In the previous chapter, “Experiential Design,” I offered a lot of examples of things we do in different types of games. This is one way to look at the variety of possible activities we all enjoy in the games we play. In this chapter, I’m again going to look at the things we do in various games, but this time with an eye toward the conventions and clichés that games have developed over the years.
In this chapter we’ll look at:
So yes, we do have game clichés. Like all entertainment media, games have developed some clichés—situations and actions that are recognizable or that lead to predictable results and other predictable stereotypes. Some clichés are borrowed from literature and movies, while others have evolved out of the specific environment of game playing. Although clichés are useful because they allow players to operate within a familiar environment and they allow game designers to assume certain elements of a game and predict some of the responses of the players, they can also be an opportunity to throw some surprises into the mix. (See also the “Misdirection: Ways to Mislead the Player” section in Chapter 30, “Ways to Communicate with the Player.”)
Remember also that people have often messed with clichés, creating anti-clichés or reverse clichés, and in doing so have often created new clichés. For instance, the cliché of the big powerful enemy has been messed with many times, where it ends up that the ultimate evildoer is some mousy little innocuous-looking guy instead of the obvious bruiser you would normally suspect. But this reverse cliché has been done enough to be a cliché in its own right.
Of course, new clichés spring up every so often, particularly when a game with some unique or recognizable elements becomes very popular. For instance, in the wake of the popularity of the Dynasty Warriors series from Koei, a lot of games are beginning to feature battles with hordes of mostly weak enemies, each with a health bar floating above him. You mow these enemies down with a mighty sweep of your weapon, occasionally running into various kinds of tougher enemies who provide some amount of challenge. If a game looks too much like Dynasty Warriors (or functions pretty much the same way), it begins to look like a cliché in the making.
Clichés often develop from the logical needs of a particular kind of game. Structurally, a First-Person Shooter is quite different from a Real-Time Strategy game, and designers use the kinds of game elements that work in those types of games. The hordes of weaker enemies typical of the Dynasty Warriors games represent a design decision that has been echoed in other games. Is it a cliché or a convention? Without those enemies, the games in this style would be something completely different. Because some game structures and decisions are logical or key elements of a particular game style, they get used a lot. In the end, they become clichés precisely because we have grown to expect them, though in some cases you could also call them game conventions.
I want to note that there is a fine line between a cliché and a convention. Some of the examples I offer in the following sections might be considered conventional approaches to specific in-game situations and structures. As such, you could argue that they are not really clichés. Take it as you like it. I’ve included them, and I encourage you to decide for yourself whether they are clichés. However, one reason I have for looking at them as clichés instead of conventions is to inspire you to think about them instead of taking them for granted. If they are conventions, I think we are all too likely to accept them as givens within a game we create. If we consider them as clichés, perhaps we will be more likely to explore alternatives and look for novel approaches to the same situations and structures.
Some clichés have transcended genres and occur in a wide variety of games. This list is just a taste of what we see all the time in games. Perhaps you take these things for granted. What else do you commonly see in games that has become a cliché?
In most games, there are specialized textures used as functional indicators. For instance, certain types of walls are climbable, others are breakable, but the majority are impenetrable. Color is often used, as well, to indicate function or to single out an object or creature for one reason or another. The use of textures to indicate function is common enough to be considered a cliché.
Alien spacecraft and other installations generally feature a lot of flashy lights and weird displays that have no obvious function.
Equipment and monitors, especially computers found in games, generally display meaningless information and are not interactive, and often the displays have no relevance at all to the game or its fiction. Moreover, you can shoot these faux machines without any result or noticeable effect. If they are functional somewhere, they are also invulnerable.
Wounds can be healed by a truly odd assortment of items, such as candy bars, sodas, and mysterious med-paks that can reverse nearly mortal conditions in the blink of an eye.
In a lot of online games, colors are used as a guide to the relative danger level of a creature. Although this method of enemy identification originated in the popular MMORPG EverQuest, it is now sufficiently common to be considered a cliché.
It’s always good to place something explosive near a group of bad guys so you can shoot it and wipe them out en masse.
Characters never need to do laundry. Even after slogging through the swamps, crawling through caves, and fighting hordes of enemies, their costumes are in perfect condition and are never soiled or ripped. Moreover, they never need to take a bath or use the toilet (except in The Sims), and they can move immediately from an intense battle to the king’s court without anybody turning up their nose or suggesting they use some deodorant or at least some cologne.
If there is a “good” monarch or ruler, his advisor or second in command is frequently in league with evil forces and is hatching a plot to take over. Inevitably, you arrive just as the plot is reaching fruition.
If a ruler is evil, his second in command is likely even worse.
Armor made for female characters always manages to reveal lots of strategically located skin and to accentuate their breasts by being somewhat exaggerated and formfitting.
No matter how many wounds characters get, they never end up with any scars as a result. Apparently, in-game healing techniques are far superior to what we currently have in the real world.
Most games are full of enemies of one kind or another (see Chapter 14, “Enemies”), and we’ve grown used to how we encounter them. Here are a few of the clichés related to enemies. Where did they come from? What other enemy-related clichés do you notice in the games you play? Are there ways to shake things up, to avoid the clichés and come up with original treatments?
Villains are obvious: Most games depict the enemy as being obviously bad. If the villains are human, then they are generally dark, shifty-eyed, and unpleasant-looking. Or they are big, nasty brutes who look like they chew glass instead of gum. If the enemies are alien, they generally look gross, reptilian, like giant insects, or just nasty, like the human villains. If the enemies are animals, then they generally look fierce and feral, rarely cuddly or docile. Even enemy robots tend to look cold, menacing, and heartless, whereas friendly robots tend to look cute, harmless, or may even closely resemble innocuous humans.
Ordinary enemies are weak and easy to kill.
Ordinary enemies have a very limited repertoire of attacks—generally one type of attack per minion.
Magic casters, healer types, and archers are almost always weak to direct physical attacks.
Boss enemies are very strong, can attack in a variety of unique ways, and are very hard to kill.
Boss enemies are found specifically at milestone points, such as the ends of missions, ends of quests, at story/plot points, and at the end of the game. They don’t just appear randomly in a game.
Whenever a monster is big enough and powerful enough to level a city by itself, it is also stupid, brutal, violent, and bestial. It is invulnerable to weapons until a) an accumulation of attacks wears it down, b) just the “right” weapon is discovered, c) it can be lured into some deathtrap, d) it can be driven back where it came from, or e) it falls in love with a human woman, which is its downfall.
Bigger enemies are stronger.
Enemies at higher levels have more hit points, drop better items and more gold, give more experience points (if applicable), and have higher offense and defense. (Makes sense, of course.)
Enemies don’t learn or adapt. They perform the same tactics and actions over and over again, regardless of the fact that you continually beat them with the same attacks or strategies. (Although this is a common cliché, some games are creating more adaptive enemies.)
If a character was really good and somehow falls under the influence of some evil power, he will always return to “good” status eventually, once the evil effect has worn off or the hero has done something to snap him out of it.
On the other hand, if a “good” character is somehow converted to the evil side, he suddenly increases in power and deadliness a hundredfold.
Enemies don’t seem to react when one of their group is dropped by a high-powered sniper shot. They just stand around as if nothing happened.
Enemy bosses always like to stop to explain the brilliance of their plans and the hopelessness of the player’s cause. This is pretty much true in almost every fictional genre, not just in games. This also, inevitably, allows the hero of the story to defeat them, because if the boss were smart and simply plugged the hero when he had him helpless, the story would be over and the boss would win. But what fun would that be?
Enemies always have only one weapon but a seemingly unending supply of ammo, whereas in many games you get multiple weapons but (except for your generic weapon) limited ammo.
If an enemy catches sight of you or you trigger an alarm, he will forget about you if you can stay hidden long enough. Then he’ll go about his normal business as if he never saw you or heard an alarm.
Unless you are in some stealth mode, any enemy that sees you instantly recognizes you as an intruder, no matter how you are dressed or how many minions are around. In most cases enemies will start shooting without any warning or attempt to ascertain whether you are in fact an enemy or just a pizza delivery boy. (In rare exceptions, you can wear a very specific disguise and fool at least the underlings, though not necessarily the higher-ups.)
Every enemy you manage to kill with a particular type of attack dies exactly the same way as all the others.
Most criminal or enemy organizations are building a secret weapon of immense power.
Weapons, too, have their clichés. Here are a few. Can you think of more?
Bigger weapons are more powerful.
There are several clichés related to firing weapons:
Target and Shoot. Some weapon-firing systems only require the player to select the target. They will then hit the target every time they fire (or they will hit according to some algorithm based on certain of the player character’s skill statistics). In some games, the next target is automatically selected after the original one dies.
Target Reticule. In some games, the player must move a target cursor over the target before firing, and success will depend on how well the player aims the cursor.
Just Shoot. In some games, you just shoot in the direction you are facing. If there is an enemy in the line of fire, it’s likely you’ll hit it.
Auto-Target. Like Just Shoot, you simply fire in a direction or use an attack, but in this case, a nearby enemy is automatically targeted when you use your attack.
Lead and Fire. In some games, particularly air combat games, you must lead a target that is moving across your position (as opposed to toward or away) to hit it, accounting for their movement and the speed of the bullets you are firing. This isn’t really a cliché, but a proper use of physics. I included it here to contrast with other common methods.
Borrowed from arcade games, to reload a weapon you must move the cursor to the bottom of the screen and press an action button.
Players should always start with weak weapons, even if their enemies have bazookas, flamethrowers, and assault rifles. The player should start with a pistol or some kind of knife.
For some reason, your weapons can’t hit your allies or neutral NPCs, and you can’t be hit by friendly fire, either. This is true in a majority of games—with a few notable exceptions.
Things have their own clichés. Items you find in the game world often conform to rules that we have all grown to accept. Here are a few; perhaps you can think of more.
The good bonus items are generally hidden in hard-to-reach places and obscure locations. Ordinary ones are nearly as common as grass in the park.
The smaller a bonus item is, the less powerful/useful/effective it is. For instance, if it is a mana recharge, the small ones recharge less than the big ones.
If something can be pushed or pulled in the environment, you will almost always have to stack it on something, use it to gain access to something higher up, place it on a pressure plate, or use it to create a configuration. (See the “Configurations” section in Chapter 27, “Puzzles.”) Games rarely put movable (pushable, pullable) objects in the environment unless they are going to be used.
Some objects in the environment allow interaction; some can be destroyed. But rarely is an interactive object also destructible. This partially varies with the relative importance of the interactive object. It would truly suck to be able to destroy the only object that could allow you to escape the prison, disable the enemy superweapon, or open the vault containing the best weapon in the game. Also, destructible objects often do not allow partial damage. Often, it’s all or nothing.
In some games, particularly arcade games, certain objects are “destroyable,” and they sometimes contain power-ups. But these objects are easily identified by various consistent appearance clues, such as color, shape, or type of object. All other objects in the environment successfully resist even the most determined attempts to mar their perfection.
Walls that can be destroyed have special cracks or other distinct textures in them. Likewise, secret passages are generally discernible by walls with special markings. And walls that can be climbed must have a different texture from ordinary walls, which cannot be climbed.
Likewise, certain objects can be opened or “searched” while other objects—even identical ones next to the special ones—reveal nothing and cannot be opened or searched. For instance, in an office building, it’s possible that there are a dozen desks, each with five drawers, but only one drawer in one particular desk can be opened. Or, in a warehouse, there might be 50 crates, but only certain ones can be broken, possibly to reveal some kind of item.
Similar to the previous cliché, some environments can contain a lot of doors, but most of them won’t open.
Light bulbs cannot be shot out.
Tinting a scene with red lighting always makes it seem more dangerous. Green lighting can make it seem poisonous or in some way sickly. Other environmental colors are less common.
Inventory in games is what your character is carrying around. Several common methods have been devised to allow player access to this information:
Grid Space. One of the most common inventory methods is to use images to represent different inventory items and fit them into a limited space delineated by a grid. Items will take up anywhere from one to six grid spaces (or more), and a character can only carry what will fit within the grid.
Weight. Another common method of limiting inventory is to allow characters to carry only so much weight before they become encumbered and either lose effectiveness and speed or become completely immobilized. The amount a character can carry is often determined by his “strength” statistic, which can sometimes be temporarily altered by use of magic spells or power-up items.
Items. Still another common way to handle inventory is to allow players to carry only so many items, regardless of weight or space used. This can also be combined with the weight method so that characters can carry either a total number of items or a maximum weight, whichever fills first. In some inventory systems, items can stack to a maximum number (such as 5, 10, 100, or 500). In other inventory systems, you can carry only a certain number of some items, but more of another type of item. A simple example is that you can carry perhaps only one kind of gun, but five different types of ammunition, each type in quantities that may vary. For instance, you might be able to carry only one rocket, 10 armor piercing shells, but 100 ordinary slugs.
Increasing Capacity. There are several main ways that inventories can be extended:
Stacking items
Bags within the inventory (sub-inventories)
Strength enhancement or weight reduction
The people we meet and with whom we interact have their own clichés. We’ve come to expect certain behaviors and qualities in our NPCs. Perhaps this list will help you consider new ways to deal with NPCs.
In many games NPCs simply say the same things over and over again. They never change, no matter how circumstances have changed. (In rare cases, where, say, the town has been burned to the ground since the last time you visited, they may have a new repetitive statement, but it will be just as repetitive as the first one.)
NPCs will do the same things over and over again. They don’t really respond to their environment, and even when it appears that they are doing something constructive, they never really are.
Children cannot be killed or even injured, but they can succumb to various conditions or diseases that must be cured.
When a player character jumps, he often makes a grunting sound.
Often, when an NPC says, “Hurry. You must save the princess [kill the evil sorcerer, disarm the bomb, etc.]...,” there is really no time pressure at all. When there is real time pressure, there is generally a time clock or countdown to enable the player to track the remaining time. (See also Chapter 29, “Time Limits and Time Manipulation.”)
There are several methods of identifying significant NPCs:
The NPC says something without being addressed or specifically addresses the player character.
The NPC has an identifying icon or color or other characteristic.
The NPC has a distinct appearance.
The NPC shows up as an icon on the map.
The NPC has a big arrow (or some variant) floating above his head.
There are several ways to identify enemy versus neutral versus friendly NPCs:
Whether they are targetable
Color cons (such as the weaker ones have green markers, stronger have blue and yellow, dangerous have red or purple—or some variant of this scheme)
By appearance
Important NPCs are almost always completely invulnerable and don’t even seem to notice when you unload a full clip at them or clonk them on the head with a blunt object.
Dwarves in games always have long, shaggy beards and heavy eyebrows, and they carry axes.
Aliens and robots all talk funny, no matter how ultra-sophisticated their technology is.
Aliens always want to destroy the Earth or at least enslave the human population. They never want to run for Congress or open an alien fast-food chain.
Unless they are water creatures already, NPCs almost never swim, so you can always escape by diving into the water (assuming that the game hasn’t made it instant death to touch the water). This has changed in more recent games. Somehow, the guild of NPCs has been giving them swimming lessons.
Fighting in games is common, of course, but in creating games where we fight, designers have also created clichés. Here’s a taste, but you can probably come up with even more.
Female characters are faster but do less damage.
Bigger characters are slower but hit harder (in general).
Female characters are always attractive.
Female characters generally wear tight or sexy outfits—often short skirts.
Male characters are often absurdly buffed and muscular.
Characters that use magical attacks as a main aspect of their fighting style are generally weaker in direct, brute-force hand-to-hand combat.
Attacks that require a big buildup generally do more damage when they hit. They are often less reliable or accurate, however. They also generally require more energy, if energy (stamina/endurance/mana) is part of the game.
A well-timed (and properly positioned) block will stop almost any type of attack.
Many common RPG clichés are found in movies and literature, and in games that use various RPG-like story elements.
The main character is usually a kid. The kid’s parents are usually dead or are killed at the beginning of the story. The kid was raised by an aunt and uncle, grandparent, or some other “guardian” (who often knows the kid’s destiny). Usually there is only one guardian figure, though occasionally there can be two. (Both Luke Skywalker and Harry Potter fit this model as well.)
Even if the main character is a soldier in the king’s army, he’s still a kid.
The heroes of most RPGs are male, though some games allow choice of gender.
Most characters have only a single name, and often a good character has a first name only, and an enemy character will only have a last name. Furthermore, characters with names are generally important in some way. Other characters have no names, but are simply called by generic titles, such as “peasant” or the ultra-simplistic “man” or “woman.”
The hero usually lives in some small village, which is often destroyed at the beginning of the game or sometime in the first act.
The plot usually involves something that will ultimately destroy the world.
The world in question is almost always some fantasy world that features lots of monsters who are invariably aggressive and whose combat combines traditional hand weapons with various kinds of magic. Some modern and futuristic exceptions do exist.
Most fantasy RPGs owe a great amount of their material to D&D, which, in turn, owes a lot to Tolkien.
RPGs make thorough and repeated use of “the elements,” such as fire, ice, air, earth, water, ether, spirit, and so on. Various territories within the game often reflect these elements, as do various schools of magic or objects with special properties.
The world “map” always fits into a perfect square or rectangle.
Although your character’s movement can easily be arrested by a small fence, a rock, or even a different-colored tile, he will at certain points in the game be able to make death-defying leaps from one moving platform to another.
Any damsel in distress is invariably beautiful (or cute, as the case may be) unless the game is somehow looking for comic relief. The hero is always ready to defend any female, no matter how little he knows about her—this is predominantly true of male heroes.
Either guard NPCs are impossibly strong and unbeatable or they are excessively ordinary and weak.
Party members will invariably include some combination of:
An old wizard or mage
A spunky girl
A runaway princess
A tough-talking female warrior or a rogue
A mysterious but adorable girl with locked powers who is the last of her kind anywhere and who has a tragic story
A guy with a tragic past
Someone who will turn out to be a spy or will betray the hero
A “cute” character who is more annoying than helpful
A surface-tough character who is really a sweetheart underneath
Some typical villains (see also “Types of Enemies” in Chapter 14, “Enemies”) include:
The doppelganger who has been masquerading as the king, thus explaining why the king has been somewhat brain dead or unable to deal with what is going on
The right-hand man/woman of the boss (who is either very dangerous or quite incompetent)
Someone who “died” in the first act but really didn’t die and turns out to be either the major villain or a henchman of the villains
Mad scientists (the madder the better)
Suave noble types who are arrogant and disdainful of the hero and his party
The honorable enemy who was really under a spell and ultimately atones for his wrongs by dying heroically or joins you against the boss who had enslaved him—or both
The complete nutcase who is so off the wall that he’s almost impossible to kill
The nasty witch who is really calling the shots (though she might have masqueraded as a beautiful but mysterious woman through much of the game)
Typical NPCs (see also “NPC Jobs” in Chapter 13, “Character Roles and Jobs”) include:
Shopkeepers (sometimes general, sometimes specialized)
Blacksmiths/armorers
Stable keepers
Children playing games (who almost never have anything useful to say, but will waste your time anyway if you try to talk to them)
The mayor
The wise man or woman of the village
The priest, the king (and sometimes the queen)
The tinkerer or mad but friendly scientist
The scheming advisor or second in command
Star-crossed lovers (whom you can help reunite)
Somebody who has lost a dog or a relative
The fearsome-looking monster who is really just a pathetic creature in need of your help
The occasional talking dog/cat/parrot
A loiterer who is unfriendly but occasionally knows something useful
The adventurer who might like to join your party (for various reasons, including gold, excitement, or some personal quest)
“Filler” characters who play no real role in the game except to make a village or city look populated
Farmers
Fishermen
Ladies of the evening
Nobles (various varieties)
Guards (of course)
Typical locations include:
The medieval castle
The desert city
The snow/mountain city
The industrial evil city or factory
The floating magical city
The futuristic alien environment (perhaps on another planet)
The future (ours)
The “sin” city
A mining town or outpost
Seaports
A thief’s den
Caves, caverns, and mazes
Basements
Someplace that was once great and is now destroyed
Some little innocent village that was destroyed
Jungles
Islands (with one person living on them)
Forest villages
The village inhabited by some strange race of sentient creatures
The village that’s at peace on the surface, but is really controlled by some evil force
A village or outpost of a specific group, such as mages and sorcerers, martial monks, or a priestly sect
When NPCs tell you about something or someone, it’s almost always a clue to what you should do. Whenever NPCs tell you not to do something or that it’s dangerous to go someplace, you definitely need to do it or go there.
When you encounter an NPC who is a potential party member, they are a) fighting an impossible group of enemies and kicking their asses, b) fighting an impossible group of enemies and getting their asses kicked (meaning you have to rescue them), or c) standing around in a bar. In any case, if they are super-powerful, they become a lot more ordinary when they join your party. If they were being overwhelmed, they will turn out to be far more useful than you expected—some of the time, anyway. On the other hand (and in part depending on your play style), they might turn out to be simply this side of worthless.
You can take anything you can get your hands on. In essence, though you are supposed to represent the good side of things, you can steal at will (even when the person you’re stealing from is standing right there), with rare exceptions.
People don’t seem too concerned that you walk around their towns and even inside their houses carrying nasty weapons in your hands.
If you need something to solve a puzzle, whatever you need is probably close by, with the exception of specific heirloom or magical items obtained from special NPCs, such as amulets and rings that will open a magically sealed door. Other necessary items are almost always easy to obtain nearby.
A great Evil Entity, which has been sealed behind magical wards, is going to be freed to wreak havoc on the world unless you, the hero, can prevent it by gathering the five directional talismans or some similar thing to stop the Evil Entity’s escape. In the end, you’ll usually fail right at the end (or be victim to some treachery) and have to fight the Evil Entity and drive it back where it came from. There’s probably a story that gets relayed over the course of the game to explain how the Evil Entity got behind the wards in the first place, and you may have to have the ancient hero’s talisman/sword/ring/amulet/etc. to defeat the Evil Entity.
Often, the Evil Entity either was defeated before by your father or was responsible for your father’s death. Your father was a hero, of course, and you are carrying on the family tradition.
Villains often have the uncanny ability to materialize and dematerialize at will, but only when it suits the plot. Their teleportation abilities are inconsistent and only apply when the designers want you to have an encounter with the villain without having any opportunity to fight, or, if there is a fight, without having an opportunity to win.
The main villain will often have some minions or henchmen who reappear throughout the game and are expected to deal with you instead of the boss, who at that point in the game could easily defeat you blindfolded and with both hands tied behind his back. But he always leaves things to his incompetent minions, who never actually die, but only succeed at anything they do if it’s necessary to the plot. Every time you fight them, you defeat them, but they escape to harass you again later in the game.
Even when villains claim to want peace and a solution appears to be offered that would disarm a dangerous situation, it’s never true. Even if the one you’re dealing with tries to cut a deal, there’s always a shadowy overlord monster who will stab him in the back and return to the festivities of taking over or destroying the world. In other words, peace is never an option until the last boss is defeated or the fat lady sings.
Villains must always gloat, brag, or tell their stories, allowing the hero time to figure out how to defeat them. If the villain simply did what was smart—kill the hero and brag later—he would always win. (This is not just a game cliché, but seems to exist in literature and movies, too.)
Villains have basically the following options at the end of the game: 1) die, 2) join the good guys, 3) be imprisoned behind powerful magical wards, 4) escape into space or some alternate dimension (making them available for sequels), or 5) be sentenced to a lifetime of community service.
If you can attack it, you probably should. Usually you can’t attack neutral or friendly NPCs, and rarely is it a bad idea to attack anything that allows you to attack it. This essentially means that when you are out in the wild, you should probably kill everything you see, in addition to hacking up the countryside looking for hidden items.
Many spells, skills, and scrolls that will work on ordinary enemies will not work on bosses. Moreover, they are essentially useless against ordinary enemies simply because it’s often much easier to slash them with a weapon than to resort to unnecessary magic.
On the other hand, many spells that you can’t seem to land on a boss work just fine when the boss uses them on you.
Politically speaking, empires are evil and kingdoms are good. Democracies and republics are rarely seen in games unless they are historically based.
Defeating a boss or disabling the ultimate world-destroying machine seems to trigger the complete collapse of the area you’re in, which is dramatic and may provide an opportunity for you to have to run for your life, though often the threat is fake and there’s no way it will collapse completely until you have gotten out safely. Or will it?
If the hero is ever put in jail, there is always a convenient way to escape—by talking with another inmate who has an escape plan, by stealing the guard’s keys, because you helped someone earlier in the game and they come to help you, or because you find a loose brick in the cell that reveals a lever that opens the cell door, and so on.
Anything you buy from a shop instantly loses about 90 percent of its value. On the other hand, when you sell something, you either never see it again or it enters the shop’s inventory at an inflated price—just about like real life.
All merchants in the game—no matter that they are from different countries—accept and trade with the same currency and often buy and sell the exact same merchandise.
As a corollary to the previous example, merchants in cities that you reach later in the game will have better, more advanced, and much more expensive merchandise. This is okay, because you will be fighting more difficult monsters who drop better items and more money. One way to look at this is that shops farther away from the starting village or city will always have better goods for sale, even if they are in a high mountain village populated by exactly five people and the starting city was a huge international seaport.
Even when your fame is legendary throughout the land and everybody knows you are the sole hope remaining to save the world, shopkeepers will charge full price for everything and will never, ever give you anything free, even if it might spell the difference between the world’s ultimate survival and utter defeat.
No matter how serious a wound is, you can always regain full health by using healing potions or healers or by getting a night’s sleep. You never have any scars afterward, either.
No matter how virulent a plague or how devastating a catastrophe, the hero is never affected at all, unless the designers decided to make a special quest out of it. However, sometimes party members may be lost, only to be found again later.
Characters can jump or fall from incredible heights and take only minor wounds, if any.
You can save a game and reload it as often as you like. The game never notices when you try to beat a boss character and fail 30 times, reloading the same saved game each time to try again.
There is generally minimal correspondence between the size of building from the outside and the space depicted inside.
Monsters always get tougher as you progress through the game. Often, designers use the same graphic model but simply give it higher stats and maybe a different color, armor, and/or weapons.
No matter how arduous it was for you to get from Town A to Town B, certain NPCs you previously met in Town A, including frail old wizards, will already be there when you arrive, if they are necessary to the plot.
Terms and creatures from various kinds of mythologies are combined at random, not necessarily in their original forms. Often only the names of mythological creatures, powers, weapons, gods, and other concepts are kept.
Main characters (usually player characters, but not always) who don’t remember their past histories will usually learn who they are and what they did (or what was done to them) through flashbacks that occur at key moments in the storyline, by meeting specific NPCs, or by completing certain quests. These “memories” will take place as dream sequences or other typical flashback movies, but in some cases you will actually have to play through the past events as the younger version of the hero through some sort of fantasy time travel.
Technology is generally reserved for the bad guys while good guys use traditional weapons (swords, bows, axes, and so on) and “white” magic. Bad guys also use “black” magic.
On the other hand, there are only so many ways to damage, kill, or destroy someone, so magical spells and technological weapons often do essentially the same things. You could have a freeze spell or a freeze ray, a flamethrower or a spout of fire spell, and so on. You can shoot bullets or fire magical missiles that do physical damage, and so on. (See also Chapter 32, “Ways to Die.”)
Class types have clichéd armor/weapon choices. For instance, warriors will have a variety of weapons but almost always a sword, rangers and scouts use bows, cleric types use maces or staves, magic users pretty much exclusively use staves (maybe a dagger), and stealth characters use daggers and possibly throw weapons, such as shirokens. This is highly influenced by standard Dungeons & Dragons character descriptions.
If a world has gods, they are either evil and powerful or good but nerfed. Often they are the Guardians of the World who have had some special artifact(s) stolen, and you have to save the day by returning whatever gave them their power.
Any ancient ruins of long-forgotten civilizations provide clues that they were, in fact, far more advanced than the current one and often more advanced than the designers of the game.
With rare exceptions, weapons and armor never wear out, break, or even require any maintenance.
Legends, predictions, and prophecies are always true.
In game sequels (such as most of the Final Fantasy series), the main character is always back at the beginning with almost no skills or weapons.
The bad guys are united into something like an empire.
Quite often, the main character is actually (but unknowingly) doing the work of the villains and only discovers that fact late in the game.
There is a hierarchy of metals that is always used for currency and also for weapon and armor value. The hierarchy goes something like this (from least to most): copper, iron, silver, gold, platinum, diamond, mythril. There are some exceptions, such as brass, steel, or adamantine. But generally, something made of copper is less effective than something made of gold or silver, and, somehow, weapons and armor can be made of diamond.
When you finally beat the ultimate villain and win the game, you will often be rewarded with weapons, armor, and items beyond compare. You really could have used them earlier, but by the time you get them, they are entirely useless because there’s nothing left to fight. And don’t even think that you will still have them in the sequel. You always start with “trainer” weapons in the sequel, and there’s no hint of your former accomplishments or loot.
The First-Person Shooter genre leapt into prominence in the 1990s and has become one of the most popular types of games. Of course, there are FPS clichés, some of which date back to the beginnings of the genre, with Wolfenstein 3D and Doom. As it is with other genres, some clichés simply reflect logical design decisions, but there’s always room for innovation. What other FPS clichés can you think of? Are there different ways to handle the situation?
Walking causes an exaggerated bobbing effect.
An ominous voice describes the action.
You almost always use some sort of gun.
There’s a single melee mode (such as your fists).
There is the same set of game modes.
Walking over items picks them up.
Ammunition for weaker weapons is far more plentiful than ammunition for kickass weapons of incredible destructive power.
You can’t see your feet.
There is a minimal storyline.
You should kill everything.
Enemies are not defensive.
Enemies can’t figure out how to use teleporters, while players do it all the time.
Enemies rarely use available cover, often charging into a situation without regard to tactics or self-preservation.
Shooting someone in the head means instant death. Other types of hits result in various levels of health damage, but rarely instant death.
Shields/armor can be worn down, and once worn down, the wearer (you or the enemy) is vulnerable.
You have weightless inventory.
Be sure to include suspension bridges over acid pools, preferably green and bubbling.
Enemies have a single weapon, while you have many.
Enemies never carry anything but weapons and ammo, and possibly the odd med kit—certainly never anything interesting, like a photo of their kids at home or their girlfriend, unless they are a “special” enemy who carries a key or ID card that you need to get to another section of the game.
Specific enemy types can be relied upon to each carry the same weapon. So, for instance, if one type of soldier carries a shotgun, all soldiers like him generally carry a shotgun, but other types may carry an energy slicer, and all of that type will carry an energy slicer.
Some enemies, depending on the game, have a ranged weapon and a different weapon or type of attack at melee range.
Somehow you can carry an improbable arsenal (both weapons and ammunition) and switch between weapons instantly.
There is instant healing.
Female characters have overly endowed, jiggle-prone, ultra-mobile breasts.
Baddies disappear into nothing/the ground.
There are highly explosive barrels/crates.
There is bad voice acting.
There are stereotypical representations of race/class/ethnicity.
Meat is over-consumed to heal oneself.
Meat always heals for more than vegetables or tofu do.
The game is set in a WWII locale or situation.
There is mass-market licensing of Hollywood films.
Weapons generally range from a knife or pistol to a BFG, with various sniper rifles, shotguns, machineguns or assault weapons, and grenades. There can be a staggering array of available weapons, but mostly they are variants of basic types. (There is usually something bizarre, such as a chainsaw, a two-handed meat cleaver, or something that will cause a lot of bloodletting effects.)
Accumulation of knowledge is often the primary story motivation from the player’s perspective, although the storylines, such as they are, may vary.
There are lots of explosions.
There are squirting blood effects (less spraying blood).
There are RPG mechanics in non-RPG games.
Dialog is canned.
There are invisible walls.
There are badly built terrains/levels.
You will be killing dragons.
Killing can solve a problem.
There is killing, killing, killing...and more killing.
There are collecting/hunt-and-gather missions.
There are gopher missions.
You can break the game universe to tell the player how to play.
There are crazy blonde spiky-hair power-ups.
The hero is pretty much always a badass.
The platform action game is one of the oldest game genres, and there have been multitudes of variants on the theme. Naturally, there have been some tried-and-true design decisions over the years, and many of them have become clichés of the genre.
Millions of items to collect.
Plenty of low-level NPC enemies to fight.
Your character is very acrobatic.
There are many animals as main characters.
Oddball storylines.
Jumping.
Climbing.
Moving platforms.
Levels.
Bosses.
Keeping score.
Minimal story.
Special power-up and pick-up items.
Real-Time Strategy games absolutely require certain elements, such as resources and units, so many of the clichés of the genre are simply among the basic requirements of the game. Still, it’s entirely possible that you could do something different in an RTS. What do you think?
Three-quarter perspective.
A main “town hall”–style building.
Tech-tree upgrades.
Two or three layers of combat (land/air/sea).
Fog of war.
Infantry can take out a building.
Buildings create units.
Units are of a generic style.
There are a few key hero or heroine characters.
Resources and resource management.
You play as some sort of god that can communicate with any of your units instantaneously.
Resource gatherers are very weak.
Units do not develop or change after they are formed (though exceptions exist).
Fighting games have been around for decades. They came into prominence with the Street Fighter II series and with Mortal Kombat, but they have evolved considerably since then. Still, some of the early games already contained elements that would be destined for clichédom. Let’s look at a few, and feel free to add your own observations.
Fighters wield all sorts of magic.
There are very similar controls across games.
Button mashing is a valid strategy.
Fast and weak versus slow and strong.
Jumping very high.
There is a life bar.
Players fight at the same capacity until they are actually defeated. They do not weaken in ability, despite being bashed repeatedly by the opponent’s attacks.
There is a special ability bar.
Corner bashing.
Jumping off invisible walls.
Fighters take a lot of damage.
Falling off the arena.
Fighters only know one style of fighting.
Formulaic fighter types.
Small fighters are weak and fast, especially females.
Larger fighters are generally slower and stronger.
Racing is racing, right? Well, racing games have their own conventions and clichés. Can you think of any others? How would you break stereotypes and create a racing game that was different from all the others?
You start off with a horrible car.
Cars don’t take damage (in arcade-type racing games, anyway).
Instant respawn after crashing.
You run out of time, not fuel.
You always do laps.
Rubber-band AI.
Your only goal is to finish first and progress.
Upgrade parts and buy new cars.
You can’t do anything else but race.
You can’t leave your car.
Your car never breaks down.
Going off track or getting spun around slows you down considerably.
Cars vary in predictable ways—handling, top speed, acceleration, and sometimes durability.
Simulations are often different from most games in that they don’t necessarily have fixed goals or storylines. They don’t generally have levels, acts, or quests, though they may have specific tasks with goals, depending on how they are created. In many cases, the goals of a simulation are set by the players, based on what interests them. Here are a few simulation clichés. What others can you think of?
Authenticity.
No end game.
Realism is important.
Often nonviolent (unless you let the buffalo out of its enclosure in Zoo Tycoon).
Attention needed to detail (micromanagement).
Lots of “tools” and items to work with.
Control of the environment.
You can set your own goals.
Ways to cheat.
Ways to destroy your own creations.
Puzzle games, such as Breakout, Tetris, and Bejeweled, are among the most frequently played games in the world. Here are a few of the clichés that have developed with puzzle games.
Falling blocks.
Good but repetitive music.
Moving objects around to complete puzzle.
Tetris-based. Yes, Tetris is practically a cliché in itself.
Clearing things—making objects disappear.
Changing things—making objects change shape, color, or position.
Combos.
Color or shape matching.
Line up items using shape or color—three or four in a row.
Specials—such as special icons that can give you advantages or that can mess up your play.
Modes of play—such as unlimited, timed, clear the stage, and so on.
Massive Multiplayer Games have accumulated a great many clichés and conventions over the years. Here are just a few to whet your appetite. What other MMO clichés can you think of?
Item collecting.
Spawn camping.
Player interaction.
Forming parties.
Slow skill progression.
Economies.
Item level restrictions.
Formulaic questing.
Class- or skill-based players.
Instant dungeons.
Level cap increases.
New content—expand or die.
Guilds and parties.
Factions.
Mounts at higher levels.
Better gear at higher levels.
Inventory management.
Player housing.
PvP zones and servers.
Griefers.
Exploits.
Raids.
Crafting.
Trading (P2P and auction).
Always a pure fighter, pure mage (at least one type), pure cleric.
Almost always pure ranged (archer type), pure rogue or stealth character, and various hybrid characters, such as paladins, rangers, and wardens.
Design Challenge
This chapter just hints at the many clichés that have developed over the years in games. Why did we include it here? Because knowing what is common, expected, anticipated, and known in games is a good place to start. It’s a good place from which to expand and innovate.
Go through the lists in this chapter and think about the clichés that were left out. Try to expand the lists and consider where these clichés came from.
Look at the clichés in this chapter, at your own list, or at the games you play, and ask yourself, “What problem does this cliché solve?”
If you know what problem a cliché solves, what purpose it serves, then ask yourself, “How could I serve that purpose or solve that problem in a different way?”
Create a scenario for a game that, as completely as possible, avoids using clichés. How hard was that to do? Will it still be fun to play?