I Enjoy Worlds

I enjoy media that create worlds and allow me to imagine things within them. To put it another way, I enjoy media that encourage me to be creative. Growing up, I watched cartoon shows—with toy lines that encouraged kids to play out their own adventures. Whenever I read a novel, I often imagine small scenes of myself meeting and talking to the characters; It’s not like it’s a huge part of reading, but it’s always there.  Comic books, mainstream US comic books at least, are designed to accomodate any number of characters and storylines. A story goes from start to finish; a world can engender any number of concepts.

Creating Worlds—The Secret Hobby?

Then, of course, there are tabletop roleplaying games. Perhaps more than any other type of work, a tabletop roleplaying game expects the reader to expand upon what’s given.

I’ve read quite a few tabletop roleplaying game books in my life. I’m sure that’s had some effect on me. Some of these books are written with the expectation that it’s the author’s responsibility to pass along the “true” information about the fictional world; many a supplement has been released detailing some corner of the world or some arcane sub-society. However, other books exhort, even require the reader to fill in the blanks along the way. I don’t want to judge one thing as bad and another good; the one point I want to make is that detailing a fictional world, and detailing how a reader can expand upon a fictional world, are two different skills.

Roleplaying is a hobby that encompasses many different skills, many different activities; world-building is only one of them, and it’s one that’s often glossed over in the books. (Perhaps the most notable exception is Universalis.) And yet, you can find accounts of people who love building worlds, who pursue it in their spare time, to obssessive ends. It seems like worldbuilding is something that’s assumed but not talked about. Perhaps this is a market that’s underserved.

Computer Games

Computer games can evoke worlds in a way no other medium can, by allowing the player to explore them in real time. This was particularly evident in early arcade games, such as Zoo Keeper; it always seemed like there was more to the world than was actually shown. As computer technology improved, it became the norm to portray game environments much more realistically. One could argue that increasing realism made for decreasing mystery, and thus less engagement in the process of imagining the world; I believe there is a fair point there, but I also believe that it is entirely possible to have an intriguing and mysterious world rendered with great realism.

Procedural Generation

It’s possible for programs (such as Dwarf Fortress) to generate well-nigh infinite amounts of internally consistent worlds. However, what knowledge can we gain from these worlds? It depends on how hard we look at them; just look at the case of Tholtig Cryptbrain, Dwarven Queen. Programs can create any amount of data, but meaning comes only from human thought.

Conclusion

As I see it, the process of creation is a neverending loop. Someone creates a work, and that work inspires others, who inspire others in turn—often the original author as well. In some cases the loop is tight, in others it’s more of a cascade; in any case, the tools helping us with our creative efforts are only getting better.

A similar article is Mark Rosewater’s Timmy, Johnny and Spike Revisited.  This article is from the perspective of Magic: the Gathering design, which has several interesting features.  New expansions are released several times a year, each with more than 100 cards; therefore, a lot of cards must be designed on a regular basis. The gist of Mark Rosewater’s article is that he and his team have created several psychographic profiles which encompass the reasons for which people play M:tG. Each profile represents a type of player, but more importantly a reason to play M:tG. Once again, read the article for more detail! And once again, in a nutshell:

“Timmy” plays to experience something, whether it’s something amazing happening within the game, something completely new or just some fun times hanging out with friends. In my mind, this ties in well with the “Tourist” player type from Mitch Krpata’s articles. The focus of this player type is on experiencing something cool that happens within the game.

“Spike” plays to prove something, usually skill, by winning. Of course, M:tG encompasses several skill sets, so there are Spike players who focus on very different parts of the game; finding new deck types, tuning decks or mastering play tactics. This ties in well with the “Skill Player” appellation, seeking mastery over the game.

And finally, “Johnny” plays to express something. These players usually focus on deckbuilding; their decks can contain innovative card interactions, or the decks can be constructed in offbeat or themed ways. This ties in with…wait.

The missing player type

It seems to me that Mitch Krpata has missed an interesting point here. But he’s in good company, as I haven’t heard this idea discussed very often.

There are computer game players who wish to express something with their play. Here are some of the ways they do so:

Some players create things which are meant to be artistic, using the game as a medium. The Dwarf Fortress Map Archive allows players to submit and rate maps, showing things they have created in Dwarf Fortres—tunnels, walls, fortifications, living quarters, treasure rooms, magma fountains and so on. (The most popular map is Flarechannel—Be sure to zoom in to zoom factor 1, actual size, then drag the map around and go to other levels!) Minecraft is also known for this sort of appeal.

Some players will play through a game and make a record of their actions, calling it an “After Action Report” or a “Let’s Play“. These transcripts can be written in the form of a narrative, as with GuavaMoment’s X-COM Apocalypse/Interceptor Let’s Play, or Porkness’ Uplink: Trust is a weakness Let’s Play. Sometimes the narrative emerges through play, as with Boatmurdered. (And I have to say, while Boatmurdered is probably Not Safe For Work with tons of profanity and occasional gore, it’s also hilarious and astonishing.)

Dominions 3 is a fantasy strategy game with a staggering amount of possible unit combinations and strategies. One of the best players goes by Baalz; he’s spent a lot of time playing the game (I hesitate to speculate exactly how much), and he’s good at coming up strategies for just about any nation. The interesting part is that he writes guides to these strategies, which are in themselves quite fun to read! Baalz is really able to express his personality with these guides.

I would also argue that players can express themselves through character customization—not just picking clothes, but also choosing equipment and strategies. And there’s an entire “Narrativist RPG” idea I haven’t touched on. But I think this is a good starting point, at least; that creative expression can be an important part of games, and it will only become more important in the future.

If a game is too easy, the player can feel bored.

If a game is too hard, the player can feel frustrated.

In that zone of “just right” the player can enter a state of intense concentration called flow. Many people seem to find it pleasurable. Of course, it’s probably not appropriate for every game experience.

Let’s assume for that moment that flow is a good thingm that we are designing a game in which we want to guide the player into a state of flow. One of Jenova’s key ideas is that the player should be able to adjust the game’s difficulty level at any time.  If they’re frustrated, they can “step back” and make things easier; if they’re bored, they can seek out greater challenge.

One problem with changing the difficulty level is that it often has no in-world explanation. Difficulty level is a concept about the game, an expression of game mechanics, not something that happens in the game. It’s tough to come up with a reason for the player to be able to change the game’s fictional reality in such a fundamental way and not in such a way as to let them win the game instantly.  Kingdom of Loathing is the only game I know which provides justifications for the player changing the difficulty level.

Difficulty Locks

Some games implement an idea I think of as difficulty locks. The player reaches points in the game where they may attempt harder challenges, or they may stay at their current level and continue playing until they feel ready. Many computer role-playing games use this model; the player may wander around and fight random monsters, acquiring loot and “experience”, until they finally decide to take on the next boss.

Castlevania: Symphony of the Night is an interesting example in that it tests both player skill and time (as I’ve written about before). The player may wait until they have a character powerful enough to definitively defeat the boss, or they may rely on their skill to win the fight. In other words, if the player finds a fight that is too frustrating, they can wander around the areas just before it until they become powerful and/or skilled enough to progress.

Dwarf Fortress: Delving Too Deeply (minor spoilers)

Dwarf Fortress contains an interesting set of features in this vein (pun intended). Playing Dwarf Fortress, you start with a settlement of dwarves on the surface. You can direct your dwarves to dig into the ground to construct rooms and hallways. From the surface, your fortress will most likely be attacked by goblins, and perhaps wild animals like wolves or elephants.

Digging deeply enough will bring you to an underground cavern layer. Here you will find more valuable gems and ores, but you will also find tougher monsters like cave crocodiles. Delving still deeper will yield entry into a second cavern layer, then a third, each with progressively more powerful denizens. Below the three cavern layers lies a magma sea. And below that is something DF players obliquely refer to as “Hidden Fun Stuff“…in other words, something really bad.

With this set of features, Dwarf Fortress allows the player to take on additional challenges whenever they feel up to it. It’s not as finely grained as it could be, but it does have the advantage of being completely justified by the world’s setting.

However, game designers intend games to be played in certain ways.  They usually expect players to perform a certain series of actions—but players can discover otheractions that provide higher scores.  This might be an example of an exploit.

An “exploit” is a strategy that is permitted by the rules but has some sort of “unfair” advantage.  By contrast, cheating is a strategy that goes outside the rules.

What makes an exploit unfair?

This is the real difficulty.  The things I’ve been talking about are vague and subjective: “designer intent”, “unfair advantage”.  As I mentioned, designers intend games to be played in certain ways—but players don’t necessarily know what the intent is.  The game itself is the medium by which designers convey their intent.  It’s entirely possible for players to disagree about what strategies are exploitative vs. fair.  We could be cynical and say that players benefiting from strategies are less likely to consider them exploits…and other players, feeling slighted, would be more likely to call them unfair.

Is it a player’s job to figure out what strategies are unfair and avoid them?  Strictly speaking, the answer is no.  A player’s “job” is only to take actions that are within the rules of the game—whatever actions they see fit.  On the other hand, some people are willing and able to make judgements about the unfairness of strategies.  I think of antitrust law as an example of this; At one point companies hit upon strategies that made them a great deal of money, but the strategies were considered unfair by society at large.  (An economic system is not a game, but it does share some characteristics with games—namely, it’s a system of rules with a score system.)

I believe that games are becoming a larger part of society as time goes on.  With that in mind, more people have experience playing and designing games.  Perhaps society will develop a greater awareness of rules systems and a greater willingness to judge strategies on the grounds of fairness.

A lot of people have been getting excited about social games.  Apparently there’s a lot of money in them.  But are these games really “social”?

First, Some Basics

By “social games” I refer, really, to Facebook games.  Farmville would be the archetypal example.  I’m sure there are similar games on Myspace, maybe other networks, but I’m not personally familiar with them.

Every creative work is influenced by its medium.  Some take advantage of the unique features of that medium, and that often leads to success.  I believe the most successful Facebook games are highly suited to Facebook as a platform.

What is Facebook like, really?

I believe the most important feature of Facebook is one that does not get mentioned very often.  Put simply:

Facebook is a website that people check multiple times a day.

It’s this factor, more than any other, that influences the design of Facebook games.

• Facebook games often give you “energy to play”.  You don’t have much energy, so you can’t do very much at once.  So you have to come back on a regular basis.
• Energy recovers over time.  If you come back in an hour or two, you’ll have the opportunity to do more stuff.
• Some games have “appointment mechanics”.  You set something up, then you have a certain window in the future where you have to return to get a benefit; not too early and not too late.  You can fit this into your schedule of website visits (8-10 hours, 12-14 hours or several days in the future).

So, the whole point of Facebook games is to be played in short bursts throughout the day.  This is why Adrian Chan tore apart the SCVNGR Playdeck for not featuring social mechanics; the mechanics weren’t social, they were focused on the style of play I’ve just described.  (There were other reasons he didn’t like the deck, but I believe that was the main one.)

Okay, Maybe a LITTLE Social

Of course, Facebook games have features that use the Facebook social network.  Key among those is the ability to invite other users to play the game.

But then, if the invitees don’t have any function in the game, the invites become merely a form of advertising for other single players.

Many games do have features that allow players to interact with their friends’ game states; however, I don’t feel like summarizing them here.  I haven’t yet seen any that, to my estimation, truly tap into the potential of social networking (beyond advertising).

But hey, if you think I’m wrong and you have a good counterexample, leave a comment and we’ll talk about it!

I’ve played a few games that use a mechanic I call “dual-state platforming”.  Let’s start specific and then generalize; The best example I can think of is Legacy of Kain: Soul Reaver.

Legacy of Kain: Soul Reaver

This is a game where you portray Raziel, a supernatural being.  Formerly a vampire, Raziel has become more ghostly as of late.  This esoteric undead form has some unusual features.

• Raziel normally exists on the “physical plane”, but when he loses all his health he slips into the “spectral plane”.
• Alternately, Raziel can move from the physical plane to the spectral plane at will.
• The spectral plane is much like the physical plane, but some features differ.  Some platforms are at different heights, some doors differ in being open or closed.
• Raziel may move from the spectral plane to the physical plane (and recover some health) at “planar portals”.  These are fixed locations.

There are a few other wrinkles, but this gives you the basic idea.  In fact, these simple rules already lead to interesting game patterns.

• The way is blocked on the physical plane.  In the spectral plane, the obstacle can be bypassed, and there’s a planar portal beyond that lets Raziel continue onward.
• The way is blocked on the physical plane by a door.  A switch can open the door, but it’s inaccessible.  Traveling on the spectral plane lets Raziel access the switch, which opens a path on the physical plane.  (This requires a planar portal near the switch.)

Expanding to the Abstract

Let’s generalize a bit.

• There is an environment that can be explored.
• The environment has obstacles that block progress.
• The character can enter different states.
• The states affect the environment and its obstacles.
• The environment influences the character’s ability to move between states.

From this we can see that dual-state platformers are much like logic mazes.

Future Directions

Of course, there’s no reason we have to be confined to only two states.  Eversion is a good example of multiple states.

Computers Are Good At Some Things But Not Others

Computers can keep track of vast amounts of information and manipulate it quickly.  Consider a “game state” in Dominions 3: A world made up of 200 ‘provinces’, each of which may be affected by various magic effects, inhabited by different numbers of population, hosting various army units which themselves may be suffering from effects, etc., etc.?  For a modern computer it’s easy to keep track of it all.  And then processing a turn where any and all of those units may move and interact?  Done in seconds.

However, this is possible because all the rules by which the game elements interact are clearly spelled out.  Someone had to decide what would happen in each and every case.  They worked for years to get it up and running.  Most people don’t want to spend the time to work out all that programming.

Consider, also, interactive fiction.  One of the hardest tasks is writing a parser to figure out just what the player is trying to do.  When a good parser is created, other authors will happily write hundreds of games that use it.

Humans Are Good At Some Things But Not Others

Most of us can’t keep track of a hundred provinces or armies.  However, we can weigh possibilities and make decisions in a heartbeat; decisions that it would take months to program a computer for.

The Obvious Conclusion

Recently some people have been taking the idea of a computer game and letting people make the hard decisions.  One example is Parsely.  Parsely brings to mind the environment and interaction of an interactive fiction game, but the parser is replaced by a human.  Humans are, of course, notoriously good at interpreting language.  Therefore, the game plays quite smoothly.  The experience becomes much closer to improvisational theater than game playing, since the emphasis is on humans interacting.

Along the same vein is Sleep is Death.  One player enters a computer-graphics world and interacts with it.  The consequences of the interactions are decided by the second player.  The game affords the ability to rearrange and manipulate game objects as if they were scenery.  The computer doesn’t have to interpret or decide anything; that’s all left up to the players.

Yet another example is How to Host a Dungeon.  This “game” is notable for several reasons.  First, it doesn’t include any meaningful choices, thus it may be inaccurate to call it a “game”.  It’s meant to be a solo activity of dungeon creation; through the course of How to Host a Dungeon, you’ll create a series of underground rooms with a history of habitation by various fantasy creatures.  Play consists of actually drawing rooms on a sheet of paper.  This puts a number of interesting decisions into the player’s hands; If dwarves tunnel near a cave containing water, do they dig into it or leave it be?  How close do they have to be to tunnel into it?  These are decisions the player weighs as they go through the game.  A computer might have to be programmed with dozens of complex rules to make good decisions; a human can make them in a moment.  Not only does this save time, it also lets the player guide the dungeon’s development according to their own preferences, thus making it uniquely their own creation.

Taking this concept a bit further, I could mention Dwarf Fortress.  Of course Dwarf Fortress is known for spending a lot of effort to simulate a plausible fantasy world in real time.  However, as Josh Diaz’ master’s thesis “Dwarf Fortress Gathers At The Statue And Attends A Party” notes, much of the “play” occurs when Dwarf Fortress players interpret, repurpose and guide the events occurring within the game.  The game takes care of what it does best—keeping track of an entire world’s worth of information, while the humans do what they do best—constructing meaning and narrative out of chaos.

Another Perspective—Is This Really So Impressive?

From another perspective, this phenomenon is nothing new.  Parsely is a lot like improvisational comedy, where the players are encouraged to portray interaction with an IF game interface (making use of the associated tropes as well).  Sleep is Death is like roleplaying, only you have scenery on the computer.

I suspect the presentation is what’s new here.  There are lots of people who assume everything in the game has to be calculated by the computer, but this recent crop of games shows that leaving it up to the humans can lead to interesting possibilities.  If nothing else, it lets the players see that they really can do interesting things on their own, and it might even encourage them to explore their creativity even more.

The Future, Part A—Computer Training

Neural networks are computer models for making tough decisions.  They are adaptive, in the sense that they go through a learning phase before being used.  In the learning phase, you give the neural network a lot of data to train it; “This is a possible input, and this is what should be output”.  Once training is over, the network knows how to make those tough decisions (in theory, anyway).  De-automation shows us that some areas of decision-making are still difficult; these might be good candidates for neural networks.  (Assuming we want to re-automate everything; I suspect some people will go that route even if not everyone does.)

The Future, Part B—Composition

Three of the examples I’ve mentioned—Sleep is Death, How to Host a Dungeon and Dwarf Fortress—are all designed to assist in the process of creation.  They explore the division of labor between humans and computers.  What other creative tasks can computers help us with?

The basic idea is that one person starts writing the story (or writing and drawing, as most often these stories can be described as comics).  After one or two panels, the author solicits ideas from the audience.  After suggestions are provided, the author picks however many he or she likes, then draws another set of panels.  Repeat.

I believe these stories are meant to emulate computer games.  That’s why they’re so often written in second person, as in “You open the door”; e.g. “What Do You Do?“.

MS Paint Adventures is not a game. Except that it is a game, absolutely.

—Greg Costikyan

Of course, there are also obvious parallels to various forms of role-playing (cf. Parsely).

What are the characteristics of this “thing”?

By providing suggestions, the readers have a sense of being more involved in the story.  The process of suggesting courses of action naturally leads to an engaged community of readers.  Some choices generate enough suggestions to be put to a vote by the readers.  (Ruby Quest notably did this several times.)  Obviously, this form of storytelling is well suited to online forums; readers can discuss and have input on the story even if they only check the forum once a day.  (It depends on the speed of the story, of course.)

Another thing to note is that the readers don’t need to do much work to interact with the story.  This allows for even casual readers to participate, even if they don’t actually affect the story.  (See also 42 Entertainment’s inverted pyramid player model.)

In this form of storytelling, the author can pick and choose whichever suggestions he or she desires to take.  The characters in the story can even reject suggestions judged to be absurd.  (“That would be a stupid idea!”)  Cynical readers will say that the author is “forcing” certain actions into the story (or “railroading”, a term that I suspect is from roleplaying game fandom).  I think this is actually an intriguing criticism, because it comes from the viewpoint that interactivity is expected.  In other words, because the net-native nature of the story allows readers to influence the plot, they should be able to.

As for myself, I think the balance between “order” and “chaos” has to be worked out with each individual author and audience; in fact, with each individual story.  However, I will say that the potential of net-native literature has, at this point, barely been tapped.  If you want to create something entirely new, you’ll need to let the audience influence the story.

What do we call this “thing”?

People on the MSPA Forum call them “Forum Adventures”, which is fine for their community, but I don’t think it would work as a true umbrella term.  (After all, there are other possible game and roleplaying forms that could occur on a forum.)

1d4chan calls them “Quests”, because so many started popping up that they had to call them something.  (Enough to warrant an entirely new forum!)  However, I don’t think this term is descriptive enough.  (What doesn’t “quest” mean at this point?)

I’ve come up with a number of possible terms:

• Improvisational storytelling—This art form does appear to have a lot in common with improv comedy.
• Many-to-one storytelling—Descriptive, but academic.
• Many-to-one roleplaying—”Roleplaying” seems more in line with Parsely than this particular narrative form.  But this does make me curious as to what many-to-one roleplaying would really be like.  (I suspect there have been one or two games that tried it, but I can’t recall at the moment.)
• Crowd-sourced storytelling—Actually, this sounds like it might be something different.  It seems to imply that there is no one author/moderator.  Once again, it makes me wonder what “crowd-sourced storytelling” would really be like.
• Audience-prompted storytelling—This is my favorite of the terms (as you can probably tell from the title of this entry).  I think this term well captures the idea of the author creating stuff prompted by the audience.

Where can we take this in the future?

Most of the current audience-prompted stories take the forum of webcomics, with a few completely text-based ones.  There’s the whole universe of graphic design to draw on (acrylics? pencil sketches on notepaper?), but let’s go farther.  It’s easy to imagine other media forms involved, like video.  (Anyone else get a shiver imagining Joss Whedon and Neil Patrick Harris with a video camera and a web forum?)

This can lead us to think of audience-prompted storytelling as a process:

1. Author provides content.
2. Audience discusses content.
3. Audience provides suggestions.
4. Author considers suggestions for inspiration of new content.
5. Repeat.

This definition is broad enough that many existing works fit into it.  In theory, a massively multiplayer game that pushes sets of new content has probably let player comments influence the creation of that content.  Legend of the Five Rings and its “deep, evolving story” are a better example.

While many experiences could fit into this mold, I think the real strength of this particular narrative form is h0w easy it is to participate.  Anyone can sign up to a forum and plop an idea down in the correct thread…and they might have a powerful influence on the story.  And even if they don’t, they may spark a discussion about their idea.

That’s the kind of thing that just might make people feel welcome in a new community…

Most games appear to consist of three basic components:

• Mechanics are the rules, the guidelines that tell you what happens, when.
• Statistics are data to be used with the rules.  They often tell you how to use certain things (ideas) with the rules.
• Setting is information that has no game effect; it’s there to explain the “world” to the players, set the mood and the atmosphere, and so on.

Some examples will make this clear.  Let’s think about, oh, say a space opera sci-fi RPG.

• The mechanics will tell you what character attributes mean, how to use dice to resolve things, how space combat differs from hand-held laser combat, and so on.
• The statistics will tell you how to use different spaceships, weapons, character races, etc. in the game.
• The setting will tell you what these various alien races are doing wandering around in the universe shooting at each other.

These divisions apply to computer games as well, of course.  Mechanics would be the game “engine”, the rules that specify how game elements interact; statistics are data and assets used with the game, specifying the game elements…and the setting would be anything displayed to the player that doesn’t have a direct game effect, as well as manuals and such things.

Thoughts About Mechanics

Mechanics generally comprise only a small portion of tabletop RPG books.  Of course, they’re perhaps the most important; merely changing how dice are rolled can have a very different effect on how a game plays.  Intuitively, it seems as though mechanics are “the most important”.

Historically, computer game mechanics have been the most difficult part of the game to create; that’s where you have to have the computer actually do stuff, after all, like input and output.  Recent tools are making this easier, though.  With modding, you can use someone else’s mechanics and your own stats and setting.

Thoughts About Stats

If mechanics comprise only a small part of a game system, then statistics probably make up the largest part.  They provide the environment the players wander around in, and that leads to interesting decisions.  For example, providing a list of weapons means players get to choose which one to equip.

RPG supplements are nearly all stat.  This is where a lot of the creative hard work is done.  (Mechanics seem more like “flashes of genius”, but I’m sure there’s a lot of testing and iteration involved.)

Some games are basically defined by their stats.  Magic: the Gathering, for example, releases a new set of cards every few months.  These cards almost all work with existing rules, with a few simple additions and revisions each time.

With more game engines and game tools becoming public, more and more people are getting into creating stats.

Thoughts About Setting

It might seem that setting is the least important of these three components.  By definition, it has no game effect.  However, playing a game is more than manipulating game elements; what really matters is the player’s experience.  That experience can be greatly affected by the setting material.  This is an opportunity that shouldn’t be neglected.  Of course, some players may be unwilling to read through a novel’s worth of text in order to play a game…I guess the trick is to create material that gets its point across quickly.  (You can always provide optional, longer versions—an in-game “encyclopedia”, for example—for those who are interested.)

Specifically, I’m going to talk about Urban Dead.  (In fact, I’ve already written quite a bit about Urban Dead, but I should summarize for those readers just now joining me.)  UD is a text-based, browser-based massively multiplayer game.  Survivors and zombies are trapped in the city of Malton.  Starting characters acquire experience points through fighting, and they spend these points skills to let them become more lethal zombies and/or survivors.  Another interesting wrinkle is that survivors who die become zombies…and zombies can be “revived”, becoming survivors!  This lets players try out both roles and develop both skill trees.

Eventually, of course, your character will acquire all the skills that exist.  You might stop playing at this point…or you could get a bit deeper into the game.

The game truly is “massively multiplayer”.  All the players exist in the same world at the same time.  (Well, Malton is the “main” town and there are a couple other, less populated towns.)  People do stuff using action points, which accumulate over time.  Thus, people are logging in at all hours of the day to perform actions that affect the world.  If you’re a survivor who logs out in a barricaded building, you might log in the next day to find that the zombies have torn down the barricades, swarmed in and turned everyone inside into zombies…and now you get to work on your zombie skill tree.

Malton is made up of a number of neighborhoods, each with its own layout of buildings, empty lots, streets and even malls.  There is safety in numbers; Survivors will congregate and barricade buildings in their neighborhoods to keep out zombies.  Zombies will congregate and ruin buildings in their neighborhoods, making them inhospitable for survivors.  And occasionally, some motivated people will get a bunch of friends together and make a foray into enemy territory.

Malton’s map is a mix of human and zombie influence, perennially shifting as skirmishes occur. That link should take you to the “Building Information Center” on the UD Wiki; scroll down to see the current state of Malton (red for zombie presence, green for zombie-free areas).  This map is continually updated by reports from players.

Malton is, quite literally, a warzone.  The two sides struggle back and forth to gain advantage over each other.  One could imagine power players on the two sides viewing it as a giant chess game, using field reports to puzzle out their opponents’ strategies and plot new attacks.

The Warzone Metagame

This kind of metagame can actually be found in several other games nowadays.  EVE Online and Guild Wars come to mind; I’m sure there are other examples.  The whole point is organized attacks on enemy territory.  However, there are a couple of important wrinkles.

Negative feedback keeps armies from building on their advantages.  If new territory increases the conqueror’s power, then it will allow them to take even more territory; this positive feedback loop may allow an initially successful side to win in short order.  In Malton, territory doesn’t actually provide you with anything.  (For survivors, it means short supply lines and mobility; those are the only real advantages I can think of.)

Incentives for attack keep players attempting attacks.  In UD, oddly enough, there doesn’t seem to be much incentive for attack…except that fighting is what zombies and survivors do.  (It’s a very easy premise to buy into.)

Fortifications allow players to develop an emotional attachment to pieces of territory.  Investment of time and effort leads to emotional investment.

Status information lets players know the state of the world.  (In UD, most of this is provided by players, but it seems to work well.)

Outflanking allows players to take advantage of attacks.  Soldiers attacking a new territory may leave their home territory undefended.  This can lead to all sorts of wild reversals.

How about it, have I left anything out?