Remakes, Pixel Art, Context, Fangames, and seeing things through different lenses

The topics of game remakes, games as an industry, how people consume games, and all of that stuff, have been swirling around recently as I read some posts and writings from some people whose articles I genuinely enjoy (Kayin, Melos Han-Tani, etc).

Kayin had a recent article called "Why Do You Want To Play a Remake?".  We get into these periods of time where sometimes it feels like we have more remakes happening than original games -- certainly for a while it feels we got more sequels than new projects.  I feel like in the popular film industry (I hesitate to say "in film" as that is too reductionist) that probably already happened a while ago; didn't we have a period where we ended up rebooting all the popular series because we felt like no more sequels could be farmed off of them?

Anyways, I don't really have a substantive point to make about all of this, honestly, it's just been a large web of interconnected thoughts that have been mulling about sometimes in the back of my head.  How should we evaluate games?  How important is it that we acknowledge the authorial intent of a game?  How important is it that we play the "original version" of a game?

Every once in a while you see these images pop around showing off how CRTs display old pixel art better, and cries about how when we yap about the "crisp pixel outlines" of our past we're really just victims of a weird sort of mandela effect because when we played these games on CRTs there =weren't= any crisp outlines.

And yet...that's really not the end of the story, is it?  You can't make the same argument for modern pixel art -- that you should play Shovel Knight, Ikenfell, or Owlboy, on a CRT, because of course those games weren't authored that way, were they?  (or even if they took this into account, clearly the developers knew that most audiences would not play on CRTs)

It's not always so simple.  There's nuance to these things.  You can't just develop a one-size-fits-all solution.  Contrary to what I just said above, there =are= people who enjoy playing modern pixel art games (Hyper Light Drifter, The Messenger, ...) on CRTs, or at the very least using CRT filters.  But you can't tell me with a straight face that you'd want to do that for Sword and Sworcery (a game developed specifically for iOS), right?

I'm sure we already went through this same facade and dance when it came to film.  You aren't getting the "true" experience unless you watch in theaters -- no, you need to watch in =IMAX=.  Does your home theater have a surround sound setup?  Did you watch the =director's cut= of the movie?  Because, you know, that's the real deal.  Authorial intent, and all.

We have similar discussions sometimes in music as well.  What is the nature of "chiptune"?  How faithful should you be when recreating a sound chip?  Luckily, music and pixel art are ubiquitous enough that every author simply has their own answer to these questions and we largely move on with our day.  But the questions don't stop there.  Do you stereoize the sound output when you playback Mega Man NES tunes, or keep them in mono?  When you listen to music in your living room do you use your 6-speaker-surround-sound setup?  Or is it important to you to listen using high quality headphones, so you get pristine sound quality?  Don't chiptunes still sound good out of small phone speakers?

When we talk about CRTs and pixel art, sometimes it's easy to forget that an entire series of handheld game consoles used pixel art for their graphics, which were displayed on LCDs.  Yes, even as far back as the Game Boy.

Remember the Game Boy Advance and GBA SP?  Yeah, that used pixel art, too:

Say it with me now, Pixel Art is not "meant to be viewed on CRTs" any more than music is "meant to be listened to live".

Of course, when we analyze and critique games (and, =hopefully=....when we review them), it's important to recognize the context in which they're made.  But it doesn't mean you view the entire piece through that one lens.  A well-rounded critique or analysis should provide multiple viewpoints of the same work, the same way that a well-rounded analysis of a film or story should provide multiple ways to analyze its themes and metaphorical threads.

Sometimes, however, we get into trouble when the people evaluating games (film, art, music) are missing those lenses with which to provide these evaluations.  Even worse, they see the game through their own warped lenses, and then sell you on their perception of it as if you will necessarily see the same thing.

Melos wrote a piece where he notes:

"Something bizarre that people who play games say is that if a game shares even one system from a popular game, then the influenced game is a rip-off or imitator. This makes about as much sense as eating a donut and saying it’s a ripoff of pizza because it uses flour. It doesn’t make any sense and all this line of criticism shows is that someone has a strange fixation on pizza."

Of course, we see this all the time in other forms of media too, so I would hold that it's not unusual (though it certainly still is bizarre, which was the point).  Funnily enough, not only do we see this come into play in ironic ways (this "Earthbound" game is just an Undertale rip-off), but we also see frequent contexts where works are lauded for being "pioneering" even when they are nothing more than a circumstance of "right thing at the right time".  We get people celebrating Squid Game as a "fresh concept" despite it (and the creator) clearly being influenced by several "death game" stories from quite some time ago.  We get Baldur's Gate 3 as "this game where you can make these choices that really influence how the story plays out!  And all these NPCs that you can talk to!" as if that's some weird foreign concept that hasn't existed before.

Which is not to say that these people are ignorant and "how DARE you have opinions on something you're not an expert on".  I don't think that's fair at all, though I do think there are limits on what you should say when you bring your own (necessarily tinted) lens onto the table.  I once got a comment on a track that I produced that essentially said "Cool song, but I don't enjoy it because one of the sounds reminds me of a horror game I once played".  And you can't really invalidate anyone's personal experience of a work, I mean I'm sure we all have at least one or two songs that have been forever ruined for us because we were unfortunate enough to hear it sung or played one-too-many-times from a neighbor or dormmate.

But when we bring these personal experiences onto the table and present them as "reviews" or "critiques" of a game (and we see this a LOT with games, more notably than with other mediums), it's not a great look.

We often also get people who are unwilling to see their own biases toward works, or simply unaware that they remember 90% of the great qualities of a game while simultaneously overlooking everything about it that could make it a terrible experience.  I read some comments about why Baldur's Gate 3 was able to reach mainstream appeal because many cRPGs are too complicated and BG3 was able to ease the barrier of entry.

Honey...you must have played a different game because Baldur's Gate 3 is NOT an intuitive experience.

In addition to figuring out how to control the camera, what all of the billion different actions do, how the hell sneak attack works, what the fuck "camp" means, how to effectively manage your inventory (hint: most people end up just giving up), you also have to keep in mind that this game is based off of 5th edition DnD rules.  You know, this thing:

But the thing is, people are willing to give all of that a pass when they really like something about a game.  And by corollary, people are just as willing to point their finger at all of these things when they just decided (for any reason) that they just don't like a game.

Cryptic NPCs.  Difficult combat.  Not always clear where to go.  Frustrating boss fights.  Am I talking about the much-derided Zelda 2?  Or am I talking about the lauded game, Dark Souls?  The same descriptors apply to both.  You just see those qualities through a different lens.  What was once labeled as "barrier to entry" gets relabeled as "quirks that give a game character".

 

Yes, your favorite Zelda game is Ocarina of Time, but have you ever stopped to think about why it's your favorite?

Melos has another article called "Why Ocarina of Time Can't be Recreated" and he explains how you can feel the design philosophy change from OoT/MM versus later games like TotK/BotW.  How there is an "emotional immediacy" to the spaces and dungeons in Ocarina of Time that is missing from later installments.  While I can't say I understand this comparison (never having played later games, and having stinted interest in OoT despite having finished it aeons ago), there is one thing that I found curiously absent from this article under the heading "What do fans really miss about Ocarina of Time?"

I'm sure that there are certainly a number of fans who resonate with what Melos wrote about, but I'm just as positive that there are a number of people who like Ocarina of Time better than all of the other Zelda games because it was their first 3D Zelda game.  (I'm not going to get into Majora's Mask here, sorry MM fans, I know you exist and I know why but I simply don't have the credentials to speak on it) Hell, there's probably a good number of people who enjoy it most because it was their first Zelda game period.

And when you think back on an experience that made you go "wow, this game just blew my mind and it felt like anything was possible when I was playing it", that's just not something that a different Zelda game can really live up to.  Even if you got something that was "another Ocarina of Time", it wouldn't make you feel the same thing because it wouldn't be your first (3D) Zelda game.

And that's a fine emotional viewpoint to have, but it's also important for us to =recognize= that about ourselves -- to understand that our lens is colored in this way.  Otherwise we're no better than a serial dater who can't ever seem to capture "that magic" that they felt when they first fell in love.  We can't just keep comparing everything to the subjective experiences that we had because of our own personal circumstances.  It's not fair.

You're free to chase after nostalgia (as long as you think about why you want to).  You're free to love the Silent Hill 2 Remake, or hate that it exists.  There's nothing wrong with enjoying things in your own way, or even liking flawed works.  Not everything we consume has to live up to some arbitrary standard.  But as we do so we should be realistic about our own experiences and how utterly non-universal they may be.

...which brings me to that Link to the Past fangame that I played a while ago:

I was looking for a post where I wrote about this game here but apparently I didn't.  Where do I even start here...?  There's too much.

I think Kayin had the right idea (not sure, maybe the thread is gone) about critiquing the game in that "it's a roguelike but doesn't understand why".  That's potentially a little unfair because I get the notion that this is a roguelike because "person just thought 'Hey, Zelda + roguelike sounds cool'", but to Kayin's point, that doesn't make for objectively good game design.

You can definitely see the game wearing its influences sort of on its sleeve here as opposed to being a culmination of clean and well-thought out design.  Now, not every game needs to be Celeste (probably the #1 game I use for an example of "clean" and good design), and some games can be really fun just because they decide "to hell with it" and just make crazy decisions for shits and giggles.  I'm struggling to think of great games that take this approach at the moment (Broforce?), but I'm sure I've played some.

With Zelda: Dungeons of Infinity, though, you kind of get something that dips its toes into being like part zelda-ish hack-and-slash, part rogue-like with procedural generation and random drops, but then there's also this weird interlude halfway through the game where you get to the "town" and then there's like a billion different things to do there.

And like, I'm not saying these things can't work, but in this case I feel like the game just kinda half does all of these things and as a result there's not really a compelling experience in any of the different parts.  Because the dungeons are procedurally-generated (why?), there's no Zelda-like cohesion to the dungeon layout and no "puzzles" to solve.  I use the word "puzzles" loosely because even in the absence of puzzles to "solve", you can still have a game that requires some dynamic and engaging thinking to play (ref: Super Metroid Map Randomizer, ALTTPR).  The roguelike item drops don't offer any of the "juicy" moments of a lot of roguelike games -- trying to form an "item build", looking for synergies, finding out a playstyle that works for you.  The combat is like....a workable system, but rather one-note.  Even worse, the enemies rarely drop any loot at all, so you're incentivized to avoid combat and the number one thing that can kill you is actually a lack of patience.  And then you get to the end boss and all of your items are taken away -- so much for the roguelike elements.  I think this is probably overrated in terms of how feel-bad it should be, but =anything= that's a feel-bad for players is usually something to be wary of (this is why I allow attack-spamming in Rhythm Quest -- learned that lesson already from Melody Muncher).

And then there's this whole town area that clearly a lot of love and work was put into, but of course, if you're playing this game because you want hack and slash action, you get there and it's going to seem like a chore because it was never part of the main experience that you were looking for. 

Two of the most common complaints that this game gets are that diagonal movement is too fast (because movement on each axis operates independently), and that you should be able to hold out your sword or sword spin.

And this is where things get icky, because yes, this is where this game connects to everything else I said above about viewing things through a certain lens.  While you can argue that diagonal movement should be normalized because it just "seems" more natural, I've played plenty of games where nobody ever seemed to bat an eye.  Ever heard of this little game called Undertale?  Movement is independent on both axes not only for overworld movement in Undertale, but also for movement in the "bullet dodging" action encounters.  TVTropes has a whole list of other games that exhibit this type of movement.

I acclimated to the game's movement after no time at all because I knew this game wasn't trying to be A Link to the Past.  Why would I assume that it would have the same physics engine?  And yet, this sort of "uncanny valley" is an issue that people have.  They can't seem to see things outside of the lens of games that they've already played.

But...counterpoint -- why should they?  If you're going to make a game with ALTTP assets, shouldn't it conform to some expectations that people may have going in?  If you're going to make a ladder in a game, shouldn't you be able to climb it?

The spin slash suggestion I actually find to be egregious because it would make the already-boring combat system way, way more of a snooze-fest.  At least at present, there is some degree of spacing required, but if you implemented an ALTTP-style spin slash into the game, the ideal strategy would just be to back off, charge your spin (which, remember, you're completely invincible while doing, and it does 2x damage!), and then release a spin, then repeat.  Slow, safe, and boooooringggggg.  To the creator's credit, it seems like they have not implemented either of these common suggestions as of this writing, though I can't pretend like there aren't a thousand other possible reasons for that.

You see, ALTTP gets away with the spin slash because not only is combat not a focal point of the game, but there's also no permadeath element and health refills are plentiful.  You aren't incentivized to take the safest approach to combat in ALTTP (unless you get into a dire situation, or are playing ALTTPR and don't happen to have a lot of health on hand, in which case there's also a natural time pressure element), so it works.

This fangame is this weird microcosm of conflict because it mixes up all the things I called out in the rest of this blog post into a big mess where nobody is right.  Honestly, thinking about it just illustrates the absurdity of trying to argue about what a game "should" be.  Are the players wrong for wanting the game's physics to exactly match what they're used to?  Is it a travesty that the lighting in the game doesn't conform to the pixel grid at all?  Is it really the creator's fault when all they wanted to do was make a cool project, not necessarily a well-designed game?

I don't think we ought to say what "should" or "shouldn't" be.  The measure that we should be striving toward is a fuller understanding of different possible viewpoints for a given piece.  When you try to evaluate someone's work, maybe your job isn't to convince everyone to see things from your own perspective -- maybe it's to provide a variety of possible perspectives that people could have, and explain the context behind each one.  And if you don't understand a given viewpoint, maybe there is something that you could learn there.  Yeah, it's true that Squid Game wasn't really a new concept, but why is it that people who never paid attention to Battle Royale, etc paid attention to this one?  If you (like me) don't believe that Baldur's Gate 3 caught on due to being an easy-to-get into, unique experience, why =did= it catch on?

We can go further beyond "Super Metroid is a classic and it's the best".  We can try to understand what about it ages so well (Show not tell.  Memorable environments and set pieces.  Structured map design that strikes a balance between area uniqueness and "hub-spoke" patterns) while at the same time understanding what might turn people off of it if they've never played it before (Somewhat clunky controls at times.  Occasional stumbling blocks / "stuck" moments.  etc.)  We can tell people not just that it's our favorite game, but WHY it's our favorite game.

And if you're =truly= introspective about it, the reason you liked Super Metroid better than Metroid Dread might not actually be "I love that you can sequence break in these old games", because how many of you actually did that in your first playthrough?  And what WAS it about your first playthrough that made you play the game again?

Yes, for some people, it's going to be a sense of wonder about the world of Zebes, or the fact that you felt a sense of "wide open exploration" even when you were being subtly guided by the game's hand.  Maybe it's something poetic about the loneliness of being a bounty hunter in a strange planet, something something about the sense of freedom and power you felt once you had the combo of space jump and screw attack.  But for other people it's going to be "because I didn't have anything better to do with my time and it was 1996.  As a kid I didn't have a ton of choices".  Or maybe you just simply saw someone speedrun the game in 2022 and you said "I wanna be like that".

And that's okay.