Better Than the Worst:
A Newbie’s
Guide to Sidestepping Ridicule
The 2008 Revival
Part One
By Jeremy Bursey (Pepsi Ranger)
Throughout history, man proved he grows impatient toward getting what
he wants. Whether acquisition is premeditated or impulsive, nothing
escapes the urge to get what’s due. From winning a date with
the girl next door, to winning the fame of the entire world, every step
is marked with the want-it-now attitude. But what does impatience teach
us, other than the embarrassment of buying a DVD player for $300 when
that same store marks it down to $150 the following week? It teaches us
that the world is full of bad choices and stinks of low-quality junk.
“But what’s wrong with the junk of the
world?” you may ask. True, without junk, who’d have
the spare parts needed to replace things when the good stuff finally
gets old? Without junk, how would anyone know what’s really
great? Without junk, why would we dream of the best there is to have?
Yes, we need junk, but not to celebrate the goods of society. We need
it to know where we went wrong.
There was a game released years ago that every OHR surfer knows about,
a game not known for wonderful graphics or amazing sound, nor awesome
gameplay or use of wallmaps. Neither was it credited with a memorable
story. Rather, it’s recognized as the joke of the community,
the one that can do no worse. The game is Magnus and no one has respect
for it.
Let us now offer it a moment of silence.
Okay, so why has it earned such low regard? Nothing can be so bad that
it earns every medal of dishonor that a community can dish out, right?
I mean, the author must’ve put some heart into his project,
am I wrong? Or was Magnus the product of every newbie mistake
imaginable?
This article is not meant to slam Magnus, or even to examine it. The
author knows where he went wrong. The community knows where the game
went wrong. Let’s give Magnus a break. Instead,
let’s examine the virus it unleashed into future OHR games
and try to figure out how to kill it.
First of all, why should a newbie author care how good or how bad
Magnus, Hamburgerman RPG, or any other game really is? It’s
not his game, right? As long as his is released by next week and that
everyone raves because it’s the best thing to come out since
Pac-Man, he’s content. He’ll upload it to Castle
Paradox where the next hot reviewer will give it a perfect ten because
they suck if they don’t. Then HamsterSpeak will come out a
few days later to nominate it the game of the year. Finally, when
awards time rolls around, every voter will pick his game to win every
category because they suck if they don’t. Then
he’ll float to the top of the world because he just beat out
Airship 2600 for the top spot in game design.
But then reality comes, somebody smacks him hard across the back of the
head, counteracting it with a bitch slap across the face, and he wakes
up to realize he just created Terrible Game 2: The Sequel.
“So what’s the point of this article?”
you may ask. “Why pick on us newbies so badly? All you old
timers were newbies once, too, right? You all made crappy games at one
time, right? What right do you have to say our games are jokes? Maybe
our games are the good ones and yours are the ones that suck. Ever
think of that?” Well, if this is your response to criticism,
then relax because this article is not meant to ostracize you.
It’s meant to help you.
Eight years ago, I didn’t think I could make an RPG.
Some may play my newbie game and argue I still can’t make an
RPG, but some think it’s good. Why? Why would a newbie have a
game someone would actually consider (dare I say it)
“good?” Isn’t that forbidden? No, not
really. Here’s why:
Lesson #1: Patience is a Virtue.
“Oh, yeah right. You just said yourself that impatience
brings forth junk—which we all need to discern the better
things in life, right? Some virtue!” Again, calm down.
I’ll admit it’s hard to have patience about
something that’s exciting and new (I finally had to recruit
playtesters because of this). But try it anyway. Though I
haven’t played every OHR game available, I’ve
played enough to separate the good from the bad. And let me say that
the bad is really bad. Why? Because it’s clearly rushed. The
worst games (or anything for that matter) are the ones that have no
time devoted to them.
Okay, maybe there’s actually a lot of time devoted to them,
but why are they still considered rushed?
The object behind the first lesson is to realize that no one wants to
play an unfinished product. Too often newbies think what they have is
amazing, and in their excitement to share it release something
that’s pockmarked. Then their “pride and
joy” becomes a laughingstock, and if they still have the
courage to show their faces in the community they don’t have
the guts to bring their beloved project with them. I know this well
because I almost did it twice.
“So how do we fight impatience?” you may ask. Well,
that’s more of a spiritual question than a gaming question,
but I can say it requires will power. “Okay, well
that’s pretty lame,” you may say, but
that’s the way it goes. Without getting past step one of the
“Making a Better Newbie” process, the continuation
of this article will be pretty useless. However, if the battle against
impatience can be won, then there’s still hope that a newbie
game can be wonderful. In fact, I guarantee that some of the best games
available started as newbie projects.
Hopefully, Lesson #1 will encourage all designers to spend extra time
making a better game. And since that’s the most important
step, I’ll end here to allow time for reflection. Part Two
will list things I found helpful in my own game development, so stay
tuned for that.