I haven't played a game recently that's not going to be fodder for the show at some point, so I'm going to be taking a brief look at a genre. Despite the title of this post, it's not going to be specifically action games, for reasons I'll delve into in a bit.
I have this problem where, when trying to describe a game, especially many 2D games, that I tack the word "action" onto the beginning of the describing phrase. Most games in the Zelda series, for example, become "action RPGs" or "action adventure." I'm not sure why the industry started calling them RPGs at all, actually. The role being played is minimal at best. Similarly, JRPGs generally don't involve the player filling any role, other than serving as the guiding hand behind the protagonists' movements. In this capacity, almost every game would be an RPG.
As anyone who knows me is probably aware, my biggest love in gaming is the adventure game. For those of you who don't really know what this genre generally entails, it usually means a game where exploration is a key element of the game. The other mechanics notwithstanding, these types of games usually have a fairly large environment to explore that requires the player to make notes (usually mentally in my case) about the locations of things they cannot interact with yet, and reward the player upon return to these places with the appropriate "key."
Geremy had Zach and I read an article about how the original Zelda was the best in the series on the premise that the games should be entirely about exploration. The rant then went on to state that the later games were flawed due to having such silly contrivances as plot and a more linear world design. What grave sins. Imagine, having to acquire an item that allows you to interact with the environment you're familiar with in a new way. Such folly.
Jesting aside, the adventure games I most enjoy, and consider to be most well implemented, are those that reward the player for exploration with changes in depth and for advancing the game with changes in scope.
What now? When I say change in scope, I mean giving the player something new with which to affect the game world. This could be a ranged weapon in a predominately melee focused game, the ability to burn away foliage, or a faster travel mechanism. I love me some faster travel.
Changes in depth, then, enhance an area that the player already has access to. Whereas a change in scope gives you a nifty bow, a change in depth might give you more arrows for that bow, or a slightly different arrow. While some might be tempted to say that a bomb tied to an arrow is a change in scope over regular arrows, I would argue that the mechanic fundamentally the same. A change in scope, to me, is a completely new mechanic. A change in depth is simply more of the same or a slightly better version of what you have.
Now that the explanation is out of the way, why should I prefer a change of scope for advancing the game over a change in depth? I think this has much to do with the standard structure of videogames, and, in fact, storytelling. Generally, as you progress through a game, various challenges are presented to you in an increasingly difficult order. Specific challenges are much more difficult, momentous, or, at least, consuming of time than others. Such challenges usually take the form of bosses, but it can be any particularly unique challenge. A commensurate reward for such challenges is usually a change in scope. For some games, it's just rewarded with plot or some such thing, but in adventure games the change in scope is rewarded for overcoming the challenge or is necessary to affect that change.
The problem, as I see it, with rewarding such events with a change in depth is that it does not feel sufficiently momentous. You beat the super awful dragon so have more magic. Woo? Yes, it's likely going to be useful to be able to toss around more fireballs, but wouldn't it be more fun to summon the wind of the dragon's wings AND throw fireballs? Using this, you could go find a way to do both more often. I feel like the exploration of a game is partly driven by the player's own desire to delve into the depths of the world. Really, the items they find there are just tangible rewards for doing something they would already do. A change in depth, then, feels like a better suited reward to this kind of activity, since it only enhances their ability to go and explore more. This, of course, has the fringe benefit of making the continuance of the "real" part of the game easier, but is not necessary to complete the game.
I'm not saying, of course, that it's impossible to make a good game without following this pattern. I could very easily imagine a game where the changes in scope are the rewards for exploration, and are necessary to continue the plot and receive changes in depth. I am saying, however, that the reward structure I like to see is new mechanics accompanied by movement of the plot.
So, why did I say "Action... Something?" I feel like adding action to the beginning of an attempted genre description is, at best, redundant. Modern games are almost never devoid of action. Really, I think that word is both a hangover from when not all adventure games were action games (some still aren't, and are still good!), and is an attempt to point at something else that we care about. We're trying to say something about the mechanics around which the game is framed. Some games are all about the mechanics. Some are all about the story. Some, though much rarer, are all about that nebulous layer between the two that makes up what we call the "feel" of a game. That alchemic combination between the raw mechanics and code and the plot presented either explicitly through text or implicitly through environment can be its own way of categorizing a game.
That, at the core of the matter, is where I think the wonder of an adventure game lies. I think that most good adventure games must involve the isolation of the player from a human element. Since there's no one around but the player's character to convey the story, it's usually up to the environment to fill in the details. I think Metroid Prime is an excellent example of how an adventure game can be done without having clunky exposition. In fact, many of the rewards for exploration in that game are changes in depth, but specifically the depth of the story. While there are certainly a large number of upgrades to be had, much of what you find is lore about the aliens who crafted the world you're on or tidbits about the other aliens that are trying to harness the world's unfortunate energy source. I think this game would be better classified as an adventure game from a first-person perspective, shooting, and (blech) 3D platforming. Saying that it's an adventure game should imply that there is a world to explore, things to collect from that exploration, and some sort of main plot to advance by ditching straight exploration. The other things are there, but do not make the game. Calling it a first person shooter, as anyone who has played it will tell you, is grossly inaccurate.
I feel that there is a growing desire from the gaming masses to buck the trend of genrefication of games, and adopt a system of classification that more accurately describes what the game is. I don't know that it's going to happen any time soon, or at all, though, since many of the big publishers rely on those labels to make their sales. The next time you describe a game, try to do so in terms of experience, feel, and mechanics, rather than using a predefined genre label. Unless it's CoD. We know what that is. ^_^
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