emergent behaviour
Tuesday, 4 October 2022 06:36 pmIt transpires that there is actually a limit to the number of times one (or in this case, I) can play Stardew Valley over and over again without a break. It's a high, but real number. When I have, once again, tamed the farm, delved to the bottom of the dungeons, befriended the village and married my romance du jour, I can only immediately start a new game, oh, six goes out of seven. (I may, in fact, have a slightly unhealthy addiction to Stardew Valley, it prods with pinpoint accuracy at my personal button labelled "make systems work"). The seventh time, I start casting around for something new, slight and frivolous to play upon the Ipad of an evening when lounging in bed, cat-bestrewn and shutting down my brain for sleep. This has brought me Fallout Shelter (fun for two goes, now boring), occasional outbreaks of Solitaire or Plants vs Zombies, a number of unsuccessful forays into things that Simply Failed To Grip, and, most recently, Merge Dragons.
I am vaguely ashamed of Merge Dragons. It is the epitome of a casual game in the sense denigrated by "Real Gamers": cutesy, superficial, and in mechanical terms apparently simplistic (merge three or five of the same thing to get a fancier version of same! Rinse, repeat!). There is a strategic element to it, but only just. It is rife with Adorable, TM, Cartoon Dragons who float busily over the landscape, harvesting and building and being merged to make higher beings.
It is also fiendishly, machiavellianly, shamelessly, mercenarily manipulative.
Merge Dragons proliferates the possible types of dragons, the objects they can harvest (life orbs, coins, seeds, sprouts, etc), the objects they can harvest from (trees, flowers, mushrooms, hills, lakes, buildings, grasses, etc etc etc), and the flavour, configurations and environments in which said objects are located, to a quite ludicrous extent; it is always throwing off special events, new packages, fancier dragons. In terms of areas offering variations on gameplay, I can pursue merging random objects in my home camp; my dragon houses; puzzle levels; a dragon quest zone; Arcadia; the tower (sheer chance with randomised goblins, I hate it, I am whatever the exact opposite of a gambler is); or the annoying arena of the special event, with its new spanky dragon types and specialised tokens of some sort. Were I not a reclusive misanthrope, I could share (presumably) dragons with other real-world players in dragon dens. In the month or so I've been playing it has offered me Egyptian dragons, Viking dragons, dessert dragons (really, that's not a typo), aquatic dragons, gem settings, beach settings, zodiac settings, Unspecified-Oriental settings, and whatever the hell that mad clockwork thing is. In terms of iconage and nomenclature, I cannot acquit the game of unpleasant cultural appropriation and stereotyping at a number of points, but other than that it's generally not without its own slightly plastic charm.
However. Said slightly plastic charm is clearly and evidently also the product of a crack team of marketing primates, deterministic behaviourists, Dark Side statisticians (i.e. statisticians), and designers who have had key creative organs surgically removed and replaced with actual dollar signs. Because this is a free game app. You can download it freely, and can for a while freely and happily pursue the above dragon-wrangling, harvesting, coin-accumulating existence, merrily merging things for fun and profit, until you run to the carefully-judged edge of the easy bit, and into the game's entrapment zone. You are forced to face the fact that to proceed further you have to either grind mercilessly at a snail's pace, or speed things up by spending real world cash to acquire dragon gems, which will open treasure chests, buy fancier dragons or allow you to acquire key items to merge at strategic points so you can unlock further merge opportunities.
I can confidently attribute the fact that I have not spent thousands on this stupid game to the fortuitous (or possibly prescient) circumstance that I have set my Ipad to require me to re-enter my password every time I buy something from the app store, and I can never remember my password. Since I am generally playing in bed at night and am warm and comfortable enough that I won't drag myself out of bed to go and look it up, mostly I don't buy dragon gems. By such fragile bulwarks do we save ourselves.
Because, here's the thing, I can absolutely see exactly what they're doing. I am wholly aware of the careful build-up they've created, where you have just enough easy wins at first, and have earned some rewards, and can see potentially very nice perks and loot waiting just ahead, except that either you first have to spend several hours mind-numbingly making dragons harvest life orbs so you can get past the &^)(#%*(% dead plant zone into the area where you can merge again... or you can dump actual money into dragon gems and take a short cut. Or use them to buy the cute, fancy dragon eggs you can't buy with coins or find in any of the areas. Or make the dragon gem payout which will save your accumulated loot in the tower if a goblin gets you. And I know what they're doing, I can see exactly how I'm being manipulated, and it's still compelling enough that at times, when I have randomly remembered my password and really want that loot, I have to rugby-tackle my own fingers to prevent myself from pressing the button to buy. Sometimes I miss. I was never big on sport, anyway. I have paid less for this game overall to date than I would have for a premium large-scale RPG, but honestly I'm not sure if that's much of a recommendation given the pricing structures of AAA games.
So I think I find myself, primarily, bemused at all this: by all the precedents, this stupid game should not be keeping my attention, and I suspect it's only doing so because I'm tired and COVID-bludgeoned and post-lurgified and don't have the brain for much more. Further thesis: I play a lot during load shedding, when there isn't much else to do. So in fact I might actually be able to at least partially blame Eskom for the whole debacle. Eskom and the Merge Dragons marketing primates. Yup. All their fault.
But I also think that the siren call of Stardew Valley will reassert itself eventually, possibly when my irritation at the commodification of my gameplay has finally filled its gauge and I delete the whole bloody thing in a fit of pique. Because really, it's dangerously addictive candyfloss with a carcinogenic core.
I am vaguely ashamed of Merge Dragons. It is the epitome of a casual game in the sense denigrated by "Real Gamers": cutesy, superficial, and in mechanical terms apparently simplistic (merge three or five of the same thing to get a fancier version of same! Rinse, repeat!). There is a strategic element to it, but only just. It is rife with Adorable, TM, Cartoon Dragons who float busily over the landscape, harvesting and building and being merged to make higher beings.
It is also fiendishly, machiavellianly, shamelessly, mercenarily manipulative.
Merge Dragons proliferates the possible types of dragons, the objects they can harvest (life orbs, coins, seeds, sprouts, etc), the objects they can harvest from (trees, flowers, mushrooms, hills, lakes, buildings, grasses, etc etc etc), and the flavour, configurations and environments in which said objects are located, to a quite ludicrous extent; it is always throwing off special events, new packages, fancier dragons. In terms of areas offering variations on gameplay, I can pursue merging random objects in my home camp; my dragon houses; puzzle levels; a dragon quest zone; Arcadia; the tower (sheer chance with randomised goblins, I hate it, I am whatever the exact opposite of a gambler is); or the annoying arena of the special event, with its new spanky dragon types and specialised tokens of some sort. Were I not a reclusive misanthrope, I could share (presumably) dragons with other real-world players in dragon dens. In the month or so I've been playing it has offered me Egyptian dragons, Viking dragons, dessert dragons (really, that's not a typo), aquatic dragons, gem settings, beach settings, zodiac settings, Unspecified-Oriental settings, and whatever the hell that mad clockwork thing is. In terms of iconage and nomenclature, I cannot acquit the game of unpleasant cultural appropriation and stereotyping at a number of points, but other than that it's generally not without its own slightly plastic charm.
However. Said slightly plastic charm is clearly and evidently also the product of a crack team of marketing primates, deterministic behaviourists, Dark Side statisticians (i.e. statisticians), and designers who have had key creative organs surgically removed and replaced with actual dollar signs. Because this is a free game app. You can download it freely, and can for a while freely and happily pursue the above dragon-wrangling, harvesting, coin-accumulating existence, merrily merging things for fun and profit, until you run to the carefully-judged edge of the easy bit, and into the game's entrapment zone. You are forced to face the fact that to proceed further you have to either grind mercilessly at a snail's pace, or speed things up by spending real world cash to acquire dragon gems, which will open treasure chests, buy fancier dragons or allow you to acquire key items to merge at strategic points so you can unlock further merge opportunities.
I can confidently attribute the fact that I have not spent thousands on this stupid game to the fortuitous (or possibly prescient) circumstance that I have set my Ipad to require me to re-enter my password every time I buy something from the app store, and I can never remember my password. Since I am generally playing in bed at night and am warm and comfortable enough that I won't drag myself out of bed to go and look it up, mostly I don't buy dragon gems. By such fragile bulwarks do we save ourselves.
Because, here's the thing, I can absolutely see exactly what they're doing. I am wholly aware of the careful build-up they've created, where you have just enough easy wins at first, and have earned some rewards, and can see potentially very nice perks and loot waiting just ahead, except that either you first have to spend several hours mind-numbingly making dragons harvest life orbs so you can get past the &^)(#%*(% dead plant zone into the area where you can merge again... or you can dump actual money into dragon gems and take a short cut. Or use them to buy the cute, fancy dragon eggs you can't buy with coins or find in any of the areas. Or make the dragon gem payout which will save your accumulated loot in the tower if a goblin gets you. And I know what they're doing, I can see exactly how I'm being manipulated, and it's still compelling enough that at times, when I have randomly remembered my password and really want that loot, I have to rugby-tackle my own fingers to prevent myself from pressing the button to buy. Sometimes I miss. I was never big on sport, anyway. I have paid less for this game overall to date than I would have for a premium large-scale RPG, but honestly I'm not sure if that's much of a recommendation given the pricing structures of AAA games.
So I think I find myself, primarily, bemused at all this: by all the precedents, this stupid game should not be keeping my attention, and I suspect it's only doing so because I'm tired and COVID-bludgeoned and post-lurgified and don't have the brain for much more. Further thesis: I play a lot during load shedding, when there isn't much else to do. So in fact I might actually be able to at least partially blame Eskom for the whole debacle. Eskom and the Merge Dragons marketing primates. Yup. All their fault.
But I also think that the siren call of Stardew Valley will reassert itself eventually, possibly when my irritation at the commodification of my gameplay has finally filled its gauge and I delete the whole bloody thing in a fit of pique. Because really, it's dangerously addictive candyfloss with a carcinogenic core.