Paizo Art Fails

Broadly, Paizo’s art is pretty good, and it was pretty much best-in-class back in 2009 when it was first distinguishing itself from Wizards of the Coast. The strength of Pathfinder was, before anything else, it’s amazing art direction.

No one’s immune to the odd dud, though, and they seem to have gotten worse over time. Here’s a series of three Paizo art fails, two of which came from near the end of PF1. I haven’t looked at PF2 yet, so I can’t tell you whether this is because they had shifted their best artists over to the new edition or if it’s just because the company’s talent pool was collapsing for some reason. What I can tell you is that PF1’s art slid from “epic adventure” to “hilarious spit-take” towards the end.

We’ll start with a relatively mild fail from early on in the edition, though, my favorite Paizo monster, the Dork Wyvern:

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A Spectrum of Magical Hardness

It finally seems to have died down a bit, but for a while there, absolutely everyone was obsessed with Brandon Sanderson style magic systems. I don’t just mean that they liked Brandon Sanderson’s work, but also that naturally there were tons of amateur imitators who were all really, really bad. And magic systems got framed in Sanderson-grade hard magic or Tolkien-style where it was basically just a mood, and no one seemed to be able to conceive of anything in between.

As usual, I’m like three years late to this party, but the different levels of hardness you can have in a magic system has been on my mind lately. People have accepted for a long time now that you can have harder or softer magic systems, but the idea that it’s a spectrum rather than a binary switch between Tolkien and Sanderson still doesn’t seem to have especially taken hold.

For the sake of thoroughness, let’s go ahead and define Sanderson hard magic as a system where magic users have specific powers that interact with the laws of physics in some kind of well-defined way, like being able to alter the direction their gravity is pulled or being able to repulse and/or attract themselves from a certain kind of metal or whatever.

Going one step further down, though, we have Avatar bending, a magic system where there are one or a small handful of magic disciplines each with a flexible but strongly themed powerset. A waterbender can learn to bend ice or plants or blood, but there’s only four kinds of bending and they’re each pretty narrowly focused. It was the lack of any attention paid to this kind of magic system that got me thinking about the spectrum in general. So far as ease of creation versus satisfaction in execution goes, this is the sweet spot for me. It’s not especially hard to come up with a small list of strong themes for your magic system, and then you can extrapolate creative uses from there.

Further down from there is D&D spells, in which magic is an arbitrary list of spells that you can learn how to cast. There is no greater framework the spells have to fit into, and it’s perfectly typical for a wizard to have a totally unrelated Frankenstein of a spellbook. Knowing what one spell does gives you absolutely no information on what any other spell could do, nor on what other spells the wizard who cast it might know or be capable of.

Harry Potter uses this system, too. This system tends towards the dull. Harry Potter made it work by having an incessant stream of new spells and magic items that were all really cool and then asking the audience to quietly ignore the fact that there were a handful of boring-but-practical spells like stupefy and the granddaddy of all boring put practical Harry Potter spells, avada kadavra, which rendered other combat spells obsolete. The audience was generally willing to do this, because watching Dumbledore and Voldemort have a sweet wizard fight with animated statues and stuff was cooler than just watching them shoot the dodge-or-lose spells at each other like they were two dudes with particularly slow handguns. It’s much harder for your characters to use this system creatively, because it has a finite list of specific spells (even if the spell list is theoretically infinite, in practice it is limited to whatever amount of spells you can actually introduce in your setup, otherwise it’s deus ex machina), all of which do exactly one thing. They unlock a door, or let you fly, or blow up a 20′ radius within 120′ of your location. Instead, the creativity has to come purely from the spells that are in the world. This worked out great for Harry Potter, but the star of that series wasn’t the eponymous wizard, but rather the world of magic he inhabited.

Nearing the soft end, we have X-Men powers. Whereas D&D spells represent a library of powers that everyone has more-or-less equal access to, meaning that every spell added to your heroes’ book is potentially available to your villains and vice-versa, X-Men doesn’t even have that limitation. Not only are the powers arbitrary and unbounded by any kind of greater framework, they’re also unique or nearly-unique to their specific users. Not only does Wolverine’s healing factor tell us nothing about what other powers he might have, it also gives us no reason to believe that Mystique or Cyclops might also have a healing factor.

Then at the soft end we have Tolkienian magic, where everything is vague and magic could do almost anything but in practice will do almost nothing. Although Tolkien does have a handful of D&D-style magic items that have specific, arbitrary uses not tied to any greater theme, for the most part magic is a mood, a force of nature. In Tolkienian magic, magic is so poorly understood that knowing about Gandalf’s ability to blow smoke into the shape of a boat not only tells us nothing about what other abilities he might have from that moment, but even by the end of the book we don’t have any reason to believe we’ve seen him exhaust his magical powers. Wolverine’s healing factor, adamantium skeleton, and snikt claws are all totally unrelated powers, but by the end of an X-Men story we know that he has those powers specifically and no more. By the end of Lord of the Rings we still have no idea whether or not Gandalf could’ve hurled a fireball if he really wanted to (he definitely has broadly fire-themed powers in general!), nor whether or not he had steady access to the powers he did demonstrate or if magic had to be in the right mood, or what.

Bojack Horseman

I heard Bojack Horseman had its last season recently, so I finally got around to watching it. And it’s really good in its portrayal of a self-destructive, self-absorbed (horse)man who shows just enough promise of getting better that you can still watch him. In season 3 in particular this really dragged, since Bojack wasn’t really in any better a place than he was in season 2, and the show was sustained mainly by having other characters who were really going places while Bojack mainly stayed the same.

That’s an approach that could’ve worked for a while, probably for a full six seasons, with Bojack remaining selfish and short-sighted enough to serve as a constant source of conflict, while real character growth came primarily from the characters in Bojack’s orbit. They’d fall into Bojack’s orbit when they’re in a similar place as him, then they’d bounce back and start to do better, and eventually they’d recognize that Bojack was sabotaging their efforts at doing better because he wants to keep them on his level, so they’d leave him behind, freeing up room in the cast for new characters. You could even do a thing where the show was ultimately built around one, specific relationship from its beginning to its end, with Diane Nguyen dropping into his life in episode 1 and exiting his life in the series finale. We’d see lots of other friendships and coworkerships and significant otherships that were either ongoing when Diane met Bojack or else which ended within the span of one season because the person either wasn’t damaged enough to have that period where they’re comfortable resting where Bojack is or else just wasn’t charmed enough by Bojack to want to stay with him even when their own life was collapsing. Towards the end, Diane would find her happiness, realize Bojack was holding her back from it, cut ties with him, and that would be it. Bojack never really changed, and we see that ultimately he’s going to keep causing drama and chaos until you leave him behind. Maybe all of Bojack’s ongoing relationships wrap themselves up at the same time, or maybe we leave them behind, too, because it turns out Diane was always the series’ stealth main character and once she’s out of Bojack’s life, that’s it.

I say “could” which implies that they didn’t actually do that. This may confuse some people who’ve seen the show, because the series’ final two episodes were almost exactly that. The problem is, the series’ final two episodes came at the end of season six, not season three, and they’re the finale to a show they didn’t end up writing. Because the other place you could go from season two is the place they ended up actually going: Despite season three’s holding pattern, the general trend of the show was for Bojack to become a measurably better person with every new season.

In season one, he’s established as bitter, pathetic, and self-absorbed. He’s damaged and we can see that there’s reasons he’s the way that he is, but also that Todd and Diane and Princess Caroline are better off without him, and that Princess Caroline has been giving him support for over a decade since the end of Horsin’ Around and he still hasn’t improved, so she’d be perfectly justified in cutting ties with him at this point, and Todd and Diane would be justified in following suit just by virtue of seeing how little Princess Caroline’s support made an impact on him.

In season two, his career is revitalized, but he doesn’t make a whole lot of emotional progress, and by the end of the season he’s not only backslid into being flaky and unreliable, he reaches new lows of terrible behavior. Still, he’s back in the saddle and trying to change his situation, even if only for self-absorbed reasons. He is showing some faint signs of improvement, but his friends would still be justified in giving up on him, because at this stage it’s not clear whether that improvement is because he cares about them or just because he’s finally gotten bored with living in stasis.

In season three, there’s the holding pattern I mentioned. Except for season 4, every Bojack season ends with some terrible drug-fueled mistake from Bojack, and this one actually kills someone, but Bojack’s behavior isn’t actually worse. I’m making the assumption here that Bojack, like the audience, assumes that Sarah Lynn is already dead when S3E11 ends (the episode summary on Wikipedia actually claims that Sarah Lynn is already dead at the end of the episode!), which means that the later-season revelation that Bojack waited seventeen minutes to call the paramedics to construct a plausible alibi that she’d called him and he’d come to see her, rather than being directly involved in her death, is a lot less monstrous than if he knew she was still alive, that she was dying not dead, and stopped for seventeen minutes to construct an alibi anyway.

I mentioned before that Bojack doesn’t have any kind of terrible mistake at the end of season 4. Instead, the terrible mistake is made by his mother, partly because she’s senile, although her actions are indefensible even given her understanding of the situation. Season 4 sees Diane and Mr. Peanutbutter’s marriage falling apart in order to meet its sadness quotas, and then lets Bojack get away mostly unscathed, establishing a healthy new relationship with someone who he’s been a good influence on almost without qualifiers, and who is likewise a good influence on him. We’ve seen Bojack commit to making a real difference in his life, trying to moderate his drinking, and we’ve seen him  make some meaningful improvements in his life and how he treats people because of it.

In season 5, Bojack is mostly in a holding pattern again, but this time it’s a holding pattern where he’s made significant improvement to who he is as a person. Over the course of the season, though, his progress slowly crumbles until he ends up making another horrible mistake in another drug-fueled bender. And if the show had its finale here, it still would’ve made sense. I mean, the specific circumstances of the characters leaving his orbit would’ve been different, and in particular Diane hadn’t really had the moment where she found her happiness so it wouldn’t really be a thing where she realizes she has to get away from Bojack to keep it, but still, Bojack’s backslid, his progress in seasons 4 and 5 was pretty minimal (he’s managed a total of one relationship where the other person didn’t come out worse for knowing him, and even that requires us to call Hollyhock better for knowing Bojack despite the fact that knowing him was the direct, though coincidental, cause of her getting drugged). Like, yeah, we can see him trying to get better, making actual changes in his life rather than just saying he’s sorry and promising to try real extra hard to stop going on benders where he hurts the people around him, and the efforts aren’t completely token, but they are half-measures. If people wanted to leave him at that point, it still wouldn’t be unreasonable.

But then in season 6, he goes to rehab and goes sober for nearly a full year, completely changing his life to get away from who he used to be. There’s moments where he almost slips back into old habits, but he digs his heels in and refuses to let it happen. He makes his new job as a university drama professor work, and when a crisis begins developing and he starts coming up with a very old Bojack sort of vindictive response, his friends are able to talk him out of it pretty quickly. He does have one of his benders and end up relapsing, but that’s to be expected from a recovering addict. The progress he’s made in season six gives everyone in his life, everyone who’s put up with his drama and unreliability and abuse for five or ten or twenty years, it gives them real reason to believe that he is changing and that these crises will be less frequent and less severe going forward. It would make sense if someone who just met Bojack while he was doing well in season six then decided to back away after he broke into his old house while someone else was living there and then tried to kill himself. For people for whom this is just the latest in a long line of massive fuck-ups, though? Why? Why was this the straw that broke every camel’s back, leaving Bojack almost totally alone? Yeah, the finale had all his friends being gentle and kind about leaving him forever, but they still all left (except Mr. Peanutbutter). It’s not even in the immediate aftermath of the big huge bender! The season finale actually takes place a year later, after Bojack’s finally faced real consequences and gone to prison for breaking and entering during his suicide attempt, where he’s happy to be close to breaking his sobriety record and scared of falling off the wagon.

Why did they write a finale where Bojack’s friends, even though they still care about him, decide that he’s toxic and never going to change and cut their ties with him, and then append that to a season where Bojack, after a long, hard journey, finally gave everyone some strong evidence that none of that was true?

A More Better City of Heroes

I’ve got one day left on vacation, so I’m doing another one of these, mainly because I just realized a considerably easier way to make a hero’s efforts seem meaningful in a neighborhood: After setting it up so that people can decrease their level at-will, also set it up so that enemies spawn based on how many heroes of an appropriate level range are in the neighborhood. Ignore hideouts and all that which, for as neat as they are, are barely visible in actual play and not worth all the effort to set them up. Just have enemies spawn only when an appropriately leveled hero is in the neighborhood, which means when you’ve outleveled a neighborhood (i.e. all mobs in it have grey names for you) and there’s no one else around who needs those mobs, they just won’t spawn, thus giving the appearance of a neighborhood clean of crime.

Although all that hideout stuff from the last two posts has got me thinking a bit about how you could apply that to a mid-size multiplayer game, like a 30-40 player game, roughly equivalent to the heroic cast of an extended crossover story like Infinity War/Endgame. Those thoughts haven’t really gone anywhere, but I’ve had them.

Anyway, Conan the Hunter’s here, so we’re digging into that on Monday.

A Better City of Heroes: Running Out of Crime

Running Out Of Crime

Of course, there is a potential fail state of this whole premise: What if the players just win super hard? What happens when there are just no mobs left anywhere?

The answer is that this has to be hard enough to do that if players pull it off, we can just pat them on the back and tell them “good job.” Remember that when an enemy group is totally defeated within a neighborhood, they can spawn into a random empty hideout immediately. This means that the more players put the hurt on gangs, the easier they make it for any totally eliminated gang to bounce back. In order to take out all gangs, players will need to coordinate to push each of them into a single hideout, which will constantly disgorge mobs for them to beat up, until they’re ready for the decapitation strike when they take out all hideouts simultaneously (leaving behind some heroes to take out the mobs who spawn while the hideout-clearing team is inside – because hideouts don’t stop spawning just because someone’s inside them!).

Remember also that each neighborhood spawns based on a timer tied to the total number of players in the zone. One pack of about four mobs usually takes something like 30-60 seconds to defeat, let’s call it 45 seconds, counting the couple of seconds it takes to run from a beaten group to a fresh one. Any given zone has about five neighborhoods with about three enemy groups each in that neighborhood, which means about eighteen different hideouts spawn when no gangs have been wiped out (which is the norm whenever players are at all active in a neighborhood and only requires special intervention to prevent when it’s NPCs who’ve wiped them out, since NPCs will occupy the buildings left behind). Thus, each hideout needs to spawn one pack of three to four mooks every (45*18=) 810 seconds (thirteen and a half minutes), divided by however many players there are. At peak times and in popular zones, it’s not unreasonable for a single zone (particularly a newbie zone) to have a thousand or more players in it simultaneously, which would require new mobs to spawn in once per second (at this point, it’s probably wiser to switch over to spawning bigger groups, rather than spawning small ones more often, just in case the gang is pushed into a single hideout and needs to spawn all of these guys from the same door). Each of these guys can turn empty hideouts into new hideouts for their gang, which means players need to coordinate to form a frontline that prevents them from expanding, and the more players they bring in, the tighter that net needs to be in order to prevent enemies from slipping through and making new hideouts. If we just have a very large player population, what’s going to happen is that NPCs will be constantly spawning, wandering past emptied hideouts, and converting them into new hideouts.

I think all of this is sufficiently difficult that the only way to clear a zone completely is to coordinate a large group of players (probably a minimum of three dozen, in order to launch the simultaneous decapitation strikes on every enemy group in every neighborhood), and at that point, far from coding some method of preventing them from doing so, we should hand out badges to everyone who’s in a zone when it’s totally cleared of crime. They’d be some of the most coveted badges in the game, seeing as how that 36-hero team would only have a 22.5 second window in which to finish off all hideouts simultaneously before the spawning algorithm fires again and replaces any defeated enemy groups using any available empty hideouts.

Continue reading “A Better City of Heroes: Running Out of Crime”

A Better City of Heroes

I guess it’s CoX week at the blog, because I’ve got more MMO stuff I want to talk about and I’m gonna use the example of CoX to talk about it. This time I’m going to talk about how to balance the needs between having a massively multiplayer population while making the player feel like they aren’t totally insignificant.

I’m using CoX because the basic tropes of super heroes are really well known, so whether you know this specific MMO or not, it’s quick and easy for me to explain it to you. The Hellions are a street gang of demon worshipers, Aurora Borealis is a super hero of some description, King’s Row is the Gotham City themed neighborhood in Paragon City, the eponymous city of heroes, and not only are you all caught up on what you need to know for me to explain a mechanic revolving around Hellions, Aurora Borealis, and King’s Row, but I probably could’ve just dropped those proper nouns straight into an explanation without any further context and you would probably figure it out. If I were doing Guild Wars, my favorite MMORPG, I would at minimum need to drop in asides that devourers are giant scorpion wildlife, that grawl are low-level enemies with primitive tech and fulfill the role of goblins in some other fantasy settings (but not the ones where goblins are high-tech crazy inventors), and that the norn are eight-foot tall vikings who turn into bears. These explanatory asides are generally good practice but once I get into the flow I often forget them, and in City of Heroes, that barely matters, because you can probably figure it out from context.

As I explained in my introductory post about a better City of Villains, City of Heroes writing actually works pretty great as-is. You are a hero, you show up to a place, there are a bunch of people with exclamation points over their heads who need help, and you punch their problems until they go away. Whether or not any specific mission chain is fun, boring, or frustrating depends entirely on the writing of that specific mission chain. Many of them are good, a bunch of them (especially the minor ones that have been there since launch, which clearly received little attention) are kind of dull, but almost none of them make you feel like you’re getting the opposite of the role you expected to inhabit.

You’re a hero, and at worst, you end up doing routine and kind of boring hero work where you run around bouncing Hellions off the street until your contact calls you up to let you know that, although their spawn rate is totally unaffected, you’ve totally got the Hellions running scared. And most of the time you’ll be doing something like save a kidnapping victim or confiscating a bunch of death rays or something else which feels like you’ve saved the day even though you haven’t made a noticeable dent in regular street crime. Plus, the criminals in CoX often spawn actually doing crimes, not just standing around minding their own business. There’ll be a cowering civilian in front of them while they make threatening gestures, or they’ll be struggling to snatch a purse from someone, or whatever. The basic limitations of an MMORPG do still rear their ugly heads, but CoH is generally quite good at mitigating them.

But we can do better. So the evil witch, apparently satisfied with my work in the beta timeline where I revamped City of Villains, is warping me back even further to, I dunno, 2001-ish, when City of Heroes first entered development, striking Jack Emmert dead and giving me total command of all his resources right after his project got greenlit, and offers me some kind of reward for actually playing along, just to stop me from defecting since at this point it seems like she might spend the rest of my life time tunneling me to different video game projects, possibly all headed by Jack Emmert, in order to get me to redo them with the benefit of hindsight.

Continue reading “A Better City of Heroes”

A New City of Villains

The final post on my series of how I’d do City of Villains if I was time warped back to the beginning of its development and given total control of the studio.

A New City of Villains

-The theme of Mercy Island was being a minion. You took orders from a superior officer and executed those orders, then eventually executed the superior officer (probably). We’ve talked about it at length earlier, but I’m listing it here for completenesses sake.

– The theme of Port Oakes was street level crime. Plotlines that originally revolved around decryption programs from Arachnos bases were downgraded to the RIP, ones that revolved around the Legacy Chain and Wyvern heavily were switched to focus on a single vigilante and her ghost pirate minions. I intentionally made Port Oakes more street level in order to set up…

-Cap au Diable’s theme is all about major heists and espionage/sabotage jobs targeting groups like Wyvern and Longbow. You steal high tech gadgets from Aeon Corp and Crey in the Cape itself, you hop over to Paragon City to break people out of the Zig, you blow up Longbow fortresses on your own initiative as a sort of thematic follow-up to Mercy Island, when you did so under direct orders from Arachnos.

Cap au Diable is also where we encounter our first strike force, content designed for multi-villain team-ups. And I think these are basically fine as-is. Some of them could definitely use some better framing to be less “do what I, the quest giver, tell you to do” and more “I, the quest giver, have a lead for you to follow,” and that includes the one in Cap au Diable. But ultimately, all you need to do is write these as a villain who’s got a maniacal scheme of their own, but it’s a big job and they need lots of other villains to help out, and they’re willing to cut you in if you can gather up some friends (or make it happen alone – it’s totally doable). For example, the strike force here can be framed as Virgil Tarikoss, the existing game’s strike force contact, knows that the Circle of Thorns will soon be attempting to bind the demon Bat’Zul, and knows that the Legacy Chain are trying to keep the demon bound, and is seeking out villainous associates to take control of it. Keep all the same missions, but write out the part where he asks the villains to prove their worth to him by beating up the Legacy Chain and change it to him just needing the Legacy Chain beaten up so that they don’t shut down the Circle of Thorn’s binding ritual, because you won’t be able to hijack it if the Legacy Chain succeed in stopping it altogether.

-In Sharkhead Isle, we start getting up to some serious villainy. Maniacal schemes here are things like creating a clone army, stealing a fragment of a sleeping Lovecraftian god and absorbing its power, stealing a device that allows you to mind control dozens of people at once (with a wind up, but still), and stealing giant robots with the help of the Sky Raiders, a rogue PMC who operate out of a helicarrier. The theme is that you have arrived as a supervillain. You commit supercrimes that let you do awesome things.

This is where we’ll introduce second tier maniacal resources, made from combining two different first tier maniacal resources:

–Weapons + Favor from on high: Elite enforcers
–Drugs + Secret documents: Superadine (a mutation-inducing super-drug already in CoH lore)
–Friends in low places + infiltration gear: Unseen allies
–Favor from on high + unobtainium restraints: VIP hostage
–Secret documents + weapons: Super weapons
–Infiltration gear + drugs: Auto-drug apparatus (it pumps drugs continuously and covertly into the wearer – I’ll admit I’m reaching with this one to make the theme work, but I think one combo that reaches a bit will be overlooked)
–Unobtainium restraints + friends in low places: People who won’t be missed

In the existing game, Sharkhead Isle is the point where you start needing five newspaper missions to progress the plot. In the revamped version, maniacal schemes still require (usually) three maniacal resources, but usually one of those will now be a second tier resource. For example: Want to steal super robots? You need weapons and infiltration gear, but regular mooks won’t do, you need elite enforcers.

Continue reading “A New City of Villains”

A New Port Oakes

We’re not going to give a full outline for all seven zones of City of Villains, but we will give a full outline for Port Oakes, which is the first one to use the maniacal scheme system fully. After this, we’ll have one final post where we (relatively) briefly look at each of the remaining five zones, making a couple of broad notes of what kind of maniacal schemes will be present without giving multiple paragraphs of detail for what exactly each one will be about.

A New Port Oakes

Our player villain has just arrived in Port Oakes, probably having just killed or intimidated their superior in Arachnos, possibly still doing as told. Either way, this is when they start maniacally scheming. Maybe they did one scheme in the Dr. Graves tutorials, whatever. Let’s take a thorough look at how their stay in Port Oakes will go, and then give a much more brief overview of how the remaining five zones in City of Villains could be similarly converted.

Port Oakes has a lot of mafia-style mission chains in it, and frequently involves the demon-worshiping street gang called the Hellions. It also has some missions about stealing drugs to sell them (which seems like it’s kinda trying to be a “sell drugs on the street” thing but doesn’t quite know how to make that work in CoV’s mechanics), about beating up the shady anti-villain organization Wyvern and the less-shady mystic guardians in the Legacy Chain, a few where you thwart fascist terrorists in the Council from infiltrating the evil rulers of the Rogue Isles, and one where you kidnap a villain’s abused girlfriend who’s seeking shelter in the Circle of Thorns, an evil cult whom she hopes will protect her from retaliation, but who instead attempt to use her as a human sacrifice. Did you know there was a mandate against villain players hurting innocent people for CoV? Apparently kidnapping someone to bring them back to their abusive boyfriend doesn’t count as hurting them.

We have four mission chains, so in order to try and keep a better budget for both time and money, I’m going with four maniacal schemes. I am going to toss some Skulls into Port Oakes, just so I can have more criminal factions to work with. We already have the assets for the Skulls, because we’re taking those from CoH and they already show up elsewhere in CoV, so while this would be a harder alteration to make if we were modding CoV now, it’s no harder in the evil time traveling witch scenario.

Continue reading “A New Port Oakes”

A New Mercy Island

We’re continuing a redesign of City of Villains that I would do if I were sent back in time by an evil witch who’s laid a very specific curse on Jack Emmert, the guy who made the alpha timeline’s City of Villains. This time, we look at how I’d rewrite the game’s intro.

A New Mercy Island

We’ll follow a fledgling villain through my new version of the game up until right before their first maniacal scheme in Port Oakes. You start out in the Ziggurat, the maximum security super prison for super criminals. Arachnos is breaking someone out. It isn’t you. This is a departure from the original City of Villains tutorial, in which Arachnos was breaking you out, specifically, because their future-destiny scriers have found out that you are one of the chosen ones. This tied into a couple of other plotlines, but in a mostly stupid way. We’re dropping that plotline. We don’t need to pretend you’re more specialer than other villains. You’re already a super villain, and that makes you pretty special on its own. So you’re in the Zig, maybe because of a crime you didn’t commit, whatever, and Arachnos shows up to break someone else out, and you happen to be in the same cell block. They release all the other villains on the way to the guy they’re after because it’s an easy way to make a bigger mess for Paragon City, and that makes it easier for them to get away. You hitch a ride on their chopper home because they have room and it can’t hurt to have another villain on the Rogue Isles.

So you get taken to Mercy Island, the newbie island of CoV. In the original City of Villains, this leads to the Arachnos officer in charge of the operation telling you to run and be a free spirit, warning you that other free spirits may beat you up and take their lunch money, but if you beat them up and take their lunch money, then you may come to the attention of powerful Arachnos agents and make something of yourself. Here’s the thing: This ain’t no survival game. We don’t need an excuse why the players are running off to do whatever. They aren’t going to do whatever. We’re going to give them a checklist of cool stuff to do, and the only thing they’re going to decide is priorities and the exact timetable, so this Arachnos officer is going to tell you that the ride came with a price, and he needs you to go fuck up the good guys and thwart their invasion of the island, which will lead to basically the same anti-Longbow missions (to keep a long story short for people who don’t play CoX, Longbow are the super police) as we get in the original. I’m going to assume that making the issue 21 version of Mercy Island would be no additional resources over the actual CoV launch version, using that as my model for the following outline, but it wouldn’t be that different if resources demanded we use the launch version instead.

Continue reading “A New Mercy Island”

A Better City of Villains

With the release of the Going Rogue expansion in 2010, City of Heroes and City of Villains became effectively the same game. One subscription fee had always covered both of them and there were always some zones where they could interact, but now they would be sold as a combined set for the price of one game, you’d be able to create heroes with classes that had originally been villain-exclusive and vice-versa, and it was even possible to switch your character’s alignment to run a fall to darkness or redemption arc. City of Villains has always had considerably better writing, balance, and pace, just because it was released after the team had a year of experience working with the limitations of the medium and engine and knowing what players wanted from and would do with their content. But City of Villains consistently had (and, on private servers, still has) like 1/5 of the population as City of Heroes at any given time. WoW doesn’t have a divide that harsh. Horde players are about as common as Alliance. Even if we assume that PvP players – who are more likely to pick a villainous faction, given the option – just never played CoX at all, they’re still outnumbered by 2:1 on non-RP, non-PvP servers (RP servers are 3:2 in favor of Alliance and non-RP PvP servers favor Horde), not nearly as bad as CoX’s 4:1.

Villains Need Proactive Content

What’s up with that? I mean, the section title kind of gives the game away a bit, but I need to introduce the premise. Here in this post, we’re going to pretend that it’s 2004, City of Heroes has been out for a couple weeks or months or however long it was before production on City of Villains has started, and the higher-ups have just given the project the green light. Sudden, Jack Emmert is struck down by an evil witch, brings me there through a time tunnel from 2020, and proclaims that a terrible curse shall be laid upon the studio and all its employees if they do not give me absolute control over the project. Also, she says she’ll blow up the world if I don’t play along, so I can’t just tell them good luck with that curse thing, walk out on them completely, and try to use the next ten years to try and avert the darkest timeline and/or become personally wealthy enough to not be affected by it.

Let’s start by figuring out what the problem here is. Maybe people just don’t like playing bad guys? The Horde aren’t meant to be the villains of WoW. Horde and Alliance are supposed to be a grey vs. grey thing. Sure, the writers are terrible at remembering this and regularly pretend that WarCraft 3 never happened and we’re still in good humans vs. evil orcs mode, but at least nominally, Horde isn’t the evil faction, they’re just the spikey faction. So, y’know, maybe I’m just rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic, here.

But I think a lot of it also comes down to City of Villains being bad at making you feel like a villain. The standard theme park MMO mechanics are good for heroes who uphold the status quo, not for villains who are destroying it.

Dr Horrible
Because the status is not quo!

In a standard theme park MMO, you go to a place, you find a number of people who need help, and you punch their problems until they go away, receiving treasure and XP until you are high enough level to go to a new place and punch new problems. This is perfect for heroes and very bad for villains. City of Villains’ writing is generally much better, its characters are interesting and the tasks they want you to do are much more directly informed by their motivations. In City of Heroes, a reporter, a beat cop, and a small business owner would all ask you to beat up the Skulls because the Skulls are bad guys doing bad things in the neighborhood, but in City of Villains, a sentient talking radio would send you a transmission telling you that you were on a short list of villains to be brought down by Federal Bureau of Superpowered Affairs and also where you could find that list so you can destroy it and force the government to reprioritize from scratch, which will buy you some time and hopefully even get them to pivot to other villains completely. Who knows how those guys decide who goes on these lists, right?

But better writing or not, it’s not villainous. Someone gives you a tip, and you do the thing. And it’s the same when other supervillains hire you as a mercenary, or recruit you to a bank robbery because they need your talents, or even when some of your villainous allies help you in a scheme to go to an alternate timeline where supervillain supreme Lord Recluse has taken over the world, assassinate him, and come back with the severed head as a “don’t fuck with me” statement, which is about as close to actually killing and replacing the supervillain supreme as an MMO could get.

Fair enough, but regardless of the fact that the penultimate villain plotline was hemmed in the game being an MMO at all, the major problem here is that these are all reactive. Your quest leads put emphasis on the XP and treasure you’ll be getting at the end, but you still fundamentally go to a place, find people with problems, and punch their problems until they go away. But given that an MMO is a place that you go and not a map that you alter, how can you even have villain content, besides painting hero content red and hoping no one notices?

I’ll tell you how: Maniacal schemes is how. A maniacal scheme is something like “kidnap and ransom the mayor” or “build a death ray.” I don’t know how much slack the team had for developing new interfaces, but worst case scenario, these options can be presented by a level 7-50 contact (the maniacal schemes system doesn’t come online ’till level 7, I’ll get to why in a bit) who is always considered active. In fact, having them be presented by a contact is the best way to go even if we could have a new interface for maniacal schemes, because it allows you to have a sycophant. The sycophant is the guy who asks your villain “so, Brain, what’re we gonna do tonight?” Then you select which maniacal scheme you want, and this initiates a dialogue (written, like many dialogues in CoX, with a structure that implies many of your responses without the game having to assign you any exact words) in which the sycophant lays out what materials will be required, by saying things like “but how’re we gonna transport all that gold? Oh, I suppose that is what the truck’s for.” Like the newspapers and the radio, they’re always at the top of your contacts list.

Continue reading “A Better City of Villains”