Teaching Without Tutorials

2018-01-11T00:00:00-08:00

Video games that teach without tuturials are superior and do more to engage and/or inspire the player. The first hour of a video game is often the most important; it's where the player learns how to interact with the machine, explore the rules and mechanics, and form an understanding of the game world. Games that effectively communicate this lead to a better-informed player that isn't slowed down or interrupted by verbose tutorials. The flow of the game remains smooth, and the player feels a sense of accomplishment or skill because they figured it out on their own, with the design of the game as their guide.

Despite games being far more advanced today, many of them rely on clunky tutorials to communicate the intricacies of their mechanics. Sometimes this is necessary, like the optional tutorials in Fire Emblem that teach you the finer points of the weapon triangle or other mechanics. Other games really hold your hand and guide you through each major mechanic as you come across it, like Kirby Superstar or The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. Sometimes, this process isn't bad. A lot of games let you skip it, but some stick to it and don't let the player out.

There are other games out there that don't bother with a tutorial at all, but still communicate the rules of their world and provide a sufficient level of freedom for the player to learn. This aspect is one of the core parts of game design; if the player is waiting on text or some side-show tutorial before they can play the game, then it's what I call a game's "lead time". Games like Golden Sun try to integrate this with the game, by throwing some real gameplay and combat into it. Some complain that this makes speedrunning a pain and lowers a game's replay value. Indeed, most Golden Sun players will tell you they'd rather skip the hour-long lead time, straight to leaving Vale for the first time and meeting Flint. That's where the real game begins, after all.

Golden Sun is just one example. The Legend of Zelda's later entries are known for their protracted lead time. A Link to the Past was the first in the series to provide a tutorial level (the first Hyrule Castle sequence), which was directly tied into the story and mostly stayed out of the way. However, the game didn't keep track of whether or not you'd seen an item before. Even at the end of A Link to the Past, a chest with 3 bombs in it will tell you how to use them. Later games push lead time out even further, with Skyward Sword's lead time being the highest (even if you skip cutscenes).

The reader can probably come up with a few games they've played that held their hand too much. But which games integrate their mechanics and design so well that the tutorial is invisible or seamless? What sets them apart, and how can game designers tackle this age-old design problem?

Case Study 1: Mega Man

Mega Man 2 is one of the toughest and beloved games in the series. Despite its trial-and-error gameplay with regard to obstacles, the mechanics themselves are communicated rather well. The first time you come across the disappearing blocks, there is a solid floor underneath you so you can learn what you need to do: observe the pattern of blocks, and carefully time your jumps accordingly.

In Gyro Man's stage (Mega Man 5), you are introduced to a flying enemy that drops when you walk under it, and blocks that fall when you jump on them. However, they're introduced individually, and in a safe manner, first. Later in the stage, the enemies and dropping blocks appear together, and the two simple situations you played through are combined into a more complex gameplay situation. This is very similar to the "multiplicative gameplay" approach of The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, where multiple gameplay mechanics are combined to create emergent complexity.

This is explored in the first Mega Man, as well, with Elec Man's stage. You literally cannot leave the first screen until you understand how the floor-zooming enemies work and successfully jump up to the ladder. With no other obstacles on this screen, it allows the player to experiment, where they'll learn that the enemies move faster when Mega Man is at the same elevation, and they can be stopped by shooting them; all without some trite textbox or voice-over telling them how to push a button or use their eyes.

Case Study 2: Mega Man X

This fan favorite has a design muscle of its own to flex! Egoraptor's Sequelitis, though over-the-top, is spot-on with the analysis of gameplay. The first level teaches you everything you need to know about the game to excel: walking, jumping, wall-jumping, enemy weak points, and what a scripted loss looks like (hint: no enemy life bar or hint of progress). It also gives you a goal: to become as powerful as Zero.

MMX's intrigue goes a little further, too, by playing on your intuition:

Boomerang Cutter will slice off Launch Octopus's tentacles and Flame Mammoth's trunk;
Chill Penguin is weak to fire;
Homing Missile can hit Boomer Kuwanger even if he's invisible;
Armored Armadillo's metal armor can be shed by shocking him;
Spark Mandrill is completely frozen if you hit him with ice.

In short, the game world is believable because it conveys its rules subtly and builds on intuition that you've already built around the physical world. This forms a more solid connection between the game and the player.

Case Study 3: Super Mario Bros.

Senior Nintendo designer Shigeru Miyamoto needs no introduction. His Donkey Kong game put Nintendo squarely into the video game business, and Super Mario Bros -- alongside the NES -- are attributed as single-handedly reviving the industry after the Crash of 1983. Though the company's practices have been a little too shrewd at times, it's hard to deny that their focus on quality and licensing improved game design and restored consumer faith in the industry, leading to the games of today.

Miyamoto and other senior designers have confirmed the first level of Super Mario Bros was actually the last level completed; The iconic first level covers all but two mechanics in the game (ascending vines and warping). In an interview, Miyamoto details how the blocks were designed in a way to practically force the player to get the first mushroom, so they can understand that mushrooms help Mario. Likewise, the Goomba teaches the player that Mario's primary way to attack is by jumping onto enemies. The "?" blocks teach the player that there are goodies hidden away in them. Later, the player learns that the A button must be held to get a longer jump, how fire flowers and stars work, the existence of hidden blocks, and how running jumps can help Mario cross chasms.

In terms of game design, the first level is truly a work of art, covering every major mechanic of the game without a hint of tutorial. The enemies present are mostly Goombas, and one learns very quickly how to dispatch them, so the level doesn't feel threatening to new players. The bright blue background was also a large departure from arcade games at the time, which used mostly black backgrounds. This lighter color makes the game appear more vibrant and inviting. Each part of SMB's first level has a purpose, and it's that sort of game design that creates the perfect "tutorial level"; the player doesn't realize that they're being taught. They're too busy enjoying the game. :)

Case Study 4: Super Metroid

Oh the volumes I could write on this game's design. Made by Deer Force (later known as Intelligent Systems, creators of Fire Emblem, Paper Mario, and others), Super Metroid is oozing with solid game design. The lead-up to Samus's landing on Zebes is, in effect, a minor playground. There are no enemies, and there's enough platform navigation to get the player used to jumping. During the sequence with Ridley, Samus can't actually die; Ridley triggers the escape sequence when Samus hits 29 energy or less. This gives the player an opportunity to understand what combat is like without dealing with the frustration of reloading a save continuously just to get to "the real game".

Once Samus lands on planet Zebes, the average player will likely go to the right, where they encounter a wall of blocks in their way. This teaches players who've only played platformers that they don't have to go to the right all the time.

Later, the player encounters narrow tunnels that Samus can't (yet) fit into and magenta doors that won't open. These aspects teach the player that they must find power-ups so they can explore more of the planet and gain firepower. In the sequence leading up to the Morph Ball and Morph Ball Bombs, the player learns the value of power-ups and ammo conservation; two mechanics that are central to early-game Metroid. When they come back up to Crateria and the Space Pirates are present, the place they traversed is now covered in enemies, teaching them that the actions or events in one area can influence another. This is important to understand what must be done when the player reaches the Wrecked Ship.

Super Metroid continues to teach new mechanics by exposing the player to them as a part of exploration. Nothing is really "staged" except the first room after a power-up, such as the Grappling Beam; the player must figure out how to use it (or be good at wall-jumping) to advance.

Speaking of wall-jumps, Super Metroid also teaches the player through wildlife; in two key points, there are Etecoons (small monkey-like beings) and a Dachora (large ostrich-like bird) that move around near Samus and show her a move. This is where the game actively shows the player what they should be doing without taking control of the game from the player. An observant player will learn how those mechanics work, which will lead them to more power-ups and ammo.

These lessons continue throughout the game, with different colored doors, one-way gates, super-heated rooms, breakable blocks that look like normal blocks, hollow blocks that Samus can walk through, and so on. For much of these mechanics, the game presents at least one or two situations where the player won't (easily) die from making a mistake.

One exception is something I think is expected; when Samus picks up an item, the game displays a brief one-liner of how to use that item. It's displayed during the item-get jingle, so the "tutorial" is more a part of the interface instead a part of the gameplay itself.

Case Study 5: Demon's Souls

The Souls series is a brutally fair series of games made by From Software. They are often set in a low-fantasy setting, with extremely classic gameplay conventions to complement it.

The game teaches the player entirely through optional text messages strewn about the game world. If playing online, a player can read the messages of others; some of which are misleading and lead to certain death.

The tutorial level is really just another stage. There's nothing special to it aside from the sparse enemies. Highly skilled players can fight the boss at the end and get some extra Souls (the game's currency), which is useful toward getting early level ups.

The rest of the game's details are communicated through conversations with NPCs or item descriptions. The mechanics themselves are deceptively simple: you have a standard and strong attack that you can use with either hand; a parry; magic; and some basic dodging. That's pretty much it. The rest comes from the challenge of reading your enemy and being aware of your surroundings.

The series even takes it a step further (at least, on PS3). There isn't a real pause button in the game, so the player must always be careful of where they leave their controller, since the shoulder buttons are the attack buttons. In a sense, the developers influence the player's actions by forcing them to treat the controller itself as a weapon; if you accidentally hit or kill an NPC, it saves the game at the time of their death and there's no way to undo it!

Some may find the Souls games to be lacking in high-quality design. For a hardcore gamer who's after a game that won't hold their hand, the Souls series is a stern, fair grandpa waiting for you to git gud. It expects you to figure out the world around you by checking out your inventory and talking to people.

In Demon's Souls at least, after felling the first demon, you can explore the other 5 regions of the game. This is a huge deal, because it allows an intrepid (or suicidal) player to venture out to get the good gear, like the Talisman of God in world 4-1 (important for casting healing spells, aka "miracles"). Designing things in an open, discoverable way encourages the player to find new pathways through the game, and new strategies for other classes. All without explicitly teaching you anything except the basic controls, which never have to be examined!

Closing

The above list is just a sample of games that do a great job of teaching the player without an overt tutorial. Beneath these mechanics, I think there are a few key concepts to take away from analyzing these games:

Use the game world as an interface for learning;
If you must include a tutorial, make it optional and engaging;
Limit the player in creative ways to influence their actions, so they learn the mechanics you need them to in order to present tougher challenges later;
Don't be afraid to hide a mechanic or two and leave hints -- show rather than tell;
Leverage the player's existing understanding of the world and surprise them with their own intuition. Implement mechanics that make sense intuitively.

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to send feedback please e-mail me, or reply on your own phlog or website! I'd love to read about more games that teach the player with creative design.

Y u hate me, RNG?

2012-11-29T16:05:00-08:00

I recently finished acquiring all of the ship parts in The Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass. Getting the Power, Courage, and Wisdom Gems was no big deal. Look around, try new things, and you'll find them. Ship parts? They're randomly acquired. You get them from shops (whose stock changes every day), treasure maps (which can be scummed to get the same type of part), treasure chests, and minigames. The problem is that it's controlled by the RNG. There are 64 parts to collect, but thanks to our friend Mr. Statistics and Probability, you will likely acquire over 200 ship parts before you get all 64 unique ship parts.

This design idea is ridiculous. I realize I'm picking on an old game, but I still see it in many other games. Even Zelda: Skyward Sword is guilty of this with its random drops from enemies. When will game developers and designers stop relying on random elements to add artificial difficulty or length to a game? Give gamers well-defined means of getting specific things. Continuing my Phantom Hourglass story, imagine if you had to look far and wide for the 64 ship parts. Each one would be new to your collection, so it wouldn't get (that) old, and the life upgrade on the ship is plenty reason to continue looking for parts. But no; ship parts got demoted to "random drop" status. Spirit Tracks committed this sin with treasure, which you redeem to Linebeck the Third in order to get your train parts. I can't tell you how many times I saved that freakin' Goron in the Ocean Realm, praying to get the 7 Mystic Jades I needed for the last of my train parts!

This goes far beyond just Zelda, though. RPGs (which Zelda is not) have been doing it since their inception. Kill a monster, and you might get lucky with a new item! Except that item will be outclassed in a dungeon or two...

Don't get me wrong; Zelda isn't the only offender. It's fairly light on RNG elements in the grand scheme of things. Other games with excessive RNG are below:

post-SotN Castlevania (items, souls, glyphs, subweapons (Portrait))
Final Fantasy, Dragon Quest, Pokémon, et al (item drops, weapon drops, Poké Ball captures, monster encounters, you name it!)
Zelda: Spirit Tracks (treasure)
Zelda: Phantom Hourglass (ship parts)
Zelda: Skyward Sword (treasure)
Diablo series (loot odds)
Super Smash Bros. Brawl (tripping, Smash Balls, Assist Trophies, Poké Balls, etc)
Animal Crossing (pick a mechanic, any mechanic!)
Fire Emblem (level up stat amounts; there's an entire gameplay style revolving around this!)
Golden Sun (encounters, drops, whether a Djinni will run from you, etc)

Note: If you really want me to go on, I can. But we'll be here all night...

Here's a better idea; follow in the vein of Metroid, Zelda, or Cave Story — where you have to find your power-ups — or use a system similar to Etrian Odyssey 3's: kill an enemy in a particular way, and you might get a specific, much better item. Except don't screw it up like Atlus did; give the item to the player either every time or only once. This will make players look for each secret kill item, and they might even appreciate the experience if the secret items are really good. That design idea rewards creative play! Random items and drops do not. All randomness does to a game is force the player to play for longer in order to reach their goals.

Can we please reserve randomness to something like AI, which could actually do with a smidge more randomness? I'd love to see more games (especially RPGs) that reward creativity in combat and exploration of the game world instead of forcing gamers to spend mindless hours waiting for the magic number on the roulette wheel.

Disclaimer: The games listed above are not necessarily bad, they just have mechanics that seriously hamper the experience if you're after 100% completion.

Z Space Blog - Game Design