Case Study: Working in the Shadow of Amnesia

When making an Indie 19th Century Supernatural Horror game in the 21st Century, one name will  loom over your project. Amnesia.

Designed under the working title of “Lux Tenebras” by Frictional Games,  the Psychological Horror “Amnesia: The Dark Descent” exploded onto the Indie-Gaming scene in late 2010, growing a cult following and earning a reputation for gripping plot, immersive and genuinely tense and frightening gameplay. The internet became swamped with “reaction videos,” reviews and frightened playthroughs. Thanks to an eerie soundtrack, nausea-inducing visual cues, psychological tricks and a helpless, extremely vulnerable player character whose fear of the dark leads to interesting and innovative gameplay elements, the game was a huge success, drawing in players of all types wishing to test their mettle against one of the most frightening games of the past 5 years.

Amnesia received almost universal critical acclaim, winning several awards including “Excellence In Audio” and “Technical Excellence” at the 2011 Independent Games Festival. Featuring excellent voice acting, lush if slightly crude environments, rich historical context and a tense atmosphere, it was everything I love in video games, albeit on a budget. Had Frictional had more capital to spend, one can only imagine how the game would have looked.

When designing our game, we had to contend with being developers  in a “Post-Amnesia” age. The art style, period setting, and desired gameplay style (puzzles, no combat, diary logs etc.) instantly squared us up against Amnesia. Initial attempts to deliberately avoid elements used in Amnesia simply proved to the detriment of our own production, so instead of consciously working toward or away form it, we simply acknowledged it’s existence without worrying too much.

Of course, you can’t blame us for our concerns. Our vision for our game; a 19th century Castle/Manor set in a dark, mountainous forested region, full of dark spaces, strange artifacts and frightening occurrences, has much in common with Frictional’s Amnesia. Our choice of setting and period gave us a chance to study and analyse Amnesia- not to do so would be foolish indeed.

As an indie-developer, Frictional budget was fairly limited to much higher profile games, but 21 months after it’s release, it had sold 1.36 million copies through multiple retailers (source: http://www.bit-tech.net/news/gaming/2012/09/12/amnesia-reaps-production-costs-tenfold/1), earning more than ten times it’s original budget of $360,000. Much of it’s success can be attributed to a combination of it’s immediate online following, and the critical acclaim levelled by both professional and amateur critics.

Following my study of its gameplay and design, two things that stood out were the attention to detail  and simplicity of the design. As 3D Modeller on the Babel Project, it was my job to try and produce the game to a high standard, without producing overly complicated models that would compromise the performance of the game on lower end machines. Amnesia’s main selling point is a frightening, tense and immersive environment, which it pulls off with a surprisingly basic skeleton; many of the models are very simple, with texture mapping conveying a level of detail not present on the model itself. Lighting is sparse and moody, casting much of the game in shadow, while ambient sounds and discordant growls and thrumming bass notes maintain a sense of unease throughout the game, broken only by calming orchestral strings when reaching a “safe zone” or completing a puzzle. Looking at this, we realised that we could rely heavily upon textures to get away with the period detail and believable setting, allowing us to focus on gameplay elements and interactivity (sadly a focus we were unable to maintain during the project).

Additionally, as Art Director, I was able to examine the accuracy and detail implemented into Amnesia; everything in the game “fits” especially as the castle the game is set in is designed to varying degrees, incorporating 17th century stonework and architecture, and 19th century furniture and scientific equipment. Everything in the art department enriched the game and helped make it feel rich  and believable  which was a huge part of the games appeal, and helped contribute to the genuinely frightening atmosphere the game generated.

It’s Amazing What Christmas Can Do.

December 2012. In a warm classroom; festive beverages in hand, we plotted and planned. Ideas for a sweeping first person puzzle adventure game set on a sinking, post apocalyptic island emerged from our collected ideas. Head Lecturer Phil Beards agreed to act as our client. We were excited – we were champing at the bit. We went our separate ways for Christmas, ready to hit the ground running upon our return.

January 2013. Tired and suffering from post-Christmas malaise, we assembled again in a cold classroom and realised, to our horror, that we had no idea what we wanted to do, and worse, if we even wanted to. Jonti left us to work on a kinetic-typography music video, and in a moment of inactivity between trying to salvage ideas, I fell back on the only thing I wanted to do at the time: make something. Seeing as we needed a setting for our game, as the island idea had quite literally sunk, I built a room.

It wasn’t anything special; four walls, five large windows, a staircase and a balcony. Dissatisfied with the unrealistic quality of the renders I was producing, I discovered a particular render setting, unobtrusively named “Physical Sun and Sky.” The results, as seen below, gave my model an almost photorealistic quality, far superior to even the black & white “occlusion layer” I had come to depend upon. I was blown away, as was Dan. Even Jonti came back to the project, feeling there might be a chance that we could pull it off. Rolling of the accidental inspiration of a manor house’s grand entrance hall, we worked on the premise of a haunted house game.

 

 

As soon as we started idea-generating, we couldn’t stop. Being a fan of 19th Century Architecture, fashion and setting, I proposed setting the game in Pre-Victorian era Europe. Jonti, being a fan of Puzzle-Platformers and Nintendo games, proposed including a series of puzzles stagger the progression of the game. Gradually we began to combine our influences and generate new ideas, but even then it was obvious we were dreaming far too big, far too quickly. In the weeks and months that followed, our idea changed many times, ideas were put forth and shot down, tempers frayed, hope mingled with despair, but at least  it’s all character building…right?

“Oh, so you think making Video Games is easy huh? Then why don’t YOU MAKE ONE?”

No doubt, up in Bethesda, Irrational or Infinity Ward, there’s a poor games developer, sleep deprived and emotional, who, reading a scathing review of a game they’ve put weeks of their life into making, has barked those exact words in a furious outburst, tears at the corners of their eyes.

It’s certainly true that many gamers, having played video games “for most of my life”, believe their veteran consumer status gives them the innate ability to judge a video game’s worth, and the right to criticise a developers methodology.  Many has been the time that I have been told I’m “wrong” for believing Single Player is wrong, or I’ve had to listen to an uninformed prat hold forth on the subject of Battlefield vs Modern Warfare, and the god-awful subject of “balancing” and weapons being “OP as F*ck”. Now, that’s not to say I don’t enjoy a good game debate, but when it’s an obnoxious pratt who’s only trying to entertain the gamer-girls enthralled by his “passionate” opinions, I feel the urge to vomit. Sure, I’ve opined myself many times, and if I encounter a better founded or more reasonable opinion, I’ve been known to conceded defeat. However, unless asked I generally try to leave the critical reviews to the experts.

Having developed this opinion, I always had a temptation to get stuck in and have a go at making a game, partially to see, completely seriously, “How Hard Can It Be?” So, when coursemate and good friend Dan Lambeth nudged me and asked if I’d be interested in making a game with him, it only took me two seconds before I said “Yes!” Dan and I have a similar taste in games, and it sounded like a great opportunity to “get involved” and explore an industry I’ve always admired, but never really understood.

So began one of the most enjoyable, maddening, trying and fulfilling projects of my academic life thus far. We assembled a team of myself, Dan and mutual friend and coursemate Jonti Rudd. We brainstormed. We argued, and at times fought. And boy, were we unprepared…