"Essentially BioShock was a period piece," he said. The period was the Empire Age, when Django Reinhardt played on the radio, and big men with big ideas made dreams come true. Art deco on the walls tells you instantly where you are in time, and that creates a point of reference. "Everybody was familiar with the period. Your story can be about aliens coming to Earth, or about an Earthling going to an alien world, but it can't be about an alien going to an alien world."
But no matter where your story is set, or how complicated it ultimately becomes, the story goals, the motivations of the main character "have to be fucking stupid." To make his point, Levine referenced Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, specifically the scene where Indiana Jones finds Marion held captive by the Nazis. In every scene of the film, Indiana's goal was the same: to find the ark. When he finds Marion, is he going to save her? "No. he's busy." It was a ballsy storytelling move, but it fit the character, and you always knew what he was after, and where he was going. Games, according to Levine, should be the same way. You can have as convoluted a story as you want, but the goals need to be clear: rescue Atlas' family, kill Ryan, escape Rapture.
"BioShock's a detective story," Levine said. "Detective stories are interactive ... a natural fit for games." He says the increased graphical ability of today's game machines give designers the ability to render not only the wheat, the essentials, but the chaff as well. "Chaff is the ability to render a huge amount of density ... where the player can try to find what's important. If you have a game of Clue, and all you have is Professor Plum and a candlestick and the conservatory, it's not a game of Clue."
Levine's example was of Atlas' wife and child, named Moira and Patrick. Atlas, as you know (or do now anyway) was an alias; the man pretending to be Atlas was actually named Fontaine. There was no Atlas, no Moira and Patrick. If you look around a bit in BioShock, you'll find an advertisement for a theatrical production called "Moira and Patrick." This is a bit of chaff that isn't critical to the story, but if you find it early, Levine says, it plants a seed.
Another example is the crazed plastic surgeon, Dr. Steinman. "When you meet Dr. Steinman, he's a guy with a machine gun and a surgical mask," said Levine, which, alone, isn't that impressive. But leading up to the encounter, you've been introduced to the character through story bits, writings on the wall and diaries of other characters who knew him. So when you meet the guy with the machine gun and a surgical mask, "you've been set up to have an emotional reaction. By the time you meet him, you have a relationship with him, and the A.I. has to carry a lot less weight."
Levine described what he called "the mystery balloon," saying that answering questions wasn't nearly as interesting as asking them. By continually asking questions and answering them piecemeal, the player remained engaged, always looking for answers, but satisfied at the same time. He says it's a difficult balance.
He also, in what used to be a radical departure for game designers, but is rapidly becoming par for the course with Ken Levine, admitted to having made a grave mistake. He says they probably shouldn't have solved the riddle of the player's relationship to Ryan when they did. He says after the player knows where he came from, the balloon falls flat, and although the last levels of the game, gameplay wise, are some of the strongest, the impetus to keep going is lost. "I think we underestimated the impact on the player."
What does it say about a game when the designer can admit to having made a huge mistake in designing it practically every time he shows up to talk, and yet it still sells millions of copies? Only good things, I think. BioShock is nominated for five awards at GDC's Game Developers' Choice Awards Wednesday, including Best Game Writing and Best Game.
