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Imagine a version of Bioshock without cutscenes.
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Without Andrew Ryan’s bathysphere Powerpoint.
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Without Atlas yapping in your ear.
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And without those juicy audio diaries.
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Do you think players would still understand
what the game was all about?
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Well, I think they’d actually have a pretty
good idea.
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Because all you have to do is look at your
surroundings.
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The game is set in a massive city at the very
bottom of the ocean.
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One clearly made for those in high society,
considering the fancy bars, apartment complexes,
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and theatre districts.
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And it’s a place built on lofty philosophical
ideals.
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But it’s also a place of ruin and despair.
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There was obviously a moment of downfall.
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Some people split into violent factions, and
others just lost their minds.
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And this all went down on New Year’s Day,
1959.
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Bioshock is a wonderful example of how a game’s
environment can be an effective method of
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storytelling.
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And how embedding narrative elements into
the very spaces and places that we visit throughout
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the game, can speak just as loudly as more
traditional forms of storytelling.
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And that is exactly what this episode of Game
Maker’s Toolkit is all about.
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In this video I’m going to focus on three
ways that the environment can be used for
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storytelling - and talk about how level design
can drive our understanding, feeling, and identity.
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Starting, with understanding.
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So the signs, stiffs, and scribbles in Bioshock
are examples of “environmental storytelling”
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- the use of set dressing to create small,
optional, and self-contained vignettes.
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Like warnings written in blood, or the many,
many skeletons in the Fallout games, who have
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been deliberately posed by the game’s designers
to suggest humorous or melancholy ways that
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people have died.
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The term was first coined, as far as I can
tell, by former Disneyland designer Don Carson,
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who wrote an influential article in 2000 about
what game developers can learn from theme parks.
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The term was then made even more popular in
a GDC talk by Harvey Smith and Matthias Worch,
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where they described the technique as “staging
player-space with environmental properties
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that can be interpreted as a meaningful whole,
furthering the narrative of the game”.
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The cool thing about environmental storytelling
is that it requires a certain level of deductive
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reasoning, as we connect up details to create
an overall story.
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We use investigative and archaeological skills
to determine relationships, cause and effect,
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and history.
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This makes us an active participant in the
storytelling process, and not just a passive viewer.
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Plus, if you just want to focus on the
shooty stuff, you can do that
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without the story getting in your way.
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For the most part, environmental storytelling
is about static objects - but it can also
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stretch to things like overheard conversations,
animations happening in the level, and of
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course… text, in things like books, item
descriptions, scans, notes, and emails.
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And while it is generally used to describe
what happened before you even got to a space,
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it can also be used as a way of highlighting
how your actions have impacted the environment
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in the time since you visited.
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So if you kill a shop keeper in Deus Ex: Mankind
Divided, later in the game the shop will be
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a police crime scene, and then permanently
closed to the public.
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It’s also worth noting that environmental
storytelling isn’t just for narrative, but
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can have gameplay uses too.
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A saw blade stuck in a sliced-up zombie suggests
using these saws with your Gravity Gun to
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defeat enemies.
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An enemy fried on a fence warns us about the
dangers of touching it.
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Maps and signage can help us navigate complex
spaces.
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And props can suggest puzzle hints in a non-intrusive
way.
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But here’s the thing.
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“Environmental storytelling” - if we’re
using the term specifically to mean those
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micro-narrative vignettes - is just one part of
a larger structure of using the environment
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to suggest narrative.
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It’s the high level stuff.
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Below that, then, is the individual places
in a game.
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You know, a farmer’s market, a bar, a medical
pavilion, and a theatre district.
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And beyond that, the individual rooms in those
zones.
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That’s the medium level, which might be
most accurately called, well, level design.
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And this can also be used for narrative because
things like architecture, layout, materials,
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and scale can tell us a lot about the people
who use those spaces.
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For example, in Dishonored 2’s Dust District,
the level designers at Arkane use verticality
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to show how the working class are literally
underneath the people in power.
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And the sheer opulence of Talos I in Prey
tells a very different story about its use,
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compared to the more utilitarian Sevastopol
in Alien Isolation.
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And this also provides gameplay hints, too:
like in Lord Bafford’s Mansion in Thief,
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where all the gold is naturally found in the
lord's chambers - but there’s little of
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value in the servant’s quarters.
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By making the place a believable location,
the player can use real-world knowledge to
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help orient themselves in the space.
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Of course, one big challenge of making spaces
where people can actually live or work, is
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crafting locations that can actually logically
exist with all the bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchens,
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and so on to support hundreds of people.
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I asked the IO Interactive designers
about this when I did my Hitman 2 video and
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they said they focus on levels that are “credible”,
which means the level meets your basic expectations
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for how a space works - but it doesn’t have
to make perfect sense.
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To finish off our pyramid, we need the low
level - which is the overall setting of the world.
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This is world building, and is where the developers
and narrative designers set things like the
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factions, the major plot points for the world’s
history, and the main players in the story.
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All three parts of this structure should work
in concert, and - ideally - ideas should echo
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up and down the stack.
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Here’s an example of that working in practice.
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In Deus Ex: Mankind Divided, the low level
setting is a futuristic Prague where augmented
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humans face oppression from those without
modifications.
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This is represented in the mid level by places
like train stations with different cars for
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naturals and augs, and a slum-like city where
augs are kept in dire conditions.
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And then the smaller narrative moments on
the high level also talk about oppression and
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racism, though anti-aug graffiti, and emails
about being kicked out of the capital.
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Every level is talking about the same theme
- from a grand, systemic level on the high level, to
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to more intimate and specific stories on the low level.
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Of course, easter eggs and moments of humour
are fine too - but storytelling like this
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is at its best when all aspects are marching
towards the same thematic goal.
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This can be quite challenging in practice
because, on many large games, each level is
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looked after by a completely different person.
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So it’s vitally important for teams to come
together to make sure the vision is being
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shared across the game as a whole.
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So designers can use world building, level
design, and environmental storytelling to
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convey literal and specific information about
the world and its inhabitants.
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But, the design of a world can also be used
in a more evocative and emotional sense.
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Game designers can use things like scale,
shape, and colour to evoke certain feelings
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in the player.
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Here’s Naughty Dog level designer Emilia
Schatz talking about how she did this in Uncharted 4
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EMILIA: “If i want to have the player feel
triumphant at the end and scared towards the
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beginning, I might make the environment create
a lot of pressure on the player.
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I might make the ceiling very low, might make
the walls come in, so you feel tight and constrained.
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And eventually as we get to the end of the
level, bring you out way into the open and
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give you this giant vista”.
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The shape of the cave doesn’t give us any
further understanding of the backstory in Uncharted.
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It’s just a cave, after all.
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Instead, it creates emotion - which helps
the player better understand how the character
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is feeling.
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Here’s a good example of just that in the
most recent God of War.
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The story beat is that Kratos starts to panic
because Atreus has run off and may be in danger.
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Here’s how the designers manipulate the
environment to ensure that you, as the player,
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also feel this sense of tension.
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So, the space constricts to narrow pathways.
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There are dead ends, forcing you to turn around
and backtrack.
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Your visibility is reduced thanks to a thick
grey fog.
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And the final squeeze between rocks completely
slows Kratos down.
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It’s only when you get through that the
world opens up, the fog lifts, and colour
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returns, letting you know that Atreus is safe
and that this mysterious person is probably
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not there to hurt you or your boy.
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Or take the original Portal.
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The first half of the game takes place in
a test lab, and the second half has you escaping
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from an evil AI and darting through a maintenance
area.
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This dramatic shift in the game’s story
is emphasised through
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all sorts of environmental choices.
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The lab is white, sterile, and lacking in
detail.
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The maintenance area is bathed in warmer orange
tones, and looks lived in and used.
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In a talk in 2017, former Crystal Dynamics
art designer Brian Horton talks about this
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part in the Tomb Raider reboot.
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At the start, Lara is low down, with the environment
bearing down from above her.
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Everything is plunged in an ominous dark green
colour.
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As you become level with the environment,
the colours begin to lighten up.
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And then as you climb, you’re actually high
above the level, and Lara is bathed in a warm,
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orange sunlight.
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Her journey of survival - from a point of
despair to a point of hope - is emphasised
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through the level design.
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As a practical method of achieving this, I
want to point to a GDC talk by former BioWare
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level designer Dave Feltham who talks about
two tools they used when making the levels
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for Mass Effect 3: Emotion Charts and Intensity
Charts.
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So the level in question is set on the planet
Tuchanka, and involves providing a cure for
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the Genophage - a biological weapon deployed
against the Krogan.
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The level sees you landing at the hollows,
driving towards the shroud tower, having your
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convoy get blown up, sneak through some catacombs,
pop up in the city, take down your first reaper,
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and - well - I won’t spoil the mission anymore
than that.
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So the designers broke the level down into
a bunch of sections.
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They then decided what theme needed to be
represented in each part.
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And then decided what emotion the player should
feel at that time.
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Finally, they used environment design to evoke
those emotions.
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For example, in the pre-crash you should feel
a sense of hope and confidence about defeating
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the reaper.
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So there’s a huge convoy of vehicles at
your back to make you feel strong, and the
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Krogan are happily lazing about to suggest
nonchalance.
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After the crash, you should feel a sense of
chaos.
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So there’s flames, explosions, and your
convoy is destroyed.
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In the catacombs, you should feel a sense
of mystery - which is driven by the statues
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and murals of ancient Krogan life, And then
the triumphant reveal of the city is supposed
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to make you feel awe at what the Krogan empire
grew to become before the Genophage.
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And make you feel guilty if you were planning
to betray them.
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The contrast from the dark catacombs to the
open city emphasises the reveal.
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Finding the right environmental tricks to
convey the necessary emotion can be tough,
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but here’s how a few other games have done
it.
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Half Life 2 creates a feeling of oppression
through claustrophobic corridors, tall buildings,
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cages, and security cameras.
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PT creates fear by asking you to repeatedly
turn the same corner, but you’re never sure
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what will be on the other side.
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It’s important to note that these environmental
choices have to gel with the game’s mechanics,
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though.
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For example, in a horror game, darkness is
obviously intended to evoke feelings of fear.
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But in a stealth game, darkness might actually
provide feelings of power and safety.
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After picking the environmental details, BioWare
uses intensity charts.
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Basically, the designers have a desired intensity
level - hoping for low moments for story beats,
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and high moments for combat.
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But this has to be checked against play-testers
who describe how intense each area feels.
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If the chart is off, changes must be made.
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For example, the catacombs initially had enemies
- but fighting monsters by torchlight was
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found to be extremely intense, and pulled
away from the intended feeling, so the monsters
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were scrapped to bring the level in line.
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Also, a cutscene of friendly bombers was added
on the road towards the reaper, just to give
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the player slightly more hope that they might
win.
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The ultimate goal for BioWare was to create
a mission that matches a sort of typical three
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act structure.
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With rising action, a low moment of despair,
and a final climb to victory.
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This three act structure is used wonderfully
by 2D platformer Celeste, where the actual
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topology of your climb mirrors that graph.
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Level after level you climb higher up the
mountain, hitting small set-backs and climb-downs
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but ultimately heading forever upwards.
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That is until the stage Reflections which
sends you plummeting back down to the base.
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The story’s lowest point is also the environment’s
lowest point.
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If there’s one game that truly uses the
environment to tell a story, though, it’s Journey.
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It uses moments when you’re climbing to
evoke feelings of strength and progression,
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and moments where you’re plummeting down
to create a sense of loss and hopelessness.
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And notice how the team at thatgamecompany
uses colour to express different sensations
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- orange for the calm mystery of the desert,
dark green for the spooky underground graveyard,
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white for the biting cold, and bright blue
for the moment of rebirth.
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This game doesn’t need any words to tell
you what to feel, because the environment
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says it all.
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The final thing I want to touch on, is the
way environments influence our identity.
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Video games typically put us into the shoes
of a character, and ask us to perform as they would.
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As players, we’re constantly looking for
clues as to what sort of person we are inhabiting,
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and what sort of actions will be expected,
permitted, and punished.
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Of course, the heavy lifting is done by the
available mechanics, the way systems react
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to our choices, and our preconceived notions
from the marketing and genre norms.
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But the environment can also play a large
part in this.
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For example, in the original Bioshock I found
it easy to murder people and steal from cash
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registers and safes.
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Whereas in Bioshock Infinite, i found these
actions a lot less comfortable.
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A large part of this comes from the fact that
Bioshock’s Rapture is in ruins, and the
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only people around are insane, bloodthirsty
splicers.
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Bashing their skulls in and looting everything
I can fit in my pockets just makes sense.
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Infinite’s Columbia, on the other hand,
is still a semi-functioning society when you
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get there, with working shops and innocent
citizens.
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So violence and robbery just makes less sense
in that environment.
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Back down on Earth, the Hitman developers
use this technique to subtly explain
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how the world will react to your presence.
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It’s often pretty obvious which areas you
can casually stroll into, because of our understanding
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of real-world social behaviours and rules.
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This comes from a GDC talk by IO developer
Mette Andersen who says “when
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we design these spaces, we’re designing
rules of behaviour and we’re designing something
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that’s going to tap into your knowledge
of ‘how should I be in this space?’”.
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Mette splits the world into public spaces,
which are available from the get go and explorable
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in any costume.
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And private spaces, which require some ingenuity
to enter, and a costume to stay hidden.
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She then splits those further into sub categories,
where social rules go from vague to strict.
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The best levels in Hitman, says Mette, incorporate
a rich mix of these area types.
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So video game environments can be a staggeringly
effective medium for storytelling.
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Whether they’re telling stories about events
that happened before your arrival, giving
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clues about the people who live there, evoking
emotions through architecture, or providing
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context for player identity, these spaces
can speak volumes.
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Let me know your favourite examples of storytelling
through the environment, in the comments down below.
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Hi, thanks for watching.
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As you might have noticed, this is a re-uploaded
version of a previous video.
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Unfortunately, that video was labelled as
not age-appropriate, because of some of the
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examples I gave - and so the video had a big
scary warning before you could watch.
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Ultimately, I want my channel to be accessible
to as many people as possible, and so I’m
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going to work hard in future to make sure
my stuff is suitable for a general audience.
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I’m still going to talk about shooting people,
because, hey, my channel’s about video games.
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But, still, I’ll take care not to slip into
gratuitous depictions of violence and other icky stuff.
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If the original video made you feel uncomfortable,
then I do apologise.