How Sony has taught me to stop killing teammates and love the NPC teammate

How Sony has taught me to stop killing teammates and love the NPC teammate
A few years ago and a short time ago, "partner" was a vulgar word in video games. The promise of being attached to an NPC made me feel scared. Even in the PS3 and Xbox 360 era, a companion was usually shown as one of two things: at best, a bumbling photo of a character mostly headed in the right direction; in the worst case, the protected person participates in an escort mission. If you really wanted to see a game from the mid-2000s collapse to your knees with a guttural push of gears and motor oil, call a character to your cause and marvel. He runs into the battle, pulls the gun on him, cleans his gun, heals himself for no reason, and then gets stuck in a door. Forever. Sides still have a few fries to make before a happy meal, but at least on this console generation, they're no longer an obstacle to a cozy and caring business. And it is Sony who has best rehabilitated them, thanks to its exclusive PlayStation. Ellie, your bubbly and sarcastic teenage student in The Last of Us, was a turning point. A mix of clever storytelling and competent artificial intelligence that built a father-daughter relationship between two moments when zombies were stabbed in the eye. In 2018, God of War attempted to create a similar unlikely link between Kratos (albino God-Rilla) and Atreus (bards from pubescent history). Most recently, Days Gone has brought together romantic and brotherly love in a folder of worn-out motorcycles. These three games are quite different experiences, but there is a narrative line that unites them: responsibility. And also zombies, to a lesser extent.

Bill's charge

All companions are not embarrassing ... only the most. (Image credit: Bethesda Softworks) All peers are not shy... just the most. (Image credit: Bethesda Softworks) A video game buddy has to run a bunch of boards. As in any story, there must be meaning in his presence. They need a bow of some kind. They have to change, in some way, like your character does, whether you have the choice of actions or the writing makes you feel like you're growing with your protagonist. But unlike their counterparts in other media, they must also react to what you do: no matter how stupid or stubborn they are. They have to face difficult situations. Nothing interferes with a relationship, like a "Game Over" screen popping up when he was in good health, causing him to say "Bill is dead." Or the creepier rebuke titled "You haven't protected Bill." Or, the vaguer statement of video game failures: "You strayed too far from Bill," as if you've lost him in a supermarket and found him crying at the checkout. See Bill. Game Developers: You can never get far enough away from Bill. "If Bill decides that the best reaction to a horde of zombies is to push them off center with twisted pincers, why should you live and die because of this decision?" Bill, in all his guises, is an obvious way to make up for AI and cannot be trusted to follow the whims of every mercurial player. But these are sloppy workarounds that put gameplay above character building. There are other solutions that are possibly worse: the way the Fallen and Ander Scrolls companions in Bethesda can get hit by a dragon or nuclear grenade on top of a cliff and bounce back from a spot or two. Sitting is the most finicky thing out there, but they're more annoying than being punished for what is usually NPC incompetence. If Bill decides that the best reaction to a horde of zombies is to push it off center with a set of curved salad tongs, why should you live and die by this decision? The moment you start to worry about a character's safety because you're going to be sent back to a checkpoint, instead of wanting it to be safe, that's when a character retreats. Flesh and blood to zeros or zeros.

Ellie's method

Ellie may be a tough guy, but she also has a vulnerable side. (Image credit: Naughty dog) Ellie may be a tough guy, but she also has a vulnerable side. (Image credit: Naughty Dog) Sony has tackled this problem from a number of angles. In The Last of Us, Ellie reacts to danger by jumping onto her back with a knife and scraping it, or (if she sneaks in) by magically turning invisible to everyone in the room except you. In God of War, your son, Atreus, is truly magical and can take nearly endless blows from Norse monsters without bothering his mohawk. And Days Gone (mostly) separates your NPCs from your zombie hordes behind fences and walls or places them on bikes loaded with rifles. These are three different methods that, critically, don't rely on partners seriously defending themselves, but simply create the illusion that they are. They don't all work all the time, but as commendable experiences, they don't want to murder or dump the nearest trash can to protect them from their own iniquity (what we'll call the "resident"). Bad Solution 4 & # 39;). Ellie's method works because it's clear to her from scenes and comments in quieter moments that, as a character, she is vulnerable. She's not weak, but she's not some impassable divine child (like Atreus, who we're about to get to). Outside of the game, she reacts in the same way that the protagonist Joel faces a horde of screaming, cursing, and fleeing mushrooms. Also, she is just a girl: she is fascinated by giraffes and her childhood. She is skeptical of a world that once contained ice cream trucks and a particular glow where her mask slips and where we see that the defining moments of her life have died. We can forget that when we control Joel, Ellie is rarely in danger because the stories leave threats against her on two fronts: Ellie, the NPC hunted by the monsters, and Ellie, the girl who disappears in a monster world.

atreus angst

We don't really like Kratos' grumpy son Atreo. (Image credit: SIE Santa Monica Studio) We don't really like Kratos's cranky son, Atreus. (Image credit: SIE Santa Monica Studio) On the other hand, God of War's Atreus (your experience of him may differ) is an example of taking the same wrong approach. Atreus is the anti-Ellie: a parallel universe Ellie who looks the same but turns out to be a misprogrammed Stepford kid. In a strange twist, Atreus only does small scenes, and then only when he is scolded by his bodyguard, the scolding father, Kratos. In a fight, which catches up with his enthusiasm, he lacks skill, which he makes up for with a high-pitched scream, usually over your death. It's also a reverse image of Ellie in that in a world of Norse mythology far removed from anything Kratos left behind in ancient Greece, Atreus is the authority. One drink, if you're bad. He knows all the gods. All the stories. He even speaks rune. Along with God of War, a long-time retiree, who was 4-D from Metal Gear Solid and who is in his father's sober state, it's a relationship that stretches and creaks. Each. bloody. The door in old Scandewegia is locked with a riddle or magical sandbird bath that Atreus must translate or chop down, while Kratos (you) eagerly searches for something to break with. her ax I've been trying to think of something nice to write about her coming out of the mountain climbing room, but looking up this couple seems like a clash with the two worst people when they're out. a boys' weekend: one who knows the names of all the cathedrals and insists that the local population's menu be tweaked with a probably racist accent, and the guy who takes his shirt off at the start of the night ends up hitting a police. But if The Last of Us and God of War are two sides of the same coin, Days Gone is the third. Strange. Unexpected. Non-legal offer. However, brave and bright.

No more mister pretty boy

Deacon Saint John is a bit of a fool, and we love him. (Image credit: SIE Bend Studio) Deacon St. John is a bit of a dork, and we love him. (Image credit: SIE Bend Studio) As The Last of Us and God of War succeed or fail in what is a linear story, Days Gone protagonist Deacon St. John must juggle the same plates ( still spinning) while navigating a world. open: make gangster camps, looting houses, harvesting flowers to craft RPG-herbology - the lot. This is where open world games usually lose control of the story and motivation. You will leave a glorious Far Cry revolution to hunt leopards or paraglide. You will put off the Joker situation until tomorrow to beat Batman after the Riddler trophies. In Fallout 4, he will forget the name of his kidnapped son five minutes after leaving the vault and his existence in the first half hour. But not in the world of the movie, the road, the zombie, of Gone Days. The masterstroke of Days Gone's writing is very simple. So elegant. Like Tinder, the bread knives and probably the comb, it's such a perfect and seemingly obvious solution that you can't help but wonder how no one ever thought of it before. "Bend Studios hits the nail on the head through the nut and into the coffin from the get-go." The radio sounds. The deacon clicks on it. Some members of the local incompetent section are yelling that a person is missing or that they need a person killed or that they know something important to save the plague of Freakers who don't terrorize the zombies in the Oregon desert, and want him to do something. We can't stress enough how important it is for Deacon to do this immediately (although they will surely try). To which Deacon nonchalantly replies, "Maybe/probably/at some point/if I can be bothered." How did AAA scientists take so long to figure out the open world quest formula? Decades of side quests, weapon and flower crafting, while the lives of our assigned field devices hung in the balance, and Bend Studios drove the nail head-on through the nut and into the coffin during players' first push. open world games will always behave in a way that narratively makes them look like dicks. So why not let them play the part of a guy who is, just the way I like it, a big dick?

Friendship formula

< p class="bordeaux-image-check">Maybe Kratos should take a sheet from Deacon's book? (Image credit: SIE Santa Monica Studio) Maybe Kratos should take a leaf out of Deacon's book? (Image credit: SIE Santa Monica Studio) At the beginning of Gone, Boozer, his biker gang partner, is badly injured. You put him to sleep. He probably could use drugs, but... he'll probably be fine. You will get there. During this time, you are looking for his deceased wife without mourning. But she is dead, she does not need more mourning in this second second. Or at all. Go ahead if and when you can be disturbed. Meanwhile: raid this gangster camp and paint your bike. Of course, you will eventually do all these quests. Because when you walk through the desert of post-apocalyptic bikers, the writing of Days Gone will write its claws through your leathers and into your soul. NPCs will contact you and slowly and unconsciously you will decide for yourself that they are worth your time and investment. No Stick: No one dies if you don't rush to the camp with the advanced Macguffin plot just in time. Days Bygone, like The Last of Us (and God of War, too, if you can forget that its odd father-son pairing, the Odd Couple) is all the way down. Do something nice for a person, that person is nice to you, repeat until you realize six hours later that he has accidentally become a better person. Sony, of course, isn't the first or only developer to use this sentiment of attachment to what is, stripped down, a magical trick of pixels, semi-sensitive code and pre-recorded dialogue. But as the de facto winners of the latest consoles, war and character and relationship are at the center of their concerns, it offers a formula for traditional gaming that evokes more than a contractual obligation to care. NPCs, which is important to us. . We should, and now can, remember our peers for their stories. And never for the moments when they found themselves trapped in a door.