You know what they say
about people who have money. It turns
them into jerks.
Well, they say that
behind their backs. But the fact remains
that people and companies with some serious coin are always going to come under
fire from the regular guy; it’s the bourgeoisie against the proletariat all
over again. The gaming world is no exception:
if you’ve got a company with enough money to make Scrooge McDuck a little
antsy, you’ve got a company that draws ire from armies of non-believers. Activision, Square-Enix, EA, and more put
their wallets into production, and it shows.
Massive ad campaigns. Graphics that
make reality look like a finger painting.
Bombastic set pieces. Cinematic
experiences that are waging war on Hollywood.
They're comin' for that ass, Cameron.
All of these factors
and more are enough to earn the never-ending hatred of gamers everywhere.
With cinematic bombast
come plots that have holes the size of craters.
With eye-melting graphics comes re-used assets and drastically shortened
gameplay. With dedication to set pieces
and sights comes an experience so linear that a tube of toothpaste has more depth. It’s enough to make gamers bitter and cynical
-- and drive them to hold indie games and titles from smaller companies in
higher esteem (provided that they’re good, of course). Big-budget games are -- and by extension
transform the industry into -- a business affair with high risks and
expectations. Small-budget games are
what you might call “hipster magnets” in the sense that they’re in it for the
art. You know, in a totally un-ironic
way.
You've probably never heard of it.
But I wonder what would
happen if big-budget titles -- the dreaded AAA releases and annual franchises
that earn groans from forum-goers everywhere -- had their big budgets
slashed? What if they were suddenly
forced to rely not on the ability to tout their hyper-dimensional graphics
engine, but on all the other factors that make a video game a video game? What if they had to convince audiences and
potential buyers without the ability to spend a cool five million with bells,
whistles, and Jonah Hill?
Well…
The Case For
The average game, as I
once read, costs twenty to twenty-five million dollars to make. At least, that’s what they cost back in 2009
-- when the Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3 firmly rooted themselves as
“current-gen” technology. When God of War III came out, later boasts
revealed that it cost somewhere around 44 million dollars to make. In spite of that astronomical number, it did
fairly well for itself; it probably helped that it had a healthy fanbase and a
recognizable franchise behind it.
But money
corrupts. We’ve seen it in fiction and
in real life. Gamers have every right to
fear for their future when sales figures and total shipments are the biggest
accomplishments for a game, and not things like innovative gameplay or an
engrossing story. The big companies can
put in the big bucks and afford top-of-the-line motion capture tech or an
input/output doohickey that renders 4,096 different shades of brown -- and
chances are they’re confident they’ll make their investment back.
Bankruptcy-proof.
But suppose they didn’t
have the money for that. I can think of
a few features they’d have to slash right off the bat: awe-inspiring graphics
and most likely diminished online support (to say nothing of crippled
marketing). In terms of the actual
company, you’d probably have to work with a smaller team as well. And you wouldn’t be able to hire outside
help, either. Come to think of it, would
a smaller budget lead to a download-only release? That’s a fair avenue for plenty of companies
compared to a retail release (or releasing said game at a discount).
So let’s see here…worse
graphics. Slashed online
multiplayer. No set pieces. Lower expectations of success; probably just
trying to stay afloat. Probably no voice
actors with a high price tag. Really,
big developers would be losing a lot (at the cost of being able to, say, give
the money they weren’t allowed to use to children. Or puppies.
Or orphan puppies.)
How do you succeed,
then? How do you get your product out
there? Make it good.
Originality. Depth.
Challenge. Amusement. Catharsis.
Fun. You don’t need a big budget
to make sure that your game succeeds.
You just need to remember, and implement, what makes a game a game. If you can’t afford the Hollywood trappings,
axe them; companies have done more with less in the past and in the
present. With the fat gone, all you have
left is the delicious meat; as a developer, it’s your responsibility to make
sure you’ve made that meat as tasty as possible. And there are plenty of ways to do it. Make a game with stylized visuals, rather
than graphics that render every grain of dust. Introduce a story that tugs at the
heartstrings, or just makes players laugh out loud. Push gamers to the point of tears with levels
that are hard enough to make eating a box of Railroad Spike-Os seem pleasant by
comparison, but just rewarding enough to make them as addictive as Cinnamon
Railroad Spike-Os.
Part of a balanced breakfast.
In a world where big
budgets = huge risks = the threat of job losses, maybe it’s good to not put so
much money into a product. It gives the
developers a chance to take risks not with their pockets, but with their intellectual
property. Games with guns n’ zombies are
in right now, which leads to an overload of the market with the same generic
product; what better way to differentiate oneself from the crowd -- and earn
some notoriety -- with something different?
Something original? Something
that’s earned its merits based on the game’s mechanics, not bells and whistles?
Atlus is a Japanese
company that consistently -- almost unfairly -- doles out titles that, while
small in budget, are big in ideas, challenge, entertainment, and more. It’s a comparatively small company, yes, but
its fans are as rabid and dedicated as any other (I speak from
experience). But of course, there are
plenty of western developers busting out some hits: Outland, Super Meat Boy, and ESPECIALLY Braid are all lifetime achievers in my book. Super
Meat Boy has gone on to sell a million units, in spite of being about a
block of 2D meat. Braid has gone on to become an exemplar of “games as art” -- and it
was made with less than 200k.
It was Super Mario Bros. for geniuses. And stalkers.
For some companies,
their AAA models are fine. For others,
there’s no money to be had in aping what your competitors are doing, and doing
better by virtue of being so filthy rich that a dip in Niagara Falls wouldn’t
clean them off. If you can’t beat the
competition on their terms, shift the battlefield in your favor. Give them something smaller, but much more
satisfying. The gaming world will thank you for it.
The Case Against
Hey, you know what’s
good? Money.
You know what else is
good? Using money to produce the things
you want.
Let’s be realistic
here. Games cost money to make -- a lot
of it. Even if you slash the budget,
you’re slashing the kneecaps of the creators.
It takes money to hire talented people.
It takes money to put all the assets into a coherent package. But most importantly, it takes money to
realize a creative vision. Now more than
ever is that the case; in the age of HD gaming (or as I call it, “The Age of
Nolan North”), there’s potential to create the biggest, most luscious worlds in
history. But it’s not a task you can do
alone. You need a team. You need tech. And most of all, you need money.
We're lucky Braid didn't look like this.
The Elder Scrolls 5: Skyrim is making the rounds as one of the most
impressive and open-ended games ever released.
Having played it -- and having sent my hero Blackules to the farthest
northern reaches to burn walruses alive -- I can attest to that. But would even a tenth of that sprawling
world be available if not for the developers throwing money into its gullet
like an oversized baby? Likewise, how
successful would any company be in realizing its aims if it didn’t have the
money to back up its production?
Money doesn’t always
ensure quality. But given the choice,
would you rather a company with no money handling your games? Or a company that can afford a quality
assurance team?
Let’s have a
scenario. Company A is the big budget
company. Company B is the little
guy. Both are competing in an art
contest. Company A has plenty of money
to spend, and they use it to buy all the best art supplies, and paints, and
brushes, and glitter, and paper they can -- and they even have veteran voice
actor Nolan North handle the painting.
Company B can’t afford anything more than Popsicle sticks and glue, so
they have to work with that. Company A
puts out the biggest, most glittering painting they can -- a mural-sized work
that takes two forklifts to carry in and out of a building. And the painting itself? It’s a sailboat. Company B walks in with a smaller piece: an
abstract model of the universe rendered in Popsicle sticks…which also happens
to look like Nolan North’s head.
Let's face it, the man has a rugged appeal.
What will people like
more? Who’s to say, really? They could go for the sailboat, if only
because its glitter is blinding to them.
They could go for the Popsicle sticks, citing it as the most moving work
of art ever produced, while remaining curiously handsome. People have different tastes, and if they
want to prefer the sailboat, they’re allowed to.
The same applies to the
gaming industry. People wouldn’t buy
games like Gears of War 3 or Uncharted 3 or Assassin’s Creed or Call of
Duty if there wasn’t something in there that they liked. The games have their audiences, and they’re
aware of what they like, want, and need; with gaming itself becoming more
popular and mainstream, so too must companies cater to their tastes. Maybe people want supreme visuals. Maybe they want popcorn-flick plots. Maybe they just want simple gameplay, coupled
with the chance to shoot and stab their friends (but mostly enemies, I’d
wager). Maybe it’s just best to be at
peace with that; we shouldn’t blame a company’s resources for its failings, but
the paradigms within. It’s those big
budgets that make plenty of games possible; if there’s an issue, it should be with
the fact that there’s an intellectual disconnect, not “They’re rich, so they’re
Hellspawn.”
So in the end…
This post solves
nothing.
Still, you can’t help
but wonder. Are budgets alone to blame
for the gaming industry’s problems? Is
money the root of all evil here, as well?
Would everyone be better off with indie titles and games from little
companies?
Yes, no, maybe so. It’s all a matter of preference, I
suppose. Some people are happy with
things the way they are. Some aren’t. All I can say is, stick with the games that
make you happiest. Let others enjoy
their games. And most of all? Be sure to look up at the sky every night --
because if you do, and if you believe in
miracles, you’ll see Nolan North winking at you from the stars.
"Rugged..."
