Throughout the ages, man has always had the urge to create. Art has become a pivotal part of every society -- from the first cave paintings, to the grandiose architecture of the middle ages, to the delicate statues of the renaissance, and onto modern day. Understandably as time progressed, the style and purpose behind the masterpiece has changed and diversified. While some art is created solely for the enjoyment of the artist himself, the majority of art is created with a specific intent and audience in mind. Many modern day art pieces are produced with commercial intent. These pieces help manipulate people into wanting a particular product or service. Video games, however, have added a twist to these modern day art styles a purpose that is for enjoyment, the artists own pleasure, and consumerism all at the same time.
But why is art so important to the creator of a game? Why does a large fraction of the budget go towards characters, scenic design, animation, music, and even cover art? One obvious reason for this is the necessity to dazzle the eye and ensure that the consumer will see your game among others on the crowded shelves of an electronics store. Yet, this barely scratches the surface of all the assets art can endow to a game. For example, the artistic design of a game can set the mood for specific stages and areas and add personality quirks to characters so that the player can better identify with them. Still, perhaps the most important, but most challenging aspect is that an art style can open up a broad new expanse of gameplay tactics and puzzle solving.
In this first article examining whether art is an effective tool for gameplay, we will look at the recent release of Paper Mario 2: The Thousand Year Door. While reading, keep in mind that no one art style is better than another. They all have a purpose and all have their place in the industry (I sure wouldnt want to play Resident Evil 4 with The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker graphics, but that doesnt mean TWW graphics engine was bad). Each game is observed on a case by case basis, comparing the goals of the games designers to the final art provided and whether or not that art ultimately enhances or detracts from the gameplay.
Let us begin where the consumer begins: within a store in a quaint suburb mall, staring at shelves upon shelves of games, all of which are begging to be purchased. I understand that many gamers, myself included, tend to know which games are worthy of purchase before even entering the store. However, we must understand that not all people are like this, and thus is the reason why a games box art is the first important step. We scan back and forth across the rows, and suddenly, one catches our eye. Why? What makes this one game so special?
The answer lies in the appearance of a logo and additional graphic designs. There are several details that need to be employed in order for a box to stick out from the rest. Probably the first thing noticed is what is known as the creative edge -- something new and special that makes this one, in particular, so cool. The other factor is its relation or connection to something old that the player can identify with and cause a feeling of nostalgia. This may seem contradictory at first, but let us look at the Paper Mario 2 box. Obviously, our recognizable trait is the stout mustachioed plumber in a red hat that we remember from our childhood. But he is different somehow. Yes, the entire texture and color palette is something we havent seen in a long time pure simplicity. This is what gives the player the new and edgy feeling. Across all the games for systems, we see something different and unique from the rest. We see two dimensions instead of three, thick black outlined edges, and minimal cel-shading. At this point, our attention has been captured, and the secondary features of the box become important organization and a proper target audience.
Anyone could tell you that something that isnt easy to read or understand wont hold anyones attention for very long. This is why organization becomes so important. We need to be able to immediately see the title, (more importantly for parents) the rating, and be given a general idea of what the game might be like. A cover needs to directly appeal to the audience the game is intended for or else the game is doomed to disappoint. It would be like opening that copy of Halo 2 you reserved six months ago and realizing that they accidentally put Mary Kate and Ashley: Sweet 16 in there.
Paper Mario 2 has a very inviting cover. You can feel the warmth radiate from it as you walk by. You can immediately see the large red and orange title and subtitle, the Everyone rating, and can tell immediately -- even without the rating -- that this game is a thumbs up for any age. The reason I choose the label any age over kids game is the fact that while it is okay for children, it is not made solely for children. In recent years, titles with bright color palettes have been perceived as games for children only and muddy earth tones made for beefy teenagers who think that they are too tough for anything else. Call it my opinion but this is a very sad thing and I hope it stops. Designers are being forced to forego creativity and stick to the generic in order to garner sales. So many excellent games will be passed up because unwarranted peer pressure lingers around each game purchase. Please, let us try and end the game discrimination.
If we take a moment to examine the game cover further, two things stand out more than the others. The first is the vibrant image of Mario. This immediately appeals to anyone who had an NES and spent countless hours with this portly man jumping down warp pipes. The second character we see is the menacing dragon. He is obviously not a friendly fellow, and this introduces a conflict -- an element that the older audiences especially look for and will notice if it is absent or weak. If we examine the back of the cover, a well written blurb about the game and colorful, action-packed screenshots help to engage interest from the audience. A catch phrase, What sleeps behind the door? floats across the top, further adding another element of mystery and aloofness to the title. The cover gives away enough information for the consumer to become interested without giving everything away.
So, we have opened the box, fumbled through the pamphlet and pop in the game. The first thing we notice is how the color scheme from the box comes to life in broad landscapes and (almost) living, breathing organisms that inhabit Marios world. The color scheme of the game itself functions similarly to that of the box art -- creating an invitation to audiences young and old. Playing the game, however, reveals more about the use of color as an aid.
All of a sudden, the tactic being used with color choices hits us like a brick wall. This invitation idea extends far beyond that of appealing to an audience. If you notice, Mario, his friends, and anything from his world are mainly composed of bright primary and secondary colors. Mario is red, blue, and white. Peach is yellow, blue, white, and pink (a variant on the primary color, red). As we progress in the game, we are given a glimpse of the worlds and characters of which Mario, (1) does not belong and (2) is not an ally with. Cortez, the pirate king, is composed of muted whites, grays and browns. The X-nauts (bad guys) have elements of red, but their capes flash an overwhelming amount of purple and dark gray. Overall, this subtle use of color becomes an effective tool that separates us from them. It distinguishes the familiar and friendly from the fearful foes. Hooktail is an exception to this rule, for he is composed of red and yellow. Luckily, his sheer size and giant angry eyes make up for this.
The same distinctions in color palette are used even more prevalently in the background design. The first unwelcoming and foreign world we visit is probably the Boggly Woods. We visit Rogueport and Petalburg before this, but the inhabitants of these towns are characters we are in no way stranger to, and the towns in general are not unwelcoming -- they comprise of many of the same colors as Mario. As such, our hero blends in just fine. Visiting the Boggly Woods, or even just Hooktails castle, we experience a completely different phenomenon. Silvers, browns, and brilliant hues of dark purple, turquoise, rusts, and other colors in the background make Mario stick out like a sore thumb. He looks rather awkward walking around the delicate, snowy arena of the Boggly Woods, or the dank and dirty underworld of Twilight Town. This was undoubtedly a purposeful choice on the art directors part to help emphasize the emotion of the story that we should be experiencing. Overall, this alone is a very well thought out and ingenious way of enhancing a game with color palette.
The architecture of the backgrounds and characters further emphasizes the in-place or out-of-place feeling that Mario and his friends radiate in different areas. Although Mario is composed of organic lines, he is an overall very geometric character. Being paper, he is dimensionless, and his features are all composed of simple shapes. His eyes are oval, his nose round, and his overall body shape emanates a simple roundness as well. His allies, Koops, Goombella, Flurrie, and so on, share in the simplicity. When we begin to look at Grodus, the simplicity is no longer apparent. Cortez, as a second example, is again defined by more intricate lacework. Both Grodus and Cortez have depth and complex, intricate body plans that set them apart from the flat simplistic world of Mario. The enemies have more depth and cel-shading and, because of this, they elude a much stronger feeling of three-dimensionality within the two-dimensional world. Enemy castles and worlds are littered with intricate carpets, delicate chandeliers, arched windows, and other props that simply do not meld well with Marios simplicity.
The most important part of this unique overall art style is that it is used quite well to enhance the game play. The 2D graphics are often manipulated to incorporate new modes of play. Once you acquire Flurrie as a character, you can use her gusts of wind to blow away 2D panels to reveal a 3D world beneath. What was once a wall may well reveal new staircases and other areas. Some of the visual effects for this type of puzzle include wallpaper becoming unglued and blowing away or pieces of the landscape being torn off to reveal a new layer (and pathway) underneath. The two-dimensionality also allows the designer to employ labyrinth-like visual tricks to the world. In fact, those who may have seen The Labyrinth -- a movie starring David Bowie, some puppets, and Jennifer Connelly -- may find a (unintentional?) direct reference in Paper Mario. In East Rogueport next to the fortune tellers house, you find a seemingly solid wall that was actually composed of two separate walls perfectly overlaid, one behind the other. This type of depth illusion was used very successfully in the 2D worlds by making something look like there is no room in front of or behind it, even though, in actuality, Mario might be able to fit through. Marios 2D physique also allows him some unique moves of his own, such as turning sideways and sliding through grates and fences, transforming into new objects like planes and boats, and crunching, folding, and rolling up to fit through small spaces or to provide a spring-like force to reach high places.
Overall, Paper Mario 2 is a perfect example of how to successfully use art in a video game. The box art provides a clear indication of what players can expect from the game itself. The color choices in the game add a new dynamic to how the player perceives the game and the relationship he or she forms with the characters encountered in the picturesque worlds. On a rare occasion too, the gameplay shines through as an enjoyable result of its own unique style. Throughout the ages, man has had the urge to create. With Paper Mario 2, that urge has resulted in one beautifully simplistic and fantastically fun game for all ages.