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A Prince of a Different Persia
By Corvus | April 30, 2009
Much has been made of the new Prince of Persia‘s lack of difficulty, its cell shaded art style, its strangely unlikable protagonist, and its disjointed ending. I’m going to try to touch on all of these issue without getting bogged down in whether the game was good or bad because of them.
My goal, as always, is simply to explore what the game’s design communicates meaning to the player and whether the end result is coherent.
I will preface this post by saying that this is the first Prince of Persia that I’ve played to completion (inclusive of the very first 1989 game). It would likely have been the second, if I hadn’t hit a show-stopping bug in its hand-held counterpart, Prince of Persia: The Fallen King.[1] The reason behind my lack of success with the series is that my frustration with the punishing combat mechanics completely overwhelms my delight in the the environmental navigation. The current PoP’s forgiving handling of death allowed me to (mostly) overlook my dislike for the combat for the very first time.
There are two clear indicators that the designers were looking to reach a broader audience with this game–the cell shaded art style and a more forgiving approach to dealing with failure. They are certainly to be commended for this, even though it was likely a design decision driven by the marketing department, rather than out of a sincere wish on the part of the designers to provide a compelling game for the burgeoning audience of older, casual, gamer. I say this because while clear steps were taken to appeal to a broader audience, the attempts were mired by a decidedly familiar appeal to the series historic audience, which prefers more punitive game dynamics. This was done, not only through the characterization of the protagonist (which I’ll discuss a bit later), but by the inclusion of nit-picky, three-button, combat with… wait for it… quick time event sequences. [2]
Note to designers–you can still maintain forgiving game dynamics while increasing the complexity of play over the course of the game.
Trying to appeal to both the traditional PoP-franchise fan base and a whole new world of casual gamer was ultimately the game’s undoing. One could sense that rather than completely re-imagine the style of game they were designing, they approached it with their accustomed design precepts and then held themselves back from actually increasing the difficulty as the game progressed. This led to a flattened gameplay, which actually seemed to provide less freedom, less player involvement, and a reduced demand of the player’s skillset as the game wore on.
Here is a concrete example of what I’m talking about. Towards the end of the game, once all four gates affording special environmental navigation have been unlocked, the levels become long sequences of simple button presses and minimal navigation as your avatar is propelled about the environment. There is no cognition challenge here–your ability to plot a course through the environment is not being tested–merely your ability to press the right button at the right time. It’s rather, now that I think about it, rather like a long QTE event where the button presses are cued by environmental details rather than icons on the screen.
Failure to press the right button at the right time results the game’s protagonist being saved by Elika, his magical sidekick and placed back on the last bit of solid ground he stood on (usually) and starting the entire sequence over again. While this is more forgiving than dying and starting at the last save point, it’s also tedious and disengaging. I found my attention wandering during some of the longer sequences and didn’t feel triumphant once I solved them, merely weary and glad I’d never have to get tossed between those glowing magical portals again.
It would have been far more preferable to have shorter, more intellectually challenging sequences as the game progressed. The environments should have been structured as ever-more-complex navigational puzzles–the meat and potatoes of the casual market–while remaining dexterously simple to navigate.
This muddiness of design is also reflected in the decision to use cell shading, but to also keep the familiar character and world design. As I lost my 360 to the RROD immediately after finishing PoP, I decided to fire up another cell shaded game–Wind Waker. I was reflecting that had Ubisoft truly intended to break ranks with the franchise and head in a new direction, they would likely have opted to go with such a simple and charming design aesthetic. This would have been a clear signal to both potential audiences to expect something different.
I’m going to spend my final 200-or-so words on the intersection of three narrative decisions–the removal of the possibility of death, the juvenile carefree attitude of the protagonist, and the off-putting “let’s undo everything we just achieved” ending.
The protagonist of this game cannot die. If he should fall, his companion Elika rescues him and returns him safely to the last bit of level ground he stood upon.
The protagonist is also a cocky, self-centered, shallow womanizer. This is exactly the sort of emotional response to immortality you might expect from a grown man with Peter Pan syndrome which, given his athleticism, is a pretty metaphorically-apt comparison. Unfortunately, while he does begin to routinely express small measures of concern for Elika’s well being, by the end of the game he is still fundamentally the same, shallow, character. For that matter–his companion and constant savior, Elika, undergoes almost no character development over the course of the game, despite the fact that she’s aware of her impending fate.
And herein lies the issue–while I find that the characters are quite consistently representative of the gameplay, and vice versa, the development of each is extraordinarily shallow and undergoes no significant change throughout the game. While I see this as being quite apt from a semionautical standpoint, it’s ultimately not terribly compelling storytelling and game design. This lack of progress is also reflected by the fact that the duo continues to collect light seeds long after they’ve unlocked all of the panels in the temple, but the light seeds no longer serve a meaningful purpose. Additionally, while Elika obviously suffers more and more with each cleansing of the sacred groves, he powers are in no way diminished. This serves to create a detachment between player, character, and gameplay goals.
Finally, we come to the controversial ending of the game. The price for saving the world is Elika’s life. But rather than end it there, the developers chose to guide the player towards undoing all of the accomplishments of the game and bring her back to life. I could buy this ending, it could have been a powerful and meaningful decision point for the player… if at any point during the game we’d actually begun to believe that he cared more about Elika than his own safety, or even his loot-laden mule. As it is, the ending feels like a cheap trick–an artificially-tacked-on cliffhanger with no significant impact on our understanding of the motivations of the protagonist, or the metaphysics of the world. And given that the ending doesn’t take away all of your earned achievements, it’s robbed of any gameplay meaning as well.
I can’t be alone in thinking the developers played a lot of Shadow of the Colossus and Ico before designing this game, right? Unfortunately, while those games were not afraid to take risks, both in gameplay and plot, Prince of Persia played things safe, too safe in my opinion. Like so many games that try to appeal to multiple markets, PoP’s design didn’t go far enough in any direction to be truly satisfying. Like a mass market sword and sorcery novella, it makes a decent light snack, and may even be worth re-experiencing, but it ultimately fails to truly satisfy.
In many ways, I feel Ubisoft is trying to find its footing with Prince of Persia and Assassin’s Creed. Both games manage to express their protagonist’s approaches to life quite nicely into the core gameplay dynamics, particularly in regards to their environment. Unfortunately their unwillingess,or inability, to fully abandon the punitive structures of traditional gameplay are costing them audience and revenue. [3] My hope is that rather than decide the move toward forgiving gameplay is a non-profitable venture and aborting their efforts, they keep searching and eventually find a compelling mode of play that incorporates a AAA title aesthetic and a casual gameplay mechanic.
[1] A game I feel shares many of the same issues as it’s big-console cousin. [return]
[2] Have I mentioned that I think QTEs are the product of a lazy designer’s toolset? Because I most emphatically do. [return]
[3] Prince of Persia didn’t even make NPD’s top twenty list in its first month of sales. [return]
Tagged:prince of persa, storytelling, video games. | 14 Comments »
April 30th, 2009 at 11:13 am
I’d be curious as to what you’d think of Sands of Time. It’s a much better game, and a much finer story–perhaps because it’s much more linear, so character growth could be plotted more easily.
April 30th, 2009 at 11:16 am
PoP:SoT is my fourth-most played PoP game, Thomas. I hit a point where I could not get to a combat with enough life to succeed at it and gave up in frustration. I have long contended I’d be a happy PoP fan if they just got rid of the combat.
April 30th, 2009 at 11:31 am
Good. I didn’t realize that others also felt the game should’ve ended a couple minutes earlier than it did.
In fact, had Prince returned Elika to the tomb and walked into the sunset alone, the chill of being complicit in his indifference would’ve made for a powerful finale. That Prince remains the same cold, unfeeling character would be meaningful, rather than a fault.
On a side note, I did feel that the connection between both characters grew stronger during the game, but in subtle ways. True, it didn’t take the full dive and present the player with any existential crises, but who needs that? I was much happier with those themes lurking just beneath the surface.
April 30th, 2009 at 11:35 am
I think that the shallowness of the gameplay is largely because they were attempting an open world you could work through in any order. While that normally pleases me, I think it caused their level design to need to be flat. Each boss did add a different navigational challenge, meaning that the problems mounted over time, it wasn’t particularly effective in ramping the difficulty. The only thing that got particularly hard for me was the (also repetitive boss battles: ie the fighting).
The level navigation became more fun and invigorating as I started to think of it as a rhythm action game. Too bad there wasn’t a matching soundtrack!
Of the ending I won’t say much except that we reached the same conclusion along different paths. It actually angered me, not from within the game perspective, but from what the designers seemed to be saying about Love.
April 30th, 2009 at 11:37 am
Like I said (or meant to say)–I felt the casual, almost inconsequential, deepening of the protagonist’s responses to Elika were befitting of the lack of gameplay progression. I just don’t feel it supported such a radical endangering of self on her behalf.
April 30th, 2009 at 1:28 pm
Did you play the Epilogue? While I don’t condone holding back part of the story behind a pay-to-play barrier, I realize that there was more.
I agree with you on many points about the gameplay. However, I think that their goals were clear to them, they simply missed some of the marks. They clearly wanted a Cinematic Feel. Everything from art to level progression supports that. However, I think that many of the gameplay elements fell short of what they could have been.
I disagree with you about the Prince and Elika remaining static characters. I saw each of them grow in their understanding of what their situations meant, and in the end trade some of their outlooks.
Prince goes from stark skepticism to fundamental belief. His outward carefree attitude is revealed to be a sham, a mere protection from the truth of the world. He is snide and over-boisterous because he has decided to push everything but the moment away and trust nothing but the pleasures (and pain) he can feel right now. He has seen wonders, but he has discarded them before now as not worth his time.
Elika is his foil. She has been raised to faith, and truly believes. Yet part of her is resentful of all she has been given. She does not want the powers and responsibility that have been cast upon her. I saw her faith crumble and fall as she fought tooth and nail to save a place that she comes to realize she has no love for. She has always wanted to leave, but has always been held back by the expectations of others; feeling as if she has no choices.
In the end the Prince finds his faith, even if it is a heavy-handed blow that delivers it. Some people need to be shaken very hard. Elika loses her faith, her god lets her die, lets Ahruman free, lets everything she has lived for crumble. She has served, but for naught.
Yes, the ending turned out to be contrived. It relied on the player feeling a fundamental _romantic_ pull between Prince and Elika. The movie version would have Prince save Elika’s life because of his love for her, and damn the world. The game provided little indication that their relationship was anywhere near that close. While there was flirting their journeys were largely personal and I never saw a strong romantic connection grow. Prince’s motivations for reviving Elika should have come from somewhere else, or there should have been an option to not revive her directly (obviously she is needed for the sequel – marketing influence here). In fact, the entire ending may have been added because the Execs demanded a way to add DLC and sequels to the franchise.
April 30th, 2009 at 4:30 pm
great post, but I don’t buy your cell shading point.
PoP used cell shading as only one technique in it’s already well-defined art style. Saying the art style is cell shaded isn’t technically incorrect, but it IS contextually incorrect. You are saying it’s cell shaded when you are talking about the Art Style as a whole, and then comparing it to Wind Waker, a game that CAN be described as cell shaded, because it’s art uses cell shading as one of its main features. PoP merely used a fairly light form of cell shading give it a bit of visual flair. You could take the cell shading away and the game would look different, but not greatly so. Whereas Wind wakers visuals depend almost entirely on cell shading.
It’s a pretty common misconception, but it causes you to make a weak comparison and your point about making a clean break could have been better served by comparing the character design, rather than the rendering technique.
Interesting article, otherwise.
April 30th, 2009 at 4:43 pm
@Duncan I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree. While I see they made incremental changes to the protagonist’s attitude, I didn’t feel there was enough character growth to justify the end.
@spindrift Misconception? The fact that the models are rendered with cell shading is pretty important to the artistic style of PoP and that decision had to have been made for a reason, right?
And what I’m saying is pretty much exactly what you are–they didn’t fully commit to going in a new direction, instead they decided to add cell shading to their existing aesthetic. I’m also saying I think this approach is very much the same thing they did with the gameplay itself, a bit of new applied in a fashion that’s traditional to the series.
I only referenced Wind Waker to bing up the idea that if they’d really been committed to changing the series for a new audience, they could have gone so much further. I could have as easily referenced BG&E’s cartoon style.
April 30th, 2009 at 8:50 pm
@corvus
I’ve never been a fan of the art direction in the previous PoP games and i felt that the art style of the new pop was significantly different enough that I may have misread your point there, and i apologise.
You were reflecting your points about the game design, by saying that the art does the same thing. That it’s visually the old PoP, but this time with a cell shaded veneer instead of committing to a new aesthetic?
I agree with you on the game mechanics points, but not with your example relating it to the art style.
To clarify, I don’t think they just incorporated cell shading into their existing aesthetic, as you say.
The cell shading was used to extend the visual brief used throughout the game. They were trying for a painterly, illustrated storytale look, and the textures and models all try to reflect that to varying degrees of success. The cell shading used is used minimally and pointedly to reflect that design brief. It’s basically the same thing as Borderlands is doing now, though they are trying to get people to call it ‘concept-art style’ (there’s no way that will stick, but i sympathise).
Ignoring the cell shading, the textures, models & environment are all fairly heavily stylised and I feel that is already enough to be a break from the old PoP art style which was, barring a few exceptions, realistic and extremely generic. The cell shading is just one part of a larger aesthetic direction used throughout the whole game.
I agree, I don’t think they wholly succeeded, but I also don’t think that taking away the black borders and some hard edged falloff on the lighting for the characters would suddenly make it into the old PoP, visually.
I’m not trying to be antagonistic or convince you of anything, i just think it’s an interesting discussion. ymmv
April 30th, 2009 at 9:05 pm
@spindrift No worries, I love a good debate!
I understand that they were going for a storybook look and I think they were doing that, in no small part, to try and appeal to a more casual audience. But they didn’t go far enough in that direction to really catch the attention of that audience, just like they didn’t really go far enough with their forgiving game dynamics to really appeal to that audience.
April 30th, 2009 at 10:52 pm
I’d like to see Prince of Persia go the route of Back To the Future.
Not in terms of plot, mind you, but in the idea that only a handful of times in all his continuity-raping adventures did Marty McFly ever physically engage anyone.
Most of his actions were concerned with sliding around corners, ducking blows, scrambling over shoulders and counters, etc etc etc.
Drop the pretense at badass-ness, Ubi. Give me a cowardly prince, in whose shoes the goal is to not get hit in the face. Then toss in some of that sardonic wit and whining from the first Sands of Time.
Instant gold.
May 1st, 2009 at 1:06 am
I find it very hard to believe the marketing department asked for the game to be easier – this has never happened to me on a console title!
May 1st, 2009 at 5:14 am
That’s not quite how I imagine it happening, Chris. I’m more saying that it really seems someone at Ubisoft pointed out there’s a huge untapped market playing console games now and thought it would be a good idea to start figuring out how to appeal to them.
May 7th, 2009 at 1:35 am
I hope you’re right!
That would be an interesting step for the industry. Although the weak sales of the new Prince of Persia (1.5 million total, I think) might make them reconsider.
Then again, the PS2 version only pulled in 1.8 million (I think). So honestly, the problem might simply be that the setting doesn’t have wide appeal…