Showing posts with label multiplayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label multiplayer. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 23, 2016

The Joy of Being Unbalanced
Perspectives
Abstract: Competitive multiplayer games have shaped my gaming identity from as early as I can remember. The advent of downloadable updates created a new era of multiplayer experiences, in which developers could continuously adjust for balance and fairness. A zeitgeist has arisen around weakening elements in multiplayer games that are deemed too powerful, making the dogma of balance center around ‘nerfs.’ I argue this should not be the default approach, as you often lose an intangible fun factor in the process. Some of my favorite competitive multiplayer experiences of all time had huge imbalances that added to the experience and my enjoyment. How do you think ‘balance’ should be handled in competitive gaming?

It’s fun to be unfair. It’s fun to be too powerful. If video games do one thing well, it’s making players feel, act, and look like a force to be reckoned with. And where better to be a headshot-targeting, full life bar KO-ing, make your enemy want to uninstall the game and never return kind of person? Multiplayer.

Multiplayer games were a tremendously important part of my video game upbringing. Some of my earliest and most lucid gaming memories revolve around multiplayer experiences. Whether it was playing Bandai’s Stadium Events on the Nintendo power pad, or two-player Super Mario Kart on the SNES, or the brutal vehicular destruction of Twisted Metal on the PS1, playing competitively with friends (& strangers) shaped how I thought of games. Though I was quick to move onto single player experiences, which now largely define my current gaming identity, I never stopped being on the hunt for the next great multiplayer game. Competing against friends and family made me feel powerful. It was my mastery of the controls, my knowledge of the game, which gave me all the advantage I could ever ask for. Perhaps even more satisfying was defeating the stranger or two in my limited competitive arcade play. It is hard to describe how elated I would feel when my team of Cable, Captain Commando, and Sentinel would pulverize my unsuspecting opponent on the Marvel vs. Capcom 2 arcade cabinet.
 
I was a pretty sick Thumper player in Twisted Metal 2.
For a 6 year old. I think.
Online play revolutionized competitive multiplayer gaming. For the first time you could play against people from around the world whenever you felt like it. It created cultures, and subcultures, of gamers obsessed with bettering themselves in the name of digital competition. So much so that we’ve seen the emergence of eSports as a major entertainment sports industry. You can know how you rank against a game’s global playerbase. It’s a powerful thing, and one that continues to astound me.
 
Competitive multiplayer games are big business these days.
The digital age also brought with it a new era of designing multiplayer experiences: patches. Before we had the infrastructure to facilitate online downloads, a game was what the game shipped as. That is to say, once a game ‘went gold’ and released to the public, development ceased. A feature doesn’t work correctly? An in-game system is too powerful than you meant it to be? That’s just how it was going to be. But for the past 10-15 years, developers have been able to tweak and edit their game, fixing mistakes or adding new content, through downloadable updates known as patches. To say that this dogmatic shift has been a boon for gaming would be an understatement. It’s lead to a world in which games are living, breathing, experiences that can learn from their missteps, and become more content rich and more tightly designed over time. For multiplayer games specifically, however, it has led to certain design sensibilities that I wish hadn’t become so ingrained. ‘Fixing’ multiplayer games has led to a certain collective mindset that I view as not a sum good, and the reason why I’m writing this piece today.

For any game in which one of your design foci is player versus player interactions, you want to create an even playing field. You want your experience to be ‘fair’ to all players. Jane Alabama and Joe Maine should have access to the same toolset to compete. Ignoring for a second prior experience with previous similar titles, the two should be able to achieve the same level of competency in a competitive setting. What you don’t want, according to popular thought, are for certain elements of a game to be unfair or ‘unbalanced.’ Especially following the advent and rise of digital patches, players and developers alike have advocated for maintaining a perfect balance within multiplayer games. No one character, one move, one gun, one ability, should be strictly more powerful than another. Or, at the very least, all options available from the player have balanced risk / reward, strengths / weakness. The call has been to create an ecosystem of fair play, in which players can essentially play with or as whatever or whoever they want and still be able to compete.
 
Patch, patch away.
The idea of creating and maintaining ‘balance’ in multiplayer games has become a zeitgeist, especially in the past few years or so. You can see it in any multiplayer game, be they MOBAs or fighting games or shooters. Most of the discussion about balancing a game, from my observations, generally centers around what is or isn’t too powerful. And once something is identified as being too strong (to the point that the community feels it is unfair), the typical outcry is for the thing to be “nerfed”. Nerfing is the act of making something weaker or less effective. Herein lies my biggest complaint with how fans and subsequently developers approach balance solutions. Creating fairness by lopping the tops off all trees that have grown too tall lessens the grandeur of the forest. Does it make all trees more similar in height? Sure. Do you lose something special in the process? I’d argue that you do. Let me talk more concretely and less metaphorically, though.

As a quick point of disclosure, I’m not attempting to argue that nerf-dependent balancing of multiplayer experiences doesn’t work. It does. Games like Super Smash Bros. for Wii U, Battlefield 3 and Call of Duty Black Ops have developers that chiefly focused their balancing efforts into making sure nothing is overly powerful. When Diddy Kong was running rampant in the competitive scene in Smash Wii U, Bandai Namco and Sora Ltd. responded by making the character weaker. When the M16A3 in Battlefield 3 or the FAMAS in Call of Duty Black Ops were too good at downing your foes, DICE and Treyarch respectively made the two weapons less effective. Did these changes help the competitive ecosystem? It’s debatable, but I (and many others) would say yes. Competitors felt less inclined to learn Diddy Kong or to use the M16A3/FAMAS because they were no longer clearly more powerful than other options. Cool.
 
How many viewed Diddy Kong upon Smash for Wii U's release.
He's not as scary anymore. Is that a good thing?
Street Fighter IV, and all its many iterations, is another title that focused a lot of its balancing updates on reducing the effectiveness of characters that were deemed too strong. Sagat in vanilla SFIV, Yun in SSFIV, Evil Ryu and Poison in USFIV—all nerfed. To Capcom’s credit, however, their balance updates also included character ‘buffs,’ i.e. making things more powerful. Though, for the most part, power increases were generally very moderate compared to the often heavy-hand of nerfing. The goal of this approach was to eventually reach a state in which all characters are viable in competitive play. Now 8 years later, I would say Capcom reached their goal (if Evo 2015 and Capcom Cup were any indication). But even with Ultra Street Fighter IV, which I would say is one of the most deftly balanced games I’ve ever played, something was lost every single time a character was made weaker.

You lose that feeling, that indescribable and joyous sensation, of using something that felt unfair. That felt satisfyingly powerful. The same is true for Battlefield 3 and Black Ops and any multiplayer game. Once nerfed, you can never get back the feeling of power you felt in an un-nerfed world. Using the FAMAS in Black Ops was so deeply gratifying. It fired fast and with remarkable accuracy. It could down players on the enemy team in a split second. It led me to some of the best kill streaks I’ve ever had in a competitive first-person shooter. Even when I was facing off against players using the same over-powered gun, I felt powerful. But then it was changed, weakened, and I never used it again. It felt off. It felt bad and made me feel bad when I used it. The new FAMAS almost felt like an insult to my cherished memories of its predecessor. While perhaps the game overall was more balanced with more players using more kinds of guns, Black Ops lost some of its fun. I’ve had this feeling with increasing frequency with modern multiplayer games. I loved Sagat in vanilla SFIV then hardly used him again. It felt great to pull off Rogue’s infamous Gadgetzan Auctioneer “miracle” combo in Hearthstone, but then that was nerfed. And the nerfs keep coming, especially as more and more players complain about how powerful certain things are online. Well, I’m here to say that being unbalanced (in the right way) can be fun too. In fact, in my experience, it’s often more.
 
LEEEEROYYY JENKINSSS! Time's up let's do thi- Oh wait.
We can't do it anymore. Because it got nerfed.
One of my favorite online multiplayer games ever is Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 (MW2) by Infinity Ward. MW2 is not a well-balanced game, far from it. Certain guns and certain strategies quickly became recognzed as powerful, bordering on cheap or unfair. Underslung grenade launchers on assault rifles could be paired with player-selected abilities to refill ammo and increase your blast radius, giving players the ability to be a one-man demolition crew (explosions, explosions everywhere). Another potent combination allowed players to run around the map at extreme speeds with enhanced melee speed & range, which turned players into warping one-hit-kill knifing machines. Another still made it so just tapping on your aim down sights button with a sniper rifle gave you pinpoint accuracy at the intersection of the crosshairs, transforming players into ‘quick-scoping’ fiends who were effective at all ranges in battle. MW2 matches were a frantic flurry of explosions and snipers and death. And they were so much fun. So many different strategies were rewarded in MW2 because so many things were blatantly overpowered. Even if you didn’t choose to specialize in the tactics I just described, some of the game’s guns were so good you could easily annihilate your competition (UMP-45, FAMAS). I ended up playing MW2’s multiplayer upwards of 350 hours, or 14+ full days. I think a large part of that was because playing made me feel powerful. The developers never took away the fun tools they gave to me.

I came in like a wrecking ball! I never hit so hard (with my "noob tube.")
Marvel vs. Capcom 2 (MvC2), and even moreso Marvel vs. Capcom 3 and its update Ultimate MvC3 (UMvC3), gave me that same powerful feeling. I suspect MvC2 will go down in history as one of the most imbalanced competitive games of all time. Only roughly 8 of the cast of 56 characters are good enough to be played competitively. Sentinel, Storm, Cable and Magneto were head and shoulders better than the other members of the cast. Even UMvC3, released in the digital age, stayed true to its roots and ended up as an unbalanced game. The top 5 characters in UMvC3 are head and shoulders better than the rest of the cast, though more members of the roster can be made viable competitively than its predecessor. That being said, MvC2 and UMvC3 are exceptionally fun games and my favorite competitive fighters of all time. Powerful, even unfair, strategies can be used by either player. You can dominate or be dominated. Landing your cheap combo or frame trap or projectile spam is so deeply satisfying. You feel good. You feel like you’re almost too good, or at the very least better than that game intended you to be. Nothing about your attacks or combos felt lackluster. UMvC3 revels in having an uneven roster and the game is better for it.
 
You lost the second you chose Iceman, player 2. But MvC2 remains
incredibly fun, and interesting, to this day.
Tentatively, feeling powerful is one of many aspects I’m loving about Street Fighter V. You can take my opinion with the asterisk that I’ve only been playing for a week, but Street Fighter V has a remarkable balance to it. Every single character feels unfair, feels a little too good. It’s awesome. I’ve tried my hand at all 16 characters and each one has some combos and moves and spacing that feel cheap. In my book, that’s perfect. Let’s hope this can be maintained through the game’s lifetime.

As I touched on briefly in my introduction, video games are unrivaled in giving people the feeling of power. Who among us can shoot energy beams out of their hands or single-handedly stop an army of insurgents in real life? A choice few, at best. So much of what has historically worked about video games is giving the player this powerful feeling. I find that too frequent or too heavy-handed nerfs lessens the impact of playing on the player. It sucks to lose the joy you felt using something powerful because it has been removed from the game. Sure, even unbalanced games like MW2 and UMvC3 have their own kind of balance. It’s crucial that no singular element or strategy is too powerful, rather, several exist in the same ecosystem that work synergistically to build a dynamic competitive space. My point remains, however, that nerfing what’s most powerful is not necessarily the best approach to creating a fun, dynamic multiplayer ecosystem.

Whether broken or balanced, each game has its own competitive metagame and there is no one right answer. What works for balancing Heroes of the Storm might not work when balancing Street Fighter V. But be thoughtful about your balance decisions (developers) and be thoughtful of what you post online (community). Nerfing the powerful should not be the default solution. You might just lose a lot of fun in the process.

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Phantom Limb: Heroes of the Storm, Teamwork, and Being Almost Good Enough
Article

Abstract: Heroes of the Storm, Blizzard’s take on a MOBA, quickly converted me from genre skeptic to fan. After months of play, however, I began to feel a unique anxiety towards solo play unlike anything I’ve previously experienced in a team-based competitive online multiplayer. I feel almost good enough, like I’m playing without the use of one arm. The feeling is a mixture of inadequacy and cognitive dissonance between my individual performance and the match’s end result. A friend’s perspective can ameliorate the feeling, though I’m still not entirely sure why.

I spent many years purposefully in the dark about MOBAs (Multiplayer Online Battle Arena). My time spent playing Warcraft 3 was well behind me. I had transitioned away from the PC as my primary gaming device of choice. In fact, I didn’t even hear about the genre in any significant way until college, during which a couple members of pep band wouldn’t shut up about League of Legends (LoL). I gave MOBA’s a cursory chance to woo me that year and they failed miserably. LoL felt like an unnecessarily complex boring click-fest of a game. So when DOTA2 began floating around in the gaming circles I found myself frequenting, it too was hastily brushed off. ‘They’re just not for me.’

As the years went on, and especially after I began to write and talk about games on the internet, I felt obligated to get to know the genre better. It was for the sake of my viewpoint and my edification in a style of game that seemed to be only gaining more traction, and more mindspace, in the collective “gamer” population. To make a long story short, I began hearing about Blizzard’s foray into the genre from various sources I respected. Defenders claimed that Heroes of the Storm (Heroes) was a great entry point into the genre. Others claimed that Heroes was the game that converted them from MOBA-skeptic to MOBA-fan. The official release of the game in early June this year was the catalyst—I resolved to finally see what the fuss was all about.

I felt wrong sharing my thoughts on the genre without giving
a single title an earnest chance to impress me.
I was shocked. Within a couple play sessions, a few hours here and there, Heroes of the Storm clicked. I got it. I was having fun. I wanted to play more and more. Compared to my brief experiences with LoL and DOTA2, which felt intentionally repellent towards new users, Heroes felt tailor made for someone like me. Someone who had written off the genre, and someone who didn’t want to devote 50-100+ hours to learning game systems. Heroes simplified the experience. The team levels up as a unit, skills are gained at level-based talent tiers, there are no last hits, map objectives give the player something to do between soaking and skirmishes, games are usually done within 20-25 minutes. Heroes understood me. And, within a remarkably short timespan, I felt like I understood it too. I read up on map strategies and ideal team hero compositions. I spent time honing my favorite heroes’ skill shots so that I could land devastating combos during team fights. Within two weeks or so, I felt pretty damn competent. It was a great feeling. I finally felt the rush that I imagined LoL or DOTA2 players got when playing, and the excitement expressed by the millions of fans of each game’s competitive scene.

Heroes of the Storm can be an absolute blast. Just look at that focus!
For about two to two and a half months I played Heroes religiously. I made sure to get a few games in every couple of days to secure the gold from daily quests. I spent a good amount of time playing with my friends, who had all recently started playing too, but the majority of my time was spent playing solo. As time went on, though, I felt an increasing disconnect from my experience. Days would go by between my play sessions, sometimes entire weeks. Whenever I saw a friend online I would boot up Heroes to play together, but I lost the compulsion to play alone. I’ve essentially stopped solo queuing altogether. It was a strange feeling that I couldn’t quite put my finger on until recently. I’ve never been someone who requires friends to play in online modes. Ever. But playing Heroes alone became a trying experience, that exhausted and frustrated rather than energized and exhilarated.

I have no real way to prove my commitment to Heroes.
But I think my F2P hero collection speaks for itself.
When trying to isolate the source of the problem my mind kept coming back to teamwork. Before I dive any deeper, let me respond to some of the questions you’re probably already thinking. Yes, of course I knew that Heroes (& all MOBAs) are heavily reliant on teamwork. Yes, I know it’s easy to blame your teammates for losing in a MOBA: that’s not what I’m doing here. And yes, I’ve played team-reliant multiplayer games before as a solo player and not lost interest. Let me expand upon that last point. Despite my long history of playing predominantly solo, I’m not new to team based games. I played the highly team coordination-dependent game modes in Call of Duty like Search & Destroy, and the objective based Rush and Conquest in Battlefield 3. I’ve played co-operative games like SOCOM and Borderlands and Castle Crashers. Rocket League is another recent favorite. I’ve written all of those examples to say that I knew, at least partially, what I was getting into with Heroes.

A Heroes of the Storm team working poorly together is an issue, to be clear, but not the one I’m writing about today. Especially because I was well aware of this issue before I even started playing the game. For Heroes in particular, it was made clear to me from the outset that one amazing player could not win the game for a team.

Just this week I finally got a grasp on what exactly my problem was. It’s simple. I felt almost good enough, just shy of how good I should be to lead my team to victory. The image that first popped into my head was that of Tantalus. As punishment for butchering his son Pelops and preparing him as a feast for the gods, Tantalus was made to stand in a pool of water beneath a fruit-bearing tree for eternity. No matter how hungry he got, every time he reached up to the low-hanging fruit above his head the branch was just out of reach. No matter how thirsty he got, every time he lowered his head to drink the water receded away. That’s how many of my games feel in Heroes. I can see the fruit, and can feel the water around my neck, but no matter how hard I work, the two (and my feeling of aptitude) are just out of reach.
If only I could eat this fruit, I'd be good enough at Heroes.
Or if I could drink this water, my team could win.
Playing Heroes often feels like playing a sport with one limb immobilized. I picture myself trying to play a round of pick-up basketball or a game of slow-pitch softball, but I only have one arm. Sure, I’m able to play the game and can even be pretty good at it.  But it feels off. I end my matches left with the sense that I’m not playing to the fullest of my abilities. I’m playing the game within the zone of proximal development. Like I’m struggling to perform something so simple, and something that I’ve done before unencumbered by the loss of a limb. My phantom limb.

The feeling, for the moment, is unique to Heroes of the Storm. I suspect part of this feeling derives from how the game rewards individual skill. When I played Call of Duty, wins and losses never felt impactful. The player’s individual skill was met with a whole suite of rewards. The game highlighted end of match stats like kill-death ratio and headshots. Mid-game, killstreaks, awards and score pop-ups created a positive feedback loop of self-gratification. So even when playing Search and Destroy, Call of Duty’s take on Counterstrike’s main game mode and a highly team-reliant endeavor, my individual skill was at the crux of my experience. And, even when we lost, I had powerful tools of self-assessment—I knew when I did well and when I did poorly.
 
Search and Destroy truly tests teamwork. Win or lose, though,
I was able to accurately assess my performance.
Heroes of the Storm has many of same the player feedback systems described above: stats, killstreak announcements, etc. These rewards are traps, though. Your end of match numbers are often meaningless to the game’s end result. Sure, if you’re 25-0 you know you did well, but that’s usually more reflective of your entire team’s performance than your own. You cannot go 25-0 when your team is being steamrolled on objectives, or your team is a talent-tier behind. I can’t tell you the number of games where I’ve had the highest siege damage or hero damage or experience earned, but our team was absolutely annihilated. That’s where the feeling of inadequacy stems from for me. Despite the game telling me that I’m doing well, the collective I (my team) can be doing awfully. That disconnect reinforces the feeling that “if only I had done more hero damage we could have won.” Wins and losses really feel meaningful in Heroes, much more so than any other team-based game I’ve played. It’s on the level of a fighting game. My individual performance feels immutably tied to the match’s outcome. But in a fighting game, I know the matches I do well in and those I do poorly in and there is a direct correlation between my performance and which player wins. Like I said before, that is just not true for Heroes. The duality is off-putting: how can I feel responsible for my team’s loss but also feel satisfaction that I had my team’s best performance? The cognitive dissonance is the source of my exhaustion and frustration.
 
It may not look like it, but we got absolutely massacred.
None of the other stats matter, really.
The feeling is ameliorated when playing with a friend, however, and I’m still not quite sure why. Perhaps it’s because they provide perspective on the game. They offer a unique point of view. Chatting with a friend during and after the match allows for a brief post-mortem, providing not only a mirror for self-reflection but also an interpretation from a new vantage point. While playing with even one friend, I stop caring about wins and losses, and the weight of responsibility feels lifted. It’s bizarre. In the end, the issue remains largely unresolved. Is this problem unique to MOBAs, or to Heroes of the Storm? Or is this a reflection of my changing mindset towards team-based online competition? All I can really say to wrap this up is: do you want to plan some Heroes with me? I think it’ll be good for both of us.