I've often expressed strong hesitance to get really into any MMO -- WoW's a prime example -- because it seems to me that to really get the full experience out of a game like that, you have to work pretty regularly at it. Guild raid's on Sunday and you'll fall behind if you don't show up. Can't keep up with your mates? Better find a new group. People grind all day at their real-world jobs, trying to earn money, become stronger, access new areas of life, and I never understood the compulsion to do that in play, too.And yet, I'm a Harvest Moon fanatic. It perplexes me every time I pick it up, my addiction to simple, mundane and repetitive tasks. I like the love system, of course -- anything with dating sim elements appeals to me -- but even that can be broken down to a rote process of making damn sure to gift the lady of your choice and talk to her every day, and be sure you fulfill the game's requirements for proposal and marriage before you spring the Blue Feather of love.
I've been into the blog High Dynamic Range Lying, and have for a few weeks now been meaning to discuss one of their recent posts, all about making "boring" tasks into great games. And it asks, basically, the same question I'm raising here -- in a world full of mundane activities, games are the fantastic escape. So why would we then want to go and play games that require, essentially, more of the same from us?
The article uses Brain Age and Nintendogs as an example. It's safe to say that both of these are casual games, and that's the crux of the article's discussion:
Accessibility goes a long way to making a game successful. In the case of Nintendogs, the game provided a chance for players to raise, walk, and even enter dogs into shows, without the undesirable time investment. I myself felt quite silly playing Nintendogs in my own house in the US, while my two, very real Golden Retrievers went hungry and unloved. My feeling towards the game changed when I moved to Japan, and began to understand its pull far more.
Not only does the game offer a lot of reward with very little time investment, but it gives players the chance to play with their puppies anywhere they are. The game’s success makes an incredible amount of sense in the context of Japanese society. Despite space concerns and the impracticality of owning a mid-sized dog, Japan is dog-obsessed.
I'm reviewing Rune Factory for Destructoid, though I confess as a Harvest Moon fan I'd be playing it anyway. Though Harvest Moon, Animal Crossing and Viva Pinata revolve around fairly rote tasks -- raise a plot of land, socialize with your neighbors, complete fairly simple odd-jobs, and while there's virtually no learning curve to gameplay, would you call them "casual?" Rune Factory in particular incorporates serious RPG elements -- namely dungeon exploration, stat management (you've got STR, INT, the works) and weapon-crafting, and while many people might raise eyebrows at the idea of incorporating this into what could be described in a nutshell as a farming sim, I'm absolutely loving how completely natural it seems. Rather than, "how are those elements going to work together," my natural thought has been, "why didn't anyone think of this before?" More on that later, closer to the actual review, but the point is, how exactly do you define a "casual" game?
Over at Worlds in Motion, where I write about the online game and virtual world industry, I'm learning there are big ad dollars to be made in immersive, persistent worlds that appeal to a never-before-reached audience. In other words, these so-called "casual" MMOs. Developers and advertisers are learning that while the population who invests tens of hours a week in WoW is the most devoted set among gamers, they're actually a very niche population, in terms of the big picture. Everyone's on a big gold rush to invent an MMO that will appeal to everyone, and they've done their best to peg a few qualities that will make it so. First is accessibility -- is it simple to get started? If you can download it quickly, or better yet, play it in the browser and get going right away without a manual, then it's a good bet the game will reach more people. Second is flexibility -- can the user customize his or her experience? If someone just wants to go in and chat, play a few minigames, will they be able to do that without inexperience limiting their access to areas of the world? And if someone does want hours and hours of game time, is there enough complexity there for them to sink their teeth into?
Third is the business model. While "hardcore" players are more likely to drop dollars on subscription fees to access exclusive content, the coveted "casual" market won't be so willing to pay monthly for something they only use a couple hours a week. A mixed approach seems to be the ideal solution, usually incorporating a blend of ad support, microtransactions for coveted items, and then possibly an adjunct subscription model to provide extra features for the firmly entrenched. The one thing everyone seems to agree on is that it needs to be free-to-play, at least initially, and they're betting that they'll earn their revenue from those users who want to play -- and pay -- a little bit more.
Looking at Harvest Moon or Rune Factory, you can check, check and check. Accessible? Yep. Customizable? Yep. No one's saying you need to cook every recipe, ship 100 of every crop and marry the nearly-unattainable Harvest Goddess. But you can, if you want. I "beat" Harvest Moon: More Friends of Mineral Town, but continued playing it regularly for several months thereafter, just because I enjoyed the world.
But that still doesn't answer the question of why the mundane makes for great gaming. The answer is a simple one, though, I think. Bite-sized achievements provide bite-sized rewards. It takes about thirty seconds to plow and plant a patch of seeds -- a very tiny time investment for a reward that won't take too much longer to come to fruition. As the game progresses, you can see those achievements accumulate in small but visible ways -- a fancier house, a pretty new wife, a healthy bank account. You can play almost mindlessly; no complex strategizing, no major risk (with the exception of the slightly contra-formulaic Rune Factory, you can't even die or get a game over in Harvest Moon). Ask the player to stretch his scope of attention too far, and the game begins to demand more engagement than the player's willing to provide. I'm almost finding Rune Factory less rewarding because it's more complicated. That's not to say I dislike it, but it is a very different experience, somewhat more along the lines of an old-school RPG than a farming/raising sim.
Nonetheless, the plants grow, the sun rises and sets, and the seasons change, and within only a few days you've lived a year of work, of slow-growing success, and thus it creates a capsule version of actual working life. Time in the real world seems to pass so slowly, and efforts don't often develop into successes on such a linear, obvious progression. Not so in the Rune Factory world, where you can feel yourself getting stronger by the day -- even when a day passes in about ten minutes.
And that's the piece, I think, that a lot of these so-called casual MMO and single-player game developers are missing. I think those games that find that zone -- one wherein you can get big personal boosts that make your smallest efforts feel rewarded and validated with a relatively small investment of time, thereby compounding your emotional attachment the more time goes on and your achievements accumulate -- will be the most successful in the casual market. And that's because the rest of us will love them, too.
