The Evolution of Evolve’s Pacing

World Design

In Turtle Rock Studios’ Evolve (2015), the game’s pacing is largely focussed around the Hunters’ tracking, pursuit and confrontation of the Monster, designed to gradually increase in pacing the longer the match continues. Its initial tension is maintained through the simulation of the hunt – the idea of perceived danger, and through the building of anticipation that the Monster could be confronted at any moment.

Each session of the game consists of several subsets of the archetypal three-act structure. The opening scenes of the level depict the Hunters’ banter as they are deployed into the level, featuring unique dialogue that is dependent on that particular combination of characters. This light exposition in the midst of the opening scenes not only reveals some backstory to the player and establishes the scene, but also serves the added purpose of providing the Monster with time to find their bearings.

The opening scenes of each match carve out some space for character exposition.

Once the stage is set and the players are deployed, the search for the Monster begins, in which the tension begins to rise. There is often very little anticipation of encountering the Monster at this stage due to the initial headstart that is provided to the Monster. Occasionally the Monster may trigger particular cues (such as startling a flock of birds), which assist the Hunters in their search and heighten the anticipation for the fight.

Once the Hunters have spotted the Monster, the pursuit begins, as the players must then get close enough to the Monster in order to trap it. The tempo increases, and urgency between both Monster and hunter increases, though the speed of the movement does not. While a jetpack allows Hunters to scale obstacles with relative ease, the rate at which they use it does not necessarily increase to match it. Despite this increase in both tempo and intensity, such pursuit is often not as tense as it could be, and is often at risk of being reduced to constantly trailing the Monster.

Trapping the Monster in with the Hunters forces it to engage them in direct combat.

If the Hunters succeed in cornering the Monster, however, the final act of this structure comes to the fore. Getting close enough to it allows the Hunters to deploy a timed dome that traps the Monster within, forcing it to confront them and making the previously implied danger a very real threat. In this circumstance, the tempo of the Monster approaches an all-time high, as the gameplay becomes especially action-oriented until the dome is released, and the Monster can continue fleeing. Each encounter becomes increasingly tense, specifically as the Monster becomes increasingly stronger and hence closer to winning the game by destroying a Power Relay or defeating the Hunters.

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Perhaps the pacing could have been improved by increasing the difference in overall gameplay speed throughout the second phase of each match, which would aid in distinguishing the pacing of both the tracking and pursuit of the Monster. Whilst the tempo is still rather absorbing, this tension has been somewhat diminished after its recent changes to a more action-oriented focus.

The Worldbuilding of Star Control II

World Design

The 1992 DOS game Star Control II (by Toys for Bob) chronicles the continuous conflict between the warring Alliance of Free Stars and the Hierarchy of Battle Thralls. Taking an outside-in approach to its worldbuilding, the game manages to build extensive amounts of lore to achieve a compelling sense of scale. This worldbuilding is further evidenced and reinforced through the game’s the open-world design, nonlinear storyline as well as its use of randomly generated events.

Within the Starmap, the player’s position is indicated by a small crosshair, emphasising the sheer scale of the game’s universe.

Firstly, the game features an open-world during play. As a result of the game’s open-ended nature, the game’s outside-in approach to worldbuilding is made clear. After a short amount of exposition and tutorial within the first hour of the game, the player is given complete freedom to explore the remainder of the world. This open gameplay encourages exploration and discovery, as the player is not expected to uncover all of the dialogue, let alone win on their first playthrough. Triggering key events or gathering particular items will make it easier for the player, yet very few of these conditions are actually necessary in order to win the game. Hence the developer cannot easily dictate the player’s next objective, but merely influence it. By compensating for every potential action and scenario beyond the main plot, the game is able to better present a more robust world.

Alien races are given individualised characteristics and motivations.

This modular and open-ended design is complemented by the amount of random generation that is prevalent throughout the game. Influenced by a variety of factors such as the player’s equipment and progress, the player may encounter any of the alien races at any time. Each alien race is discussed with a comprehensive history, as well as motivation, which plays a role in their relationship and diplomacy with not just the player, but also other races. These individual species also function and interact entirely independent from each other, creating the illusion of an organic universe that continuously adapts to the player’s decisions and actions.

Thus the world also serves to supporting this amount of random generation within the game. If the game were to be designed through an inside-out approach, there would be a multitude of inconsistencies in the comprehensiveness of lore between races. It is almost immediately clear that this is not the case, as seen during the early introduction and discussion with Earthling Commander Hayes. The extent of detail that is explained and addressed shows that the game’s world was not built solely around the storyline, but rather in tandem. Any enquiries relating to history, lore, species and languages, whether of actual use to the player, are accounted for and accessible.

Extensive backstory and exposition is encountered regularly throughout the game.

Star Control II‘s outside-in approach to worldbuilding not only aids in creating a believable world, but also supporting the game’s open-world design, nonlinear storyline as well as its use of randomly generated events. By expanding beyond the immediate storyline, the game’s world truly becomes its own universe.

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The Duality, Dichotomies and Dimensionalities of Giana Sisters: Twisted Dreams

World Design

Giana Sisters: Twisted Dreams is a game about duality, and everything in the game exists to serve this notion of opposing dichotomies. Through Giana’s dreams, the multiple facets of her personality are manifested as alternate realities. Whether aesthetically or through gameplay, the binary nature of the game’s elements convey this navigation and interdimensionality in each level of the game.

The duality of this game is apparent almost immediately, as even the main character of the game is split into two. As the dual personalities of Giana, the player is able to alternate between them at the press of a single button. Giana in her regular state is peppy and cheerful amidst a grim world that is rife with demons. Punk Giana, in contrast, can only exist in a bright and upbeat aesthetic. To further emphasise such characterisation, this switching is indicated by the change in soundtrack, where any presence of Punk Giana is accompanied by an alternative, heavy metal rendition of the usually cheery songs.

The game reflects such duality not only aesthetically, but also in terms of gameplay. By switching between these two personalities, the player is able to utilise Giana’s ability to initiate a particular set of navigational skills. When playing as regular Giana, she is able to twirl, allowing her to hover in the air. As Punk Giana, on the other hand, her loud and aggressive exterior matches her newfound ability to dash as a fireball. Thus the core aspect of playing this game lies in the player’s necessity to continuously swap and combine these two forms of navigation.

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This motif of dimensions continues to be used in the environment of each level, which exists in completely different states of these two dimensions. As the player toggles between both of Giana’s forms, her surrounding environment alternates between worlds similarly. This utilisation of swapping dimensions creates additional layers of complexity in the player’s navigation of each level. Bridges alternate between stability and dilapidation, while thorny vines grow and wilt, opening and closing the forward path for the player and creating navigational possibilities. The player is forced to use such instantaneous dimension switching in order to manoeuvre the obstacles in each level.

Throughout the game, the player is encouraged to collect gems, which appear in a range of three colours, yellow to be picked up by Giana, red for Punk Giana, and blue by both. Alongside creating incentive for collection and exploration of each of the game’s levels, the placement of gems is also used as a means of teaching and leading the player. A cluster of gems near a door, for example, instigates the player into switching dimensions to retrieve it, and therefore inadvertently open the door. In the same manner, the developers can use this gem placement to suggest a path and skills that the player should use.

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The dual nature of this game is evident through the multitude of ways in which the game’s two dimensions are represented. For every character or environmental setpiece, there is an alternative existence, whether as an ability or obstacle. Furthermore, the contrasting dispositions of these dimensions are used to teach the player when and where to navigate during play. Just as Giana’s dual personalities exhibit these dimensions, these dimensions simultaneously contextualise their navigable space.

A Non-Critique From Not Playing The Stanley Demo

World Design

The Stanley Parable is a game that is all about expectations – the expectations of how a demo should work, how it is played, and what the player walks away with. With an emphasis on removing external challenge in the game, the goal of the game is in providing the player with space to understand themselves through their actions.

As opposed to providing a set of binary choices that fulfil a particular goal, the game instead offers these choices and interactions through which the player can explore their own reasons for making them. In essence, the game merely facilitates the narrative of the player. It is their actions that drive the narrative, while the narrator serves to acknowledge and register your actions.

The point of this demo is to play upon the very concept of a demo itself. Because a traditional demo of the game would be jeopardised from having a portion of the game extracted without context, it is apparent that the goal of this particular demo is to recreate its self-referential humour. Thus rather than providing a preview of the content of the game, but rather an emphasis on the nature of the game.

The very nature of The Stanley Parable hinges on the design philosophy of its developers – to provide the player with a space for introspection. With the inclusion of a narrator who seemingly responds to each action of the player, this negotiation between obedience, confusion and exploration is used to create a sense of playfulness without the need for external challenge. Just as the idea of the traditional game demo is subverted, this demo serves as an example of the kind of subversion that the final game itself strives to make.

In addition, the demo is a critique on the current state of trends in the game industry, while also reinforcing its own design philosophy. For example, the narrator offers a variety of buttons to the player, promising that the game offers a multitude of potential answers for each. Regardless of the button pressed, they all return the same response. In this exercise, the player cannot continue without first pressing one of the buttons, also emphasising the superficial context in which these games offer choices, and as a means to an end. This echoes the shallow and linear tendency of a player’s choice in game.

This is accentuated elswhere, where the demo features a set of booths that are described to be able to ‘convert text into raw emotion’ for the player. When stepping inside, it simply plays a scripted sequences of projected text, voiceover and light, parodying the seemingly-formulaic methods in which games attempt to derive emotion from the player.

While not serving as a traditional game demo for The Stanley Parable, this demo succeeds in accomplishing the very essence of the game. It showcases the wit of the narrator, the game’s self-referential humour, and a clear indication of the goal of the developers. It not only plays with expectations of a game demo, but also toys with the concept of play itself.

Portal – The Importance of Teaching the Player

World Design

In the unsurprisingly scientific and meticulous fashion that is characteristic of Valve, the goal of every obstacle in Portal is quite simple – to teach the player about the obstacles ahead, and reinforce them as often as possible. This is largely apparent in its incredibly methodical level design and arrangement, emphasis on reinforcing lessons, as well as control of information.

Firstly, the game makes sure to only introduce new information one feature at a time. This has proven to be especially important due to its especially abstract game mechanics, and to not overwhelm the player. Truly taking this philosophy to heart, the first obstacle challenges the player to walk through a portal in order to grasp its most basic behaviour. After testing the player in their ability to weigh buttons with cubes, walking through portals and jumping on separate occasions, the game will then test them in combination. Furthermore, the player is not even able to progress until they demonstrate a firm grasp of these rules at a variety of skill gates during the game, ensuring that the player is never left unprepared for a puzzle.

To supplement this, these lessons are continuously reinforced to ensure that player’s don’t forget what they have learnt. This is evident when the player must accomplish a variety of puzzles before even retrieving the second, orange portal, after which they are forced to accomplish a similar design using their newfound skill.

Introducing the concept of the portal to the player…

And spelling out the relationship between the weighted cube and a button.

In addition, the codification of their levels are used to implicitly indicate key information to players. The consistent use of dark, sloped walls to contrast the sterile white of the world imply that they are no place for portals – something that is instilled time and time again. At the same time, checkered tiles become synonymous with ideal portal placement.

The placement of props also serve to exist as hints. For example, the inclusion of the radio in the very beginning of the scene demonstrates to the player that the source of music is not occurring as background music, but rather from the prop itself. This association between audio and prop is drawn upon later in another level, where the deliberate placement of a radio is used in teaching the player about the purpose of the Material Emancipation Grill.

The radio prop is introduced within the game’s first minutes…

… And is later used to draw the player’s attention to a solution.

Accompanying the puzzle design itself is the strong cohesion of the voiceover and narrative, which provides both humour and hints at times. For one of the more abstract concepts of ‘flinging’, the voiceover makes sure to constantly hint at the word ‘momentum’, even to the point of describing the phenomenon as ‘speedy thing goes in, speedy thing comes out’.

The careful introduction a game’s features are incredibly important to games, and especially for those as abstract as Portal. It can’t be assumed that players will immediately have a grasp on features like portal transportation, and thus the developer needs to prepare them accordingly. Whether that is through proper pacing, consistent design or just clever writing, Portal provides a quintessential example of using seemingly-experimental methods for a seemingly-experimental game.

The Abstraction of Minesweeper

World Design

Minesweeper is a game built on abstraction and simplification. In both gameplay and aesthetics, the game manages to extract this notion of minesweeping and distill it into an easily understandable experience.

Any overarching narrative is heavily implied, given the absence of text for majority of the game. Thus more subtle cues are required in order to present the player with context. The title of Minesweeper itself aids a great deal in setting the scene. Almost immediately from starting the game, the player is able to somewhat ascertain their goal – that is, sweeping for mines – and have some idea of what to expect in the game loop.

Within the first few interactions, a high-level representation of minesweeping is presented to the player in a matter of seconds: clicking some tiles will reveal themselves to be inert, while clicking others will end the game.

For lack of aural cues, the inclusion of a simple yellow smiley face simulates the inclusion of a protagonist through which the player can emotionally invest in the game. This anthropomorphism projects a distilled range of emotions throughout each playthrough. A smile indicates the neutral, safe state in which the player resides in at that point in time. When revealing a tile, the face reflects the suspense involved in the inferred high-risk situation. Revealing a mine is represented with a simple arrangement of Xs over the smiley face’s eyes, confirming the implied lethality that minesweeping would entail.

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Obviously minesweeping in reality does not involve displayed numbers to indicate the proximity of nearby mines. Yet the inclusion of these numbers is used as an approximate representation of mine detection technology – to recreate this intelligent guesswork. In the same way that actual mine detection is never certain, the game creates junctions in which the player has no choice but to resort to guesswork. The player can only go so far without needing to risk everything at some point.

Aesthetically, the game strives for abstraction rather than representation; for functionality rather than aesthetic. It is of little importance that these flags would be expected to be used with land mines, or that the mines are portrayed as sea mines. The player knows that the flags represent danger, and that the mines represent death.

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It is these limited visuals that allow the game to function the way it does. In the same manner of long-standing games such as chess, its accessibility and timelessness is derived from its core gameplay. If anything, the game’s abstract nature lends itself to many forms of contextualisation through themes and aesthetics. These modernised versions do not add further to the gameplay itself, only serving to embellish purely visual elements:

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Whether they are explosives, spiked traps or ladybirds, the representation of these mines themselves bears no real significance. The player only needs to know that they need to be avoided. Through the simple use of icons and contextually-relevant gameplay, Minesweeper manages to abstract minesweeping into a timeless game experience.

Architecture and Level Design in Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time

World Design

Ubisoft’s 2003 title, Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, utilises architecture for both gameplay and narrative reasons throughout the game. On one hand, the game’s architecture and and setting in India are used to complement and facilitate its primary gameplay. On another, the level design and gameflow itself aids in establishing narrative context. Through innovations in character movement and control, as well as contextualisation of mechanics and narrative devices, the game manages to create an cohesive and engaging experience for the player.

Producer Yannis Mallat and define the goals of the game was to create challenging level design, and showcase exciting animation and movement. In the same way that its 1989 predecessor captivated audiences with rotoscoped character animation, this entry aimed to achieve similar results with fluid and elaborate movement. As a result, the story and environments of the game arose out of a need to facilitate for these goals.

Director Patrice Désilets explains that the time-reversal mechanic was added in order to compensate for the decreased precision of navigating 3D space. Similarly, this also affected the narrative as being told through flashback, echoing and perpetuating this concept of time travel. Hence the need to reverse time as a means of reducing frustration partially dictated the game’s aesthetic, narrative structure and themes.

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Columns provide verticality in each level, whilst remaining relevant to Indo-Islamic architecture.

The inclusion of such agile movement and puzzle platforming is therefore complemented by the Indo-Islamic architecture of the game, which not only establishes and reinforces the player’s location throughout the game, but also lends itself to the needs of level design. Expansive, open spaces between platforms enforce the necessity to wall run, while open spaces and high ceilings justify the inclusion of columns as a means of vertical navigation.

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Water as healing points throughout the game has been woven into the context of each level.

Interestingly, the game also weaves sources of health regeneration into its narrative presentation. As opposed to including stereotypical game symbols, Prince of Persia instead chooses to contextualise healing as thirst, as represented by the variety of sources of water placed into each level. Having the prince drink water allows him to heal in a manner that does not break suspension of disbelief, as it remains contextually-relevant. As decorative water fountains and pools fit the established setting better than any kind of health pick-ups, the game’s presentation is hence not undermined by such game elements.

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Murals adorn the wall where the player is likely to fall in front of, and hence discover uninentionally.

This relationship is bidirectional however, as the level design also serves the narrative in return. For example, a set of painted murals are placed in the level to provide backstory for the player. Additionally, they are deliberately placed on a ledge where the player is taught about wall running – a core mechanic of movement throughout. As the player is most likely going to fail on their first attempt of this particular puzzle, they are presented with this form of implicit narrative without the necessity for cutscenes or cinematics.

While the gameplay and level design were the starting point for the game’s narrative and architectural decisions, it by no means has prevented the designers from interweaving both aspects, creating a truly harmonious experience.

Kairo Analysis

World Design

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Kairo, by Locked Door Puzzle (2012) is a distillation of the puzzle game, taking the common tropes that are typical of these kinds of games and abstracting and reducing them to their most basic forms.

By stripping the detail from the world, the use of primitive shapes creates room for more focused on the puzzles themselves.

For example, the player begins the game upon an open platform, looking into blank space. A building in the distance ahead, disguised behind fog, emphasises the distance and encourages the player to navigate towards it in order to explore it further. From this opening scene alone, it can be seen that there is attempt to reproduce or objects, but merely to convey just enough information that objects can be understood and interpreted.

The simplicity of form and repetition, as shown in these pillars, make it easier to observe the asymmetry created by the staircase to the right.

The flat colour palette and use of primitive shapes again provide better clarity and ways for the game to understand scenes and patterns without the need to entirely represent objects.

A green hue, combined with the abstracted shapes of trees and benches, portray this space as a kind of park.

Additionally, the game uses hieroglyphic-like symbols as the method of codifying some of the puzzles. Without the need for written instructions or additional detail on objects, the game can guide the player through the simple annotation of objects with these hieroglyphs.

The use of hieroglyphs are used to convey a correlation between the two objects.

Though the visuals are heavily abstracted in the game, audio is used in a more literal and straightforward manner in which to best represent objects as they appear to the player. Stone objects grind as they are moved as the result of a switch. The sound of running water accompanies a river-like flow and movement of rushing shapes in a simulation of a waterfall. Without these aural cues, the abstraction of an object’s shape alone creates a far less contextual and cohesive experience for the player.

In a further distillation of these puzzles, the game relies on this utilisation of sound design for many parts of the game. One such puzzle (see below) involves a series of rotating rings which must be triggered in a particular order.

This puzzle includes a circular monument in the centre, accompanied by a series of switches.

For each switch that the player stands on, the game will chime two kinds of notes. A correct move will present an upward-inflecting chime, indicating a positive, whereas an incorrect one will create a flat note. In conjunction with the varying symbols that adorn each switch, the player is given enough information, however simple, to understand and decode the puzzle’s system.

In combination with the aforementioned hieroglyphs, the use of sound aids in the decoding of this puzzle.

Hence the minimalist representation of Kairo‘s objects, and their reduction to their simplest forms creates a honed experience that is capable of evoking a similar sense of wonder and discovery to the player as more literal representations. Removing any visual noise in each room and scene also serves to prevent obstruction to the intended message for the player. The meaning comes from these instances of performing the actions themselves, rather than they would represent should they carry additional aesthetic details. Thus this game’s message is reflected in this abstraction of the gameplay, in favour of eschewing representation. The world can only say so much, whereas the player’s actions speak volumes.

Analysing the First Hour of Bioshock

World Design

In a study of the first hour of Bioshock, there are a variety of elements, both overt and subtle, involved in directing the player throughout the level. As the demo of the game is designed to grab the player’s interest and engagement almost immediately, the game’s use of lighting, composition and enemy placement draw the player throughout. The first few moments of the game is pivotal, and thus warrants a play-by-play analysis, whereas the remainder of this hour will be covered holistically.

The Introduction

The game begins with a cinematic to set the scene, in which the protagonist’s plane crashes into the ocean. Player is granted control as soon as they reach the surface of the water. The orange of the flames contrast the cold blue of the water, as well as a shimmer from a piece of debri up ahead draws the eye towards it. The flames surrounding the player also act as a contextual invisible wall. Moving forward towards this shimmering debri, flames from the left cut off the player from reaching it, the trail of the flames directing the player to the right where they see another landmark – the tail of the sinking plane. As it sinks downwards, the movement is brings a tower into the player’s field of view. Lamp posts and the light from the behind it bring the player to the bottom of the steps, with further lamp posts acting as breadcrumbs for the player to follow.

A large gold door, left ajar, leads the player into the building, as they trace the ray of light that is projected from outside. Upon reaching the end of whatever light is left, the door shuts behind the player, leaving them in pitch black momentarily as the room is illuminated and greeting the player with large monuments and a red banner (the use of red is prevalent throughout). As the player moves forward into the darker, unexplored areas, they are met with further objects ahead illuminating according to walk triggers, such as golden ornaments to draw the eye. Curved stairscases being the player to a gold submersible, again with door left ajar and a glowing handle inside to indicate interaction. Interacting with it triggers a cued response in which the player is sealed within, and the vehicle dives underwater. Movement is locked, and the player is encouraged to look through the window due to the lack of activity in immediate surroundings. The sound of a film projector and the appearance of a screen cues the player to watch a film for the sake of narrative context, before revealing the core location of Rapture to the player.

Again there is the use of movement to lead the eye around the world, this time done through marine life such as squids and whales. Neon signs foreshadow the locations that are going to be visited later. Before exiting the submersible, a quick scene is played out in front of the player. No action can be taken, apart from watching silhouettes contrasted strongly against a lit window for dramatic effect and mystery. Dialogue and the glow of the radio to the player’s left cues them to finally open the door and leave the submersible and into the remainder of the game.

Getting to the Action

For much of the game, the use of lighting and movement are used to lead the player through each room. The first of the Vita-Chambers (which act as checkpoints throughout the game) gives off a pulsing, electric blue glow and allows the player to examine it in a safe environment.

The mise-en-scene surrounding the player, such as the protest signs and abandoned luggage immediately upon exiting the submersible, emphasise to the player that something that gone wrong long before (in case the player hadn’t noticed already from the enemy Splicer killing a man in front of them). A transport schedule with all trips reading ‘CANCELLED’ adds to this.

The use of spotlights at several points throughout the game also explicitly point out key areas of interest for the player, blacking out most other regions for emphasis. The first is used at the area directly before leaving the safe zone, as well as foreshadowing the Splicer and Drone to the player momentarily. It also brings attention to the first weapon – a wrench – and indicates to the player on how to attack and crouch, ensuring that they are prepared for the hostilies ahead. Another spotlight is used in the theatre, introducing the first Little Sister as the player must look downwards while navigating the catwalk above.

Even a hierarchy of lighting is utilised in the world. Levels are typically quite low-lit, with the smaller, brighter lit areas serving as signposting from room to room. Consumable items are often indicated by a subtler but flickering light from a lamp, creating some visibility without entirely taking too much attention away from the actual level progression. Sometimes the game points things out rather explicitly, using neon signs and arrows to point the way for the player.

Movement is often used to lead the player to particular areas. Waterfalls are liberally used both as context and as means of identifying adjoining hallways and entrances. Enemies running towards the player from particular areas serve a similar function in a more urgent manner, also providing sources of gameplay action.

The composition of each room itself is used to this effect. A large hall adorned with banners has its symmetry broken up by the inclusion of a small flame seen through a window on one side, bringing attention to it as a point of interest.

This has just been a quick rundown of the most obvious ways that Bioshock guides its players through the first hour of gameplay. Have you noticed anything else that I haven’t mentioned yet? I’m bound to have missed a few!

Stay tuned for another analysis of game levels, coming soon!

Creating Some Doom

World Design

After some tinkering with DoomBuilder, a Doom map-making tool, I’ve come up with a wee map!

For the layout, I drew a lot of influence from dungeons such as Ocarina of Time’s Forest Temple, as well as attempting to replicate the dimly lit, foreboding nature of the unknown.

I specifically aspired to build a map that was in itself behaved very much like a machine. Hidden switches and levers would have the level dynamically change itself as you play, revealing more enemies and secrets. Almost every room has traps which only reveal themselves after baiting you with some kind of upgrade or treasure. The goal for each of these rooms was to tempt the player to go towards the room’s treasure, before springing the trap. The player would then be forced to quickly grab it before utilising it to save themselves. I also placed the monsters in each room in order to make best use of the particular weapon. For example, in the Blue Keycard room, I had originally placed the Super Shotgun there, but I soon found that the rate of fire did not suit the pace of the battle. Having a firefight in a large room with hordes of Imps and Cacodemons required a more rapid-fire run-and-gun approach, and thus I swapped it out for the Plasma Gun instead.

Subsequently I felt that the Super Shotgun was a better fit for the Red KeyCard room, in which you are ambushed in a tight space by melee Demons. I also accompanied it with the Chainsaw in order to emphasise this up-close-and-personal combat, before forcing the player to run through a corridor with these weapons in near darkness.

I also made sure that any secrets were signposted to some extent, taking further cue from The Legend of Zelda games. Using anomalies in patterns, and monsters to draw the player’s attention towards particular areas.

Read on for a quick run-through of my design! Find the map file here if you’d like to play it.

A brightly lit tree up ahead draws the player forward. The odd pattern of lights on the sides draw attention to possible secrets.

Fireballs coming from the side forces the player to notice the elevator on their right.

At the top of the stairs lie some brightly-lit treasure…

Which reveals a trap! The Super Shotgun and Chainsaw arrive in time to lend you a hand.

Tight corridors give you an opportunity to mow monsters down.

Elsewhere, lamp posts guide the player along until they notice more goods through these bars…

Which was evidently a trap as well. Note the lamp post on the far side of the room to draw the player to another hallway.

The hallway is filled with Barons of Hell and Spectres. The player must navigate around the enemies to reach the Rocket Launcher, and I specifically chose to add Spectres to force the player to be wary of hurting themselves with their own rockets.

A small room between the Red Door and Blue Door offer some health, armour and brief respite.

Behind the Blue Door likes a Mancubus and some Revenants inside a tight room, making avoiding their rockets a challenge. Also a brightly lit room with a switch is hinted at in the corner of the screen.

Pressing the switch seemed to do nothing at all, until on their way out of the room, the player would notice the elevator on their left.

Amongst other goods, the player is on eye-level with the tree in the centre of the room. The presence of items there suggests that platform is reachable.

Heading back towards the hub room, the differently-textured wall brings the player’s eye down towards a switch. Hmm, that wasn’t there before…

…And pressing the switch brings up some stairs from behind the player!

On reaching the top, the player can go around the tree to grab all the items! Not before triggering yet another trap of enemies.

One last switch reveals the exit door behind you.

Freedom!

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JacksonIsWong

Technical/FX Artist

12Games

The Evolution of Evolve’s Pacing

The Worldbuilding of Star Control II

The Duality, Dichotomies and Dimensionalities of Giana Sisters: Twisted Dreams

A Non-Critique From Not Playing The Stanley Demo

Portal – The Importance of Teaching the Player

The Abstraction of Minesweeper

Architecture and Level Design in Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time

Kairo Analysis

Analysing the First Hour of Bioshock

The Introduction

Getting to the Action

Creating Some Doom