I should send you all the video of my almost-4-yo daughter playing TWP.
She finds it extremely intuitive: whenever she wants to do something, she says what she wants to do and then searches for a verb that looks like the word she said (thatâs because sheâs just learning how to read and needs the sound-letters connection).
So you see her going at a door, then say âoooopenâ, look for the verb that starts with an O, click it and then she says âthe doorâ for completion, as if she were explaining to herself what she was doing.
The verb system (Iâm not saying âinterfaceâ because itâs something different) works perfectly because it is just how we process stuff as soon as we learn to speak in a grammatically sound fashion. If she wants me to pick up something for her, she says âplease take that for meâ. With the in-game verbs, sheâs just doing the very same thing to the character, without the âpleaseâ part.
For this very reason she didnât like the âbody parts coinâ in Full Throttle or MI3. âUse the mouth withâ was a counterintuitive way of saying âspeakâ. Ok, it doubled as âeatâ⌠but still.
To me this was the #1 reason to buy it, or at least one of the top reasons. This particular GUI is something very special I think. It gives me the impression that there are more things one can do, than there actually are.
Itâs no really about how good the verb interface is, itâs more the fact that many people link its visual style to the concept of âold stuffâ, which in turn remembers some people of not just the positive aspects of the genre but also the negative sides of it.
Presentation and visual design have a huge impact on peopleâs perception of the product. Itâs possible to design a modern adventure game without using visual clues that associate the game with an old context, era and gameplay that are considered by modern gamers mainly an old form of entertainment.
Thimbleweed Park is a simulation of retrogaming which, of course, appeals mainly to the fans of the genre and to nostalgic players.
Modern narrative+puzzle games exist and an audience for them exists as well. But Thimbleweed Park is a different thing that appeals mainly to a different group of people.
I agree, but is this an opinion you formed in retrospect, or did you feel from the start that the project was giving visual clues (or other kinds of signals) that it was best to avoid?
Thatâs why I talked about âverb systemâ and not âverb interfaceâ. I suppose you can offer a verb system without having the 9-verb bar, but I still prefer explicit choices to one-click interfaces or body parts or gestures or whatever.
Well⌠it seems like Iâm advocating for the Sierra-like parser interface. I feel dirty now.
No, to me it was clear since the beginning that the game was targeted to a very specific audience. And Garyâs original graphic design was even a stronger signal of this communication focused on nostalgic values.
That was the reason why I didnât back the kickstarter campaign. I wasnât the target of that product.
The problem is that when you are focused on making a great product, great content, and technical problems to overcome, you have too many things in your mind and you donât pay attention to the signals you are sending.
I backed the project through the post-kickstarter backing option in the official website when Mark Ferrari joined the team, moving the style from the MM mood to something a bit less old.
Mark contribution wasnât just a change in the graphics but also a change of the kind of game that Thimbleweed Park might have been. It didnât feel anymore a game created before Ronâs famous design guidelines.
I wouldnât make this a general rule. Actually, in many projects the kind of communication to adopt is usually defined in a careful way. Itâs part of marketing.
Thatâs why I wrote, that one could present it in a more âmodernâ way.
But in my opinion itâs not the interface, that made people think that TWP is a throwback game. Two other things were far more important: The graphics and the Kickstarter description.
The Kickstarter text and the pictures let all assume that it is an old retro adventure game. This remains in the head of the reviewers.
Far more important are the graphics: Du to my experiences most people think that pixel graphics = retro / old school game. (Regardless how innovative the game is.)
But to come back to your question in the first post: For me Thimbleweed Park is mainly (and not completely) a throwback game. But I donât think, thatâs a bad thing - the opposite is true. You can even play with this âvintage lookâ (in marketing). Have a look at Cuphead, that I would call a throwback game too.
I agree about the graphics, but potential buyers on mobile or consoles are probably not influenced at all by how the game was presented years ago in a campaign that most of them donât even know.
Reviewers are probably still influenced by the kickstarter campaign but letâs not forget that to any reviewer who has played a classic adventure game of the golden age would take just a few milliseconds to recognize even a minuscule screenshot of Thimbleweed Park (where pixel art wouldnât be recognizable) as an old adventure game.
I agree that pixel art plays also a big role, though.
Thatâs different, because Cuphead style was never used before in games. Thimbleweed Park style is similar to the design of past games that have partially a bad reputation.
Yes, itâs the task of the marketing guy, if there is one. Because the person who creates the content and solves tech problems is too overwhelmed.
But in practice, what would you have advised if you were the marketing guy? Donât put the verbs on screen (make them popup)? Donât use pixel art? Or just avoid certain words in the presentation?
It doesnât work in this way. A consultant doesnât provide answers without defining with the client the goals of the project and without studying the market. Every suggestion is the consequence of a study, not mainly the personal opinion of the consultant.
You donât âadd marketingâ as if it was an additional element. Marketing is also what tells the client what kind of product to create.
I agree with you 100%. I backed the game, but I was attracted mostly by the visual style (I didnât know who the designers were).
Well, to be very specific, what pushed my button was the phrase âitâs like opening a dusty old desk drawer and finding an undiscovered LucasArts adventure game youâve never played before.â That and the original Kickstarter video calling back to the Commodore 64 days.
In that sense, I guess I was the target audience, although reading the blog and the forum I always felt like I was not: It seemed like every single backer was a hardcore fan of LucasFilms and Mr. Gilbert, and that the game was being created around that particular niche.
At some point in time the focus changed from âfan serviceâ to âattract new audiences,â but that effort seemed to me rather shallow. The graphics were improved and a lot of bells an whistles were added, but the verb interface and the pixel art remained â which I always thought there the biggest signals to the original nostalgic aim. (Not that there is anything wrong with those. I myself argued for them to keep the original C=64 artwork.)
I even thought at that point the game had a very big dilemma to solve: how to keep on board the people (like me) who came for the pure nostalgia, while not getting trapped in a little tiny niche that makes no money? (I always thought the hardcore fans, although vociferous, would just buy the game anyway, so they really shouldnât have been a big factor. They are also a rather small minority of the potential market.)
In the end, like Mr. Gilbert said, they tried to do their best with the information they had, and I canât fault them for that â for all the things I would perhaps have done differently myself, there also was no guarantee that anything else would have worked. There is no point in crying over spilt milk. The game is out and it is making (or not) itâs mark upon the world.
I wish Mr. Gilbert & Co. the best and hope for more games from them. Perhaps next time around the lessons learned will inform the direction better. Mr. Gilbertâs comments suggest so.
Of course, and it is the reason Thimbleweed Park had so much trouble growing up: it doesnât really know what it wants to be.
Is it a game to relive the good olâ days? A game purely for fans? Is it to bring the old-school joy to a new audience?
Should it appeal to the masses or to the hardcore gamer? Should it attract people who remember adventure games, or should it dedicate itself to those who actively play them today? Where do the die-hard fans fit in? Should the game call out to them or ignore their sensibilities in the pursuit of a wider and more mainstream appeal?
Throughout the development of the project, my feel was that the answer to those questions changed or alternated. In the end, it seemed it wanted to be all of it, without having a specific or consistent focus on any of them.