Design Considerations of Game Technology Interfaces

Most technology is culturally intuitive but not necessarily intrinsically or naturally intuitive. That is to say, developers often focus on designing interfaces that are intuitive to someone already familiar with similar devices, but to anyone with little experience in such realms, breaking into the swing of things can be significantly more difficult. The elderly are a prime example of this, as people from dated generations struggle to find their footing in the modern world's technology-centric mindset. It might be such that in the future, this phenomenon of iterative technological advancement is so rapid and intense that an individual is forced to endlessly endure having to keep-up with the current mode of technology so as to not become alienated from society at large. The regularity of this behavior, however, may lead older generations to stay in contact with technology and mainstream culture for longer, as their days of youth would have carried the same demands for them to constantly learn new interfaces and ways of doing things.

All of these considerations render a specific question in my mind: is technological advancement of this nature actually beneficial to society or is it just an object of consumerism? It would seem that perhaps some areas of this phenomenon are indeed beneficial — such as in medical research where gaming technology is now being used by surgeons — while many other cases are created in the wake of fierce corporate competition, with the aftermath of these battles yielding no advantage to society.

Are things steering us in the direction of Aldous Huxley's envisioning of the future as a dystopian society corrupted by technology as in his social-satirist novel, Brave New World? Who knows?

In a way, it is becoming such that the general consumer market, and industrial markets drive a sort of metabolism with which a new form of evolution is encouraged. Products are constantly reiterating upon themselves with new, improved updates and redevelopments. As soon as a new technology becomes feasible to release onto the market, manufactures race against one another to be the first to integrate it into their products. This, in turn, puts pressure on technology researches to find yet more and more advanced technological solutions with which to aid manufactures in this on-going consumerist race between manufacturing giants.

Above, is an image I've slapped together to demonstrate this concept throughout Apple's iPod lifespan; each model delivers the same fundamental function of playing MP3 audio files but each new iteration delivers an additional purchasing incentive to the consumer. It is not uncommon for any given consumer to purchase the same product several times as new iterations are released.

Gimmicks have always existed amongst the likes of technology-centric consumer goods. They are not always necessarily a bad thing, and often, it is little more than the the fact that they are ahead of their time that renders them as gimmicky in the first place. I believe the Wiimote to be a prime example of this; it is a peripheral that could have marked a significant leap in the intricacy by which gamers can interact with games, but instead, we see ourselves in a world where mindlessly waving plastic dildos around and mimicking silly on-screen gestures is about as far as motion-detection technology currently goes. This is simply because we aren't ready to use such technology properly yet. The Wiimote essentially marks a point in limbo, whereby, technology researchers and manufacturers are producing goods that no one can harness the true potential of yet.

But then again, perhaps the Wiimote is a poor example; perhaps the Wiimote's only fault is that motion-detection software hasn't caught up with its respective hardware yet.

The Virtual Boy was the first of its kind to offer 3D graphics. One would imagine that what it promised would have had gamers forming giant queues outside retailers, fighting one another to be the first to get their hands on a copy on the day of its release, but yet, that wasn't the case. The Virtual Boy was an idea that was ahead of its time. Its 3D graphics were poor and the games it offered were even poorer. The funniest or perhaps more-so, tragic, irony of the Virtual Boy was that it brought the illusion of 3D depth to 2D sprites, a redundant task in itself.

A couple of decades later and we have the Nintendo 3DS. It fundamentally promises the same as the Virtual Boy did, but where the Virtual Boy failed, the 3DS succeeds. There are but two reasons for this: our technology is now ready to realise the concept that the Virtual Boy proposed, and so is our society ready to receive it. Whether or not 3D stereoscopy is indeed a gimmick is still up for debate, however. Many would label it as little more than a marketing ploy that does nothing to heighten a game's intuitiveness or immersiveness.

What is clear from looking at dated technology in retrospect, is that the future of gaming interface peripherals will yield a fair share of gimmicks along with the occasional dollop of useful technology. What it is important to realise, is that the gimmicky technology helps pave the path for useful technology; within capitalist society, the two are inseparable. As we venture closer and yet closer to virtual reality, our journey is sure to bear the inevitable texture of poorly executed ideas and marketing gimmicks. It will be interesting to see which of them will one day cultivate into something more substantial further along the line.

The Curse of the Artist

Some see art as a challenge — but is a challenge not meant to possess an explicit, achievable component? With many of life's pursuits, there is some clear goal or waypoint upon which an individual can base their course of travel. What is perhaps both liberating and oppressive for an artist, however, is that this fact does not apply.

Within fine art, there are hundreds upon hundreds of movements, with artists throughout the ages feeling the desire to break away from and/or redefine the prominent movements of their time so as to create even more movements and sub-movements. Within any field of art, whether it be fine art or commercial art, resides the fact that there simply is no explicit goal (other than to make money).

'Les Bas Blancs,' by Gustave Courbet
— is this good art?

'Pietà,' by Michelangelo
— is this good art?

An architect has it in their responsibility to create a structurally secure building that satisfies the requirements of a certain function and delivers a certain aesthetic through its design. An artist's responsibilities, however, are far more vague; a painter has the freedom to paint something vulgar, beautiful, mundane, confusing, misleading, explicit, implicit, emotional, unemotional, imaginative, unimaginative, surreal, abstract, realistic, hyper-realistic, figurative, non-figurative, representational, non-representational, and so on — if I were to carry on here, there would be enough adjectives to fill an A4 page!

'An Interesting Story,'
by Léon Bazille Perrault
— is this good art?

With art being so unconstrained, as mentioned, there lies both a liberating and oppressive element. In one respect, it is fantastic to have so much ground on which to tred, but in another respect, is that fact that with so much territory to explore, an artist is left confused as to where they actually stand. I have no idea how good an artist I am, or, if for that matter, I am indeed an artist at all. I am told many different things by different people about my art. I don't think this diversity in opinion is a matter of some people being more or less honest than others; I think it's simply that art has no intrinsic requirements. That is to say, the only existing requirements are those set by the artist.

'Seascape Study,'
by John Constable
— is this good art?

Perhaps one day, as a commercial artist, I will have someone setting the boundaries; but even within such boundaries how can one possibly know whether or not their art is good? What makes a good painting, a good painting? What makes a shit artist, a shit artist? Being an existentialist, I don't really believe that any art can truly be classed as 'good art' or 'bad art.'

The fact that I have no clear objective, causes my mind a lot of torment. There is only one certainty that I possess over my art: I hate it!

I just simply do not know what to think or how to feel anymore — and that isn't to say that I ever did. Trying to become a better artist is one of the most emotionally tough things I have ever put myself through. As I become better, my perspective shifts such that I feel I am even worse an artist than before, and when I look back on my old artwork, I do not feel a sense of progression, only disgust and self-contempt.

'Leicester Guildhall,' by Me
— is this good art?

I have no idea if in a year's time I will be 'employable' or just another art student of mediocre calibre who no one wants. I do not know whether I should paint and 3D model things that will make me feel fulfilled or things that might get me a job.

I feel that I am spinning around in a fickle vortex, unable to see the world for what it is, and unable to grasp at anything. I feel like a void trapped within a yet larger void whose interactions with others occur through a thick layer of empty space. I feel detached, isolated, deadened, empty. I feel worthless and insignificant.

 But all that said, I am far enough away from depression to realise that I don't want to feel this way. I just want to make art and don't understand why things within my mind have to be so unnecessarily complex.

Games and Music

Music is one of those things that everyone can relate to. It lives a parallel existence to art in the sense that both strive to transmit an abstraction of an individual's thoughts, feelings, and ideas, through a visual medium in the case of art, and through an auditory medium in the case of music. However, this isn't, of-course, always strictly true; art can draw-in elements of a non-visual persona just as music can draw-in elements of a non-auditory persona. This blur in definition begs the question of whether or not art and music are one and the same — but such a debate is beyond the scope of this post.

Newton split the visible spectrum into
colours based upon the ratios of the
Dorian mode.

An artist arranges and manipulates sequences of frequiencies from the visible spectrum (colour) so as to capture a visual beauty just as a muscian arranges and manipulates sequences of frequencies from molecular vibrations in the air (notes) to capture an audiotry beauty. We name one art and the other music but they are ultimately very similar. Newton even went so far as to create a colour wheel that showed the linear relationship between colour frequencies and notes, as seen to the right.

Regardless of whether or not they do share the same identity, there definitely exists the fact that they form a very elegant marriage when combined together effectively. If we stray temporarily from the plastic arts into the realm of performing arts, one can see how music has accompanied other forms of expressive media for centuries so as to eccentuate, compliment and add to it.

So where would games be without music? This is a question whose answer can be discovered simply by muting one's speaker set-up. In the past when I've had to do this (so as to not annoy others in my immediate environment), what I have thereafter encountered is an incredibly diluted gaming experience.

Music plays a big role in games with game musicians being given the responsibility of enhancing the visual experience presented to a player. In the real-world, people are aware of their own feelings and impressions through the generation of a continuous thought-stream. This is natural and intuitive as it is part of what constitutes being conscious. I like to think of music in films and games as being an audiological abstraction of the human thought-stream; it is what suggests to a player how their character is feeling.

Zelda's Lullaby is more prominent in my mind than any other piece of music from my earlier years on this planet. I mention The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time far too often but I feel that this mention is justified by just how deeply embedded within my memories this sequence of notes really is! It is a song that reminds me of the magic of childhood innocence, of lunchtime breaks spent discussing the vast land of Hyrule with school friends, and of sharing a mutual enthusiasm with my sister; it is a game that, thirteen years later, we still play together from time-to-time.

Zelda's Lullaby is a tender song and is first heard at a tender moment during the game. To me, it is a very beautiful song. Embedded above and to the right, is the song reorachastrated by the Hyrule Symphony.

More recent installations in The Legend of Zelda franchise do not disappoint the standard set by Ocarina of Time. Twilight Princess, for example, has some absolutely fantastic scores.

An infant fulfilling an adult role
— how bizarre!

All of the above songs are very different from one another and have it in their intention to capture a different mood. The last song, for instance, entitled Malo Mart, does a fantastic job of capturing the ironic absurdity with which the player is confronted when they first step into a particular shop in The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess; an infant sits behind the shop's counter with a solemn, condescending frown upon its face. The song adds to the situation's irony by reducing the infant's air of dignified professionalism to juvenility with a camp, eccentric melody.

As seems to be the way with everything these days, publishers are quick to squeeze some extra revenue out of a game release by publishing an official soundtrack to accompany it. This is great in a way as it brings more attention to a musician's contributions to a game's development and allows gamers to explore their memories of a game through an auditory experience. When I listen to a game's soundtrack, it triggers a serial recall of my character's actions when last hearing each song, thus creating visual projections to accompany the audiological input; it is a very interesting experience.

8-bit and 16-bit music (known collectively as chiptune) has received a surge in popularity as of recent. After dying-out when the polyphonic MIDI format became available to game music developers, 8-bit and 16-bit music has encountered a revival in certain underground music movements. Musicians in these genres will typically use the chip-set of a dated game system to synthesise the majority of their musical scores. Vocals (either clean or distorted) are often then recorded on top of the song. Sometimes real instrument recordings are integrated into chiptune songs, with the use of distorted guitars being a popular choice. Some sub-genres of rock, metal and industrial also find ways of integrating dated game synthesis techniques — it is needless to say that the games industry affects other industries just as much as other industries affect it!

Embedded above and to the right, is the work of a muscian going under the alias of Dubmood, who is among my favorite chiptune artists. In the past, he has used Amiga, PC, Atari ST and Game Boy chip-sets to create his music.

The Metroid Prime franchise is another series whose soundtracks remain fantastic throughout each installation. Below, are the title screen theme songs for each game in the trilogy. They bear a somewhat cheesy edge but I would like to think that there is a lot more to them than just that.


Being a sci-fi franchise centred around a bounty hunter's attempts to foil the plans of space pirates, the games' soundtracks project an air of technological superiority, featuring a heavy mix of synthesised melodies with the odd sampling of a distorted real instrument thrown in for good measure here and there. Metroid Prime 3: Corruption's title screen music is by far my favorite. The song is less electronic than the others and includes an absolutely amazing integration of opera-esque vocals that really adds to it!

The Metal Gear Solid franchise is a very philosophically deep franchise with a strong moral backbone behind its motive. Its implicit commentary addresses such issues as Friedrich Nietzsche's will-to-power and God is dead, existential nihilism, and politcal issues on the morality of war profiteering. I'd like to think that at-least some of the songs scattered across the franchise's vast depths reflect this.

The Best is Yet to Come is played during Metal Gear Solid's ending credits. It is sung in Irish Gaelic, and features a very beautiful melody with very beautiful lyrics.

So there we have it: a glimpse into games and music. It is a big topic to explore, with this post only managing to examine but a mere atom inside the wondrous, expansive universe of game music.