Tomb Raider Anniversary, Session 3: Trust and Frustration. Demiboy vs. Backlog, Game #3

This week I'm playing Tomb Raider: Anniversary! Each week, I select a game at random from the 228 entries in my backlog and play only that game over the course of the week, writing about it here whenever sufficient time and thoughts align. This game's series began with this post and continued here.

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Much has been written about the concept of flow in game design: achieving that delicate balance of challenge and progress that keeps the player in a state of engagement and learning. I'd like to add to that corpus by considering the role of trust in dealing with frustration in a game.

I didn't trust these bastards any further than I could throw them. That's why, when this fight grew frustrating, I let my wife look up a how-to and walk me through it.

 
When I start playing a game, I'm hypersensitive to markers of competence or the lack thereof. Just like when meeting a prospective friend or partner, first impressions are everything. My first experiences of Starpoint Gemini 2 involved stuttery video and blisteringly paced, contextless tutorials, for example, and I couldn't shake that feeling of technical mediocrity even as I grew to appreciate the gameplay. In other words, I didn't come out of the initial hour feeling I could trust the designers and programmers to do right by me.

When I encounter something frustrating in the game, then, that trust informs my response. Do I believe in the game's creators, having faith that the challenge they set forth is fair, well thought out, and thoroughly tested? If so, my conclusion is likely to be that I need only practice a bit more or approach the problem from a slightly different angle. If I don't trust the game as a whole, though, I'm likely to interpret the friction as poor level design, insufficient cues to the player, or even bugs. I'm less ready to believe that things will get better if I press on.

It's not a binary thing, either: I can have a cautious or dubious trust, or trust the game design in some circumstances but not others. That can lead to some ambivalent moments--which brings me to Tomb Raider Anniversary. My first impression was that the game is solid, but a bit phoned-in. I think the creators know what they're doing, but this isn't their best effort. So when I hit a stretch where I keep failing, I don't really know what to make of it. Is it one of those moments where their cuing is trash, like when the camera refuses to orient to where I need to go? Or is the fault with me, and I'm simply overlooking something? If I'm having trouble nailing a jump, is it the fault of the sometimes sloppy gamepad controls, something I need practice with, or has the level design misled me and it's not a jump I'm supposed to be able to make?

I tried this awkwardly angled platform-to-grab-ledge jump a dozen times, never sure if I was even attempting the right move. Eventually I had to use the keyboard for better precision, but it was doable!

 
I would say that, in the end, I trust TR:A just enough to keep at it despite its sometimes prompting me to swear in increasingly creative ways ("god FUCKTOAST," I exclaim). Its level of competence is such that I don't think there will be any irreversible dead ends, red-herring interactive objects, or gamebreaking glitches. But its rough edges bring an extra layer of anxiety to gameplay, where I wonder if it's funneled me into pursuing some impossible solution due to a thoughtlessly placed platform or unclearly-out-of-reach objective. I veer back and forth between doubting the creators' judgment and my own, like the game is gaslighting me. It's a bizarre state to be in!

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This is technically the end of the week for Tomb Raider Anniversary, but I think I'm only a few hours away from finishing the game, and it's Christmas vacation week so my work obligations are light. Barring some disastrous turn in the endgame, my next post will likely be a wrap-up after a victory!