Fallout: week 1

As in: Design , Game Journal , Games , Science Fiction

I just started playing Fallout, the "post-nuclear role playing game" in the vein of Balder's Gate—though I don't know if I'll pick up any group-mates. I haven't played much of it so far, but I'd like to comment a bit on the interface and the opening sequence.

The game opens with a sequence meant to evoke a sort-of nostalgic future. A television in a blasted-out building displays an advertisement for "Vault 13", an under-mountain refuge from atomic war. Then it shows an add for a new car, a "Cryslus." Both ads look like they're straight from the fifties. They use stylized drawings of Dennis-the-Menace-like figures and the car has fins like a classic automobile. At the same time, they evoke the 'prosperous future' the fifties imagined, by adding to the mix an advertisement for a robot and by charging 199,999 for the car.

The interface for the game, similarly, has the look of an old-school science fiction film. Rather than using a digital display like we might expect today, Fallout builds its futuristic machinery from buttons and dials. These clanking, clicking buttons mimic the fifties sci-fi feel, but they also give a tangibility to the game's experience. I've long thought that buttons, levers, and dials make machines feel more 'real' because their very nature (as analog devices) links them physically to the objects they're measuring, or at least it seems to.

These stylistic choices give Fallout the curious effect of being a science-fiction game about the future as conceived by the past. The 1950s-era looks give the game an air of whimsey that offsets the disturbing storyline. I'm keen to see whether these whimsical elements will continue to pop-up throughout the game, or if the dark tone set by the narrative (The future of Earth is a wasteland in the wake of a worldwide atomic war.) will override. The best outcome, I think, would be a mix of the two.

Ease vs complexity; Brand loyalty

As in: Design

Apologies: this is a bit of a ramble. In a response to my new music habits post, Laurie echoes others in recommending iTunes:

...When you rip CDs directly into iTunes, you can choose MP3 or other formats, so it's just a click of a button and then everything is really easy, intuitive, and--almost uncannily--beautiful from there on. Sorry to sound like an advertisement; iTunes is just awesome and it's one of those programs that inspires love, like Emacs:)

Having read some of CBD's work, I'm always alert to the use of the term easy, but I'm particularly struck by its use in this case. My curiosity comes as I wonder if people unfamiliar with emacs might think that program is also "easy, intiuitive" and so on. Of course, we all know it isn't. It's complex, clunky, and hard to get used to. Once you do, though, you can be blisteringly fast and do so much.

My question, then, is about brand loyalty. Do both ease and complexity inspire brand loyalty? I'm enjoying iTunes, but I also feel slightly disconnected--there are things I instinctively want to see but can't, such as a file-system display. Complexity often seems to offer control at the expense of ease.

Mostly I was just amused by the comparison of emacs and iTunes. A new marketing slogan: "emacs and iTunes, your digital workhorses."

PS: I like the party shuffle mode, which just randomly plays songs from throughout your library.

Tales from the User-Interface battlefield

As in: Comics , Design

Reasons everyone should read Donald Norman.

1. The recent run of Agnes has been interesting:

2. When Jenny and I went to see Revenge of the Sith, the person in front of us in the line for the pre-bought tickets machine was apparently new to the device and didn't know that he was supposed to swipe his credit card through the credit card reader slot. Instead, he folded up his confirmation printout so that the misleading (and unused) barcode rested at the end of the page; then he swiped the barcode through the credit card reader. Just as I was telling him that he needed to use his credit card, an employee redirected us to a ticket window—apparently the machine was just booting up and didn't have the right display on the screen. As we walked toward the ticket booth, I saw someone else walking up to the vending machine, folding her confirmation printout to swipe the barcode through the slot.

Aside: Donald Norman looks a lot like c-list actor Michael Lerner (whom I remember as the evil warden from the Ray Liotta vehicle, No Escape).