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It's been done a few times before I think but, after playing Medal of Honour: Allied Assault, I feel inspired to jot down my thoughts on the topic of immersion. You see I didn't think much of MOH:AA. Yes, it was very, very well done: graphically excellent; challenging; half-decent storyline; some stunning set-pieces; I could go on. But the game committed a few unforgivable sins in the consistency of its universe. There were several moments when I thought, 'This is just a stupid GAME!' The lack of total immersion is what stops the game from being a classic.
So, what is immersion? How is it achieved and how is it lost?
The essence of gaming is to entertain. But the actual physical necessities of play - the pressing of buttons, the manipulation of a stick or d-pad - are themselves not at all entertsining. In fact, sitting in front of a powered-off PS2 and shoogling the joypad around is a deathly dull experience. There is a kind of magic at work in the software that can make you forget how bored your fingers must be. (This relationship, of course, cuts both ways, because without the joypad and the thrill of interaction, the magic is lost. How else to explain an exasperated parent asking if you are still playing that 'stupid game'?)
This magic is immersion, something that robs you of your self-awareness during play. And although few videogamers believe themselves to BE a world-class footballer (or rally-driver, or bouncing Italian plumber), even fewer think of themselves as sitting in front of a TV, tapping away at a piece of plastic. Few of us, after all, would bother to play a videogame that instead of transporting you to a hostile warzone or an alien galaxy, left you sprawled in your bedroom in front of a screen. It is immersion that gives videogames their uniqiue s entertainment: the ability to recreate myriad worlds and experiences on a single, otherwise unremarkable, piece of hardware.
Immersion, though, is hard won and fragile. It is easy for an ill-designed piece of software to fail to draw a player in, easier still for the player to be jarred back into the real world. Such rude awakenings can have external causes, such as being told that dinner is ready or the arrival of the baillifs. But it is the internal causes that I am most interested in.
For the sake of brevity, I'll just look at one way to ruin immersion: having an inconsistent game world. This was my major gripe with Medal of Honour: Allied Assault. Basically my feelings on this are: if a rule applies to one thing in a gaming universe, then it should apply to everything in that universe. This means that I should be able to blow up doors with a rocket launcher; and that a bullet which fatally wounds an enemy grunt should not pass unnoticed through the skull of an NPC. The inclusion of magic doors and magic heads into an otherwise very good physics engine really ruined the illusion for me: I want the freedom to use what has been given to me. The programmer might not approve of me killing my teammates, for example, but he should punish me for the action, not remove the freedom to do it.
The real killer in Medal of Honour, though, was receiving a new mission while trying to exfiltrate a base. Fair enough, you might think. But you'd be wrong. You see, not only did I receive my new orders while crawling along a ventilation duct, but the orders took the form of A NICELY TYPED LETTER BEARING THE SIGNATURE OF MY COMMANDING OFFICER! Whatever wartime propaganda might have had you believe, the postal service was never THAT good. This sort of thing makes me cringe: would it have been so difficult to have fitted me with a radio, and broadcast my orders through that? If the orders had to be displayed visually, then why not display a transcript of the conversation?
This is just one example of a rude ending to the immersive experience. But it goes to show how important an issue immersion is in games design: only the lack of it in MOH:AA stopped me from considering the game a true benchmark i nPC gaming.
So, what is immersion? How is it achieved and how is it lost?
The essence of gaming is to entertain. But the actual physical necessities of play - the pressing of buttons, the manipulation of a stick or d-pad - are themselves not at all entertsining. In fact, sitting in front of a powered-off PS2 and shoogling the joypad around is a deathly dull experience. There is a kind of magic at work in the software that can make you forget how bored your fingers must be. (This relationship, of course, cuts both ways, because without the joypad and the thrill of interaction, the magic is lost. How else to explain an exasperated parent asking if you are still playing that 'stupid game'?)
This magic is immersion, something that robs you of your self-awareness during play. And although few videogamers believe themselves to BE a world-class footballer (or rally-driver, or bouncing Italian plumber), even fewer think of themselves as sitting in front of a TV, tapping away at a piece of plastic. Few of us, after all, would bother to play a videogame that instead of transporting you to a hostile warzone or an alien galaxy, left you sprawled in your bedroom in front of a screen. It is immersion that gives videogames their uniqiue s entertainment: the ability to recreate myriad worlds and experiences on a single, otherwise unremarkable, piece of hardware.
Immersion, though, is hard won and fragile. It is easy for an ill-designed piece of software to fail to draw a player in, easier still for the player to be jarred back into the real world. Such rude awakenings can have external causes, such as being told that dinner is ready or the arrival of the baillifs. But it is the internal causes that I am most interested in.
For the sake of brevity, I'll just look at one way to ruin immersion: having an inconsistent game world. This was my major gripe with Medal of Honour: Allied Assault. Basically my feelings on this are: if a rule applies to one thing in a gaming universe, then it should apply to everything in that universe. This means that I should be able to blow up doors with a rocket launcher; and that a bullet which fatally wounds an enemy grunt should not pass unnoticed through the skull of an NPC. The inclusion of magic doors and magic heads into an otherwise very good physics engine really ruined the illusion for me: I want the freedom to use what has been given to me. The programmer might not approve of me killing my teammates, for example, but he should punish me for the action, not remove the freedom to do it.
The real killer in Medal of Honour, though, was receiving a new mission while trying to exfiltrate a base. Fair enough, you might think. But you'd be wrong. You see, not only did I receive my new orders while crawling along a ventilation duct, but the orders took the form of A NICELY TYPED LETTER BEARING THE SIGNATURE OF MY COMMANDING OFFICER! Whatever wartime propaganda might have had you believe, the postal service was never THAT good. This sort of thing makes me cringe: would it have been so difficult to have fitted me with a radio, and broadcast my orders through that? If the orders had to be displayed visually, then why not display a transcript of the conversation?
This is just one example of a rude ending to the immersive experience. But it goes to show how important an issue immersion is in games design: only the lack of it in MOH:AA stopped me from considering the game a true benchmark i nPC gaming.
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One thing that really kills immersion is when games show loading screens. Daft. They spend the whole game trying to convey the realness of their artificial world, and then wreck everyones immersion by showing how its loading.
Loading textures/speech/character models etc.
Loading textures/speech/character models etc.
Immersion is a wonderful thing: it's the point when you lose yourself in a game to the point where you really begin to believe that what you are doing "actually matters".
This is one of the reasons why HALO has been praised so much - very immersive and believable, until that is you get in the jeep. The steering is so sensitive and the handling so unrealistic, that I was instantly reminded that "this is a game". But surely all games have their "immersion-breaking-moments".
This is one of the reasons why HALO has been praised so much - very immersive and believable, until that is you get in the jeep. The steering is so sensitive and the handling so unrealistic, that I was instantly reminded that "this is a game". But surely all games have their "immersion-breaking-moments".
A very good post... I think that immersion is the next step forward for gaming. We have the ability to render and create amazing, lifelike graphics, the developers are there to create amazing games, companies like Factor can develop amazing sound, so the next step is to feel like your actually there. With the quality of graphics we are capable of immersion can be attained if enough care is lavished on the game. For years people talked about Virtual reality and how wonderful it would be to actually live the game - well, I think we have the technology to 'live' the game now, just not with a massive headset weighing us down...
Replace the phrase 'uniqiue s entertainment' with 'uniqueness as entertainment' and the fourth paragraph almost makes sense.
It's been done a few times before I think but, after playing Medal of Honour: Allied Assault, I feel inspired to jot down my thoughts on the topic of immersion. You see I didn't think much of MOH:AA. Yes, it was very, very well done: graphically excellent; challenging; half-decent storyline; some stunning set-pieces; I could go on. But the game committed a few unforgivable sins in the consistency of its universe. There were several moments when I thought, 'This is just a stupid GAME!' The lack of total immersion is what stops the game from being a classic.
So, what is immersion? How is it achieved and how is it lost?
The essence of gaming is to entertain. But the actual physical necessities of play - the pressing of buttons, the manipulation of a stick or d-pad - are themselves not at all entertsining. In fact, sitting in front of a powered-off PS2 and shoogling the joypad around is a deathly dull experience. There is a kind of magic at work in the software that can make you forget how bored your fingers must be. (This relationship, of course, cuts both ways, because without the joypad and the thrill of interaction, the magic is lost. How else to explain an exasperated parent asking if you are still playing that 'stupid game'?)
This magic is immersion, something that robs you of your self-awareness during play. And although few videogamers believe themselves to BE a world-class footballer (or rally-driver, or bouncing Italian plumber), even fewer think of themselves as sitting in front of a TV, tapping away at a piece of plastic. Few of us, after all, would bother to play a videogame that instead of transporting you to a hostile warzone or an alien galaxy, left you sprawled in your bedroom in front of a screen. It is immersion that gives videogames their uniqiue s entertainment: the ability to recreate myriad worlds and experiences on a single, otherwise unremarkable, piece of hardware.
Immersion, though, is hard won and fragile. It is easy for an ill-designed piece of software to fail to draw a player in, easier still for the player to be jarred back into the real world. Such rude awakenings can have external causes, such as being told that dinner is ready or the arrival of the baillifs. But it is the internal causes that I am most interested in.
For the sake of brevity, I'll just look at one way to ruin immersion: having an inconsistent game world. This was my major gripe with Medal of Honour: Allied Assault. Basically my feelings on this are: if a rule applies to one thing in a gaming universe, then it should apply to everything in that universe. This means that I should be able to blow up doors with a rocket launcher; and that a bullet which fatally wounds an enemy grunt should not pass unnoticed through the skull of an NPC. The inclusion of magic doors and magic heads into an otherwise very good physics engine really ruined the illusion for me: I want the freedom to use what has been given to me. The programmer might not approve of me killing my teammates, for example, but he should punish me for the action, not remove the freedom to do it.
The real killer in Medal of Honour, though, was receiving a new mission while trying to exfiltrate a base. Fair enough, you might think. But you'd be wrong. You see, not only did I receive my new orders while crawling along a ventilation duct, but the orders took the form of A NICELY TYPED LETTER BEARING THE SIGNATURE OF MY COMMANDING OFFICER! Whatever wartime propaganda might have had you believe, the postal service was never THAT good. This sort of thing makes me cringe: would it have been so difficult to have fitted me with a radio, and broadcast my orders through that? If the orders had to be displayed visually, then why not display a transcript of the conversation?
This is just one example of a rude ending to the immersive experience. But it goes to show how important an issue immersion is in games design: only the lack of it in MOH:AA stopped me from considering the game a true benchmark i nPC gaming.
So, what is immersion? How is it achieved and how is it lost?
The essence of gaming is to entertain. But the actual physical necessities of play - the pressing of buttons, the manipulation of a stick or d-pad - are themselves not at all entertsining. In fact, sitting in front of a powered-off PS2 and shoogling the joypad around is a deathly dull experience. There is a kind of magic at work in the software that can make you forget how bored your fingers must be. (This relationship, of course, cuts both ways, because without the joypad and the thrill of interaction, the magic is lost. How else to explain an exasperated parent asking if you are still playing that 'stupid game'?)
This magic is immersion, something that robs you of your self-awareness during play. And although few videogamers believe themselves to BE a world-class footballer (or rally-driver, or bouncing Italian plumber), even fewer think of themselves as sitting in front of a TV, tapping away at a piece of plastic. Few of us, after all, would bother to play a videogame that instead of transporting you to a hostile warzone or an alien galaxy, left you sprawled in your bedroom in front of a screen. It is immersion that gives videogames their uniqiue s entertainment: the ability to recreate myriad worlds and experiences on a single, otherwise unremarkable, piece of hardware.
Immersion, though, is hard won and fragile. It is easy for an ill-designed piece of software to fail to draw a player in, easier still for the player to be jarred back into the real world. Such rude awakenings can have external causes, such as being told that dinner is ready or the arrival of the baillifs. But it is the internal causes that I am most interested in.
For the sake of brevity, I'll just look at one way to ruin immersion: having an inconsistent game world. This was my major gripe with Medal of Honour: Allied Assault. Basically my feelings on this are: if a rule applies to one thing in a gaming universe, then it should apply to everything in that universe. This means that I should be able to blow up doors with a rocket launcher; and that a bullet which fatally wounds an enemy grunt should not pass unnoticed through the skull of an NPC. The inclusion of magic doors and magic heads into an otherwise very good physics engine really ruined the illusion for me: I want the freedom to use what has been given to me. The programmer might not approve of me killing my teammates, for example, but he should punish me for the action, not remove the freedom to do it.
The real killer in Medal of Honour, though, was receiving a new mission while trying to exfiltrate a base. Fair enough, you might think. But you'd be wrong. You see, not only did I receive my new orders while crawling along a ventilation duct, but the orders took the form of A NICELY TYPED LETTER BEARING THE SIGNATURE OF MY COMMANDING OFFICER! Whatever wartime propaganda might have had you believe, the postal service was never THAT good. This sort of thing makes me cringe: would it have been so difficult to have fitted me with a radio, and broadcast my orders through that? If the orders had to be displayed visually, then why not display a transcript of the conversation?
This is just one example of a rude ending to the immersive experience. But it goes to show how important an issue immersion is in games design: only the lack of it in MOH:AA stopped me from considering the game a true benchmark i nPC gaming.
Page: