Top 10 Warning Signs of Failure

Having spent a lot of time lately at ModDB, I've rediscovered something that I had forgotten in my 2.5 year hiatus from game modifications. Namely, that most people don't recognize the signs that the project that they are working on, or the project they are following the progress of, is in serious jeopardy of failing.
If you've been avidly following the progress of a promising game modification project, or are yourself working on such a project, see how many following list of "Top 10 Warning Signs of Failure" apply to it:

#10: The mod puts "Source", "Doom", "Far Cry", or any other engine name anywhere in the name.

If you have to emphasize the fact that you're using a specific engine more than your actual mod name, chances are your idea isn't well-formed enough to develop. Doesn't apply to every mod that fit this mold, but certainly fits for most.

#9: The mod developers spend more time detailing "story" than developing anything practical like learning how to get models in-game.

Everyone has ideas. Everyone thinks their story idea is the best ever. This is not unique. It's not special. It's not even particularly useful in mod development. Story doesn't mean anything if you can't back up your storyline with matching gameplay, artwork, and effects.

#8: The developers used Poser to generate their character models.

Poser is a program which creates really lovely character models, really fast. The stillframe images produced by Poser are exquisitely detailed and intricate, and it's very easy to spot them if you know what to look for. The problem is that the models produced by Poser have hundreds of thousands of polygons that no engine in the universe can render - and bringing the complexity of the models down to something an engine can render is more work than creating the model from scratch. If modellers are using Poser and asking their coders to import them into the game, they should be fired on the spot and replaced for sheer incompetence.

#7: The mod says "realism" is one of its strengths.

Most FPS games are plenty realistic enough as it is - adding more tends to detract from playability. This in turn reduces the fun factor. Realism does not directly equate to quality. It boosts immersion slightly, but immersion at the cost of annoyance is stupid (for instance, if your "realistic" weapon can't hit the broad side of a barn at 20 feet).

#6: The developers have more untextured renders of objects than functional in-game objects.

Modelling is a tricky art. Getting those models into a game engine and working is a much trickier art. All the models and textures in the universe won't do you any good if you haven't a clue how to make them do what you want once you kick up the game.

#5: The project does not have at least one competent coder.

Let's face it, almost everything that is fun and cool in a mod requires changes beyond what the basic editors can do. Without a coder, you can't get any new gameplay, effects, or much of anything else working.

#4: The project wants to recreate a recent game in another engine.

It takes a huge investment in time and energy to produce any total conversion, and trying to do that with a perfectly playable existing game is an incredible waste of time.

#3: The mod is based around some commercial product that is actively protected by copyright.

Yes, yes, I know other video games and anime and such are really fun and interesting. But they're protected by copyright, and unless permission is explicitly asked for and received to do a modification using a particular character / idea from a commercial work, chances are the original owners will send a very unpleasant Cease and Desist from their lawyers, which will stop the project dead in its tracks with no options, unless the developers are crazy enough to try spending a LOT of money (read: many thousands of dollars) defending themselves in court. And no, the fact that the mod is free does not protect developers from prosecution.

#2: The project leader's primary role in mod development is "game designer".

Mods operate on practical skills first, ideas second. No one is going to let you boss them around just because you think your ideas are the best things since sliced bread. I don't care how good or innovative you think your design skills are; no one is going to care if all they see you do is talk about ideas and never get your hands dirty with the technical aspects of your game. All talk and no results is the province of vaporware.

#1: The project aims to make a massively multiplayer online game (of any type).

There are strict limitations to what current generation game engines will handle (not to mention problems with net connectivity). There's a reason why massively multiplayer games have budgets of 30 million dollars or more (sometimes much, much more) - it's hard to make them, and incredibly expensive. No mod team has this sort of resources at their fingertips, so I think it's a fair statement to say that any projects that want to create a new massively multiplayer game can be immediately classified as vaporware.

Time, Time Tickin', Tickin', Tickin' Away...

In the world of game modification, there's a sense of suspended time. There are always new projects being announced and updates on existing ones calling for attention. Flocks of gaming fans drift from one game to the next, seeking ever more stimulating experiences.

It all blends together into sensory bombardment that leaves us without a solid frame of reference for what's truly happening in each gaming universe. Numerous mod projects spring up in the wake of many games, in some cases giving the illusion of vitality to some games, but no amount of beckoning can keep the attention of the gaming public for long, if the original game cannot hold it.

However much we do or do not notice, time marches on.

Among the many factors that a would-be successful mod developer must juggle is determining what sort of audience will remain to experience their work when they finish, if they finish at all.

Most games release with a large splash of publicity, and good ones can gather a hefty player community. But over time, as new games get released and players become bored with existing content, that community eventually moves on to newer games. Good games with excellent replay value have the ability to retain their community for much longer, as replayability extends the duration for which the player base will stay in a community. What remains is a core of players with whom the game resonates strongly, but those players are often just a pale shadow of what the community once was.

The modding community works indirectly to shore up each fading player community. For the players who are aware of game modifications, the allure of new content can maintain their interest in a game long after they've become bored and jaded with the original game. As new mod content gets released, players can remain interested in the content, depending on the quality and replayability of the mods.

Sometimes, this works well. The modding community for The Elder Scrolls: Morrowind, for instance, has largely kept pace with the minimal demands of it's laid-back player base, even as The Elder Scrolls IV releases. Starcraft's simplistic but easy to use map editor, combined with Battle.Net's content-on-demand delivery continues to fuel its player base, despite the extreme age of the game. In most cases, though, history has shown that most games are simply too difficult to produce independent content for at a pace that satisfies the underlying player base.

It's rare to see any mod developer recognize the fact that they're working against the clock. The art of game modification is a time-consuming activity, and there is a tendency to simply accept this fact and ignore the passage of time, as there are usually more immediate problems to address in the development cycle.

Nonetheless, the danger always exists of starting a project, following through, and finding that there is no one left who is interested in your work after you finish. This leads to a lot of unfortunate incidents of mod developers who wake up one day and realize that they've missed the boat. Most eventually abandon their projects and, if they have the will, start anew on a new project, but it's often a crippling blow to their confidence, and causes many to quit altogether after spending countless hours in development for no result. A rare few tough it out and release anyway as a labor of love, and those efforts deserve praise, especially if the final product is of good quality, but they remain in the very tiny minority.

I know it seems odd to argue in favor of practicality in an environment so heavily fueled by dreams and passion, but there is a time and place for ideas. At some point, we have to act on those ideas if we want to make them reality.

Once in a Simulated Lifetime

I had a fascinating conversation last night with a friend who adores playing The Sims. Most hardened gamers turn slightly green when this series of games is even mentioned to them, but I checked my instinctive reaction and listened to what she had to say, and I'm glad I did. During the course of our discussion, she shared some very interesting insights into why some people play games.

The topic came up because I'd recently told my friends about Spore, the latest simulation game being produced by Maxis, and after looking at E3 gameplay video, my friend said something very surprising. She said that she didn't think it would sell as well as The Sims, despite its undeniable level of innovation and expansive gameplay.

The difference? Self-identity. She said that it would be a lot harder for people to identify with an entire alien race than they would with an avatar in The Sims. I thought about that for a moment...

...and then realized she was probably right.

In the case of The Sims, she said that people enjoyed it because it allowed them to vicariously rebuild themselves in a perfect image; in her words "It's you... only better!". You might be ugly, overweight and stuck in a dead end job with no friends, but playing The Sims lets you recreate yourself with improvements - gorgeous, popular, rich, with a loving spouse, a great job, a beautiful house, and perfect children. Escapism? Yes. But addictive escapism.

Previously, this type of "imagine yourself as someone else" activity was covered by activities like role playing games or daydreams. Wishful fantasies of what life might be like if you were someone else. But role playing games are tricky to set up and maintain due to their multiplayer element, while daydreams lack any form of positive reinforcement to promote themselves.

This is the brilliance of The Sims. Players can see and manipulate the game world of their alter egos in great detail, and they see very strong feedback about the consequences of their actions. They can watch as their avatar learns how to deal with common, every day issues from taking out the trash to calling a friend on the phone. The real you might not be able to carry on an intelligent conversation, but if the Sim version of you can sweet talk the girl down the street into having a date with "you", that's the next best thing for a lot of people.

For some, this whole process may seem terribly mundane and boring. But many more find this simple, nearly effortless routine soothing, and even derive some vicarious pleasure out of it. They can look at the wonderful life their Sim lives and take pride in the fact that they were instrumental in creating that life.

"And you may tell yourself: This is not my beautiful house!
And you may tell yourself: This is not my beautiful wife!"*

But in the Sims, you can pretend that they are.


* (from the song "Once in a Lifetime" by Talking Heads)

Hyper Drive

In the cosmos of game development, there are as many motivations as there are stars in the sky. Amongst the modding community, one of the most commonly found themes is the desire to take part in a project that garners some public attention.

Enter the world of hype: the art and practice of advertising your project to generate excitement and support in the community.

Mod developers will often do internet press releases, interviews, and media releases in an effort to stir up a fan base for their project. The motivation for this varies from project to project. Some projects stir up hype to get some visibility so that they can recruit more assistance. Some projects stir up hype to generate a lifeline of moral support for their efforts.

Hype is a useful tool when wielded properly. Making statements about the unique aspects of a project can often offer an additional flow of creativity from the community, as exposure to the ideas and expectations of fans can feed into a project's design. This can be very beneficial to modders, especially those who might be stuck at roadblocks in development, since it can help push them in new directions. Positive comments from fans looking forward to a project's completion can help flagging morale and keep a team on task. Attention from a wide waiting audience can attract talented developers to join your team. And of course, if and when you release your work, the amount of hype you've generated goes a long way towards determining how many users end up trying out your mod.

On the other hand, hype can also backfire. Wild claims about features of a project, without the evidence to show that such elements can be successfully implemented, can sometimes make skeptical players write your project off as vaporware. Even more devastating are cases where a project is "completed" but without meeting the claims that were advertised, which usually results in heavy backlash from disappointed players.

Of course, the above effects of hype only apply if you're actively working on a project. One of the most bizarre uses of hype are projects that seem more in love with the idea of being mod game developers than in actually producing anything. Many neophyte mod developers fall into this trap.

They start with a great idea, expand it, talk about it, and it grows swiftly out of their control as they lose sight of what they can reasonably accomplish and end up making claims that they simply have no way to fulfill. The end result of these sorts of projects is that they inevitably implode, from a player base that eventually tires of waiting for results, or simply stops believing the progressively grandiose claims that are sometimes made by the developers to stay in the limelight.

In all its varied forms, hype plays a pivotal role for many mod projects. Many even consider it an essential ingredient to success. I'm not sure that statement is entirely true, but a little extra exposure never hurts as long as it doesn't affect production or quality.

With the recent over-abundance of mod projects started by a new crowd of fans brought in by the latest game engines, the perceived need to produce maximum hype has reached ludicrous proportions. Like street hawkers peddling their wares, new mod developers strive to be heard in a community already inundated with buzz.

I can only hope that at some point, the sound and fury starts to die down as deadwood projects that collapse under the weight of their own hype fall off the radar and start acting as cautionary tales for eager new developers.

Climbing the Ladder

Much ado is made in and around the community of the tremendous learning opportunities that can be had by participation in mod development. I'd be the last person in the universe to disagree with that view. However, one thing that isn't really discussed is the way in which we, as modders, progress in our craft.

Most people believe that continuous practice can and will elevate anyone from rank beginner to competence, and by and large, that is true, but not for the reasons that are often assumed, and not in the way they seem to think.

A large proportion of the modding community seems to believe that enthusiasm can compensate for a lack of experience or talent, or even reduce the time required to learn new modding concepts. I have some issues with this belief.

Producing a good quality piece of work in modding is a learned exercise, and can be improved with time. Like other skill-based activities, some people are naturally gifted at learning certain concepts and techniques, while others struggle with the fundamentals. It all depends on your innate talents, how well you can mold your thought processes to fit the activity you're trying to learn, as well as your discipline and commitment.

What I have found is that skill development is not so much a smooth incremental process, but rather a number of small but significant "quantum leap" progressions, many of which have pre-requisite concepts that must be absorbed before they can themselves be learned. Practicing one specific thing over and over might get you some very small tertiary improvement in skills, but what I have found to be the most important element in improving at a craft isn't repetition; it's absorption of new and useful techniques.

In order to excel at any craft, you must constantly push yourself to explore and learn new elements. Most people are uncomfortable with the thought of doing things outside of their sphere of competence, and naturally shy away from trying new things out of a fear of failure.

For mod developers, being able to overcome this instinctive reaction is critical to success. Without the courage to excel, even the most naturally talented person will never discover their potential. This is where enthusiasm can be a powerful tool, because it lets us overcome our fear and inhibitions.

Unfortunately, a lot of people seem to think that it's all you need. And that isn't really true. Simply wishing to learn isn't enough; if your thought processes aren't in tune with what you're doing, no matter how much you want to learn something, it won't come to you either quickly or naturally, and trying to do so just leaves you wasting a lot of time.

"But wait, you said that anyone could become competent with enough practice!"

I did, and it's true. Basic competency, in my opinion, is the point when you've absorbed the essential elements of a craft; learned the simple building block techniques, acquired the ability to identify the most common mistakes, with enough proficiency to produce a presentable simple, working example of that craft: a simple low poly model for 3D modelling, a simple texture in texturing, a simple subroutine in programming, designing a basic map for level editing, or writing a short plot hook for a story.

The problem is that competence is not enough. You can't make a playable mod that's worth anything with only basic level skills, and for a lot of people, they never make it past basic competence. Mods, by their very nature, push the envelope of what is possible in a game, and to achieve this goal, you need to be more than competent: you need to be exceptional.

Exceptional means that you have enough talent to easily identify what new techniques you can explore without wasting time, coupled with the drive to follow through, do the necessary research, and practice to successfully absorb those new techniques. Many of the best techniques in modding are complex and difficult to grasp even with a lot of talent and a lot of experience. For most prospective modders, with only average talent, they can get to basic competence without too much trouble, but progressing beyond those limits becomes either unacceptably time-consuming, or outright impossible.

I feel that this one simple observation explains much of why there are so few truly skilled individuals in the modding world. Some people inaccurately estimate their level of talent in a chosen activity, then get frustrated when their rate of development doesn't meet their needs. Others set their sights on tasks which require highly complex techniques that are simply out of their reach, and end up falling short, regardless of how much they practice.

The key is, then, to correctly identify the areas where we have aptitude, and then nurture that skill with time investment and enthusiasm.

Realism vs. Fun

Every day in the modding world we see projects releasing media and boasting about how realistic their weaponry, environments, physics and AI are. We have new technology coming down the pipeline that promises us ever more realistic physics in the form of PPUs. New shader technology that gives us more realistic textures. And somewhere in this flood of progress, the idea has spawned that realism must, by its very nature, be a good thing in a game.

Personally, I think this whole trend has got to be one of the most collectively stupid ideas we've seen in ages.

People play games to escape from reality - to experience something different and divert their attention from their every day lives. To solve puzzles or challenges that they don't see in their normal world, or visit unusual places, or participate in activities that they can't or wouldn't normally do.

Up to a point, some games can benefit from a certain measure of realism. After all, immersion is a great tool for improving the impact of your game. But does every single first person shooter mod out there have to have "the most realistic guns"?

I'm sure the apologists for the realism in gaming faction will quite confidently state that more realistic weapons and physics means more immersion, which means more fun. Where I disagree with this viewpoint is that more immersion necessarily equates to more fun.

Look at a game like F.E.A.R. F.E.A.R. is probably best described as "first person shooter goes Hollywood". Everything in the game is over-the-top, from the plot tension to the particle effects. There is absolutely no concession to reality in the game whatsoever - every visual, every line of dialogue, every encounter is pushed to the extreme and provide maximum impact, regardless of whether it's "real". Despite this total lack of attention to realism, it's one of the best titles in the FPS genre - fun, visually pleasing, and quite creepy.

Looking at the modding scene, some of the most interesting and well received mods out there have thrown out the whole idea of realism. Garry's Mod for Half Life 2 is a prime example. It's a huge, unrealistic toybox full of neat tools that bend the reality of the Source engine into pretzels, yet it's still fresh, innovative, and fun.

Realism for the sake of ever-more immersion at the cost of fun is silly, and I am tired of seeing the endless zombified masses chanting about how great it is.

If realism makes a game more fun, great. But if it doesn't, then it doesn't, and they should recognize this and stop apologizing for it.

I think too many have forgotten that immersion is one way to produce fun, but it isn't the only way, nor the most important.

Even "reality TV" shows aren't realistic, and yet they're hugely popular.

Video games don't need to be, either.

Rock and a Hard Place

The game modification community of today exists at a nexus. Current games are becoming increasingly more complex and beautiful, and while the tools which are now being made available to modify them are also becoming more user-friendly, I think the complexity side of the equation is winning the race.

Despite all that the game developers can do to try and simplify the modding process, the bar is rising steadily on the technical aspects of modding, and the community, largely oblivious to this effect, seems to be struggling in ignorance. Half Life 2 / Source engine mods dominate the community frontier, yet of thousands upon thousands of projects, barely a handful appear to possess the creative drive and fundamental talent to succeed in any new, innovative direction.

New artistic technology, such as bump mapping, normal mapping, specular mapping, new shader technology, larger poly budgets and other elements are increasing the learning curve for artists.

Increased AI potency, larger and more complex class object structures, a host of new engine features, and a plethora of new commands and languages challenge programmers.

New lighting effects, more complex AI interaction, more complex physics, more level of detail resolution and a host of new issues daunt the level designers.

Game designers bear the brunt of the effect, as they need to become familiar with all of the above to stay on top of their game amd remain conversant with the other technical staff.

This increasing complexity is starting to drive a wedge in the middle of the community. Fewer people are able to "jump the chasm" from beginner to expert in their respective fields, and with limited amounts of free time, it is becoming progressively harder to stay current with modern game engines.

Things have not yet hit a flash-point where it becomes impossible for part-time hobbyists to maintain a competitive edge in the modding world, but I can see a day in the near future where that might become the reality. Perhaps the new paradigm proposed by games like Spore will inject some new life into the community, but in reality all such interesting user-editable content does is more stringently define the "haves" from the "have-nots".

Can the modding community adapt to the escalation in technology and still remain true to it's roots?

Time will tell.

Myths and Legends

"In the modding world, all roads lead to Counter-Strike."

...or so the modding community believes.

The spectacular commercial success of Counter-Strike single-handedly revolutionized how we approach video games, and how game developers view their work. In light of this success, many new thoughts have come into the mainstream consciousness of the modding community.

In this post, I look at some of the most commonly held views in the modding community, and look at just how much truth there is to each.

Half-Truth: Anyone can make a mod

One of the binding elements of the modding community is that modding is equal opportunity. Everyone has access to the same tools, and the implication is that, given enough time, anyone can learn to do anything.

While true on the surface, there are some realities that this belief does not consider.

First, we have to consider what we call a "mod". Game modifications come in a wide variety, from simple feature tweaks to full scale total conversions. For simple feature tweaks, such as changing the damage of a weapon, changing how quickly a character moves, or changing how a tree appears, those are relatively trivial tasks which almost anyone can learn how to do, and do so in a reasonable amount of time.

However, there is a tide of opinion shifting in the community which feels that every modification should strive to be "perfect" - and with this feeling comes the desire to expand the scope of a mod project to meet these expectations. Never mind the reality that says producing a change which would take a skilled professional 10 hours will take many many times that for someone who is still learning, or has less than above average talent.

Sure, you can still practice often enough to produce something professional quality, even with limited amounts of talent. But what much of the community does not, will not, and outright refuses to face is that for the vast, vast majority of people, producing high-quality work takes way more time, both in learning, and in practice, than is practical.

Modding is a time-consuming activity even if you know what you're doing, and for someone who doesn't know the ropes, they could potentially take 50 hours of time to make one single change (a new model, a new piece of code, a new piece of music, etc.), scattered across perhaps 2 hours of free time a day, 3 days per week. This amounts to over eight weeks of production time to produce a single asset which may or may not be of good quality. By comparison, a talented seasoned veteran could produce that same thing in a fraction of the time.

For most ambitious projects (read: nearly all of them), this rate of asset generation simply isn't sufficient - you'd be old and gray and your computer will break long before you'd ever finish a project. Thus, the statement that anyone can produce a mod is only partially true.

For limited-scope tweak projects that are within the grasp of the average user, yes, anyone can make one. For the sort of full-scale production which has become the accepted standard in the modding world, I think that statement is completely false.

Partial Myth: Releasing a mod is a stepping-stone into the game industry

One of the most cherished sacred cows of the modding community, especially amongst mod developers, is the idea that you can use a successfully completed mod project as an "in" to get into the game industry.

Before I dive deeply into this discussion, it's necessary to talk about the nature of the community as a whole. The amount of innate talent and skill in the community is a bell curve, which is skewed heavily away from competence due to the relative youth of the community (nearly all are under 25 years of age). Thus, the proportion of people in the mod community with truly exceptional skill is very tiny; at a rough guess, I'd say from experience that the really brilliant people represent less than one tenth of one percent of the community as a whole (0.1%).

If you're one of the lucky few who have the talent, intelligence, and enthusiasm to fall into that 0.1% bucket, then absolutely, producing a successful and quality mod can get you a valuable portfolio piece, and even get you some industry attention.

However, for the supermajority of the community, they lack one or more of the critical elements which define a successful mod developer. Insufficient talent, dedication, enthusiasm, focus, maturity, or any of a host of other qualities can result in failure to produce quality work. Without proof of the ability to produce a quality product, no amount of released material will get you noticed by the professionals.

There are many people who feel that sufficient practice and exposure can elevate you from the 99.9% who don't succeed into the 0.1% who do. Sadly, experience shows that people who have completed a sucessful mod were already exceptional even before they began, and their continued dedication only served to hone that advantage further.

A Brief History of Game Modification

Author's note: I wrote this article primarily to provide basic background information on the origins of some of the topics I'll be discussing in future posts.

Ever read a book and said "I could have written the ending better."?

Ever watched a movie and said "The cinematography was great, but I could have edited it better."?

Ever seen a TV show and said "I can write a better storyline than this."?

Of course you have. We all have. And for those of us who play games, we've all said all of the above about games that we've played.

Video games are a relative newcomer to the entertainment scene, and it's only within the past decade that we've really seen them come into their own as a mainstream medium. What makes them unique is that, in addition to their ability to entertain, they offer an interactive experience like no other medium before them.

Like books, movies, and TV did before it, the video game industry is struggling through its infancy, testing the waters, trying to find formulas for success, and inevitably discovering that the only sure thing is that there are no sure things when it comes to creating a blockbuster title.

Like the older media formats, video games have inspired many to enter the growing industry, bedazzled by the idea of creating the Next Big Thing. Previously, this was accomplished through direct application into existing video game development companies, or in some cases the founding of completely new development companies.

In the last few years, however, we have seen a major shift in the psychological, if not practical, application of this transition into the gaming industry. With the unexpected and meteoric rise of Counter-Strike for Half-Life, the entire gaming universe was turned on its ear and forced to re-examine how games are made, and what the gaming public looks for.

Suddenly, a new pathway into the game industry beckoned to aspiring game developers: artists, designers, programmers, musicians, authors, and every variation in between. In the wake of the commercial success of Counter-Strike, the game industry shifted gears and started devoting energy into producing not only finished games, but also on providing tools for people outside their immediate staff to produce new content for their finished games.

Thus was born the game modification community (often referred to as "modding community"). This community is composed primarily of two groups: modification developers, and modification players. The mod developers come in a variety of flavors: hobbyists, college students, and other people with extra time on their hands, as well as a small sprinkling of professionals looking for a creative outlet. Mod players run the spectrum of the normal gaming fan base, and thus are dominated by the youth demographic.

Today, the modding community is a vibrant and edgy place, filled with enthusiasm, politics, and even a shadow of the spirit of innovation which marked its founding.

In future articles, I'll be discussing at length the characteristics, both real and illusory, of this community that I have at times adopted, and other times reviled.

Yet another gaming blog? Or something else?

There are thousands of blogs out there that talk about gaming, from people relating their latest story of victory and tragedy in the latest massively multiplayer game to people buzzing about the latest new games.

So why another one?

What makes my opinions so radical and different that it would be worth committing to print, much less for you to read?

I hope to facilitate some discussion and show some insight on the gaming world from a slightly different viewpoint - as a game industry outsider who's had some contacts on the inside.

In this space, I hope to chronicle some of my thoughts and viewpoints, and discover some new ideas about how we, as individuals, perceive and interact with the ever-changing medium that video games represent.