On Fan Service, Creativity, and Money in the Game Industry

by Gabriel Putnam

What is creativity? The random alignment of disparate ideas into a superior whole or the assembly of concepts, which normal folk might not perceive? Both of these ideas would seem to be losing their worth in a world in which stories and inspirations are so readily available. Through tests and experiments, it has already been proven that under controlled conditions a computer can be just as “creative” as a normal human. They can even evaluate which of their ideas will be of economic worth on the spot and recommend path’s of development to pursue; something which is usually little better than a shot in the dark for most human designers. Yet for many, the very act of creation and design has an almost mystical quality about it. If two products are compared and deemed equal in all other respects, many times, that product which is perceived to have been created independently will be viewed as of higher worth. In fact, often the creative product will be valued of higher worth even if its other fundamental properties are less refined; simply for the fact that it was attempting to be “original” or different. This also means that those individuals who can conceive of such designs are lauded in our society and in some cases worshiped by their fans. All of this for the fact that they can provide games which feature a penguin for a hero or possibly a more epic storyline than their peers. For the rest of this discussion, I will discuss the worth and purpose of creativity in the design of modern games and I will attempt to discuss how the influence of fans and money has come to shape this process.

In the era of 8, or even 16, bit gaming, it was possible for a design studio to work fairly independently of outside influence and to produce works which were a product of their creativity alone. In addition, since the genre of gaming itself was so new at this time, it was also easy to stand out from the pack and create works which were groundbreakingly fresh. This meant that sometimes we, the consumers, saw works such as Dragon Warrior, Final Fantasy, or Zelda which defined entire genres or at least significantly refined existing ones. However, even during this “golden age” of gaming, there were still a significant amount of derivative works produced, as anyone who’s played 8 bit platformers can tell you. Even worse, as there was little direct communication between the consumers of these games and their creators, many times it was difficult to evaluate whether a concept was truly successful. This meant that for many years, we in North America and Europe were forced to endure a staggeringly small number of RPG releases since there existed no direct ruler for measurement of their performance. Sales could be used in some cases to determine these values, especially within large companies such as Enix or Square. However, global sales data was scarce at that time, so genres as a whole could not be evaluated effectively.

This has all changed though as we have moved into the next generation of consoles. With the development of such useful tools as the internet and worldwide sales charts, which we almost take for granted these days, information and response to games is available for developers before a game is even released. Polls can be taken on massive scales to determine features, systems can be run through widespread beta groups, and developers can see what their competition is doing immediately while taking steps to imitate what is successful. All of this has resulted in a problem which might have almost seemed foreign just a few short years ago. Instead of starving for information on what will succeed, developers now have access to so much intel that they have become subjects of its benefits rather than users. When a particular game is seen to succeed, the compulsion to copy its methods is almost imperative; if not for the developers themselves then for the people who fund their work. In addition, we the fans have also come to hold a great sway over the game industry. With suggestions and chatter we convince developers of what elements we want to see, and even more directly, we vote with our dollars to show them our preferences. These two factors of improved information access and fan communication have resulted in a significant shift in how games are developed these days. Now, fads of purchasing and grand social trends almost drive game creation as much as the inherent creative process underneath. In addition, the idea of tailoring a game to meet the consumer’s preferences is almost a reality.

To examine this idea, lets look at some of the most profound of these trend-setting events. One, which should come to nearly everyone’s mind, is the release of Final Fantasy VII outside of Japan. Over the course of only a half a year, this single game managed to convince business executives and the public at large that both gaming in general, and role playing games in specific were a force to be reckoned with. Posting sales in the multiple millions, Final Fantasy single handedly moved more units of Playstations than any other game and helped to ensure its dominance in the home entertainment market. All of this, of course served as a wake up to developers worldwide and the influence of its design could be seen on games and RPGs for years to come. From almost exact, and yet still horribly done, imitations like Legend of Dragoon, to more loosely connected games, like Legend of Legalia, Final Fantasy VII created ripples throughout the industry as developers scrambled to capitalize on its monetary success and create franchises which could even approach its monetary success.

One of the next great examples of this trend would probably be Ultima Online, developed by Origin, and Everquest, which was produced by Verant and then subsequently taken over by Sony. Before these game’s releases, online role playing games were a small community, mostly dominated by groups of Multi-User Dungeons or MUDs. These persistent online games were usually hosted by private individuals and their user bases rarely climbed above the 50-100 player mark. With Ultima Online’s release back in 1997, however, all of this changed. Players were invited to a gargantuan, graphical world in which they could interact with similar folks from around the globe. Castles, countries, and homesteads were constructed, torn down, and rebuilt continuously as this persistent fantasy realm progressed. And with its creation, the term of MMORPG moved into our popular lexicon. Of course, this movement didn’t really gain steam until the next big contender, Everquest, was released. Everquest was a developer’s and publisher’s dream. A broadbase, highly popular game which addicted players like crack and then had them paying monthly fees to support their habit; what was there not love. And the results of its success have spawned hordes of would be imitators, flush with investment money, who would capitalize on its ideas and formulas for their own gain. Naturally, this change can’t really be viewed as good or bad compared to what came before, however, it does represent a shift in the creation process as so many games have not only tried to copy these games’ basic concepts of online play, but their integral elements as well. In fact, the basic Everquest design has become a model for the entire second generation of games.

The final topic to discuss is one of fan service. As was already mentioned, fans of games and series are voting with their money and influencing the developers of games somewhat indirectly. And as much as some of us may dislike the trends, these sales trends have convinced executives that gamers like two things: violence and sex. Its almost a cliché its so abused as a stereotype, but the problem is, people keep buying the games and promoting the view. In the platform scene, this has promoted such wonderful exercises as BMX XXX and Backyard Wrestling, yet RPGs aren’t exactly pristine in their treatment either. Last week, Cortney Stone wrote an article examining gender double standards in games and, in particular, the treatment of women within them. During the article, she discussed how many women in games are summarily judged based upon their assets or figure, rather than upon their actions. However, one of the base problems with these ideas is that nearly every example of womanhood in games possesses these qualities. Depending on the culture the games are developed for, the proportions may change, however, at their heart, most of the characters are created to appeal to a male mindset of gaming audience. And the problem herein then lies that if publishers were to listen exclusively to their fans, much of what we would see would be very pleasing to the eye, but would have little underlying substance. To stay away from inciting too much of a conflagration, no specific titles will be mentioned, however, numerous games, both past and planned have investigated this route of money and pleased fans over innovation in the design process. In many ways, this can be seen as troubling, since it represents a dilution of the creative process when gamers are simply telling designers what they would like to play from the games they have seen, rather than designers exposing their clients to a wealth of new experiences and ideas.

Overall, through the effects of money, fan input, and increased information access throughout the world; games, and the design process behind them, are being continually shifted away from a isolated creative process to a more service based industry. This is not necessarily good or bad, however, it represents a dramatic shift in the underlying principles at work, since only the most financially assured developers are willing to risk the costs of creative design rather than the imitation of a proven product. In the coming years, we will almost assuredly see a continuation of this trend, as skyrocketing development costs for games drive more and more companies to bank on tested concepts and it may, in time, have the potential to create a stagnant industry in which true innovation is found far between bouts of XXX violence and lowest common denominator fun.