Thursday, February 19, 2015

Morrowind Sucks, aka, Morrowind is Overrated
















Like everyone else, I have fond, nostalgic memories of playing Morrowind back in the early 2000s, but I was never able to get into it properly. I put about 10-20 hours into it, then gave up and lost interest. And yet, every time I've seen screenshots or heard its music over the past decade, I've felt a desire to reinstall the game and relive the glory days that everyone always harkens back to when discussing Oblivion or Skyrim. And then, whenever I do, I'm soon reminded of why I was never able to appreciate Morrowind, even back in its prime.

It's a shame, really, because I think Morrowind truly is the best of the modern Elder Scrolls games. It has the most interesting world to explore with its completely unique fauna, wildlife, and architecture, and it has the deepest, most complex stats-based RPG mechanics of any modern Elder Scrolls game. There's a reason, after all, that Morrowind was such a popular hit in 2002. For many young gamers, it was their first experience diving into such a deeply rich, complex open-world; for me, I'd already been spoiled by Gothic and Gothic 2, which made it painfully obvious how soulless and mediocre Morrowind really was.


Leveling is flawed and unsatisfying

In Morrowind, you create a character by picking a race and gender, which determines your starting stats, innate skill bonuses, and unique special powers and abilities. Then, you select 10 skills from a list of 27 to be your "major" and "minor" skills, which determines your starting proficiency with those skills, as well as how quickly those skills can level up. You pick two "favored" attributes that start with a bonus, and select a birthsign, which grants another unique bonus. During gameplay, you improve your skills by using them -- cast a lot of healing spells, and your restoration skill will improve; hit enemies with a dagger, and your short blade skill will improve. Once you've gained 10 level-ups among any of your major/minor skills, you gain a character level, which improves your health and fatigue and allows you to improve three attributes of your choice.

I generally don't like it when I'm forced to spec-out a character before I've had a chance to even play the game. Different games all have different systems, with their own nuances and idiosyncrasies, and it's asking a lot of the player to make uninformed decisions about exactly how they'll be playing a game over the next 100+ hours, without offering them any context for what their decisions actually mean. When you're at the character creation screen in Morrowind for the first time, you have no idea how important a skill like speechcraft will actually be -- "Is this going to be like a Black Isle or BioWare game with dialogue options, that will enable a more diplomatic playstyle with deep character interaction?" You just don't know.


It's easily possible, as I'm sure most people who have played Morrowind will attest, to create a character and discover, after 10 hours of gameplay, that it's either completely broken, or flawed in some significant way, or just doesn't play the way you expected it to. With Morrowind's character creation and leveling system being the way that it is, you're permanently locked in with whatever ignorant decisions you made at the start of the game. Truthfully, it's impossible to completely "break" a character, since you can level each and every skill in the game up to maximum, even if you didn't choose to specialize in them, but it makes one of the core gameplay mechanisms a major pain in the ass.

If, for example, you choose to specialize in spears and then discover they're really not that good, you might find yourself relying on the greater availability and general utility of long blades. Since you didn't make long blade a major skill, it starts out at a much lower level, which means your accuracy will be absolutely horrendous, creating an unbearable catch-22; you can't level the skill up because you can't hit anything, and you can't hit anything because you can't level the skill up. Your only options, then, are to spend your life's fortune paying trainers to improve the skill (which you can't afford early on), or level it up the slow and painful way, or begrudgingly stick to spears, or else start a new character. If you do end up making long blades viable, then it won't make any progress towards character levels, anyway, since it's not a major/minor skill. You're screwed either way.

It's a rote, shallow system that encourages (and basically necessitates) repetitive grinding, doing the same basic stuff over and over again, like a mindless, time-wasting Korean MMORPG. If you want to improve your destruction skill so that you can actually succeed at being an offensive mage, instead of failing every single spell and wasting all of your mana and having to rely on melee weaponry, which will be just as ineffective since you set them up as minor secondary skills, then you have to spend a week's time (or more) in game casting destruction spells over and over again, and resting to do it all over again.


Unless you play the game as a hardcore min/maxing number-cruncher, there are no important decisions to make when leveling; everything happens automatically as a byproduct of playing the game. Really, your only decisions are which skills to use actively (and let's face it, you're going to be using your major/minors almost exclusively), and which attributes to increase when you level-up, but even this decision is basically made for you. Each of the 27 skills is tied to one of the eight attributes; if you level up more strength-related skills, then you can get a multiplier to increase your strength by 2, 3, 4, or 5, instead of just 1. Realistically, you're going to pick whatever attributes are most useful for your particular specialization, and whichever happen to give you the highest multipliers.

There's a fair amount of depth to be found in the leveling system if you're going out of your way to level efficiently, by ensuring that you're getting x5 multipliers on each of your three attributes with each level up, but this requires an awful lot of meta-gaming -- gaming the system -- which I'm pretty sure is not the way the game was intended to be played. Efficient leveling requires counter-intuitive things like picking skills you won't use as your major and minor skills, avoiding using certain skills if you're not ready to level up, and not leveling up until you're ready -- in essence, not playing the game -- just so that you can control each level up, rather than being at the mercy of what levels up automatically. None of that sounds particularly fun unless you've already played the game multiple times and are looking for new ways to challenge yourself.



Combat is boring and broken

Morrowind implements dice-rolling pen-and-paper-style combat in a first-person action system; you move around and swing your sword in real time, controlling when, where, and how you attack, but the dice are secretly determining whether you hit or not, and for how much damage. It's a novel idea, in theory, but the mixture just doesn't work, at least in the beginning when your skills are so pathetically low level that you can't hit a moderately non-threatening enemy who's standing perfectly still, right in front of you.

Much of the early game is spent failing at basically everything you try to do, since nearly everything has a statistical dice-roll to determine if you're successful or not, based on a combination of, primarily, your skill level, and your fatigue. In combat, this means watching your sword make contact with the enemy, and yet register statistically as a miss -- there's a very strong dissonance between what you see and what actually happens. According to the dice, your attack was off-target, when clearly, your aim was true, or else the target was nimble enough to evade your attack (based on their own defensive dice roll), but the game shows no animations whatsoever to indicate that the target has actually dodged. They just stand there and keep attacking, while your attacks seem to do nothing at all.


Performing actions like running, jumping, and swinging a weapon all cause you to gain fatigue, represented by a green meter that depletes as you take actions, and slowly regenerates with rest. That green meter factors into everything you do -- even buying and selling goods -- indicating that your character is less good at something when he's exhausted. Early on, you don't have very much stamina, which amplifies your failure rate on skill checks since it drains so quickly. What this means in combat is that the longer you fight an opponent, the worse your accuracy gets; if you have a few unlucky dice rolls at the start of a fight, then you put yourself in a hole that just keeps getting deeper and deeper as you continue to miss attacks.

As important as it is for an RPG to rely on stats-based combat, the fact of the matter is that Morrowind uses an active battle system that doesn't involve any ounce of player skill; you just click to roll the dice. Blocking and dodging all happens automatically -- you really just click until one of you dies. If your health runs low, you pause and chug a potion. The skill system further encourages you to just stand there and not attempt to dodge manually, since you need to be attacked to randomly trigger and thus level your block skill, and you need to get hit to improve your armor skills, and you need to have damaged equipment to improve your repair skills, and you need to take health damage to make use of restoration spells (if you want to level the skill "naturally").

You are entirely at the mercy of the dice in this game; there's really no tact or strategy involved in winning a fight, apart from having decent gear in good condition, and not going into a fight with low stamina. What you do really doesn't matter, because the dice are so variable that you can save right before a fight and do the exact same thing three times, and have three completely different outcomes. When faced with a tough enemy who absolutely destroyed me (I barely dented his health), I reloaded the save to try again, and, through sheer, random luck, defeated him with relative ease. If what you do really doesn't matter, and if the dice determine basically everything, and if all you really do is stand there clicking repeatedly, then everything may as well be automatic without your input, unless you want to pause to cast a spell or something.


The point of a real-time, first-person, active combat system is to immerse the player -- to make you feel like you're the one actually taking part in the action -- but the random variables undermine that feeling completely. Even though I've never swung a battle axe in my life, I can guarantee you I'd be able to hit a giant rat who's standing still chewing my toes; I'm pretty sure I wouldn't whiff thin air three (or five) times in a row. You spend the bulk of the early stages of the game (10 hours, at least) missing attacks and getting chain-stunned with hits staggering you and locking the controls up completely, and sadly, though your accuracy and damage may improve over time, the combat doesn't get any more fun. You don't unlock new combat maneuvers (unless you're a mage and learn new spells) or anything like that -- the combat remains the exact same from beginning to end. There's minimal concern for positioning, no real need for timing attacks, no reactive mechanisms like blocking/dodging. You just stand there and click. It's just so boring.

There's not even any tension of trying to survive out in the wild, since you can rest practically anywhere and recover all of your lost health, magicka, and stamina. All you need to do is survive a fight and then backtrack a little ways, to get out of range of other enemies, and you're back at full fighting form. This makes restoration and alchemy fairly useless, and makes it so you never have to worry about venturing deep into a dangerous dungeon, or getting lost in the mountains, and being unable to survive long enough to make it back to safety, low on health, out of mana, and out of healing potions. There's basically no consequence for anything you do in combat.


Exploration is bland and unrewarding

One of the biggest praises people offer Morrowind, and all of the TES games, for that matter, is the overwhelming size of their open worlds that let you set out in whatever direction you want, to discover whatever content you want, and do things in whatever order you want. People seem to relish that freedom, and enjoy "just getting lost in the world." I certainly understand that desire, since many of my favorite games feature spacious open worlds to explore, but I find Morrowind's world completely stale, lifeless, and uninteresting -- critical flaws for an open world game.

The world in Morrowind, as it is in all TES games, is simply too large. Yes, you could spend 200+ hours exploring everywhere in the game and completing all of the content Morrowind has to offer, but why would you want to, when all of that content is so bland and repetitive? After exploring your 10th ancestral tomb and finding nothing but wooden spoons and clay pots, and finding that they all look the exact the same, except with slightly different layouts and, sometimes, slightly different enemies, why bother going into any of the roughly 100 more? The answer is because it's marginally more exciting than wandering around 1000-square foot areas picking plants and mushrooms and killing slugs, rats, and mudcrabs.


If you're lucky, you might find an NPC standing along a roadside between towns, who'll offer you some type of quest, but these NPCs make up only a slim percentage of the content you can experience "out in the wilds." Otherwise, there's really nothing interesting to do and nothing unique to find except seemingly random caves, ancestral tombs, and daedric shrines. Everything in-between is pointless filler that only exists to spread the world out, to make it seem bigger than it really is. And as the saying goes, "bigger isn't always better." All this really does is turn the game into a bona fide "walking simulator" as it forces you to walk for 10 minutes at a time to get anywhere, with nothing much of interest to do between your starting point and your destination.

With the world as big as it is, you just don't have time to walk everywhere, so you sprint, which drains your stamina, which then means you have to stand and wait for 30 seconds regenerating stamina before doing anything, since fatigue determines you efficacy in everything you do. Want to buy a healing potion, or sell some gems? Better get that stamina up. Want to persuade someone to get them to like you more, so they'll tell you vital information for quest? Better get that stamina up. See some bandits up ahead, who will attack you on sight? Better get that stamina up. You spend basically the entire game slowly trudging from place to place, or waiting with your hands off the controls -- not very engaging gameplay.

The world is missing any kind of meaningful structure -- areas with purpose, design, narrative, and context. Tombs, caves, shrines, ruins, and strongholds may as well be randomly generated and randomly placed across the world map for as memorable as any of them are. There are approximately 258 of these "dungeons," which all feel mechanically and aesthetically identical to one another. What's worse, every single one of them exists in a vacuum independent of the rest of the world, since they all require you to go through a loading zone into a completely separate map. What's even worse, perhaps half of these places are filled with completely worthless, randomized loot; maybe a quarter of them have scaling loot that's at least worth selling, if you care to; and maybe a quarter, if I'm being generous, have a unique, "special" piece of loot at the end.


It's a random guess which dungeons will have rare, special loot in them, which means you have to explore every single one you come across if you want to improve your odds of finding something good. Daedric shrines are the only ones that consistently seem to have anything worthwhile. Most of the time, this means there's no reward for exploring anywhere in the world, and no elation that comes from discovering something cool, whether that be a unique item, or a unique-looking area, or an area with unique enemies, or some place with an interesting backstory. More often than not, finding good loot is just the result of random luck, rather than you getting a special reward for a special accomplishment. Even when you find a unique piece of loot that was specifically placed there by the developers, you have to wonder "why is this particular set of ultra rare, special boots in this particular place?" It all just feels so mundane, random, and arbitrary.

Towns are a little better, in the sense that they have buildings to enter, people to talk to, merchants and trainers to use, and quests to pick up -- ie, there are things to do. But even towns get overwhelming. Every NPC is uniquely-named (often with some unpronounceable, unmemorable name), so when you have to find a specific NPC you have to approach every, single, character to figure out if they're the person you need, and there are hundreds of these NPCs in some towns. Likewise, it's impossible to tell which NPCs are merchants, trainers, or quest-givers without approaching and talking to every, single, one of them. It's a tedious chore. Then, with the engine's restrictions on loading zones, you have to go through a load screen every time you enter a building, often multiple times within a building, which completely breaks the feeling of an "open world" in towns like Vivec that are simply massive, yet broken into a million tiny, copy/pasted compartments.


Quests are boring and tedious

Basically every single quest in Morrowind consists of the most tedious, boring, and straightforward FedEx errand-boy fetch quests; go here, kill this, get that, report back. Even faction quests fall victim to this simplistic structure, and they don't even give interesting narrative reasons for why you're doing the things you're doing. Join the mage's guild and you get quests that consist of "fetch me four mushrooms." Complete that quest, and you move up to "fetch me four plants." In the fighter's guild, you get quest dialogue that plays out exactly like this: "There's an Argonian by the name of Tongue-Toad at the inn in Ald'ruhn who won't keep his mouth shut. Go take care of him for me." And that's literally all you get, verbatim.

Since the game is designed to be open-world, allowing you to go wherever you want and do whatever you want whenever you want, the quests are necessarily designed without any kind of narrative or mechanical urgency, because the game really doesn't care whether you do them or not. The world will remain completely static, suspended in animation until you're ready to do a quest. If you start a quest and get distracted, it will be waiting for you exactly where you left off. That's a quality that's kind of necessary when dealing with a large open-world setting, but again, this world is just so large that everything has to accommodate the scope of aimless possibility, which means no quests that require your timely input, or outcomes that dynamically alter the world, or quests that overlap in significant ways.


I imagine it's hard to write memorable, interesting quests when you have to fill a giant, sprawling world with nearly 500 of them. This, again, is a fault of over-ambition, of making the world so big and unwieldy that it becomes bland and boring, another instance of Bethesda striving for quantity instead of quality. Consequently, there's no depth to any of the quests, no role-playing options, no way to act out your character through the game's quests. Most quests only have one solution, and unless the quest specifically requires you to fight something, or steal something, there's hardly any opportunity to put your character's skills to use during the quest.

During one quest for the fighter's guild, I was sent to collect a bounty on an orc who'd been living in town. I talk to the orc, and there's no dialogue option whatsoever to address the fact that I'm about to kill her. There's no way to show mercy and talk her into skipping town, or a way to accept a bribe from her, or any kind of interaction that escalates to a fight. I even tried talking to the city guard, to see if I could report her location -- no such luck. In the end, my only option was to brandish my sword and brazenly attack her in her own house, not knowing what crime she'd even committed to deserve the wrath of my steel.

Role-playing games by definition are supposed to be about role-playing a character, making decisions and acting in a way that embodies the type of character you envision. Are you a good Samaritan who selflessly looks out for the good of others, or are you a greedy mercenary who's only interested in fattening his own wallet? Are you a noble saint who upholds virtue and justice, or are you an evil bastard who murders townsfolk just to take a few pinches of moon sugar from their pockets? Or do you fall somewhere in between; chaotic good, lawful neutral? There's hardly any opportunity to enact these characteristics through actual gameplay -- you can be a goody-two-shoes or an evil villain, but nothing in the world really reacts to anything you do, unless you're caught committing a crime.

Since the game doesn't use a traditional experience points system, there's no incentive to do quests unless you're expecting a nice tangible reward from someone. You could say there's always the adventure component, of wanting to see the stories that play out and interacting with the characters and the world, but as I described above, there's really not much depth or weight to enjoy there, either.

I picked up a quest for a blacksmith, who thought something shady was going on with a rival blacksmith in town, who was getting a lot of bulk orders and big business. He wanted me to check it out and help him edge out the competition. I got caught stealing the contract from the rival's shop, paid a fine, and lost thousands of gold worth of valuable, useful equipment I'd stolen from other towns halfway across the world (that the guards somehow, magically knew were stolen), and returned to complete the quest only to receive a measly 50 gold and a useless, worthless dagger. It wasn't a very fun or interesting quest, and the reward wasn't worth the cost of completing it, so I loaded my save and simply never went about finishing the quest.


A lot of quests in this game send you long distances across the map, usually to areas you've never been to, long before you're ready to move on, which makes every single one of these quests a tedious chore of simply making it from point A to point B. If you're a completionist, like me, who likes to do everything he can in an area and experience as much of a game's content as possible, then you're just going to get overwhelmed -- a quest sends you from town A to town B, and along the way you might pick up two or three quests, each of which sends you off in a different direction away from town B, each to a different hub city with its own plethora of quests that send you to other towns you've never been to. It's so hard to keep track of everything that you eventually learn to ignore a lot of the game's content, because you just can't focus on more than a few things at a time.

The journal system doesn't help this cause, either, since it organizes every quest update and important note chronologically when you receive it. If you pick up a quest and then get distracted for five hours doing other things, you have to scroll back through dozens of pages hoping to find the entry you need -- if you can even remember it. Thank goodness the expansions fixed this issue by adding a quest-filtering section, because the journal was borderline useless in the base game.

Even then, the journal entries are sometimes too vague to be of any use. At one point I picked up a main quest to find a missing NPC, and then had to shut the game down for the night. When I came back the next day, I couldn't remember the lead I was supposed to follow. All the journal said was "find so-and-so." I tried asking the quest giver for the information again, but all she said was "he's missing." I wandered around talking to other NPCs, hoping to ask if anyone knew anything, and didn't even have the option. I gave up, consulted a guide, and suddenly all the details came rushing back. "Oh yeah, I remember her saying that now. Why couldn't she tell me that stuff again? Why does the journal not keep track of this vital information?"


Atmospherically, it's ok -- not great

What good is having a huge, sprawling world if it doesn't drawn you in? There's a lot to like about this world -- namely, its unique fauna, wildlife, and architecture, which make it one of the most memorable, distinct-looking fantasy worlds of any video game -- but the whole world feels dead and lifeless. Consider: NPCs stand around, in the exact same spots, 24 hours a day, doing absolutely nothing, spouting the same lines of dialogue no matter the time of day or recent events. They don't even go to sleep at night. They don't care if you barge into their homes at night. They don't care if you draw a weapon and start swinging it around them.


Basically everyone in this world is a cardboard cutout with no personality whatsoever. Even major characters that are part of faction quests, house quests, and the main quests are just mechanical objects dispensing quest dialogue at you. The writing for dialogue feels identical for every character, and the complete lack of meaningful interaction leaves them feeling simply like bounty boards and merchant windows. Put simply, these characters have no character. Good luck remembering anyone's name, or describing them in any way beyond their occupation, location, or what menial task they set you on. Part of that is admittedly the fact that there's hardly any voice acting, and no animations during dialogue; these would certainly help bring the characters to life, but they're also not necessary, as plenty of other games have featured interesting, memorable characters with text-based dialogue.

Graphically, the game looks pretty good for its age, apart from the horrendous character models and animations. It's really easy to feel immersed wandering around in the world, just because of how everything looks. Jeremy Soule composed some really nice, memorable music for this game, which also helps put you in the mood of adventuring through Vvardenfell, but the music gets to be really repetitive after a while, since you hear the same half-dozen tracks everywhere you go. The music doesn't set the tone for specific areas; it doesn't matter if you're in a dark crypt, a daedric shrine, the blight-infested ashlands, or a major city like Vivec -- you hear the same music. Perhaps that's why it's so memorable, since you hear the same stuff over and over again for 100 hours.


Why Gothic is better than Morrowind

As I mentioned at the top of the article, the reason I find it so difficult to appreciate Morrowind is because the Gothic games, which came out around the same time as Morrowind (Gothic 1 actually predates Morrowind by a full year), offer a very similar experience to Morrowind and do a lot of the same stuff, but better.

A better leveling system

Gothic uses a traditional experience points system that rewards you for defeating enemies, completing quests, and completing certain tasks/activities/challenges. After earning a certain amount of experience points, you level up, automatically improving your maximum health and gaining 10 skill points to invest with trainers. Skill points can be spent improving your attributes (strength, dexterity, mana), training your abilities with different types of ranged and melee weapons, learning new circles of magic and magic spells, as well as learning and improving other useful abilities like animal skinning, alchemy, weapon forging, sneaking, lock-picking, and so on.


The benefit of this system is it rewards you for every little thing you accomplish, since even a measly 50 experience for killing a giant rat will add up over time. And since enemies don't respawn (with limited exceptions), experience is finite, which makes each amount of experience earned that much more valuable. It also means you can't max out every stat and learn every skill in the game, which forces you to make tough decisions about how to allocate limited skill points to your best advantage, and allows your gameplay and playstyle to change and evolve over time as you learn new skills and improve your character.

More engaging combat

Like Morrowind, Gothic relies heavily on stats in combat, but implements them in an active battle system that rewards player skill. Realistically, you have to be a certain level, and with certain stats, to take on stronger enemies, but the balance between character stats and player skill allows a clever, skilled, and determined player to make up for weaker stats with his own abilities, to tackle tougher objectives before he statistically should be able to, or allows a player with less personal skill to rely on superior stats to lead him to victory by waiting until he's stronger to face a tough challenge. There are no random variables; everything has a fixed value, except a random chance for critical hits which improves with skill training, so you can control and plan for what happens in combat. If you lose a fight, it's usually your own fault, not because you got screwed by bad luck.


Combat is also a lot more fun and involved than simply standing and clicking until one of you dies. You can control the direction of each attack -- attacking left, right, or forward -- and string multiple attacks together to form actual combos, a feat that requires the correct timing between attacks, lest you fail the combo and leave yourself exposed for a moment. Blocking and dodging attacks is also done manually, requiring good reaction speed and knowing how to anticipate certain attack behaviors. Different types of enemies require different strategies to defeat, which means learning their attack patterns and finding their weaknesses. The system also changes and improves over the course of the game, with you unlocking new combos as you invest skill points.

More rewarding exploration

The world in Gothic is not nearly as large as in Morrowind, but it crams a lot more interesting locales, discoveries, and encounters in a smaller space, for a much better content-per-square-area ratio. You don't have to walk for five minutes at a time before you find something interesting; there's something interesting every single direction you look. Environments are given more purpose and structure, with specific relations to adjacent areas, which makes for a more memorable layout. I can remember every square foot of the colony from Gothic 1 -- even after playing the starting areas of Morrowind four times over the last 10+ years, I can't remember anything beyond the starting town, and a few things in Balmora.


No loot in Gothic is randomly generated; everything in the environment is hand-placed by the developer, put there for a specific purpose, to reward players for their ingenuity in exploring off the beaten path or for tackling a tough challenge, or to tell a specific story. When you find something -- whether it be a hidden NPC, a valuable sword, a unique monster, or just an interesting area -- you feel like you've accomplished something. Places within the environment have their own mystique, lore, and backstory, like the black troll cave, or the cave guarded by skeleton archons that houses the great Dragon Slayer, or the orc shrine, or the mage's collapsed tower with its failed necromantic experiments. Everything is unique, and feels heavily integrated with the rest of the world.

It's also a very dangerous world, filled with cutthroat bandits, deceitful allies who will rob and beat you, and deadly beasts. While exploring a forest, you can be hunting harmless scavengers and molerats and suddenly find yourself face to face with an enormous shadowbeast, that can kill you in one or two hits. Death is around every corner, which teaches you to be very careful about where you go, how you prepare, and what you do. It also allows you to set your own level of difficulty and challenge -- do you venture into dangerous areas early to try to get better rewards, or do you save it for later, until you're stronger? If you go early and find some clever way of surviving, you're treated with immense rewards, and if you save it for later, then it's a sure sign you've gotten stronger, which is rewarding in and of itself.

Interesting quests from likable NPCs

When you boil Gothic's quests down to their basic structure, they fall victim to the same type of simplistic errand boy fetch quest nonsense for which I criticize Morrowind. The main difference, here, is that Gothic's quests are given to you by NPCs you know and care about -- people with whom you have a lasting relationship. Early in the game, a farmer's wife feeds you and gives you a place to sleep in exchange for helping out on the farm; later, she falls ill, and her husband sends you into town to fetch a healing potion. It's the simplest, most mundane thing, but it shows some of the dynamic qualities of the world, and makes you care about helping her, because she's a named character that you know, not just some random nameless, faceless NPC who'll become useless and obsolete once the quest is over. 


Although not a thorough, in-depth RPG with a multitude of dialogue options and multiple ways to approach and solve every quest, Gothic frequently allows for multiple solutions with different rewards and consequences, with overlapping quests and interests between NPCs. A carpenter's daughter is indebted to a merchant, and asks you to help get her out of trouble; the merchant will independently task you with collecting the money he's owed, if you talk to him first. There are two sides to this quest. You can choose to pay the money entirely on your own to appease both sides, or tell the carpenter the full story and piss of his daughter, or blackmail the merchant (if you've completed another quest), or rough up his daughter and take the money from her, or persuade her with the right dialogue to give you the money. Each approach has a slightly different reward, and completing the quest a certain way opens new opportunities for later rewards and dialogue.

Livelier NPCs and a dynamic world

Gothic's world feels much more alive, atmospheric, and immersive because its characters behave much more realistically. NPCs follow a daily schedule, going to sleep at night, sitting by a fire in the evening, waking up in the morning, urinating throughout the day, and so on. During the day, they don't just idly stand around; they eat, they smoke, they drink, they hammer slats into their huts, they play music. Cooks stir their cauldrons, blacksmiths hammer swords out on an anvil, sword trainers practice weapon handling, mages cast spells. NPCs react to your presence and actions; walk into their hut, and they'll threaten to call the guards; draw a weapon, and they'll draw theirs, eventually attacking you themselves if you don't back down; stand in their way, and they'll tell you to move; beat up a guard, and he'll pretend not to notice when you're beating up a merchant in his presence. Even animals go about daily schedules, sleeping at night and hunting for food.


Every single character also has spoken dialogue and animations, which helps lend characters a more unique identity. Main characters have memorable names, voices, personalities, and roles, who recur throughout the entire game and show up in different scenarios. It also helps that only important, unique characters are named -- all the atmospheric "filler" characters who are there simply to populate the world are given generic titles like "citizen" or "miner," so that you don't have to waste time talking to every single person to find out if they're useful or not. You can still talk to these generic characters about a wide range of topics, and receive fully-voiced responses, and they also play a role in the world around them -- spectating and cheering on fights, making idle conversation with one another, and so on -- so they feel like actual people.

The world also changes as you complete quests, more dramatically so as you advance the main story line. Help a group of farmers reclaim their property from bandits, and they'll get back to work farming and open a new line of trade for you. Blackmail a merchant to solve another quest, and he'll refuse to do business with you for the rest of the game. When returning to familiar locations after completing other quests, you'll find new characters, missing characters, people being attacked by orcs, and all other sorts of things changing over the course of the game. This all makes the world feel so much more rich, deep, complex, and alive.


In conclusion

There's very little I can find about Morrowind to praise that isn't prefaced by saying it's a better alternative than what Bethesda have come up with in subsequent games in the series, or that doesn't come with some kind of "but." It's a unique, memorable world, some of the quests are genuinely interesting, and it is kind of fun to come up with new characters in the character creation. I like its greater reliance on stats-based ... everything ... as compared to Oblivion and Skyrim, which have progressively removed most of what gave the series some semblance of being an RPG, but it makes certain things way more tedious than they really should be, and doesn't blend well with the intended first-person action combat. Leveling feels like it happens automatically, combat may as well be automatic, quests are straightforward and boring, there are very few opportunities for genuine role-playing, and the world is so static and non-reactive that I just don't feel a part of it.

And yet, I can totally understand why so many people were so enamored with Morrowind back in its time. I think, quite honestly, if I hadn't played the Gothic games before going into Morrowind, I would love it as much as the next person. But having already played Gothic and Gothic 2, I realized how much better games can be. Even then, as I got more involved with RPGs, I came to realize that other games that came out in the years immediately before and after Morrowind -- Fallout, Planescape: Torment, Baldur's Gate, Deus Ex, Arcanum, Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines, Knights of the Old Republic, and so on -- were all much better RPGs that offered many of the exact same gameplay elements as Morrowind, but with more focus, more care, and more attention to detail. Granted, Morrowind has a much bigger world with more more freedom than any of these games, but what's the point if there's no meaningful significance to any of it? Morrowind just feels like a bland, bloated amalgamation of ideas without any soul.

If you're someone who adores Morrowind and The Elder Scrolls in general, then I would like to encourage you to try Gothic and Gothic 2 -- at the very least, just Gothic 2 with its expansion -- to see an alternative point of view for how these kinds of open-world action-adventure-RPGs can be designed. Hopefully, you'll be able to appreciate just how clever and well-designed these games really were, and given your appreciation of Morrowind, you'll be able to enjoy their relative similarities. Perhaps you'll experience the same revelations I did and come to realize Morrowind really isn't all it's cracked up to be, but I won't hold it against you if you don't.

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Arx Fatalis: Old School Game in a Modern Skin
















Arx Fatalis is a first-person dungeon-crawling action-RPG from 2002 by Arkane Studios, the team who would later go on to develop Dark Messiah of Might and Magic in 2006 and Dishonored in 2012. Inspired by the Ultima Underworld games from the early 90s, Arx Fatalis is a modern adaptation of old school design. The world of Arx Fatalis is set entirely underground, after a dying sun forces humans, goblins, and trolls to retreat to the old dwarven mines and rebuild their cities underground. You play a nameless human who wakes up in a goblin prison cell with no memory of his past or his own identity. While attempting to recover your lost memories, you learn that you were sent to Arx to prevent an evil god from awakening, which becomes your main quest for the remainder of the game.

Like Arkane's other games, the draw in Arx Fatalis is that it offers players a lot of freedom to decide how to play the game, in terms of building your character in an open class system, how you choose to approach situations and solve puzzles, and how you go about exploring the world. This isn't a thorough, in-depth RPG with dialogue options and multiple solutions to quests, or an open-world sandbox game that lets you go wherever you want and do whatever you want, but it takes elements from those types of games and implements them in a more streamlined fashion. Normally, I would consider streamlining a very bad thing in an RPG, but the execution in Arx Fatalis offers plenty of satisfying depth while keeping the game's pace moving forward in a meaningful direction.

As a dungeon-crawler first and foremost, Arx Fatalis is all about venturing deeper and deeper into the "dungeon," by descending through the labyrinthine tunnels of Arx. The map is built mainly of dark, claustrophobic rooms and corridors; it's not a truly open world, since you're restricted by walls in almost every direction, but there's a lot to explore and always something new to discover. Much of the world consists of bland, brown earth tones, but there's a lot of atmospheric variety to experience as well, including swampy sewers, crystalline caves, a mushroom forest, an icy cavern, and a lava pit, in addition to populated places like the human city of Arx, the goblin fortress, the troll camp, the dwarven forge, and the temple of the snake women, among others.

The swampy sewers early in the game.

These areas have a lot of fun mechanical variety as well. The Temple of Illusion features a lot of mind-bending optical illusions and clever puzzles that require you to think outside the box to solve and navigate, while also offering a lot of really interesting surprises. The ice dragon cave has some platforming in it, requiring you to shoot icicles from the ceiling to form platforms. In the dwarven forge, you have to run from a Black Beast that stalks you through the halls and kills you in one hit if it gets too close. The crypt below Arx is haunted with creepy, paranormal magic and zombies that keep coming back to life unless you put a stake through them. The game may be 13 years old, but the level design is unique and timelessly enjoyable.

Like a good Metroidvania game, the world in Arx Fatalis constantly opens up in all new directions as you complete quests and collect new items. It's a type of persistent world where you're constantly going back and forth through the same areas, which helps to build familiarity with the world since everything feels so centrally focused. It also makes it really satisfying when you're finally able to open a door that's been locked for the past ten hours, and even cooler when you get to see how everything links up with everything else. Though it may seem like a confusing maze of corridors at first, as you play through the game you begin to realize there's actually a memorable, navigable structure to this world. It's surprisingly easy to remember where certain locations are, and where the important connections are.

This is an important fact, because Arx Fatalis often requires you to figure things out on your own -- there's no quest arrow telling you exactly where to go or what to do. When you get a vague quest objective like "find a birthday present for a troll," it's up to you to realize that the friend he mentioned earlier might be able to help you, and then it's up to you to remember where the troll camp is and how to get there, and then it's up to you to figure out where to find the item he mentions. It's quite refreshing playing a game that requires the player's own input to progress; it makes you feel more immersed in the setting, because you have to think, explore, and do things logically, rather than just coasting along the dotting line.

The first human outpost you discover. 

There are a lot of adventure-style puzzles in this game, and they strike a pretty nice balance of giving you enough to clues to be able to figure out what you're supposed to do, without being too obvious with the solution. In one quest, you have to find a way to get the goblin king out of the throne room; as you walk around, you notice a cook constantly bringing him pies, and you witness another goblin cry out that he ate too much fish as he runs to the bathroom. Clearly, the game is suggesting you need to do something to the pies to give the goblin king a raging fit of diarrhea. If you poke around a little more, you can find a hidden note from the cook in the king's quarters reminding him not to drink wine, since he's allergic to it. The solution to this quest, therefore, is to pour wine in the cook's dough and let him bake wine-pies.

Interacting with the environment is another thing this game does well. Cooking, crafting, forging weapons, and brewing potions all involve combining items in your inventory and using them on the environment. To make a pie, for instance, you have to mix flour with a bottle of water, and then use the resulting dough on a rolling pin to make a pie crust. If you have apples, you can mix them with the crust to make an apple pie, and then you drag the pie from the inventory and place it next to a fire to bake. Brewing a potion requires you to grind herbs into a powder with a mortar and pestle, put the powder in an empty vial, and then use the vial on a distillery. It's a physical system that makes you feel closely involved with the world around you, and therefore makes you feel so much more immersed in the setting.

Another thing that helps immerse you in the game's world is the fairly unique magic system. In most other games, magic is relegated to a set of hotkeys; you press a button, and the spell takes immediate effect, no different mechanically than clicking the mouse to fire a gun or swing a sword. Casting a spell in Arx Fatalis, by contrast, requires you to draw combinations of rune symbols in the air, in real time -- a system that requires time (with stronger, more powerful spells requiring longer combinations of runes), precision with the mouse (since you have to draw the runes accurately or else fail the spell), and a good memory (since you can't pause the action to consult your spell book in the middle of a fight). Thus, casting a spell in Arx Fatalis actually takes effort, which, once again, makes you feel more involved in the action and more immersed in the world.

Casting a spell on an ice dragon.

There are 20 different runes to find in the game, and nearly 50 spells you can cast, ranging from typical offensive spells like magic missiles and fireballs, to buffs and supporting spells like magic armor and healing, to utility spells like levitate and telekinesis. It may seem overwhelming trying to keep track of 50 different spells, but the game allows you to pre-cast up to three spells that you can fire off instantaneously from a hot-bar. Those complex spells you can't remember? Look them up in the spellbook and pre-cast them ahead of time. Worried you'll get ambushed by a surprise combat situation? Have a couple of fireballs and ice fields pre-cast so they're ready to cast at a moment's notice.

It also helps that the runes follow a sensible logic, both in terms of the visual symbol you have to trace as well as their mechanical function. A horizontal line from left to right means "create"; flip it, and it becomes "negate." A vertical line drawn from the bottom up means "improve"; invert it, and it becomes "reduce." Casting a fireball spell, for instance, involves drawing the signs for "create," "fire," and "missile"; casting a healing spell involves drawing the signs for "improve" and "life." There are even several "hidden" spells that don't show up in your spellbook, that you can discover just by playing with sensible combinations. If you choose to play as a mage and rely heavily on the magic system, you actually get to develop a skill that you use in the gameplay -- a sense of mastery over the system that feels engaging and rewarding.

For melee warriors and ranged archers, combat is a less glamorous, more standard ordeal. As a melee fighter, you equip your chosen weapon and then click and hold to charge an attack; a Thief-style gem in the bottom center of the screen steadily fills with light until your attack has reached maximum damage, at which point you position yourself close to the enemy and release the mouse button to perform the attack. Much like Morrowind, you can use combinations of movement to perform thrusts, slashes, and chops, but it doesn't seem to make a whole lot of difference. Likewise, the game features location-specific damage, allowing you to behead or dismember enemies by attacking specific body parts, but again, it doesn't seem to serve much practical purpose. Archery is basically the same thing -- click and hold to charge the gem, and release to fire an arrow, aiming with the crosshairs.

A spider in the crystal caves.

If you're going to play Arx Fatalis, you really need to be a mage. Magic helps with exploration, and the system is just so unique that you really need to experience it to get the most out of the game. Melee and archery are fine in their own rights, albeit just a little bit clunky, but you can swing a sword or shoot an arrow in so many other fantasy games, and it's not terribly exciting to do in this game. With magic, you also get to feel the system evolve and expand as you acquire more runes; melee and archery remains basically the same from beginning to end, except you occasionally find a newer, better sword. Even then, there aren't many weapons to find -- there's only one type of bow in the entire game -- so you just don't get to feel the same level of progression one would expect from an RPG.

Like any RPG, you gain experience points for defeating enemies and completing quests. Each time you level-up, you get to invest points in four different attributes and nine different skills, all of which determine your efficacy in things like melee combat, ranged accuracy, picking locks, identifying objects, and so on. Leveling up, unfortunately, isn't very satisfying in this game, since the stats and skills are just minor, passive, statistical upgrades, like 5% better stealth detection, or 1% faster mana regeneration. As important as leveling up is to get stronger and survive, it rarely feels like you're making any significant progress, especially since the level cap only goes up to 10. In a fairly exhaustive playthrough, doing everything I could find, I didn't even reach the level cap.

It is an open class system, though, which lets you create your own character by setting your initial attributes and skills, and developing them however you like. You can be an intelligent mage, a burly fighter, or a cunning rogue -- or any combination thereof. Though the game features zero dialogue options, and most quests have only one possible solution, there are usually opportunities during combat and exploration to benefit from your chosen playstyle. When faced with a hallway divided by a long spike pit, you can solve a puzzle to unlock an alternative route, or you can levitate across it, or you can shoot an arrow to hit a button on the other side. Depending on what you do in the world and what quests you complete successfully, you'll even be treated to three different ending cutscenes.

The crypt beneath Arx.

The game shows its age most of all in the cutscenes, where characters basically just stand around motionlessly talking to each other. If you're lucky, you might get some cinematic pans and zooms from the camera, but otherwise, the game could just as easily hand you a page of dialogue that would serve just as well as the cutscene. Most of the voice actors sound kind of bored, the recording quality is a bit messy, and lip-syncing is practically non-existent. Factor in the somewhat clunky interface, which takes a little while to get used to, and you can tell this game was released back in 2002. Apart from those superficial qualities, the game certainly doesn't feel its age, since the gameplay holds up pretty well, and the ambient sound and visual design do a really good job immersing you in the world.

The strongest praise I can give for Arx Fatalis is that it reminds me a lot of classic RPGs from the late 80s and early 90s, like Wizardry, The Bard's Tale, and Ultima. I've played games from each of these series but have never been able to finish any of them because they just haven't aged well at all; Arx Fatalis, to me, offers a similar kind of experience, but in a streamlined, modernized package. Besides Ultima Underworld, the next closest direct comparison would be FromSoftware's King's Field series, which was the spiritual predecessor to Demon's Souls and Dark Souls. So, if you want to get into those "old school," classic RPGs but can't get past their archaic controls and presentation, or if you want to try the type of game that inspired the Souls series (Arx Fatalis is cheaper and easier to buy than any of the King's Field games, and is, in my opinion, is a better game anyway), then Arx Fatalis is definitely worth playing.

Sunday, February 1, 2015

RAGE: Not Worth a Clever Review Headline














By now I'm sure you're all aware of the colossal "ho hum" that is RAGE, id Software's first (and only) game since Doom 3, which came out way back in 2004. Seven years later, in 2011, they released Rage (as I'm stylizing it from here on out), boasting that it would feature a large world to explore, complete with vehicles, NPCs, towns, side missions, merchants, upgrades, and a crafting system -- a lot of "firsts" for the pioneers of the first-person shooter. The problem, you see, is that other games were already starting to do this at the time (and even a few years prior), and those other games not named Rage did the exact same thing, but better.

Rage is set in a post-apocalyptic future, after a meteor wipes out nearly all life on Earth and leaves much of the planet's surface a barren wasteland. Survivors have banded together in makeshift settlements to defend against bandits and mutants, while the Authority -- a group of technologically advanced soldiers -- attempts to govern the wasteland and restore unity with oppressive force. You play the role of an Ark survivor, a group of subjects put into cryogenic stasis deep underground, in order to repopulate Earth and rebuild civilization. When you emerge as the sole survivor of your Ark, over a hundred years after the meteor strike, you enter the wasteland on a mission to do .... something.

I really can't describe the story any better than that, because there's barely anything here to sink your teeth into. I had to struggle to come up with that one-paragraph synopsis, and even had to embellish a few details to make it seem like there was actually any depth in the story. There's nothing here.

Venturing into the Authority capital.

At the start of the game, I come out of the Ark pod thinking I'm part of some vague, unexplained science project that's supposed to be able to save humanity. I don't know how or why. Some dude in a dune buggy "rescues" me and takes me back to his settlement, and then sends me to kill an entire bandit outpost -- by myself, with nothing but a pistol. "What the f#$k," I say to myself. "I don't even know who I am or what's going on in this world, and you're sending me alone to fight a horde of bandits? If I'm supposed to be some kind of uber-important savior of humanity, shouldn't you be a little more concerned about sending me into danger? This is almost as dumb and cliche of a starting quest as killing rats in the cellar."

After killing the bandits, I'm sent alone, once again, to get help from someone in a nearby outpost, by delivering a message. Once there, I get the usual "help me and I'll help you" nonsense, sent on a dumb sub-quest to find one of their guys who went missing. "Why is no one else already on this job? Why do you wait until I -- an outsider who doesn't know who he is, where he is, or what's going on -- come along to start searching for your missing buddy? And why do you send me to do this job by myself?" I go find the dude, return to the outpost, and they send me back to the original settlement with medical supplies. Then the dude who "rescued" me sends me back to the outpost to get automotive parts, but conveniently, bandits have stolen the parts and they send me to go get them. Yawn.

The game continues for several hours at this pace, doing utterly pointless, trivial tasks for random people you don't care about, before some semblance of a plot actually starts to develop. Eventually, NPCs start talking about "The Resistance" and pointing you in the direction of their leaders because they need you to help stop the Authority .... for some reason. At this point in the game, more than halfway through it, you don't know anything about the Resistance and the game hasn't depicted the Authority at all. You have no personal stake in the game's central conflict due to a complete lack of interaction with either the Resistance or the Authority, and all you know about the Authority is that people don't like them. That doesn't motivate me to care, and just makes this look like a dumb, cliche story.

Zapping mutants with the electro bolts.

You spend the next half of the game (approximately) helping the Resistance with various tasks, and then finally they send you -- by yourself -- to infiltrate the Authority's capital to send a signal activating all of the other Arks. You realize that this is the game's final mission, the thing that the entire game has been building towards, and then you just wander in, kill a bunch of basic, ordinary dudes, press a few buttons, and watch a 10-second cutscene. There's no build-up, no exciting climax, no unique final boss, no fun new twists -- it's just mundane fights and mundane button-pressing with a new overpowered gun (a version of id's iconic "BFG") that makes everything a breeze.

The entire game is a string of FedEx errand-boy fetch quests. You play through 80% of the game, join the Resistance and set out to stop the Authority, and then you go to a new town where you have to "prove yourself" to the mayor by doing trivial tasks anyone else could be doing -- killing mutants, killing bandits, throwing a lever to restart the electricity. None of it has anything to do with the main story, and it all feels like pointless distractions and content padding. A lot of missions even recycle specific maps by having you re-clear places you'd already cleared. Normally, revisiting familiar locations would add some sense of continuity to the world, but these areas are designed to be so linear the first time through that visiting them a second time just feels like boring tedium doing the same thing all over again.

The game gives the semblance of a semi-open world to explore, in the sense that you're usually always free to wander off in the exact opposite direction of the "quest arrow," but there's never anything worthwhile to discover because everywhere else you can possibly go is sealed by locked doors that require a key from a mission, or that magically open once you've picked up the requisite mission. The large, semi-open world is really just a playground for vehicle combat, which is itself fairly superfluous since it never integrates with the main story -- vehicles are just a way of getting to the pointlessly spread out mission maps. You unlock three different types of vehicles over the course of the game, and they really don't feel that different from one another. I spent a lot of time in the optional races and challenges fully upgrading my vehicles, only to suddenly get a new one that I had to spend more time upgrading by doing all of the same races and challenges over again. By the third vehicle, I just said "f#&k it" and stopped caring.

Destroying a bandit car in vehicular combat.

Likewise, the game features a ton of unique gizmos, upgrades, components, and different types of ammunition for each weapon, complete with a crafting system to create a lot of these cool gadgets, which would normally set Rage apart from its competition, but none of them are really necessary, even in hard mode, and they're kind of a hassle to use, anyway. There's a ton of interesting stuff you can do in this game -- zapping enemies in water with electro bolts, possessing an enemy and exploding him, deploying a sentry turret or walking sentry bot, sending a remote-controlled bomb car out, using stimulants to boost your health, damage, and regeneration, etc -- but they're mostly situational, and it's really hard to juggle all of these different things to pull out what you need in any given situation. Most of the time, it's easier to just keep shooting, rather than fumble through the quick-use menu or pause the action entirely to use something from a menu. 

Combat is decent for a first-person shooter, which is where the emphasis should be in development. The weapons are satisfying to use, offering loud, booming sound effects and cool recoil animations, and enemies react reasonably well to taking damage. Enemy AI is decent, as well, knowing when to fall back when too many of their comrades die, and moving in an out of cover with enough unpredictability to keep the game from feeling like a whack-a-mole shooting gallery. Melee enemies, like the mutants, don't just come straight at you; they come at you in a circling arc attempting to flank you, which requires a lot more precise tracking to keep up with their fast movements, and can disorient you enough for another one to sneak up on your blind side. 

My problem with the combat is that it's just not that exciting; there are no unique twists on movement, no unique weapons (just a few unique types of ammo, which aren't that ground-breaking), and most levels stream forward in a linear series of halls with enemies that just come straight at you and hide behind cover. It's fairly straightforward; you just aim straight ahead and shoot at anything that pops out at you, taking cover long enough to regenerate health automatically if you take too much damage. It plays identically to virtually every other shooter -- walk forward to trigger enemies spawning from out of nowhere, backtrack to a safe spot behind cover, and shoot everything in front of you. 

Shooting mutants in "Dead City" with the assault rifle.

The combat goes back and forth between feeling like the slow, survivalistic crawl of Doom 3 and the fun, cathartic action of Doom 1 & 2, but never hits a strong stride in either direction. It's too slow and methodical to give you much excitement mowing down dozens of dudes, and it's too fast to let you feel tension worrying about what you'll encounter around the next corner. It doesn't offer the fun cranial stimulation of more tactical shooters like FEAR, STALKER, or Red Orchestra, and it doesn't offer the mindless stimulation of over-the-top shooters like Painkiller, Serious Sam, or Bulletstorm. It's kind of a standard, middle-of-the-road shooter that doesn't do a whole to make itself stand out. 

It doesn't help Rage's case that it was preempted by both Borderlands (in 2009) and Fallout: New Vegas (in 2010). All three of these games feature a post-apocalyptic desert wasteland setting, an emphasis on first-person shooting combat, semi-open worlds to explore, side-missions, towns and NPCs, and an inventory system. Borderlands even features vehicles. They're all the exact same game, on a basic level, but Borderlands has randomized loot and a class system with four different active skills, and Fallout has character-driven stats and role-playing systems in a truly open world. Going into Rage, after having already played both of these games, made it feel like Rage was lacking a certain flair, a certain je ne sais quoi. It's not a bad game by any means -- everything except the story and mission structure is at least competently done -- but there's nothing special about it, either.