It always starts with a search. My eyes scanning the shore as I begin sorting through various stones discarding those that are too large or small, too round or cubic. Near planar, flat stones were the most desirable. Their material and shape gave them various properties that one could exploit when skipping them across the water. Smooth round stones were the most accurate and traveled farther. Curved stones would skip in surprising patterns some returning like boomerangs. Each stone was a different set of possibilities. Each search of the shore yielding...
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Wonderful randomized loot in the original Diablo was revelatory for the young impressionable me. The dungeon walls were ever shifting around my character, spawning new monsters and chests that dropped new loot. So much loot. With that final blow the Butcher exploded into gore and treasure raining down as if I had struck some macabre and decadent piñata. Who stores their money and trinkets in the bowels of a foul beast? The most notable loot were the coins, at first, shiny piles neatly separated from the blood and giblets. But that wasn't what I had come for, what I had killed for. There to the side of a potion was the steely glint of a blade, orange text above it marking it as legendary quality. My heart began to beat faster.
As much as I was intrigued by the new monsters and dungeon paths I stayed for the loot. Each new randomly enchanted item had the chance to affect gameplay in profound ways. Bolstering immunity to certain elements allowed my character to wade into the midst of enemies that would otherwise quickly overwhelm. Conversely, an enchantment that added elemental attacks would allow the exploitation of enemy weaknesses, allowing me to loot them faster. Some items would passively increase my movement or attack speed. But I never knew what the next meat piñata would drop, and that was nearly as compelling a reason to keep stabbing them open as the loot itself. Stabbing them open again and again until I reached down...
***
To pick up that momentarily perfect rock, that is the culmination of the search. To stand up upon the strand with at least one if not several skipping stones in hand, ready for yet another search, yet another collaboration with chance. Its not enough to simply fling the stones at the water. This is skipping, and skipping is art. Where you throw is just as important as how. Bad footing can make an otherwise superb throw go kerplunk. Throwing against or with a current affects range and skip length. Still water has higher surface tension. The slope of the bank affects the angle of the throw.
Even after these considerations its always nice to pick a goal. Get across a specific stretch of water. Maybe try to hit a partially submerged log. Out throw whoever is with you. Whatever your goal, its bound by the conditions of the stone in hand, the bank beneath you feet, and the water before you. With that in mind, my eyes once more begin their perusal. Only now searching the bank or banks, the waters and all that is near at hand. I take a step forward and realize...
***
Exploration is key at the start of a game of Civilization(any of them really). The first 10 turns have a profound effect on the next 100. What will my warriors and settlers find? I look for gold, silk, wheat, and ivory so I can establish a trading empire early on. Or will my tentative first steps uncover ancient ruins containing lost knowledge or treasure? Now is the time for planning. Who is nearby? What kind of resources are available? Is there a great spot to establish my second city? I look for rivers and jungles, as they will block my roads and hamper unit movement. And those barbarians over there? Well, they'll need to be handled soon.
While my play shaped the map, the map in turn shaped my play. Many times I'd find myself generating maps for the sake of seeing how they turned out. It was intriguing to see how a game that began on an island composed of three land squares would play out. Or what two adjacent civs who had discovered iron early on would do to each other and their neighbors(a storm of swords(men) being most likely). After sinking literally hundreds of hours into the Civilization franchise the hook that brings me back is this: there is always a new experience 1 map generation away. And with each new map I find that...
***
Choosing how to play is generally when things start getting good. A hollow log provides a tempting target. I cock back my wrist, stone held just so in my fingers, and let the it fly. A rookie mistake would be to use the best stone first. You always miss the first throw. Well almost always at least. Sometime the second throw too. Sigh...and the third. But eventually all the seemingly disparate pieces come together. The stone hums as it leaves your hands, striking the water with a rapid pattering sound. It barely touches the surface before rebounding again, dry on top, with barely a splash. It does this again and again leaving small, concentric, radial patterns on the water's surface. I watch head bobbing with each skip, mentally counting them comparing them to my previous tries. And the stones make it all the way to the target diving headlong into the hollow log to disappear with a splash.
A moment to savor this small victory and yet another search will begin. One goal met now on to another. I could stay here lobbing rocks at this unfortunate log, but that's not the point of skipping stones. The point is that the details and the moments make this outwardly repetitive activity constantly percolate into novel situations. By simply changing one of the many variables completely new and interesting things happen. From upstream a twisted mass of leaves and twigs comes floating by. Suddenly I have an intriguing new target. Sometimes the stars align and...
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Spelunky hands you emergent play on a brimming silver platter. All the myriad systems come together so cohesively and convincingly that you rarely stop to even reflect on them. They are so logical within the context of play that you rarely question or deeply analyze whats happening. It's not so much in the details you expect, but rather those you don't. The darts that traps shoot are actual objects with defined physics. They catch fire, are effected by explosions and webs, can be stuck into wall to give you a momentary foothold, and have a deadly ricochet. I'm probably missing something in all that, but the point is that the myriad behaviors associated with a pointy stick in this game are breathtakingly complex. And that's just the darts. All the objects in the game have similarly complex contextual behavior. And its that complexity coupled with the randomized levels that make the game so compelling.
Spelunky is really a game that brought it all together for me. It is absolutely permeated randomization and simulation. Each and every playthrough is unique. Not only unique in that the levels and enemies and loot changes, but unique in the way you approach it. It allows you to be constantly exploring, constantly learning, find surprise after surprise. It left me almost shell-shocked at first. I couldn't believe that this game existed and that it hadn't existed before. It was almost like coming home. And the sentiment...
***
Is completely inexplicable. These games that I love tap into something so primal that it is nearly impossible to convey. But I love them. And that is enough for me.
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