Rad, Readability and Respecting the Player’s Time

So today I’m talking about the game Rad by Double Fine, and how it’s made me reflect on readability, which I’ll explore from a few different angles (this was going to be about roguelikes also, but the focus shifted while I was writing it).

So in the last post you talked about Spelunky as a catalyst and hinted at your own journey into roguelikes. Want to unpack that a little more?
Yes, so what I was hinting at was that I’m currently developing a roguelike (which for brevity let’s call “TI”, which I won’t say too much about as its very early days, but it’s a more modern 3D take as opposed to the traditional 2D grid-based style. This project was initiated in direct response to reading Derek Yu’s Spelunky book, which unlocked a very achievable proc-gen formula for me (see my previous post).
During my general game research into roguelikes I rediscovered Rad via Tim Schafer’s Double Fine retrospective No Clip documentary and decided to check it out since I was already deep into my roguelike-research mode. But this post is not so much about Rad itself but rather the contrast it presented to me. Since Rad and TI have some surface-level similarities (similar camera perspective and world-navigation feel) I found myself comparing Rad’s art style to my own. Now this is not often helpful when your own game is in a prototype stage, which TI is, and I recognised the envious nature of my reaction, but I opened my mind to what else was there. There was a strong positive aspect to the fact that TI was/is so visually simple. In a word: clarity.
Playing Rad from my couch on a modestly sized TV screen meant a lot of squinting and leaning forward to try and make out what’s going on. This has certainly happened with other games, the worst instance being Death Stranding where the insane barrage of tiny UI prompts and menus made the game unplayable unless I stood a meter away from the TV (no exaggeration, this was how I played the game), but in this case it was specifically a UI problem. For Rad, although UI was an issue, it wasn’t the only problem, there’s a general clarity problem.
At this point I should say that I’m not picking on Rad specifically, for me it was just the catalyst for this conversation.
So the characters in Rad have this outline around them, and it would be interesting to know if this was an attempt to make them more clearly distinguished from the scenery, which is not an uncommon thing to do. Regardless, I bring this up because that points to the real issue for me, and lets me zoom out to contemporary games at large. Visually, Rad is too busy. That’s what it all boils down to for me. And this is ironic as the game references the 80s so much, an era that has remained one of the most iconic decades because of its bold, distinct-yet-over-the-top simplicity. It feels like Rad has the over-the-top-ness but not the simplicity.


So what do you mean by “zooming out to contemporary games at large” in regard to visual clarity?
Yeah that’s really the thrust of what I’m saying. So at uni I studied composition as a minor subject, and one of my teachers did a talk on “how simple can a piece of music be”. He framed it as himself, a successfully professional composer, being asked this question by his brother and being kind of taken aback by it. I’m sure his story probably went in many different directions, but for this context my point is “how simple can a game be?” Or how simple can its visuals be, etc, etc.
Now in the game industry we’re very lucky in a way because even simple and/or more lo-fi games can be huge hits in ways that simple/cheap movies and music cannot. We’ve seen this over and over again with games like Minecraft, Undertale, FTL, Among Us and so on, and it doesn’t seem like this trend will ever end, which is great. But as a whole I don’t feel like we take enough from that. At the other end of the spectrum we have games getting bigger and bigger, and I’m sure a lot of these big studios making these huge games like to think they have it down which they do, in some ways. But in a really broad sense games are still young, only a handful of decades old. Compare that with the long rich history of classical and folk musics around the world for example, we’re still just learning the rudiments in a lot of ways (but of course there are always those rare quantum leaps ahead like the original Super Mario, Street Fighter II, Maniac Mansion, etc)
So what I mean by “taking from that trend of simpler games” is that, to me, if a game can afford to have a certain density of visual detail then often they do it without considering whether this will add anything to the game itself, often actually making the game worse. Coming back to Rad, imagine it with more Nintendo-style graphics, I could see it being much more readable on my humble TV screen, with simpler backgrounds and more careful attention put into visually distinguishing what’s important to gameplay.
Nintendo has a long history of doing better in this regard – in a way they’ve made a science of the principle that all content should serve gameplay, and so they don’t strive for realism and they tend to get redundant information (visual or otherwise) out of the way. In this way I was a bit disappointed with Breath of the Wild. The implicit message throughout Nintendo’s history has been “you don’t need to do all this x, y, z stuff to make a great game”, they just let a game be a game. But BotW, while it has all these great gameplay ingredients, to me really fell down this rabbit hole of bloat. I could summarise it like this: Nintendo’s visual style reflects the way it treats players, it’s clear, concise and fun and get’s quickly to the point. Whereas BotW feels like it has something to prove, and it feels like it doesn’t respect my time as a player. This is a huge problem in the game industry at large.
Sure this is subjective, but for you as a player it’s a simple question “does this (whatever) game respect my time?”. As a game developer I like to play a lot of different games in a large variety of genres, so I’m often having new or unfamiliar experiences and don’t necessarily know what kind of time-commitment I’m in for, in any given play-session. So as I get drawn into, or even lost in a game, I’ll often come back to this question “is this game respecting my time?”. For example in Spelunky the roguelike principle of “don’t be afraid to die often, that’s how you learn” is honed to perfection. You die quickly, you die often, you restart instantly, your real-world skills improve (rather than just improving stats to make the game easier, e.g. Rogue Legacy) and thus your time is respected and rewarded. The other side of the spectrum is grinding in games. I’ve played enough games in my life to be able to see a mile away if a game is going to be about grinding and if so, I don’t play it. To me, nothing could be more disrespectful of a player’s time than making them grind. Yet people still play grinding games, a lot. Skinner-boxing is the obvious answer to why this is. Another explanation could be a kind of Stockholm syndrome. Again, I’m just speaking from having personally experienced both of those things, and having grappled with game addiction. But that’s a whole other topic of conversation.

So we got a bit off-topic, but it sounds like you might be saying a lack of visual clarity can lead to not respecting the player’s time?
No, but the two things can be symptoms of the same problem: does the game designer or design team have a clear vision AND a clear journey they wish to take players on? Many games have neither, or have one but not the other.
Again Spelunky is a great example of this where the random proc-gen worlds have compelling gameplay and a nice progression from one biome to the next, each with unique challenges. That stuff is good, but that’s just clear gameplay vision. The reason Spelunky goes above and beyond is that it also has the “journey” aspect where unique artefacts have to be found and used in unique ways in specific places. Part of a clearly defined journey means a clear ending (or maybe better to say a clear trajectory, even if there are multiple/mysterious/ambiguous endings). Without that, a game can just freely ramble and waste the player’s time. Again it takes two to tango, but that means the responsibility is as equally on the developer as on the player.
And so, coming full circle on this conversation, having a clear vision should mean that you as a developer should be able to see anything that is confusing, cluttering or obfuscating that vision, and clear it out of the way so you can present a powerful journey to your players.


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