Monday 22 April 2013

Video Game Controls as Standard Language


Anyone watching me play through the first few hours of BioShock Infinite would have had a painful experience. When I tried to swing the Sky-Hook, I would inevitably find myself staring up an enemy’s nostrils, having forgotten that zoom, not melee, is mapped to R3 in the game. I’m sure you’ve had similar experiences when a game didn’t control how you expected it to. I think my failure to grasp Infinite’s perfectly simple controls results in part from me expecting the game to adhere to the established ‘standard’ shooter control scheme.
 
The ‘standard’ form of a language (also known as the ‘acrolect’) is the way of speaking and writing it that is commonly perceived as ‘correct’. Most languages also have ‘vernacular’ forms (sometimes called ‘basilects’). These are varieties of a language that diverge from the standard form’s established rules of pronunciation, vocabulary, and sentence structure. Whether you speak a standard or vernacular form depends on many factors, including where you’re from, your socioeconomic class, and your education.

Where language is a system of signs and sounds people use to communicate with other people, a control scheme is a system of button presses and control stick tilts people use to communicate with a video game. Like a language, game controls in a given genre tend to become ‘standardised’ over time. I’ll use console based first-person shooters (FPSes) to explain what I mean.

A language’s standard form usually reflects how it is or was spoken by influential people in an important area of a country. Standard British English, for example, reflects the way upper class Londoners spoke in the late 18th Century.  This is the same with video game controls, where a successful game or series of games can influence the controls within its genre for years to come. For console FPSes, this period begins in the late 90s. This is when FPSes successfully made the jump from PCs to home consoles, with N64 games such Turok: Dinosaur Hunter, GoldenEye 007, and Perfect Dark amongst the most influential.  Where shooting in console games had previously been mapped to a face button, with the introduction of the N64 it was mapped to the Z-trigger, which remained popular throughout the rest of the console’s lifespan. With the Z-trigger no more, today’s FPSes still map shooting to trigger-like buttons: R1 or R2 on the PS3 controller, and the right bumper or right trigger on a 360 controller. While R1 and right bumper aren’t referred to as ‘triggers’, their placement on the controller where the joint of the index finger naturally rests means that pressing them is still comparable to pulling one.

You could argue that using a trigger-like button to fire guns in video games would have happened regardless of the N64’s great library of shooters because it’s more logical. However, far from embracing it, gamers are usually resistant to this type of one-to-one correspondence between input and action. With the Wii, Move, and Kinect, the current generation saw a push for less arbitrary controls, only for the idea to be snubbed by ‘core’ gamers. Interestingly, this tendency towards arbitrariness is another trait video game controls share with language. With the exception of onomatopoeias such as “crack” or “pow”, words draw their meaning from convention rather than any logical link between the sounds produced and the thing they refer to.

While the use of a trigger or trigger-like button to fire guns remains standard in FPSes, new trends in gameplay have lead to new standard controls. As the Call of Duty series has become more and more successful, so too has its control scheme become the standard across the FPS genre. Shooters as varied as Borderlands, Portal 2, and Far Cry 3, for example, each allow players to duck using the same button as Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare (circle/B). In addition, both Far Cry 3 and Borderlands allow the player to sprint and execute melee attacks, uniformly mapping these actions, as in Modern Warfare, to L3 and R3 respectively.

At university, I read a study that concluded even Queen Elizabeth doesn’t always speak The Queen’s (i.e. standard) English (!). This illustrates an important point: ‘standard’ and ‘vernacular’ are not watertight categories. Some people use standard language all the time, but most don’t. Likewise, there is variance within the template that shooter controls adhere to. As I mentioned above, standard FPS controls use R1/right bumper or R2/right trigger for shooting, but which they use varies from game to game. This is confusing, and I sometimes wish developers would agree on one button or the other. Some games make more noticeable breaks from standard FPS controls, often to accommodate a unique mechanic. For example, where most games use L1/left bumper to aim (another hangover from GoldenEye), BioShock Infinite uses it for vigors, freeing it up by moving the zoom function to R3. This violation of the standard left me with the problems I mentioned in the first paragraph.
 
"Honestly officer, I was merely trying to get a closer look when I magically threw you into the air"(Picture: BioShock Infinite)
I dislike the word ‘standard’ because it’s a loaded one; it implies that one variety of a language is more valid than others. This type of value judgement is also seen in the critical reception of video game controls. Since we’ve already established that most control schemes are arbitrary, I wonder if ‘intuitive’ really just means ‘controls that conform to the standard within a given genre’. Perhaps dislike for the tank controls of early Resident Evil titles is stems from them violating rules of standard third-person controls, which derive from the boom in 3D platformers lead by Super Mario 64. Certainly, some argue that Resident Evil’s controls in are a legitimate stylistic choice, implemented to add to the tension of the game.

This post is meant as an analogy, not a genuine attempt at applying linguistic theory to video games like in “Metaphors We Game By”. You might not agree with what I’ve suggested about standard controls, but I’m sure you’ll agree that this ranks as the most creative excuse ever suggested for being terrible at shooters.

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