Valiant Hearts: The war game that needed to exist

               Warfare may be one of the most common themes in video games today. Yet, it is also one of the least well explored themes in use. War is used as a stage to highlight the player character's skill and perseverance, whether it be as a front-line combatant or a non-entity general.  Courage, valor and sacrifice are narrative elements used to exact an emotional toll from the players and anti-war messages are increasingly becoming a staple of every triple A title. Despite it all, the gameplay itself often subverts and contradicts the message the narrative tried conveying. Courage and valor on the NPC's part feel empty when it is solely the player character's actions that decide the outcome of every battle. The gratuitous amount of NPC deaths fail to impact players as much as they should since overuse of the trope has turned it into a cliché.  Even the obligatory anti-war messages lose their meaning when the player is rewarded for causing as much death and destruction as possible.

               In short, while war games often glorify warfare - intentionally or not - very few of them of them portray the true cost of warfare. Very few games even attempt to show warfare as something other than a stage for winning personal honor and glory. And even fewer games choose to not portray the "other side" as irredeemable zealots dedicated to wiping out all that the player might care about. Valiant Hearts: The Great War (or Soldats Inconnus : Mémoires de la Grande Guerre) is one of those games.

               In Valiant Hearts, the player doesn't play as a soldier or, more accurately, the hyper-competent, bullet guzzling, nigh invulnerable superhuman that passes as a 'soldier' in most video games. Instead, the player takes on the role of several everyday people who were obligated to join the war through forces beyond their control. An aging French farmer drafted into serving his country, his German son-in-law fighting on the opposite side, a Belgian veterinarian turned field nurse searching for her father, an American Legionnaire  haunted by what the war took from him, and a loyal German rescue dog form the core cast of characters that the player controls at various points. The diversity of player characters ensure, that not only do you see, firsthand, a wide variety of different battles that defined the Great War but also that you see them from several different sides. Even though there is a comically exaggerated German general opposing most of the player (as is appropriate considering the art style), it is the war itself and not any particular side that is portrayed as the main antagonist. Great care is taken to show atrocities and acts of valor committed by all factions involved and, ultimately it is humanity and humility that is celebrated in place of romanticized honor

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               Although player characters do talk in their native languages, they are usually soft-spoken enough that they may as well be speaking gibberish. Most of the instructions in the game are conveyed, instead, through pictures and miming. This is actually a stroke of genius on the part of the designers. The Great War so combatants from countries as far apart as America and India fight together on the same field and, obviously, verbal communication was bit problematic. The slightly exaggerated body language not only helps in understanding game objectives, but also conveys a sense of the truly global nature of the Great War using the breach of communication as a narrative tool.

               But the story-telling isn't the true gem of this game. Surprisingly,  for a game as apparently story focused as Valiant Hearts, the true star ends up being the gameplay itself! This is largely because of how the gameplay reflects the game's narrative : Outside of a few ambiguous instances, the player characters never kill. You read that right. Valiant Hearts is a war game where the player hardly, if ever, kills.  In fact, the gameplay actually rewards saving lives regardless of the rescued party's faction. The true brilliance of this piece of game design doesn't become apparent until the player has had a few hours of gameplay under his/her belt. You stop seeing the NPCs as 'us' and 'them'. Instead, you start seeing them all for what they really are - people who are just as terrified and disgusted at the acts war has forced them into doing.

               Another interesting way in which gameplay is used to deliver narrative is through the collectible memorabilia scattered throughout the battlefields of Europe. You don't need any of them progress through the game but every one of them unlocks a little tidbit of history that sheds more light on the conflict in large. The game isn't perfectly historically accurate, but these little tidbits are. The designers knew that completionist gamers would be driven to gather every collectible and decided to make the experience more rewarding by inserting actual history into them. This results in a surprisingly educational bit of gameplay.

               No discussion of Valiant Hearts can be complete without mentioning the canine companion, Walt, who, instead of being just a set-piece to establish emotional attachment, is a part of the core gameplay. From dragging soldiers out from rubble to distracting enemies - Walt does it all. In fact, a large chunk of puzzles require Walt's assistance to overcome. Obviously, there is an option to pet Walt. It doesn't affect gameplay in anyway but come on! Who wouldn't want to? (Appropriately, there is an achievement for doing so, as if the players needed more encouragement!)

               In conclusion, Valiant Hearts is definitely the war game gamers needed: a game that vilifies war instead of glorifying it; a game that shows how real families were broken up to answer their call of duty; a game that demonstrates how no amount of medals of honor can replace the loss of a loved one. Valiant Hearts is a game that strays from mainstream depictions of war in order to deliver a message, and succeeds brilliantly thanks to its combination of storytelling, art style and thoughtful gameplay mechanics.

               

Assassin Creed III and the importance of unity

              On paper, Assassin’s Creed III looked like the best in the franchise by far. It had a complex narrative, sympathetic villains, vibrant visuals and unfamiliar take on a familiar and extremely popular time period. It introduced a whole new dimension to the franchise through naval combat and fleshed-out the less urban parts of the game world.

                Yet, despite it all, Assassin’s Creed III is considered one of the weaker titles in the franchise by fans and for good reason too.  Assassin’s Creed 3 suffers from a figurative “death by a thousand cuts”: the game’s lack of polish, basic design flaws, and rather bland protagonist slowly add up and make the game progressively more tedious until playing it almost becomes a chore.

Now before moving on I’d like to state that AC: III had, hands down, the best writing in the series. Though advertised as a chest-thumping, stereotypically patriotic take on the American Revolutionary War ala The Patriot, the game itself didn’t shy away from showing the atrocities committed by both sides.  Even the Templars, the “big bad guys” of the series, are portrayed as flawed visionaries who adopt deplorable means to achieve noble goals – a far cry from their self-indulgent, decadent Renaissance counterparts. The game even lets one play as a Templar for the first few segments of the game, in one of the best thought out twists in the franchise, letting the players experience firsthand just how similar the Templars and Assassins are to one another.

For any other, non-video game media this would have been enough. The sheer moral ambiguity and complexity of the story would have been sufficient in drawing in, and maintaining, the audience’s attention. Yet video games operate on a slightly separate principle. As Jeremy Bernstein, famous screenwriter and game designer, mentioned in one of his key note speeches during GDC 2014, gamers remember characters more than the plot itself. And no character gets more screen-time in a video game than the player character itself (barring some very specific exceptions). To get the most out of a player character the game must establish three fundamental unities between the target audience and their in-game avatar: unity of trait, purpose and action.

Unfortunately this is where the cracks start showing. As a player character, Connor isn’t very interesting.  Now this isn’t very uncommon, and a lot of games actually utilize this lack of intriguing characterization to create a “blank slate character” – one where the user can imprint his/her own traits onto a playable avatar to increase immersion.

However, Connor is most definitely not a blank-slate character and attempting to impose the player’s own motivations and traits onto him backfire for two major reasons. Firstly, Connor is significantly less savvy than most gamers.  And, more importantly, Connor is significantly less savvy than the game requires him to be.

Understand, now, that a character with a strict black and white outlook on morality isn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, in a game where much of the story is pushed forward by moral ambiguity an unflinchingly lawful character is particularly welcome. The basic problem with Connor being in the story is that his morality shatters whatever sense of freedom and non-linearity Assassin’s Creed III tried conveying with its masterful world building.

You have this incredible story where the player is forced to consider the justifications for some truly, truly heinous activities. You have this narrative that makes clear that it’s not about the “bad guys” vs. the “good guys”. It’s about flawed people trying and failing spectacularly at coming to a consensus for the betterment of all parties involved.  Yet, even though the player is moved by the sincere good intentions of many of his enemies, Connor remains unfazed. His course of action remains unrelentingly straightforward and, expectedly, causes more harm than good. Unity of action between the player and Connor is thus destroyed.

Obligatory "Where is Charles Lee" meme

It is as if the player is teased with an amazing slice of narrative pie, yet is able to devour only a small piece of it before it falls apart. Assassin’s Creed III is a rare instance where either more characterization or less characterization of the main player character would have both been better than the intermediary players experienced.

This is not, however, a criticism to the linear nature of the game. Indeed every single game in the franchise had mostly linear outcomes, with optional “full sync” objectives there to enforce extra linearity.  The criticism lies in the game’s failure to establish unity of purpose between Connor and the player as well as its unsuccessful attempts at maintaining the illusion of free choice.

Both these issues, however, can be tracked down to the tragic nature of the game itself. Whereas Altair and Ezio, from AC I and II respectively, had mostly happy endings (give or take), Connor’s narrative ends in tragedy. Of course Connor survives mission after mission to fight another day, but if there’s one thing that AC III teaches you, it’s that survival does not equal to victory. Almost every plot arch ends with a sense of disappointment at best or outright defeat at worst, and even the few victories Connor gets ultimately contribute to the destruction of everything he cherished. And, for most of these cases, the fault lies more with Connor and his rash, naïve, and compulsive actions than it does with those who oppose him. In fact, Connor’s entire life mission was based upon a single misunderstanding he had when he was a child. And his actions against those who he thought wronged him end up aiding the people who were actually responsible. 

Now video game tragedies are hard to pull off but not impossible. They are tricky to do because on the surface they are contradictory to the basic concept of a video game.  At its core, a game must make gives it player a sense of accomplishment for playing it. It must provide them with a sense of advancement, or, at least, an illusion of advancement to keep them engaged; victory and success are often key components in achieving this. Tragedies operate by highlighting suffering and evoking catharsis amidst its audience; defeat and loss are frequently used tropes in this medium. To combine the two is to merge victory and defeat while maintaining enough intrigue to keep the players, well, playing.

Some of the best video game tragedies make the player character’s ultimate victory and defeat mutually inclusive.  A good example is any game whose underlying plot revolves around a quest for answers. The hero succeeds in gaining his answers, thus achieving victory; however these answers contribute to his downfall or to the shattering of his entire world (mostly metaphorically though literal examples do exist).

Assassin’s Creed III also had an underlying quest for answers for most of the game. However, this gets downplayed as the game goes on until it becomes clear that the answers don’t matter to Connor. He does what he does fully knowing it won’t get him what he wants. Connor’s insistence on serving “justice” ultimately undermines whatever practicality his initial vendetta had in the first place.  In fact, Connor undergoes negative character development towards the end of the game.

Negative character development, however, is also not a bad thing. Showing how a person, despite all his efforts, fails at changing both himself and the world around him can be heartbreaking. Connor’s story should have been heartbreaking. Here’s a person who had to grow up with the emotional damage of watching his mother burn to death in front of him while he was powerless to save her. As an adult his quest for vengeance against his mother’s murderers ultimately ends up assisting his mother’s murderers while misunderstanding after misunderstanding leads to the death of his own father. Yet the players just can’t relate with his tragedy because of the complete lack of emotions on Connor’s part.

I understand that one of Connor’s defining traits is that he is stoic. However, this game would have worked out better had Connor been just a tad more emotional. His lack of emotion, in fact, fails to establish unity of trait between him and the players.

With none of the three unities established between the player and Connor it becomes clear why he was so badly received by the fandom.  But even then there are more factors that affect a game’s relative success than the player character. After all, there have been more than a few games that have gotten away with having subpar PCs.

Let us once again take a look at some of the game’s stronger bits: naval combat, relatable NPCs and, this may come as a surprise to some, the homestead missions. We have already discussed how Connor’s lack of proper emotional responses wastes the potential of these brilliantly designed NPCs, but what about the game mechanic that was so well-received it completely dictated the direction AC III’s sequel would take?

Sailing the high seas amidst a massive storm while canon and mortar shots rain all around you is not an experience too many video games provide. And Assassin’s Creed III managed to reach that equilibrium between realistic sailing and fun naval combat. However in the game’s main storyline, naval combat is massively underutilized! There are less than a handful main quests that involve naval combat with the lion’s share of maritime merriment reduced to side quests. Treating one of the most innovative mechanics in the franchise as a mere curio and side-quest fodder is a grave design flaw, especially when the rest of the game already suffers from general blandness.

And then there are the homestead missions –an upgrade to Assassin Creed II’s Monteriggioni Villa that lets players interact with all the people whose livelihoods are improved as a direct result of the players’ actions. There were some scenarios that genuinely gave me a sense of accomplishment. Yet again, like the naval missions, these too feel underutilized for the sheer fact that they add almost nothing to the main story or quests. The payoff to doing these homestead missions comes more from catharsis and than any overly useful in-game rewards. Sure, there are recipes you can unlock, craft, and trade for some extra dough but it’s just so unnecessarily convoluted that it just isn’t worth it in the long run.

Finally there’s the issue of polish. No game is perfect, that much is clear. And there will always be bugs.  But quite a few of AC III’s issues come from basic design flaws. It’s almost as if some of the minor design decisions were thrown in without consideration. An example of this can be found in the Viewpoints, a series staple since its conception. Previously they were limited to triangular wooden ledges which jut out of the taller structures in any city. This, of course, had the effect of having wooden triangles sticking out of places they really had no business being in. AC:III solution to maintaining the architectural integrity of these structures, however, was much worse.

Instead of a ledge or wooden triangle, the view points were located at the apex of the structures. Connor would have to climb to the very top of every tower or church steeple he encountered and awkwardly balance, pseudo-symbolically, to reveal the surrounding area on the mini-map.  Some of these balancing acts at least look somewhat possible: others, not so much.

Seeing Connor levitate above a weathervane once or twice can be excused. But the sheer number of times this happens makes it a fundamental design flaw. It’s one of those minor things that really start adding up to break the immersion.  It becomes a nuisance. And the fact that this was a conscious design decision instead of just a bug makes it worse.

Not pictured: Physics

Another big example of the lack of polish comes from a majority of the non-naval and non-homestead side quests.  Most of them feel like simple fetch quests when they had the potential to be so much more. The frontiersmen quests where the player has to track down and debunk some urban legends could have been perfectly done as a sort of fact finding/treasure hunting mini game with a few horror elements thrown in. Instead they involve the players simply moving from point A to point B for the most part. It seems as though they were thrown in just to flesh out the otherwise drab “open-world” frontier segments.

Speaking of horror elements, one place where players didn’t want or expect claustrophobia and creepy moaning to show up was in AC: III’s fast travel mechanic. Now, the entire concept of “fast travel” exists to reduce frustration on the part of players by giving them the option to avoid unnecessarily long commutes between objectives, should they want to use it.  The fast-travel system in AC:III, however, includes quite a bit of unnecessary commute before being able to use this convenience.  The tunnel network was obviously included to add depth and immersion, and the first few times you use its actually pretty cool. But the novelty quickly wears off as navigating the dark labyrinth becomes more of an inconvenience than simply walking to the next main quest marker.

Follow the rats.

In conclusion, a lot of Assassin Creed III’s problems come from trying too hard. Understandably, Ezio Auditore was a really tough act to follow up on. And it may have led developers to over compensate on some of the aspects mentioned above. The game had many innovative ideas that would have revitalized the franchise. But unfortunately, the game had too many of them. There was a distinct lack of focus overall and this lack of focus also contributed to the overall lack of polish. Fortunately, many of the more successful mechanics were carried over to the sequel where they fit in better. And, as Assassin Creed IV’s Edward Kenway proved, the complexity of a character’s background and motives is not what solely decides how well they are received. There must be unity between the player and his/her avatar. Let us hope that Assassin’s Creed Unity lives up to its name by establishing that essential unity.

Works Cited

Bernstein, Jeremy. "Characterization, Purpose and Action: Creating Strong Video Game Characters." GDC 2014. San Francisco. Speech.