if the industry can make a biopic game as well? How about a docudrama game? Taking film genres and trying to force games into them is simply unnecessary.
Videogame as a medium is a different animal than older ones such as film. Rather than viewers there are players, and this changes the effect of anything presented by the game. Techniques such as irony don't have the same effect as they would traditionally. Carless mentions how the recent Eat Lead: The Return of Matt Hazard tries to be funny by parodying itself, but in the end it's simply not funny, much less fun. Making a player do something stupid and then telling him that it's stupid doesn't make it less stupid. In the end the player still needs to do this unfun activity. Satire doesn't always function the way it's intended because we think of it primarily as a literature or film convention. He draws the comparison:
Intentionally bad, even done with no subtlety whatsoever, is usually good for a chuckle in the right context. Scary Movie 4 may be a much worse film than Eat Lead is a game, but it at least functions as intended. And at least you can surf on by it when it gets boring, on cable.
I don't mean that satire is incompatible with gameplay, it functions differently. No More Heroes for example integrates its satire into the gameplay but the effect is different than what is probably expected. Instead of the player laughing at the game's inane antics there's a nonexistent audience laughing at the player for participating. After twenty hours of engaging yourself in all of its absurdities, the joke's on you.
In each episode of Sam & Max Bosco requires the protagonists to pay an increasingly ridiculous price for worthless objects. By episode six they've had enough, and Bosco comments: “Look man, all I know is I keep making up the most ridiculous price I can think of, and you keep paying it!”
The presence of a player completely changes the equation. Literary devices no longer apply only to in-game characters, but to players as well. So far I've mentioned two games that show how it can be misused, but the right hands this can be very effective. Take World of Goo as a a non-satire example. The player is never introduced as a character, but it's very clear that he or she is one. Throughout the game the player takes on a seemingly innocent task, realizes its possible immorality, is betrayed, gets revenge, and makes up for his or her past transgressions.
All of this is so much more powerful because of your personal participation. You aren't watching someone else take on this job, be betrayed, and get revenge. You are the one doing it and your thoughts and emotions are your own, even if they're barely above the subconscious. Your character is never introduced, shown, or even speaks (except for a very little bit near the end). World of Goo lets you fill in all the blanks with your imagination. I like it when games let you make up your own character and story like that, and it's surprising to me how many games go out of their way to not allow you to. Maybe the the balance between authored content and a blank slate is difficult to weigh.
All of this is what makes interactive media so powerful, and why it is so easily misused. Designers who don't realize or understand the player's role can ruin a game by not realizing how its meaning will actually be interpreted. Whether intended or not, the player is going to feel a connection with his or her actions on the screen.
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4 comments
According to Wikipedia "so bad it's good" falls under a small subset of B movies called Z movies. The modern definition of B movies seems to revolve around exploitation and genre adherence. Isn't that the bread and butter of the games industry?
Hmmm. I read the article, and what I take away from it is that they're expecting a sort of game where it's bad by the metrics typically associated with video games, yet it finds a cult audience that enjoys it in spite of -- or because of -- its failings. Bringing up Metacritic scores, then, sort of misses the point; B movies always get panned by the critics anyway.
No, if you want to talk about "lovably bad" video games, then it's going to come down to a matter of audience reception. And the problem there is that the gaming community at large is too critical to welcome anything except measurably good games -- good graphics, good gameplay, good storylines, etc.
But personally, I can come up with any number of video games that fall under this category. The question of whether these games are "bad" or "enjoyable" is subjective, but this is how I've figured them in my head:
Jurassic Park 2: The Chaos Continues -- This was a black & white Game Boy game. A pretty basic, no-frills platformer/shooter with crappy graphics and a cash-in movie license. I liked it anyway.
Dragonheart -- A God-awful black & white Game Boy game that tried to combine first-person adventure with 2-D fighting games. It butchered the movie's story to pieces and just ended up a general mess. I liked it anyway.
Space Channel 5: Ulala's Cosmic Attack -- They converted Space Channel 5 to the Game Boy Advance. Compared to the Dreamcast version on which it was based, the graphics are terrible, the music necessarily took a hit, and the story was delivered through text boxes instead of voiceovers. But it still turned out fun.
Pokemon Channel -- Part virtual pet, part simulation of sitting around watching television, all aimed at the 10 and under audience. I have no idea what attracts me to this game, but it does.
Battle of the Bands -- It's a rhythm game. You have 11 bands. Each one plays in one of five musical styles. Every game is a faceoff between two bands, either player vs player or player vs AI. The object of the game is to use your rhythm mastery to activate your weaponized musical instruments and actually murder the other team. The hook is that each of the game's 30 songs was recorded in each of the 5 musical styles, and the version of the song that plays with the match flips back and forth depending on who's dominating the match at the moment. The story is terrible, the graphics are terrible, the gameplay is terrible, it's strangely charming in spite of all that -- sounds like a winner to me.
So no, I don't think there's anything new about the idea of being fond of terrible games. The real question here is who bothers to appreciate them?
I don't know why I didn't remember this until now. There's a site devoted to Z games:
http://www.glorioustrainwrecks.com/
I'd like to draw your attention to the second paragraph on their front page:
"It is not about unfinished, unplayable games. If any part of a glorious trainwreck is terrible, it is terrible in a way that is AWESOME."
There's something compelling about a game that is unabashedly strange. It gives the impression that what you are playing is somehow more real than a more sophisticated creation. I think it's the impression that you are seeing the people behind it with no filter. The game doesn't have anything that wasn't interesting to the person who made it.
The space that used to be occupied by games like this has largely been taken over by by artists who are honing their craft and entertainers who need a platform for advertising. But there was a time when freeware was the madman on a streetcorner wearing a sign and shouting about things that only he understands, without caring that no one is listening.
I'd forgotten all about Glorious Trainwrecks! Maybe I'll even give it a thorough read this time.