Category Article

On Multiplayer Level Design: Basics

mclogenog 1 Comment

I’ve designed amateur levels for a while now.¹ For each level, I’ve attempted to explain the rationale behind my specific layout or weapon choices, yet I’ve never written about a general theory of multiplayer level design. That is the point of this post.

Below are several abstracted principles, and though I’ve written them as absolutes for clarity’s sake, they are my subjective observations. The first three principles should be apparent; these are my advice for new level designers. The last three are debatable, so I have attempted to defend them in the text below.

1. A successful design follows from familiarity with the game. Play until you understand.

2. Playing games is necessary, but not sufficient, to understand them.

3. Understanding differs from skill. Inept players can be capable designers.

4. Levels do not exist in isolation.

5. Mechanics inform, but do not determine, level design.

6. Levels are the medium through which players encounter a game’s systems.²

In early 2008 I purchased Unreal Tournament 3 because it had a level editor, not because I loved Unreal. My early levels were flawed by this; they played like Call of Duty, Halo, or whatever I was playing at the time. This isn’t a problem that goes away either. My latest designs are visibly influenced by Quake III. The solution is to be aware of these influences when designing.

In the early Unreal games, there was no codified style. Unreal suffered from imbalanced and redundant weaponry. Although UT99 reduced these problems, the level style was inconsistent. Compare Inoxx’s SpaceNoxx or Pyramid to Akuma’s Viridian or Malevolence. The divergence of styles made UT99 many games in one.

UT2k4 and UT3 were more consistent. Separate styles bound the levels to their respective games. Checker’s Ironic belongs to UT2k4, not UT99 or UT3.³ This same stylistic consistency is true of Quake III, Team Fortress 2, and Counter Strike. I could build Dust in Unreal, but I would be ignoring both mechanical and stylistic differences between the two games. Dust would not be an ideal expression of “Unreal-ness.”

Yet, when modding for UT3 was at its peak, ports of Quake III levels were common. From a mechanical view, these two games are almost identical. The movement, the weapons, and the power-ups are similar. They could be the same game. The style of their levels is incompatible, though, and it’s at this point that most ported levels failed.

One-way paths, dead-ends, and narrow corridors are typical of Quake levels. These elements reinforce strategies built around timing pickups. Many paths are pointlessly dangerous without timing items correctly. UT2k4 and UT3 levels avoid this style of design. Although timing is a part of strategic play, predicting the enemy’s location relative to one’s own is more important.

There are exceptions in both games, though. Quake III’s Vertical Vengeance is compatible with UT3 (Moonflyer built an excellent port), and Inoxx’s UT99 levels are arguably more compatible with Quake than with Unreal. Despite these exceptions, I think my points about the role of level design still stand.

This summer I had a brief, freelance level design gig. An independent programmer needed levels for his mechanically complete game. He requested something like Quake or Unreal, and though there were several design restrictions, he gave me enormous freedom. By designing the first multiplayer level for the game, I was central to defining the style, and—by extension—defining the game.

In designing levels, even as an amateur, be aware. No level exists in isolation, and familiarity with a game’s style and mechanics is essential when designing levels for it. Reviews seldom mention level design, and indies are quick to cut corners, but its role can’t be ignored. If nothing else, remember that to design, you have to play.

Notes:

¹ I use “amateur” in both senses of the word. I design my levels out of love for the process, but I’m also not paid for my work.

² In games like Skyrim, I consider both the main world and individual dungeons to be levels. There are also many games without levels; this principle doesn’t apply to them.

³ Checker’s Ironic was originally built for UT2k3, not UT2k4. However, the two games and their level design styles are much more similar to each other than they are to UT99 or UT3.

Favorite Games (part 2)

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Previously when I explained my favorite games, I avoided spoilers. This time spoiling is unavoidable. Also last time the games were fairly old. Instead, these are recent. If you like, read this as my “favorites of 2012” list.

Proteus: I’m not a spiritual person, and I’m even less religious, but there’s something to Proteus I can’t explain. It’s a meditative experience. It’s a mirror for introspection. It’s a simple game, but I’m awed by the simplest sights: an apparition, a giant tree, statues that change the sky, and mushrooms that change the sound. With subtle musical interactivity, even common things—rain, snow, the cycle of day and night—make me grin. Proteus makes me feel like a kid jumping in puddles.

Beyond these simple moments, I think there’s a greater metaphor in the seasons of Proteus for the seasons of life. The first time I completed the game, I rushed to see all of the “content,” and then it was winter and it was too late to return. In playthroughs since then, I’ve forced myself to slow down and appreciate the many strange little things (bees!).  I can’t guarantee everyone will have the same experience with Proteus, but I know it’s made me a better person.

Thirty Flights of Loving: When I watch action movies, I want the escapism of unreality, but also something tangible. This balance is difficult, or so the average (awful) action movie would suggest. I think that’s why the heist and spy subgenres are so successful. There’s inherently more human drama than in most action movies. Thirty Flights fits in these subgenres, but it’s more successful for juxtaposing the extremes of reality and unreality through its montage of interactions. Action movies say that happiness is explosions, riches, and sex. Thirty Flights says that happiness is peeling oranges, riding motorcycles at dawn, and examining museum exhibits. It tells me, “don’t wait for big moments to be happy; little moments are beautiful too.” These simple, even mundane, human experiences are delivered so powerfully, Thirty Flights is worth your time.

Note: I know. I’m hopelessly sentimental.

Favorite Games (part 1)

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A few years back during something like a job interview (sort of) I was asked about my top ten favorite games. I was unprepared, and I explained poorly. More recently I’ve wanted to write articles about my favorite games, assessing why they’re good. Yet my thoughts are still too unstructured to complete these would-be articles. As a temporary substitute, here’s an unordered list of several favorite games, and my condensed reasons why.

Banjo Kazooie: Much of my love for this game, I admit, is nostalgia. Yet when I replay it, the level design still surprises me. Levels for 3d platformers can be simple obstacle courses and still be fun for it (see Mario 64), but they can be more. Often the levels in Banjo Kazooie follow the imaginative themes of childhood adventures: a pirate island in Treasure Trove Cove, a jungle in Mumbo’s Mountain, or Egyptian ruins in Gobi’s Valley. The same adventurous themes are typical of Calvin and Hobbes comics, and my lego constructions as a kid. Other levels represent more abstract ideas. Freezeezy Peak captures winter and holiday joy, as does Mad Monster Mansion with Halloween. The best level, however, is Click Clock Woods, which embodies time through seasons, and (by extension) life. I think there is something inherent to platforming mechanics that suggests an arrow of time; collectibles can’t be undone (Mario can’t walk backwards). Before I realize it, I’ve completed the game, I’ve “grown up,” and there’s no going back.

Psychonauts: The reason for my love for Psychonauts overlaps with my reasons for Banjo Kazooie. The game is a powerful coming of age story, with glimpses of a deeper hero’s journey, and the last level is a wonderfully Freudian conflict. The gradual isolation in the hub level that sets in with nightfall is almost as effective for me as Banjo Kazooie’s Click Clock Woods. I don’t want to spoil the experience here, so let me focus on level design instead. Levels can be expressionistic creations and biased narrators, but instead our industry is obsessed with realism. Levels can be characters, and this is where Psychonauts succeeds. The Milkman Conspiracy explains a character through level design alone, and the result is more powerful and more subtle than possible through text or voiceover. This took a remarkable amount of trust. Another level, Black Velvetopia, is a self contained narrative overflowing with symbolism. Even though the design in Psychonauts is sometimes sloppy, the narrative, emotional, and stylistic power is seldom matched.

Super Mario All Stars: I specifically mean the snes version of Super Mario Bros because I can’t speak for the original. There’s not much nostalgic bias here. I first played the game when I was young, but I was never very skilled, and I don’t think I ever made it past world 4 (even with the first warp zone). This year I finally completed the game, and in the many times I’ve replayed it since, I continue to discover. At the moment—and I expect this will change—I think the best way to understand Mario is to compare it to music, especially Bach. The individual voices/mechanics are simple, but the complex interaction and variation on themes creates a powerful whole. Level 5-3, for example, is identical to 1-3, except for the addition of bullets, but the design changes completely. There are patterns to the levels in Mario, but repetition always says something new, which can’t be said of the repetitive gameplay loop in most games. To me, Mario is the exemplary of elegant game design.

I hope my thoughts encourage you to play these great games.

Mod Watch

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Recently in the Mapcore forums, Magnar Jenssen posted screenshots of Mission Improbable 3. I hadn’t played the first two, although I knew of them and their acclaim in the mod scene. For that matter, it’d been a while since I played any mods, and since last time I discovered Radiator, Dear Esther, Korsakovia, and Hazard, I went forward with excitement.

Mission Improbable 1 and 2 (by Magnar Jenssen):

The Mission Improbable levels take the form of additional chapters in Freeman’s campaign. The gameplay mechanics and narrative style are consistent with the original content. In the first mission, the player’s objective is to reactivate a rebel communication post, and discover why the connection was lost. In the second mission, the player regroups with a rebel outpost, and then begins an attack on combine territory. Of the two, I enjoyed the first one more for its pace and tone.

The slow intro on a boat, and gradual uncovering of the island sets a tone in Mission Improbable 1 that’s essential for the complete range of tension. It’s this range, like a crescendo, that makes the level so interesting. In Half Life 2, particularly in episode 1, there aren’t many moments to slow down. In episode 2, the small encounter while exploring became more typical, and contributed to a greater tension in combat throughout. This range made the final fights of Half Life 2 episode 2 and Mission Improbable 1 similarly satisfying to complete. Mission Improbable 2 maintained a more typical fast pace throughout, which I found less enjoyable.

Whoopservatory (by Magnar Jenssen):

Unlike the Mission Improbable levels, Whoopservatory introduces a new mechanic to the combat of Half Life 2. In it, the player can use machines to record and replay seven seconds of activity, allowing for single player cooperation. Rachel Cordone’s Prometheus had a similar mechanic, which was used to create some complex puzzles. Here, however, Jenssen only used this mechanic twice, isolating bouts of combat. Two puzzles didn’t feel substantial enough to grasp the mechanic’s ideas, so it’s a shame he didn’t explore it more.

Aesthetically, the level looks as good as anything in Half Life 2 episode 2. The exterior sequences feel straight out of Alan Wake, blending blue tones from the surrounding forest with warm pools of artificial light. I especially enjoyed the motes of dust caught in light shafts, and the use of chalk boards as ludodiegetic tutorials.

The combat gameplay was consistent with the Mission Improbable levels, sharing the same strengths and weaknesses. Encountering individual or small groups of zombies while exploring gave the space life and implied narrative interest. The reuse of space for multiple encounters was also well executed. My primary complaint remains that overpopulating a space with enemies prevents the combat-sandbox that makes Half Life 2 interesting (see Ravenholm).

I found the overuse of manhacks (in Whoopservatory and Mission Improbable) particularly irritating. When used infrequently manhacks upset the player’s target priorities and disrupt plans, adding a dynamic challenge. Isolated from larger encounters, however, they bland to fight. When there is a large quantity of them, especially when mixed into larger encounters, they encourage frantic, nonstrategic gameplay. There is a place for this, but it is only valuable through its infrequency.

Minor complaints aside, I enjoyed Whoopservatory. Mods aren’t usually known for their polish, but this one deservedly is.

Level With Me (by Robert Yang and friends):

Level With Me reminds me of Psychonauts, where levels represent characters, and gameplay challenges are functions of their narrative flaws and motivations. Psychonauts has some of the strongest instances of ludonarrative support I’ve encountered in video games. This should encourage greater exploration into levels as abstract representations or characters, but such levels are rare. Level With Me, however, begins with this sort of exploration.

In the first chapter of Level With Me, which was designed for Portal 2, test chambers are named and briefly described. A boring and simple character makes for a boring and simple level. A confusing and broken character makes for a confusing and broken level.  The question is whether this interesting abstraction justifies bad design. A moment I enjoyed was after an irreversible puzzle, when I had to crawl through a laser-filled tunnel as punishment, and emerge surrounded by an arc of vacant seats. It felt below insult; the audience was too bored to stick around and boo (or call Chell fat).

The second chapter vaguely continued this theme by representing actual people (the interviewees) or their ideas in iterations of the same puzzle. This chapter began with the orange-boxed version of the level, where the player has to step through a level editor screen and then interact with programming to open the door. This is a recreation of Robert Yang’s Door Challenge level, which frames himself around the test chambers to follow as the host designer and interviewer. Throughout, these test chambers are filled with self-aware audio segments and self-reference, which often left me laughing.

The final chapter is the least interactive. The levels largely transition after a set time, regardless of player interaction. This concludes in a recreation of the original Half Life test chamber, where Yang narrates that the space isn’t remembered for clever gameplay or puzzles, because the player merely presses a button. After this, all of the voices from the interviews intermingle into an indecipherable crowd, and the level ends. There is also a moment in this chapter where the Farnsworth House is replicated, but I’m not sure about its significance to the whole, not yet anyway.

Levels representing characters and levels about level design are interesting, and seldom explored despite their past success. I found Level With Me to be a thought provoking and largely enjoyable experience even at its least forgiving.

If any of these mods sounded remotely interesting, check them out! (They’re free!)

(Note: the other design participants in Level With Me were Dan Pinchbeck, Richard Perrin, Magnar Jenssen, Ed Key, Jack Monahan, Davey Wreden, and Brendon Chung.)