Games With Grey

Replayability’s presence is absolutely a positive, though its absence is not necessarily a negative; shorter titles, those which do not feature great player choice, branching pathways, and multiple endings, have their proper place within the industry, offering ample enjoyment. But longer titles, those with robust replayability, offer their own enjoyment, distinct from briefer titles which encourage but a single playthrough. Indeed, some games suffer dramatically upon repeat playthroughs; consider only the puzzle-platformer genre, heralded by such indie darlings as Limbo and its spiritual successor Inside. Those games – that entire genre – progress in fits, the pacing largely adopting a start / stop / start / stop gameplay flow, as the player grapples with a cryptic or elaborate puzzle, or an especially difficult platforming sequence. Such games can be very impactful, and the trial-and-error approach necessarily adopted upon first playthrough is central to the entire experience. Remembrances of these profound games naturally inspire repeat playthroughs, but upon subsequent playthroughs, that central trial-and-error dimension is almost totally absent, even if the second playthrough is vastly removed temporally from the first; muscle memory inevitably and naturally persists. Knowing the solution to a puzzle the moment it presents itself dampens the joys of discovery inherent to a first-time playthrough, meaning the experience felt upon a revisit is detached from that felt initially. The pacing generally sees improvement, in that it is essentially a steady march forwards, all or most stalling removed, but in a Limbo or an Inside, the erratic and inconsistent pacing is central to the entire affair. This is not to say these games are undeserving of repeat playthroughs, but it is to suggest that the specialness felt from the first disappears as familiarity emerges and eventually thrives. The puzzle-platformer genre, then, benefits from a single playthrough. Greater narrative resonances are potentially obtainable, true, as the player has greater narrative insight and can accordingly detect narrative subtleties otherwise unnoticeable in a first playthrough, but this is a small consolation – games like Brothers or Little Nightmares are deserving of one playthrough and one alone, such games being very affecting yet subject to diminishing returns; replayability need not be a driving development concern; in many games, a single playthrough is sufficient, perfect. 

If the puzzle-platformer genre is resistant to repeat playthroughs, then the RPG genre thrives on replayability. Much of this replayability revolves around character classes and character building, even as not all RPGs feature robust character building – the genre is diverse. But character classes do at depth, and in the genre’s greatest titles, player choice matters. Reflecting this, the player can construct one character, play through the central campaign – whatever is its length – and have one distinct experience. Once finished – and provided the impulse to replay the title exists – the player can promptly craft a new, potentially decidedly different character, and be subject to a wildly different experience, lending both depth and breadth to these titles. As illustration, consider only Oblivion, that enjoyable and enchanting title, and consider also its relationship to Skyrim, its series successor. In that latter game, it is easy – natural – to develop a character universally talented, a master of all skills, and accordingly a devastating and flexible figure. The freedom here is indeed profound – all limitations are removed – but this design freedom necessarily diminishes replayability’s importance, as the player can experience all facets of the title with a single character. Not so in Oblivion, where experimentation and repeat playthroughs are encouraged and occasionally even necessary if all included content is experienceable. Theoretically, Oblivion could progress as Skyrim progresses – the player can master every skill. In practice, mastery is complicated, made almost impossible, by the variable growth rates, major skills progressing rapidly, minor skills and those unassigned progressing laboriously slowly, making their raising tedious and unenjoyable. In Oblivion, then, the player character can be an archer, a warrior, a stealthy, lithe figure or a mighty wizard, though they cannot be all these roles simultaneously, again necessitating multiple playthroughs. The freeform nature of Oblivion ­– the prototypical western RPG title – further bolsters replayability, and indeed the title can be impossibly lengthy – yet not overwrought, overwroughtness being a tangible reality for all highly replayable titles. With Oblivion, then, a perfect balance has been struck, replicated in other titles, though to somewhat different degrees and purposes – consider the entire Borderlands series, infinitely replayable though enduringly magical even as the play time balloons to potentially hundreds of hours for the dedicated player.          

Replayability, its thriving or its faltering, exists in direct correlation to narrative prominence; as narrative is increasingly emphasized, then replayability increasingly diminishes. Logically, then, an unintrusive narrative invites multiple playthroughs (provided ample gameplay depth is present, of course). Consider again Borderlands, its bizarre relationship with narrative. The first title’s narrative was of that unintrusive, barebones nature. Reflecting this, replayability was heightened, which is not the case in subsequent titles, those which feature greater narrative heft. Borderlands 2’s menacing Handsome Jack, having a constant presence, does increase player engagement and investment, his crassness and villainy stimulating the player, perhaps revolting or even humoring them, but his presence stifles replayability, in that on repeat playthroughs all of his dialogue is reexperienced, largely unaltered. This dearth of change does, again, result in tedium, as the player retreads the same ground – predictability sets in. In this precise instance, with this precise series, unintrusive narratives triumph over elaborate ones – at least with regards to replayability; as experience, Borderlands 2 eclipses its predecessor in nearly every way, featuring more robust gameplay, gameplay flexibility, and, again, a more engaging narrative. In this regard, if any given Borderlands player desires to commit to but a single playthrough, to invest twenty hours as opposed to two hundred, Borderlands 2 is far more recommendable than its predecessor, being more rewarding, boasting more lasting and memorable attributes. A better narrative results in a better experience, reaching more players, but a weaker narrative facilitates replayability; Borderlands is comparatively shallow, but its shallowness becomes a strange sort of asset, inviting the dedicated player to return time and again, the cleverly implemented New Game + mode furthering replayability and game length.

A few masterful feats have been achieved, though, wherein a very narrative-heavy title boasts considerable replayability. One must only look again to the RPG genre, in this precise instance Dragon Age: Origins (and almost the entirety of Bioware’s oeuvre). Here, player choice is abundant, the player able to participate in the very numerous, dialogue heavy-sequences, player decisions sometimes having profound, lasting, and game-altering consequences; the narrative is subject to repeated splintering, with seemingly hundreds of different permutations existing, when considering the overall sprawling length and ambition of the title, a single playthrough not uncommonly extending towards one hundred or so hours. The gameplay systems are expectantly robust if safe, being conventional western role-playing fair, meaning replayability is already inherent; the player can pursue various classes and subclasses, for instance, the choices made here fundamentally altering the experience – Origins is like Oblivion, though undeniably that former title is far more complex than the latter, Oblivion being molded around accessibility, intuitiveness, while Origins’ reach is much narrower. Selectively appealing or no, the dialogue choices, the constant narrative branching, result in a singularly replayable experience, even as cutscenes and NPC / player character discourse are constancies, constancies which suggest repetition, which does inevitably exist, albeit in small quantity. But alongside repetition is persistent freshness, especially observable in the game’s race systems, the choice of race exerting lasting narrative influence; play as an elf, and certain doors open, doors which forever remain closed for dwarves or humans. The chosen origin story, meanwhile, similarly shapes the entire subsequent experience – to a somewhat limited though still magical extent. Origins can be exhausting owing to its sprawling length, certainly, but again the engaged player is richly rewarded – playing as all races, exploring all origins, provides a certain insight into that world, with all its complexities. And the world is complex, this racial emphasis making almost laughable the simplistic race systems present in Oblivion or Skyrim, where racial choice has little impact, while the origins system is exceedingly ambitious and innovative. With this replayability, then, Origins’ length is comparable to the lengths present within the Borderlands series, yet alongside this length is narrative profoundness, whereas Borderlands’ narratives are typically simplistic, even with endearing yet repelling Handsome Jack’s presence.   

Dragon Age: Origins does not stand alone as narrative-driven title abounding in replayability – consider only The Witcher series, a titan of the RPG genre, abounding in mature themes and decision-making potentials, many deliberately and fiercely ambiguous. Again, though, titles with deemphasized or nonexistent narratives are perhaps most replayable. Consider only multiplayer titles, like the juggernaut Call of Duty series, with continued (even growing) relevancy some sixteen years on, Modern Warfare’s release in 2007 fundamentally altering the industry, developer priorities. In an admirable stroke, all of that series’ developers – be they Infinty Ward, Treyarch, or Sledgehammer – continue to include single-player campaigns in their titles, even as most players neglect them outright, choosing to dedicate all their time towards the multiplayer component. Especially profound narratives are more anomalies than commonalities in those titles, though this is not to say the single player campaigns are deserving of neglect – some profoundness exists. But neglected they are, their design rejecting replayability, in that the player has little sway, meaning the same experiences, the same ground, will be tread and retread, never substantially altered. This cannot be said of the multiplayer – or of multiplayer games generally – where every moment is a story, the experience being organic and ever-changing, existing in direct contrast to the static single player campaigns. The gameplay mechanics may be identical between Modern Warfare and Warzone, but the experiences are in no ways identical. Many players naturally flock to multiplayer’s dynamic nature, and while formal, profound narratives are lacking in these modes, such players must not be belittled, as they are deriving pleasure from the multiplayer, pleasure’s evocation being central to all video games. And so these multiplayer modes, ever organic, are endlessly replayable, endlessly enjoyable for any given, particularly engrossed player. Such a player may experience intense boredom with single-player modes, unable to invest the seven or eight hours necessary for such modes’ completion. Yet those same players can invest hundreds of hours in multiplayer – clearly a successful and addictive formula has been crafted here. This formula is adopted elsewhere, of course, especially in the MMO genre, where organicness again thrives. Launching into a World of Warcraft, the player can play for hours, log off, and then promptly return to invest further hours, the presence of real, tangible players influencing narrative direction and the experience’s overall nature; arguably, it is more enjoyable – and engaging – to combat or ally with human players over A.I., no matter that A.I.’s complexities. It is this very principle which sustains so many multiplayer games across multiple genres – WOW, Counter Strike Global Offensive, DOTA, Fortnite on and on go these successful and engaging titles, all of them immensely replayable; major detachments exist here, when considering multiplayer alongside single player. But, returning to those same examples, Origins and Oblivion champion single player replayability, fortunate when considering some players – myself included – despise multiplayer experiences.   

Beyond multiplayer titles, nearly any title with prominent randomization boasts ample replayability, as the player can dive into procedurally generated dungeons, oftentimes aesthetically similar though possessive of distinct layouts, which keep the entire experience fresh and engaging, even across potentially hundreds of hours; it is no wonder the rogue-like genre is thriving in the present moment, ceaselessly being advanced by indie developers who realize the appeal of replayability, just as other developers – like Play Dead – realize the value of artsy, narrative titles which suffer upon repeat playthroughs. Randomization’s importance seeps into role-playing games, too – consider only the Borderlands series, where the randomized weapon drops consistently engage the player, a promise existing that something better rests always just on the horizon; all they need do is play and they will be rewarded. Diablo embraces this design philosophy, as do nearly all ARPG games, single-player or co-op. Strategy games must also be mentioned. The Civilization series superficially could not be further removed from Call of Duty – one series encourages fast, frenetic gameplay of near constant intensity, while the other series fosters a more contemplative and accordingly slower gameplay experience. But frenetic or relaxed, both series thrive on their organicness – and their ample flexibility. Just as the COD player can experiment with highly-customizable weaponry and other equipable objects, influencing their experiences and engaging in subtle self-expression, the Civilization player can experiment with various civilizations, various leaders, each with passive benefits or unique, signature unit types which alter the experience – not always dramatically, admittedly, though the variation present only contributes to the inherent organicness underpinning the entire experience; grow tired of the American civilization, and the player might start a new playthrough as the Roman civilization; tire of the Romans and adopt the mantle of British monarch, and so on. The nation system is a wonderful inclusion, only fostering replayability, which is fostered further still by the various win conditions, military dominance and major cultural achievement among them.

The Civilization series, then, features considerable depth, offering also a staggering amount of play time, even as in the single player modes the player solely combats A.I. – multiplayer dimensions and tangible human allies and foes are not prerequisites to replayability, of course. This precises series, meanwhile, is of course complimented by other profound strategy titles, even when looking outside of turn-based games and towards real-time strategy. These games’ accessibility may be lessened relative to COD’s accessibility – the barrier to entry in the latter is far lower than that present in the former – but both strategy games and games like the increasingly multiplayer-driven Call of Duty or the ubiquitous Fortnite have their own distinct place, each offering wildly different sensations, yet very protracted and rewarding sensations; it is no wonder that the Civilization series’ trademark is just one more turn, no wonder that hours can evaporate within any given session in Warzone – the developers expected their playerbase to devote themselves to their games, and this knowledge guided the development process – wonderfully guided it. This clearness of vison and regard for the playerbase results in profound experiences which continuously display that profoundness even after hundreds of hours.

It could be argued, of course, that nearly any title is replayable – the only prerequisite is enjoyability, player engagement. Reflecting this, it is not uncommon to hear from players annual rituals, wherein those players return to a previously completed title with fair regularity, desperate to reclaim the original experience and sensations felt, or even to derive new experiences, to discover some minutia heretofore unobserved. Some players simply return to these titles in search of comfort. I do not return to Oblivion every two or so years because it is the most complex game or the most enjoyable game but return to it for its almost transportive functions; controller in hand, exploring charming Cyrodiil, I return to a simpler, different time; exploring that selfsame land, memories reemerge, thoughts and yearnings. In this regard, video games become companions, being inherently comforting and evocative; if any given player makes Warzone sessions a daily ritual, then over the span of months or even years they develop profound relationships with Warzone, growing increasingly dedicated. That their time is monopolized by a single title might be reckoned a negative, but again there are those reassuring attributes to consider. Many highly committed playerbases are thus presented with some unique, sometimes intense complications, especially problematic whenever a new title in their favored series is released. Consider again World of Warcraft, that engaging title. If Blizzard released a World of Warcraft 2 tomorrow, how would the core playerbase of the original game react? Promises of a newer engine, with vastly enhanced graphics, more refined mechanics and an abundance of other innovations, would naturally increase such a hypothetical title’s allure. But in leaping from WOW to WOW 2, the original companion would only be discarded; an old friend is lost. As more time is invested within WOW 2, nostalgia for the original World of Warcraft necessarily strengthens, bringing with it fond remembrances. But still the dilemma persists – the player is invested with one title, has long been invested, delighting in its ample replayability. When is the opportune moment to reject that time, its infiniteness, and move on to a newer, different experience, one with sometimes-substantial alterations and improvements? Can this new title be a neat replacement for the game abandoned? Is the risk justified?   

Many questions necessarily arise here, and in a way especially replayable titles are paradoxically good and bad, good in the sense that they offer enjoyment and comfort to their player base, bad in the sense that such titles limit player exposure to other titles; the daily Warzone or Fortnite player likely knows nothing of Limbo or Inside, a despairing admission, almost suggesting these players are ensnared by Activision, Epic Games, and other companies like them. Cutting across all genres, experiencing different gameplay mechanics and developer intentions, brings greatest enjoyment, and the infinitely replayable title ensures some players will have no knowledge of other genres, or even other games in the genre they cling to so fiercely; their time is monopolized by those infinitely replayable juggernauts; exposure is lessened dramatically. But ultimately, player / game engagement matters most – games are designed to bring players enjoyment and stimulation both. For this reason, players with narrow gameplay exposure must not be dismissed or regarded as inherently lesser, provided they ignore the predatory measures growing increasingly prominent in the present moment. Again: not all games need replayability, many games benefiting from tight linearity and unchanging narratives and gameplay both; rigidness allows the developers total control; cinematic games are frequently impactful ones, their effectiveness ever susceptible to erosion when returned to, even after a fair span of time. Highly replayable titles maintain their own impactfulness, and while the most replayable of titles are always vulnerable to overwroughtness, sometimes the perfect balance is struck; games which achieve this balance become for the dedicated player a friend and a hobby, existing beyond mere video game, mere diversion or source of stimulation. Both design approaches must exist in harmony if lasting industry progress is to be made; the highly replayable title must thrive just as titles indifferent to or incompatible with replayability thrive.