Games With Grey

Multiplayer games are thriving in the present moment, and their widespread popularity and success is easily understood. Foundationally, multiplayer titles offer experiences absent and forever absent in the conventional single player title – a rift exists, multiplayer games oftentimes capable of profounder player engagement, for in a multiplayer title the player is engaging with a tangible, living entity, rather than interacting with artificial intelligence, a crucial distinction. Regarding A.I. – no matter the technological leaps made, the advances in programming, an imbalance will always exist, will always dominate – the human mind is far more complex than a programmed mind crafted by human hands and human exertions; this fact is undeniable and unalterable, no matter any given studio’s talents and ambitions, the software afforded them. This rift is most consequential in a boldly competitive title, like the Call of Duty series, that industry juggernaut. While these games are primarily championed and admired for their multiplayer components, still they persist in including single player campaigns (even as they increasingly seem like afterthoughts, forced inclusions rather than passion projects). These modes offer ample enjoyability, to be sure – they can prompt intense delights within the player, can engross the player for hours on end. But these campaigns are bounded by predictabilities, predictabilities arising, again, by way of A.I. limitations. When one boots up a Call of Duty campaign, for instance, they have a fair degree of expectation, largely owing to that series’ more iterative nature. But the experience is dealt a sharp blow once true familiarity inevitably settles in. And settle it does, for single player titles generally suffer from their staticness, enemies or allies executing the same actions only to promptly reexecute them a very brief time later; excitement wanes just as unpredictability simultaneously wanes. None of this applies to multiplayer games – see Warzone or other conventional titles in the COD series. In those games’ multiplayer modes, staticness is displaced by a certain freneticism, a constant bursting of energy, largely stemming from the pervasive sense of unpredictability. One can, in time, anticipate the movements of an A.I., no matter the gerne being spoken of. And while human behavior is predictable to an extent – actions can be anticipated – human behavior is far more mysterious than artificial intelligences’ behavior. One figure – A.I. – resolutely and always relies upon repetition, while the other figure – the living, human entity – oftentimes rejects repetition in gameplay approaches.

Crucially, multiplayer games are stratified, a hierarchy of complexity defining the genre. Consider again Call of Duty, a series which boasts fair complexity just as much as it boasts ample intuitiveness – the game is easily understood, even as mastery is elusive for the masses. But here, simplicity emerges from the relative lack of differences existing from player to player. Here, the player of COD is certainly presented with some decision-making opportunities, most revolving around weapon and armament selection (though earlier titles in the immediate wake of 2007’s Modern Warfare also emphasized perks and the like). But beyond this choice – and the choice of character skins and other cosmetics – any given player is functionally identical to any other given player. This sameness drastically cuts down on player strategy and potential synergy – engagement wanes. Other multiplayer titles, realizing the immense value of player strategy and synergy have seized upon both design philosophies, and in seizing them they have advanced the genre to spectacular effect. Consider only Battlefield, Call of Duty’s great, longstanding rival. While both of these series show considerable overlap – in single player and in multiplayer – both revolving primarily around gunfights, that former franchise greatly eclipses in complexity that latter franchise, solely owing to one distinct shift, innovation – a class system’s inclusion. Not only is the player partially empowered, permitted to choose their wielded weaponry as in Call of Duty, but now they can become medic, can become recon class, can become engineer, and so on. Balance is good and vital for the whole – if a squad is lacking a dedicated medic, death is more easily achieved; the player and their squadmates fail and suffer. If a squad has no method of replenishing ammunition, for instance, then the squad’s guns will eventually run dry, resulting in vulnerability and exposure. Choices must be made both during the battle and before it, and in emphasizing player choice DICE – Battlefield’s primary developers – are engaging the player cerebrally, too, forcing them to consider pros and cons, to think of entities larger than the self, to think of the collective, how one directly interacts with the collective, how one can benefit the collective. Playing such a beneficiary role is singularly rewarding indeed.  

But the hierarchy of complexity here is terribly profound, and Battlefield’s depth is absolutely surpassed by other multiplayer titles, specifically the so-called “hero shooters,” the most obvious illustration being Apex Legends. Like those earlier two examples, Battlefield and Call of Duty, this title primarily revolves around gunplay, though massive emphasis has been lavished upon movement systems, an emphasis which serves a distinguishing function – here is no grounded COD, no vehicle-heavy Battlefield experience. Opportunities for synergy are overflowing here precisely and in the subgenre broadly, while the decision-making process is again intensified, is wonderfully complicated. It is easy and natural to main a hero or character class, relying upon that character in most scenarios, delighting in familiarity. But the adventurous player, one who branches out and quits their main, is oftentimes richly rewarded, just as the squad is rewarded: not only is the individual’s experience altered, but the choice to embrace something different and foreign to the self also impacts the player’s squadmates and companions; player choice is very consequential. Apex Legends, then, is brimming with complexity, which is seen also in Blizzard’s Overwatch or the flawed and forgotten Battleborn, games which share similar design philosophies though all meeting with uneven successes, longevity. On one end there is COD, a fairly simplistic construction. On the other there are titles like the mentioned Overwatch, a comparatively complex construction. But simplistic or profound, players gravitate towards these titles for precisely the same reason – engagement, enjoyability, stimulation. In recent years also, the genre has undergone wonderful diversification, with some rather innovative and ambitious multiplayer titles seeing release. With this diversification comes widened appeal and potential player satisfaction; if any given player is intrigued by multiplayer, all they need do is briefly experiment, research the gerne before taking the plunge. Such experimentation conduced, this hypothetical player is sure to stumble upon something appealing, something they can devote themselves towards for potentially hundreds and hundreds of satisfying hours.   

A secondary appeal of multiplayer games is obviously connected towards their more social nature, which serves a sharp distinguishing function, single player games oftentimes being lonely and haunting experiences; a rift exists. Here, multiplayer games can foster fraternity, oftentimes at a fast rate – the player grows as do their fellow players. There is something singularly compelling about voice chatting with a companion while slaughtering flood in Halo, something equally cathartic about defeating locusts in Gears of Wars’s co-op campaigns. Here, the sense of aloneness characterizing so many single player games is rejected outright, and it is thus understandable why precisely some playerbases still clamor for “couch co-op,” a singularly intimate and wonderful affair.  Rather than being connected by way of the Internet, a construction which enables players to come together even across a separation of thousands and thousands of miles, here a theoretical couch is employed, its cushions occupied by multiple individuals – players – where fraternity’s growth is hastened further; a wonderful tangibility exists here, and one is naturally hopeful that “couch co-op” will never see total and complete eradication. For the mode is highly valuable indeed; consider also something like the formerly thriving Guitar Hero or Rock Band series, franchises literally crafted around this socializing impulse, developer desires for unification. True, one can take plastic guitar in hand, can pick up sticks and slap plastic drumheads and cymbals, but these games’ true potential only erupts when they are played in more social situations – a party and the like, imagined bandmates coming together, delighting in the moment. A wonderful and inviting atmosphere is created and flourishes here, and in uniting to play some especially difficult Rock Band track all involved parties are growing, even if the growth is rather subtle. With this socializing impulse, it is only natural that players should gleefully come together in modes like Halo’s firefight, where the bond is nurtured always, even as the same tired artificial intelligence is combatted and then promptly recombatted; the staticness defining artificial intelligence is, in this precise instance, made tolerable, simply because the flood are being grappled with by multiple united players.

As a brief aside, I have had direct exposure to these principles. When I was younger, a fair span of time was spent in my school’s after-care system, making mostly positive memories therein. Despite the fact that this was some years into the Playstation 3 / Xbox 360 / Wii console generation, funding was such that the primary playable console was an old albeit reliable and fully functioning Nintendo 64. Here, in this space the most popular cartridges were Super Smash Bros. and Mario Kart. I cannot help but wax nostalgic when pondering these titles, those memories, instinctively remembering the lighthearted arguments which often transpired: “I want to play as Link,” or, “I want to play as Kirby,” my friends would say, bickering good-naturedly; our relationships and friendships were developing, and these recollections will always be immensely consequential and comforting. But I’m an odd individual. Even while reflecting sentimentally and gaily, then and now I have always gravitated towards single player games. While my friends were eagerly inserting the Mario Cart cartridge, all I wanted to do was insert the golden Majora’s Mask cartridge on hand, single player game’s being more appealing. This desire persists, and I cling to the almost irrational notion that multiplayer games are, quite frequently, time-wasters – immensely enjoyable and oftentimes profound time-wasters to be sure, but time-wasters still the same. If the player is not engaging with a narrative, an actual scripted and tightly-focused narrative, then they are simply passing time. Holding this perception, I have always viewed multiplayer games with some weariness. But also holding this perception, co-op’s appeal is immense, in that two different worlds are neatly combined. Firstly, the player can play with a friend or a few friends. But even while squadding up in this fashion, the party can unite and still experience the core narrative; the socialization element persists while simultaneously narrative successes and potential resonances are preserved. Halo, with its co-op emphasis, must be commended indeed, as must the other titles which carry its torch – consider only the Borderlands series, a series which invites camaraderie even while (sometimes) advancing narrative heft, potentially emotional stimulation alongside cerebral stimulation.

Multiplayer games are, again, diverse in nature, and while instantly the mind springs towards the multiplayer FPS games which are thriving in the present moment, MMOs must absolutely be considered, too. Just as a conventional hero shooter incentivizes experimentation, provides the player ample freedoms and invites them to consider entities outside of the self, MMOs also show similar ambitions, the class-based system in many MMORPGs especially emphasizing synergeticness; the player is empowered, and that empowerment is most observable whenever directly working alongside allies – the truest, greatest complexity is here awakened. But despite the genre’s telling designation – these are massively multiplayer games – still any given player can boot up an MMO and largely act autonomously, can still derive ample enjoyment while acting independently – the single player impulse is not absent in, say, a World of Warcraft; indeed, it is perhaps subject towards much nourishment – Blizzard were welcoming. But once autonomy and stubborn, willed independence is rejected, once squads and allies are embraced, once a fraternity with those squads and allies has been forged, then the experience truly begins in earnest, as the great consequences accompanying earlier race selection or class selection are also made boldly observable – the experience truly comes alive. Blizzard was expectantly subject to conflict – to what extent should single player in this massively multiplayer environment see implementation. Is better to neglect the single player? Rather than slighting single player players, they included systems which engaged and gratified them, even as these players were surrounded by potentially hundreds of other players, players they could embrace at any moment, should the socializing impulse arise, surge. Here, alliance formation certainly has its place and its subject to massive emphasization, but the quieter, more contemplative player is not punished for their contemplativeness – Blizard were, crucially, respectful and considerate of the playerbase, even implementing robust chat features to facilitate growth, intensify the player / player relationship. Here, with MMOs the socializing principle is at its fiercest.   

With MMOs also, the stakes have seen dramatic expansion. Whereas before the player had at most three allies while combatting the bestial flood or the ferocious locusts, the sociable MMO playernow has innumerable allies, has innumerable figures to consider, potentially support and act around. The precise nature of the opposition has seen alteration too, as enemy menace and strength are oftentimes subject to escalation – the inherently frightful is made ever more frightful. Challenging a towering raid boss in a conventional MMO – after having carefully coordinated allies and attack strategies before the engagement’s opening – and then promptly emerging victorious in that challenge after a potentially very lengthy struggle is singularly rewarding, much reward stemming from a crucial revelation: “I could not possibly have done this alone,” the victorious player might think. “I was completely dependent upon my allies, upon their various skill sets, for my victory in this engagement.” Fraternity again soars; the player grows. This fascination with raid bosses and monumental, highly challenging encounters is not exclusive to the MMO genre, of course, a few other multiplayer series showing similar fascinations – consider most obviously the two immensely vast Destiny games wonderfully supported with post-launch content, or consider the entire Borderlands series, these titles oftentimes featuring optional bosses who are literal slogs to combat, their powers and resilience overflowing. Here, with these games single player game modes do exist and it is absolutely viable to play through them all unaided (as I did with the Borderlands games, a series I have always adored, even with its ample faults, its typically unengaging narratives). But true depth is, again, connected to multiplayer; before the raid bosses were essentially unvanquishable. Now they can, in time, be beaten, and the collective squad is oftentimes showered with tangible rewards. As one illustration of synergy, an unlockable skill in the original Borderlands makes it so that player bullets, upon striking an ally, actively heal that ally, a subtle if highly useful inclusion which heightens flexibility. Multiplayer in these titles forces the player to think in a fashion they would otherwise have no cause to; different faculties are stimulated, and it could certainly be argued that the stimulation agitated in a multiplayer title is profounder, intenser.                

In recent memory, increased significance has been attached to multiplayer game modes, this increase directly attributable to the original Modern Warfare’s success back in distant 2007. After that watershed release, multiplayer’s absence was considered as this monumental flaw – if multiplayer is excluded, so the thought goes, then the entire experience is incomplete, no matter the game’s overall quality and potential grandness. Some studios altered their design philosophies in direct response to this change, thirsting after success – consider certain of the Assassin’s Creed games. Beginning with Brotherhood in 2010, roughly four or so titles in this series embraced multiplayer alongside single player, which was formerly emphasized exclusively. While here the multiplayer boated fair intrigue and potential enjoyability – indeed it was overflowing with originality – its inclusion felt terribly forced; Ubisoft were pandering to their audience, conforming to industry trends, a despairing statement indeed suggestive almost of greediness. (Ubisoft’s later decision to resurrect multiplayer in Assassin’s Creed Unity, which featured a robust co-op implementation,seems a very strange and unexpected decision, though one which was ultimately fruitful, owing to its unexpectedness and foundational soundness, excellence). Also, much of multiplayer’s appeal rests in its ample replayability, the immense and lasting delights it can offer any given player – length is of paramount importance for some subsections of the player landscape. But the industry is ever in flux, and this constancy is further observable within discussions of length. Now, even single player titles have embraced sprawlingness, willed largeness, open world games especially embracing loftier ambitions and scope. Now exist titles like Assassin’s Creed Odyssey, Assassin’s Creed Valhalla, The Witcher III, and of course the magical Skyrim. These games, so wonderfully open-ended, can devour hundreds of hours of any given player’s existence; multiplayer and single player lengths exist in rivalry (in some instances – not every game is a Skyrim, and not every game need be a Skyrim).

One hopes, then, that single player games can coexist with multiplayer ones, for such coexistence directly benefits the player. Crucially, multiplayer can evoke sensations unevokable in single player, not only when speaking of FPS games, battle royales, and MMOs, but also when considering more niche or less prosperous genres, like strategy titles or conventional, non MMO role-playing titles. Consider say, a Civilization or a Pokémon. Regarding that latter series, challenge is mostly absent in single player, this challengelessness again connected to that terrible staticness – the trainers fought, the Pokémon they wield, are unchanged from playthrough to playthrough; the spark of life is lessened just as overall triviality soars. But whenever playing competitively, in a multiplayer scenario, the spark of life is revived and enhanced – the overall experience is bettered, and this is observable within that venerable turn-based-strategy series, too, where playing alongside living entities will always be more stimulating than playing with AI, even with the robust difficulty settings and the potential flexibility and adaptability defining AI in that precise series – clearly multiplayer’s value is immense, in that it can make the old and tired feel new, fresh, and lively. Not every game needs multiplayer or co-op, absolutely; I shy away from multiplayer, always have shied away from him, though still managing to derive ample satisfaction from the medium, even while excluding one of its most major pillars. But including multiplayer directly widens reach and accessibility, absolutely, and in this regard multiplayer functionality is of immense, wondrous importance – it can seize upon a non-player and in time make them a player, expanding upon the industry while offering delight and stimulation to the masses. It is easy to dismiss Call of Duty, to groan at its very mentioning, but its widespread popularity and success has fundamentally altered the industry. Foundational to that alteration is, again, multiplayer, which cannot possibly be divorced from this series, or by this point the industry broadly – it must never see eradication. Hopefully, then, both philosophies, single player and multiplayer both can thrive. If one genre achieves a complete stranglehold, industry dominance, then player alienation is an inevitability. In crafting their titles, two distinct parties must thus be considered, and if consideration is a constancy, the industry grows and improves.