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The Appeal of Metal Slug

Lately I've had the financial opportunity to collect Neo Geo MVS games, including the Metal Slug series. Some of my earliest gaming memories were playing the original title in the arcade, and after arcades disappeared it was never hard to find a cabinet with one of the Slug games at any movie theater or bowling alley. Returning to these games years on has confirmed that yes, they are still extremely enjoyable run and guns with beautiful graphics. But Metal Slug’s visuals stretch beyond simple eye candy to a tangible reward that encourage exploration and offers replayability.

As a kid I would pump endless quarters into beating each Metal Slug. As I return to these games as an adult, spending quite a bit of money for the arcade hardware that grants the ability to insert credits for free at the push of a button, I play conservatively to "get my money's worth". What's the point in clearing each game on the first go? I want to savour each moment, get a little further on a limited number of credits, master each challenge, and be rewarded with more detail.

I don't have to tell you how good Metal Slug looks. As with any arcade game, Metal Slug rewards player knowledge and experimentation with extra points and powerups to tackle each challenge. But Slug also rewards you in raw detail. Trees shiver in the breeze. Signs in Arabic translate to silly non-sequiturs. You can throw grenades at a baby to make it fly around harmlessly. Each entry is stuffed to the bursting point with detail across their brief campaigns, and it’s too much to take in at once. The experience of consuming Metal Slug unfolds across many playthroughs. It's emblematic of a kitchen sink-era of game design: as the platform holder and publisher, SNK controlled its own budgets and deadlines. So while the gameplay was simple, the Metal Slug team had the luxury of spending time on art and code that would be extraneous in today's game development climate.

Metal Slug also benefits from a breadth of gameplay concepts compared to its contemporaries. One level may have you scaling a mountain or train while the next will be underwater or a shmup homage. Levels themselves are mixes of shooting and platforming, with many encounters designed around gimmick weapons like the drop shot, or flanking the player with enemies while you shoot a door open. These, as with everything else in Metal Slug, are presented with a signature style of violence and humor. These are games where you play to see what the developers have thought up next.

In many ways Metal Slug 1 is the best designed of the bunch. It offers a fair challenge, with enemy bullet patterns in reasonable amounts and ammunition in high supply. As a kid I could eventually clear it in a few credits, which may have only gotten me to the end of the second stage in Slug 3. And yet the consensus among even the general crowd is that Metal Slug 3 is the best in the series. Why? Because it has the most detail. It introduced a ton of original spritework and it's by far the most content-packed in the series. It has a long playtime and radically different paths in each stage, meaning a bevy of new content to explore every time. Slug 3 also has the highest “bullshit!” ratio of any Slug game. Difficulty and balance is not an issue to players when it looks this damn good and feels good to play. Unlike console games, any difficulty can be overcome by brute forcing credits into the machine. On the flipside, Slug 4 is considered the weakest entry, despite being designed much fairer than 3. Its only sin is being made of recycled sprites from previous games. I have little interest in Metal Slug 6 and 7/XX, largely because the new spritework and audio clashes with the older assets.

Graphics can make a game. Symphony of the Night may happen to be one of the better Metroidvanias out there, but the reason why it's *the* Metroidvania doesn't just come with its innovation or design but its maximalism, the way every pixel feels built with purpose, and the way there’s a new secret waiting to be found on each playthrough. Metal Slug is proof that simple gameplay benefits from variety--the Slug series would not be nearly as fun without vehicles, powerups, transformations, and smart level design that mixes up the pacing and gameplay.

While I was writing this article, I replayed Metal Slug 3 for the nth time. I found a route in a level that I'd never taken before. It's not like I'd kept track of every path I'd taken as a kid. It blew me away to have new content in a cherished game. And you know what? This area kicked my ass, and I credit fed it. I wanted to see it all, in that moment. I can always return to it later to master it.

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Badges of Steel

Badges of Steel is a rules-lite, buddy cop RPG I made in 2017. Since then I’ve revised the rules, although I’d hesitate to call this anything beyond a beta test. The game is in a big need of playtesting and feedback, so please let me know what you think.

PDF available here.

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Fiction: Sept-Dec 2017

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1SyPi6MIT4YxHuyDzMwkYCNPu8ddAn4o3

I spent a semester in a creative writing course, during which we had to write at least 2000 words of fiction a week, alongside revised versions. I’ve compiled some of the better stuff I wrote. “Blackout” was included as part of Trent University’s Chickenscratch Anthology of 2018.

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Spider: Rite of the Shrouded Moon

Is an adventure-platformer released by Tiger Style in 2015. I volunteered on the game for Q&A, giving feedback on level design and environmental storytelling. I had a ton of fun working with some of my heroes from game development, and tried to learn everything I could. Here’s a trailer:

And here’s a great GDC talk by game director Randy Smith, outlining the team’s approach to storytelling, and the role of the game’s playtesters.

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Vagrant

https://mega.nz/#F!JBZDTCxI!iODf3dJGIhUTTDSeM1YetQ

Vagrant is a game created by myself and Wilson Hodgson back in 2016 for a game design course I took. The theme for the project was “make a statement on video game violence”.

I handled the design of the game, and wrote all the prose. Wilson and I split duties on coding, although he implemented a lot more than I did.

With only four weeks to make the game, the result turned out a bit funky. I’m not sure that making an “unfun” art game was the wisest decision for our first project, but hopefully the result says something, in some way. Playtime’s only about five minutes or so, so give it a go!

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Friend or Phony--a party game for three players created in three days for Concordia University’s game jam of May 2017. I drove up to Montreal with Wilson to work with the rest of the team. I’ve never slept so little in my life. We had a blast.

The theme of the jam was “Impostor”. The five of us all thought of John Carpenter’s “The Thing”. Each player would be assigned a role of Judge, Innocent and Monster, with the Judge choosing questions from a pool of options. The other players will answer, and the Judge has to decide who is who.

I helped with programming and design on this one. The gameplay necessitated online play, which made for a large time sink. We weren’t able to work out all the kinks in time, so Nick whipped up a mockup video using the existing assets. Nick, you spelt my last name wrong!

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The Rise of Ratchet & Clank's Transforming Weapons

The R&C series is known for its eccentric weaponry. Chief among the franchise’s reoccurring tools are the transformation weapons: ray guns that splice an adversary into harmless livestock or inanimate objects. The functionality of these guns has remained largely the same, and they’ve been largely relegated to gimmicks. But 2013's Ratchet & Clank: Into the Nexus introduced the Winterizer, blasting peppermint swirls and holiday jingles that leave your foes trapped as snowmen. The Winterizer makes several changes to the design of the transformation class that shifts the gun from gimmicky crowd control to a viable tool that occupies its own space in the weapon economy.

Transformation weapons all fire narrow homing beams that polymorph their targets, yielding the same bolts and EXP as killing them would. Zapping small enemies will instantly transform them, but larger enemies require extra time and pressure. The problem is: - Only one enemy can be zapped at a time - The process is slow on larger enemies - The morph progress is canceled when Ratchet is hit. This also applies if Ratchet moves out of firing range, as is often needed to dodge tougher enemies. Discouraging the player from morphing certain foes isn’t necessarily bad, yet morphing weapons are highly situational. If there’s a group of enemies weak enough to be easily morphed, there’s no reason not to use the wrench. In R&C1, the only benefit to using the Morph-O-Ray is that it doesn't use ammo. Transforming weapons have been relegated to "gimmick" status, often given to players for free, since Insomniac knows players won’t spend bolts on them. So with each new title, each new transforming weapon has revised the design to be more appealing to players.

Going Commando had the Sheepinator, which transformed enemies into exploding black sheep (only when upgraded), but the sheep barely moved, making it hard to get enemies into the explosion radius. Up Your Arsenal had the Quack-O-Ray, which created a flying duck that would fly alongside Ratchet and divebomb enemies. This fixed the Sheepinator’s mobility and added some planning to combat, since the player will look for an easy enemy to turn into a duck, and bring it into the next area to take down tougher enemies. Yet the weapon still had to be upgraded to make use of this feature, meaning slogging through five level-ups before any unique combat potential could be had. Aside from the Chimp-O-Matic in A Crack in Time, which didn't have any unique features or damage potential, transforming weapons had disappeared from the series. Until, in 2013, Insomniac knocked transforming weapon design out of the park with Into the Nexus. While an enemy is being winterized, a freezing status significantly slows their actions. One of the biggest problems with previous transforming weapons was that they had a binary level of success, as opposed to analog weapon damage. Either the enemy was transformed or they weren't. If Ratchet gets hit, stops firing or the enemy moves out of range, the morph progress resets. Freezing brings with it an analog level of success. It makes enemies much easier to avoid in a firefight, and a slower moving enemy is also an easier target for attacking. In fact, freezing is better than staggering, and players may choose to freeze an enemy while a support unit such as Mr. Zurkon wails away. The Winterizer's direct damage may be little, but the benefits introduced by the freezing status and the potential weapon synergy it brings gives the weapon a purpose beyond mob control: small enemies can be transformed, and large enemies can be slowed which makes them easier to hit and avoid. The increasing blue hue that an enemy takes when frozen gives clear feedback and is far more elegant than the transformation meter of previous games, now allowing the player to keep track of the transformation progress of multiple enemies at a glance. The Winterizer has also doubled down as a crowd-controller. When fully upgraded to the Blizz-O-Matic, enemies that are morphed into snowmen will explode in a Frost Nova, which freezes and damages nearby enemies. This means even large enemies can be partially frozen without being morphed, and can set off chain reactions among small enemies, some of which may even immediately turn into snowmen because of their low HP. Attentive players will look for small enemies near larger ones to set off ripples of freezing damage.

The last major upgrade to transforming weapons that the Winterizer brings is the support of the hex-grid upgrade system introduced in Tools of Destruction. Collecting Raritanium allows Ratchet to upgrade a weapon's properties, increasing the Winterizer's range, max ammo and damage. Unlocking certain slots on the grid grants new perks that are unique to each weapon, with the Winterizer receiving Absolute Zero, granting Frost Nova more damage, and Deck the Halls, which makes snowmen drop presents that can contain bolts, nanotech or ammo. While the Winterizer was viable enough, it's Deck the Halls that gives the Winterizer a permanent place in anyone’s quick select. The extra ammo and nanotech are handy enough, but it's the bolt drops, which stack with the regular amount of bolts an enemy will drop on death, that really sell the weapon. For players looking to grind some extra money for that postgame Nether armor or RYNO Xtreme, Deck the Halls will combo with your bolt multiplier, making it the perfect tool for dispatching late-game enemies and scrubbing their wallets clean. The surest proof that the Winterizer has succeeded? It’s now a purchasable weapon. It no longer has to be given out for free to incentivize players to use it. That alone shows the confidence that Insomniac must have felt in the weapon’s strength. And I’m inclined to agree.

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Doom WAD Release - Toxic Complex

DOWNLOAD

A vanilla map that I’ve been working on for the past couple of months, inspired by No Rest For the Living. Give it a play and tell me what you think. Screenshots after the break.

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Navigation in Shadow of the Colossus

Game mechanics have a push and pull. There are tons of them in every game we play, but it’s the dynamics of these mechanics, the way each interacts with the other, that determines the way a game will play. What is the impact of blindly including a compass, minimap or quest marker? Can we make these guiding mechanics elegant, and diegetic? The answer, is that one year before Oblivion showed the world the future of navigation in video games, Shadow of the Colossus mastered it.

Shadow of the Colossus uses a repeating structure. The protagonist Wander wakes in the Shrine of Worship, travels to the next colossus and defeats it, and is sent back to the shrine. On their way to the colossus, the player has full control over where they go in the overworld. All locations, even boss arenas, are accessible from the beginning; sombre hollows of lands that hint at the design of each colossi. But there's little point to wandering in The Forbidden Lands when not traveling to the next colossus. White-tailed lizards that are scattered across the map increase Wander's maximum stamina, but their effects are minimal outside of post-game content.

The Forbidden Lands are large, and the colossi have to be killed in a linear order. How does the player know where to go? By holding the 'O' button, Wander will hold his sword to the sun. The beam of light that it reflects is desaturated and unfocused, but by aiming the blade, the ray will narrow and glow, until the controller rumbles and the player is in the direction of the colossus.

The sword's light guides the player through the world, but it doesn't function like a radar or compass. When Wander is on foot, he has to stop moving to shine the sword. When riding his horse, Agro, Wander can keep the blade focused but can’t steer. The player has to treat the light as an approximation of colossi distance rather than fidgeting with it. And since this beam of light relies on the sun, the player is vulnerable when in a dense forest or dark canyon. Shadow of the Colossus wants you to get a little lost, to not be sure of where you are going. The player isn’t following a dotted line; they’re an explorer in an unknown world.

But Wander's light beam serves another purpose. See, it doesn't point to the colossus but rather its weak spot, the point that the player has to reach and attack. Sometimes during a fight this glowing sigil will change location, making the sword’s light beam essential to victory. Wander’s need to stop moving on foot or lose control of Agro when shining the sword up makes checking the direction of the light a tactical decision, one that puts the player at risk of getting stomped or gored.

Defeating a colossus leaves a beam of light that stretches into the clouds—visible from almost anywhere in the world. These beacons become not only tombstones for the creatures Wander has murdered, but landmarks to guide the player on their journey. As the player sets off from the temple again, the stretches to a colossus start to feel familiar, until the sword sends the player down a new path, revealing a grove or tomb they had missed.

Shadow of the Colossus walks the fine line between giving the player direction and letting them get lost in its world. Like all of Fumito Ueda’s games, it’s subtle, elegant, and masterfully designed.

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Calling Trico in The Last Guardian

One of the many great design touches in The Last Guardian comes from getting captured by an armored knight. Carved from stone and crackling with electricity, these animated statues try to grab the boy, causing magical runes to float over the screen. The player needs to mash buttons to wriggle free and in doing so, extinguish the runes.

When grabbed, most of the boy’s abilities like jumping and crouching are  disabled. But L1, which aims the camera at Trico, and R1, which calls  Trico to you, still work. As the player hammers on the controller, they call  Trico for help. The camera points to their companion, giving a clear  visual indicator of how far away Trico is, and if there is something  blocking Trico from saving the boy, such as a glass eye.

This system is a safety net for the player, ensuring that Trico will arrive in an emergency, without giving the beast a sixth sense for danger. But it's also because the player and the boy reflexively call to Trico for help that The Last Guardian sells the relationship between player and beast.

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Duke Nukem Forever and Ego

One of the rules I have for this blog is to focus on the good things about games. Picking apart something you don’t like is easy, but writing positive criticism is a more interesting challenge. With that in mind I'm going to examine Duke Nukem Forever's saving grace: the Ego system. Duke made a name for himself in the mid-90s by offering finely-tuned FPS gameplay and a scripted world that burst with character. The Ego system merges these mechanically, rewarding players for exploring environmental detail and contextualizing health through Duke's personality.

In DNF, Duke has a regenerating health meter called ‘Ego’. It explains why Duke can take so many bullets and keep coming back--he believes he can. It's sheer willpower that keeps him fighting. As long as he believes he's the best, he is. When he's doing poorly in a firefight his Ego falters. Maybe he begins to doubt himself. And if his Ego gets too low, he won't get up again after being knocked down.

What sets Ego apart from health is how Duke's Ego can be increased by interacting with the world. Duke Nukem 3D had a ton of scripted interactions for an action game, and DNF takes it to the next level during non-combat segments, with designated areas that break up gameplay through humor, plot info and mini-games. Actions that reward the player with an Ego boost have Duke doing something that reinforces his stereotypically masculine and “cool” character, like shooting a basket or smoking a cigarette or having a woman compliment him, and the Ego system also gives players a mechanical incentive to seek out these interactions. Want to add variety to your level with a pinball mini-game? Ego ensures that the player will try it at least once in order to receive the mechanical bonus.

Theoretically, Ego could be expanded for performance: in DNF the player gets an Ego refill by performing a melee takedown, but what about rewarding players outside of contextual moments? If the player destroys multiple enemies with an explosion or gets headshots, they should be rewarded with the restoration of some Ego. The mechanic could introduce some much-needed risk/reward into DNF's fights, encouraging players to become more aggressive when low on health. If you're running out of Ego you *could* hide behind cover until it comes back, or you could do things the Duke Nukem way and kick some ass!

Regenerating healthy may not suit the Duke Nukem franchise, but the Ego system does a lot to intertwine DNF’s narrative and gameplay. If there's one good thing from Duke Nukem Forever, this is it.

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66 frames, rotoscoped in Flipnote 3D.

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Devil May Cry and the Player/Protagonist Division

For as long as games have told stories, one of the medium’s greatest strengths has been putting the player in the shoes of the characters. The silent protagonist, the dialogue option, the first-person camera, are all ways that we are drawn into the experience, become the plumber or the soldier or the chosen one. The Devil May Cry series doesn’t do that. In fact, Capcom wants players to not become series protagonist Dante but to borrow control of him, and they leverage this disconnect to motivate players to perform better, reward them with cutscenes that teach them gameplay mechanics, and encourage exploring high-level play.

For the uninitiated, DMC works on a mission system, with a ranking given at the end of each one. Ranging from D to S, the determining factors in rank are: the amount of damage received, the amount of stylish points accumulated which are given through attacks and multiplied by combos, the amount of red orbs (money) collected and time taken, with a penalty based on the amount of items used (in DMC4 the player is also penalized for using continues). To get a high ranking the player must quickly finish the level while demonstrating their mastery of the combat system and balancing between leaving the main path for orbs and the time required to do so. Between the deep combat, multiple weapons and characters to master, abilities to unlock, challenge missions, difficulty settings and online leaderboards, Devil May Cry is a series meant to be replayed and mastered. Going through the story once and putting it away would be experiencing a fraction of what it has to offer. In an era of gaming where most players won’t pick a game up again unless it has multiplayer, how does Capcom get fans coming back for more? That’s where Dante comes in.

Dante is a badass, both in gameplay and in cutscenes, which feature him killing demons while spouting one-liners. In a game focused on combat this might seem unnecessary, but the trick is that Dante makes fighting enemies look effortless. If he can pull it off with such style and ease, why can’t we? He only uses in-game equipment and his moves are primarily variations of the ones available to the player. By demonstrating advanced play, Dante shows us what we can become if we dedicate ourselves. Watch DMC vets play and you’ll find performances that wouldn’t be out of place in a cutscene. Players even extend their score by taunting, like Dante would. Players may be controlling Dante, but only an elite few match his skill.

Dante’s behavior in cutscenes is also used to teach the player about new abilities and mechanics. The player is rewarded with a new piece of equipment when they defeat a boss. Afterward they feel accomplished, and the new ability only sweetens the deal. They’re itching to try it out, but first Dante gets a turn.

It’s entertaining enough on its own, but now the player has learned the attack patterns of the weapon, and seen what it can do in the hands of a pro. The player is now pumped to try the equipment out for themselves. All delivered through Dante’s personality.

And Dante’s character hasn’t been left in a vacuum. DMC2 had a cold Dante that represented him at the height of his power. As a prequel, DMC3 had a younger and more brash Dante who discovered his abilities as the player did. Not coincidentally, 3 is considered the toughest entry in the series. By DMC4 Dante is presented as a villain, vastly more powerful than new protagonist Nero. During the first half of the game Dante taunts Nero and the player. It isn’t until you prove yourself as Nero that you earn the privilege to control Dante and get into the loop of the plot.

Between his power and cocky demeanor, Capcom has designed Dante to be better and cooler than you, to encourage you to improve and to teach you what a pro can do. There’s no way to know what Dante will do next, which is why he’s remained popular with players after so many years. You’re not so much playing as Dante as you are guiding him, taking control of him for gameplay sake. Perform poorly and you’ll die. Prove yourself and you just might make it, kid.

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Wolfenstein: The New Order and the Art of Pain

There’s a lot to like about Wolfenstein: The New Order. The art direction, which blends 60s popular culture with German art movements like Expressionism and the Bauhaus. The strong writing, which manages to tell a nuanced story about a guy who stabs robot dogs. But above all, how the visceral combat respects its old-school roots without being as conservative as other FPS reboots like Rise of the Triad or Shadow Warrior. I’d like to examine one aspect of TNO’s design–the health and armor system: how they supplement Wolfenstein’s combat mechanics, create split-second decisions during firefights, and avoid ludonarrative dissonance .

TNO has a health and an armor meter, which range from zero to 100. Collecting a health pickup that would bring the player’s HP over 100 “overcharges” protagonist “B.J.” Blazkowicz, depleting health until it returns to 100. This creates moments where the player will act hasty to maximize their overcharge usage, and when the player is near full health they have to make a choice with each pickup: to overcharge now or save the pickup for a later time.

TNO also has a regenerating health system, where health recharges to the 20th interval. The player can take upwards of 19 points of damage and shrug it off so long as they stay out of fire for a moment. This trivializes minor damage, encouraging players to stay mobile in a game filled with “hitscan” enemies (enemies that fire instantaneous or near instantaneous shots, which are difficult to dodge). Wolfenstein’s melee combat guarantees some level of health loss for the player, and regenerating health makes this a short-term detriment rather than a long-term one.

TNO drops two tier of health pickups. The lower tier: dog food, sausages and stimpacks, all provide minimal amounts of healing (measures of 4, 5, and 10hp respectively). But if the player’s health passes an interval after the pickup, the extra health gained will regenerate to the next interval. For example, if I have 36HP and eat a sausage I’ll have 41HP, which will regenerate to 60HP. The higher tier of health pickups is the first aid kit, which restores 40HP. Since this is a multiple of 20, first aid kits don’t offer any extra regeneration.

In TNO armor absorbs a percentage of all the damage you receive. Fundamentally it works like armor in an old-school shooter, but compare TNO's armor system to Quake and you'll find that changes have been made to accommodate modern level design. In Quake, armor drops in increments of 50, 100 and 200, and rots like an overcharge. Because of the secrets stashed in Quake's environments, armor may only appear once or twice in a level, and as such have a high value. TNO scatters armor all over its levels, with armor increments of 5 and 10 dropping from enemies and increments of 25 only found in the environment. As a result TNO has the player steadily gaining and losing armor throughout, and level designers can assume that the player will have a relatively small amount of armor on them at any given time.

And the health and armor system in TNO don’t only serve the combat and level design; they also connects gameplay with narrative. As long as you’re looking through the eyes of Blazkowicz, the HUD is visible and runs in real-time. During scripted events like talking to characters, health regenerates and overcharge rots. And when Blazkowicz gets hurt in cutscenes the damage is reflected in the health system. This not only reduces disparity between cutscenes and gameplay but creates situations where players will emerge wounded and vulnerable after a torture sequence or plane crash–as they should be. And unlike many games, Blazkowicz is as powerful outside of gameplay as he is inside. It’s never explained why Blazkowicz is so powerful, but in a game as ridiculous as Wolfenstein it’s not necessary. What is necessary is internal consistency, and developers should take note of TNO’s effortless implementation.

It’s a small part of a much larger system, but examining the health and armor mechanics of The New Order offers insight into the whole game, and shows the amount of thought that went into blending old and new-school design. The next time you’re playing a franchise reboot, consider the nuances of the health system. What about it is the same as previous titles and what about it is different? And what does that say about the rest of the game’s mechanics?

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Lost Treasure: What Tomb Raider Can Learn From Itself

Note: This is the first essay I wrote for this blog. I’ve left it up for those interested, but I recommend checking out one of my other essays for a better showcase of my writing.

We’re less than a day away from the multiplatform release of Rise of the Tomb Raider. I’m excited, as many others are. But there’s an elephant in the room and its name is Uncharted 4. How can Square Enix compete with one of the biggest entertainment releases of the year? This situation has a lot to do with the timing of RoTR’s multiplatform release, but can also be attributed to the design of Tomb Raider’s 2013 reboot. From the very first trailer, Rise of the Tomb Raider has been seen as the poor man’s Uncharted. It’s a fair comparison to make; Uncharted's blend of action, platforming and puzzles owes much to Tomb Raider. But the real flak comes from the changes introduced in TR2013: a larger presence of story, cinematic setpieces and cover-based shooting with primarily human opponents. In its desire to stay relevant Tomb Raider has lost sight of what made the 1996 original so captivating, and this franchise needs to look to its past in order to evolve and stand on its own.

As Mark Brown points out in The Mechanics of Movement, the Tomb Raider series has been on a decline in platforming depth and complexity. The challenge in early Tomb Raider titles was formulating a plan to overcome a platforming obstacle using a combination of movement abilities; little reflex skill was required. And Tomb Raider was primarily about this platforming--gunplay was simplistic in early titles (an automated lock-on) because it served as a method of creating tension, rather than creating challenge. In TR2013 platforming is a heavily automated process: holding an analog stick in a direction and tapping the jump button at the appropriate time. Yet combat has taken huge strides, allowing for dodging, cover mechanics, melee, stealth takedowns, blind fire and aimed fire. The cutscenes may present a young and vulnerable Lara Croft, but during gameplay she racks up a bodycount easily in the triple digits. This ludonarrative dissonance is one of the major complaints towards the Uncharted series, and it’s this blind adherence to following the competition that’s keeping Tomb Raider a step behind the curve and out of touch with itself.

In my hypothetical Tomb Raider, platforming has undergone a makeover. Grabbing onto ledges requires holding a button down. A stamina meter a la Shadow of the Colossus adds timed pressure to climbing as an added source of tension. Lara’s movement abilities have been extended, allowing her to gracefully kick off walls, sprint, slide and vault over obstacles. Certain control elements from previous games reappear like a walk button to prevent Lara from walking off edges and the jump button can be held down to have Lara jump at the last moment (though you can tap the timing if you want). Shooting has been downplayed, with human enemies and otherworldly figures posing a serious threat in comparison to the local wildlife. Combat is a scrappy affair, with punchy melee, though ideally Lara will want to use stealth to avoid human opponents altogether. She's not a human armory anymore; when Lara has bullets to spare she’s in an advantageous position. Without, she’s vulnerable.

Tomb Raider is at its weakest when it comes to story. Needlessly complex yet predictable plots, obnoxious radio contacts, and a desire to tell stories over multiple games. Remember when Lara had to rescue her mother from the Norse underworld? Or that time they killed off Lara only to follow up with a game composed entirely of flashbacks? In comparison there's a certain elegance to the plot of Tomb Raider 1. There’s a basic premise to explain why Lara goes to a location, and then the plot gets out of the way for a few hours, leaving you with an atmosphere of haunting isolation. These days we know and expect that Lara will be double-crossed and some kind of supernatural foe will appear and the good guys will win, but who says that plot has to take center stage? By having the plot focus on Lara’s growth as a character throughout a journey rather than the twists of that journey we can keep things simple while making the player reconsider what they know about Lara Croft. What does she feel she has to prove by putting her life on the line? What is she willing to sacrifice to achieve her goals?

It’s less safe than following in the footsteps of Uncharted, but if the design worked 20 years ago and Mario’s still shifting millions, there has to be an audience for challenging platformers. There’s no point spending two games rebuilding a media icon only to have her play the part of Rambo.

References

Game Maker's Toolkit - The Mechanics of Movement. Mark Brown. YouTube. 30 Nov. 2015. Web.

Xeno55. Tomb Raider Evolution. DeviantArt. 30 Mar. 2013.