One of the game design tools that I’ve been researching is Adventure Game Studio. This tool is essentially a adventure game editor complete with libraries and default scripts that handle a lot of the back-end stuff such as saving/loading, graphics processing, and pathfinding. This allows the creator to focus on the artwork and design scripting, and is particularly helpful for someone who has no fondness for programming. Like me.
I’ve only just started with it so I can’t write too much about it’s inner workings. What I did take note of is something I found while browsing through some of the games that have been created with AGS. It’s a game called Prodigal, which comes with high praise in its description and the promise of an intriguing horror-themed story. This goes a long way with me since most adventure game fans and creators focus on wacky comedy and scenes out of medieval times. In other words, more of the shit that was original in the late 80s and early 90s. Prodigal looked like something that strived to be different.
So I felt content in my choice of game. It seemed like a good way to check out AGS’s potential for the kinds of games I’ve been bouncing around in my head. Namely, games driven by the story and character development. I loaded the game and was immediately prompted with a question: did I want to view the intro?
I mean, yea. What kind of question is that? Who wants to skip the beginning of a story? It turns out I did when the intro kept going… and going… and going. I didn’t time it, but by the end of the intro sequence I just wanted everyone to shut up so I could get to the game.
It started with a click on an icon. It led to a game launching. It turned into a fucking snooze. It continued.
It’s possible that I’m marred by years of focusing on the present in my narratives. I prefer to forget the setup and get to the meat. The action. Even if the action is a conversation that’s already in progress. Allow the player the chance to observe for himself and understand as the action unfolds. Explaining everything in detail is the kind of nonsense that happens when developers think their audiences are morons.
Even if they are, let’s not assume our audiences are morons.
Make it quick or let the backstory unfold during the course of the game.
There are a multitude of ways to begin a story, and none of them them matter if the first impression is full of long-winded and uninteresting dialogue. Let the action—the gameplay in which the player is engaged—guide the introduction. And if you must start with a lengthy introduction scene make sure it doesn’t cause the player’s cursor to hover the exit button.
And by this point I officially don’t care.
To their credit, the guys who developed this game do demonstrate that creepy atmosphere that is mentioned in the description. My heart rate jumped a few beats when the strange noises from the woods kicked in. I’m also intrigued and impressed by the difficulties that must be involved in creating a decent adventure game, let alone an interesting and entertaining one.
I just wish they’d skipped the unnecessary exposition to avoid losing the player before the game even begins.
