Tower of Heaven

[Flash game: Play here]

Now, seeing as this is my first analysis of the psychology of a game, I’m starting with something that just blew me away. Yes, it’s a flash game, but in my experience, nearly all games that really reach the potential of what a game can do are simple, brief, flash games. Why they don’t start indie games and attract big labels is beyond me. But anyway, let’s get this analysis rolling.

The graphics, at first glance, may be seen as sub-par. Others may see it as nostalgic. These eight-bit games are not common, and the ones I have found do an incredible job of taking me back to the days of the Gameboy. Tower of Heaven does this astoundingly well, and the author even used the same color scheme as the original Gameboy.  The music was incredibly well done, and brings to mind games like Link’s Awakening, and occasionally Megaman. We’re only at the main menu, and already, the nostalgia is stronger than most other games even come close to.

Upon starting the game, the player is presented by an ominous voice (in the typical Gameboy RPG fashion) that threatens to smite them if they move slowly. The controls are kept very simplistic, allowing the player to focus more fully on the gameplay. The character moves very acutely, doing exactly what the player has it do, and as simple as it is, it create a slight sense of complete control. By the player reaches the end of the second level, they have very easily fallen straight between spikes in a pit. Everything feels great, and the controls never fail.

The next level is, of course, more difficult. By the third level, the ominous voice starts giving more and more rules to play by, the first of which is “Thou shalt not touch golden blocks.” This new rule is introduced with a gentle learning curve, but the rules continue to build as the player progresses. This simple act starts taking away part of the player’s control, and in the later levels, it will definitely create a suffocating feel. Still, at this point, the player is in complete control.

The next rule, “Thou shalt not touch blocks or walls from the side,” does not take any control away from the player. They are still in complete control of their actions, and the actions of the environment (Those that are out of the player’s control), are still very minimal. Yet, with this much control, it is very easy to accidentally touch the sides of blocks, as it is not something that players are used to avoiding. They will likely die a series of times here, and if they get frustrated, they will be removing control from themselves. When we are frustrated or angered, we act irrationally. In this case, doing the same thing repeatedly, expecting different results. Of course, it is impossible to perfectly replicate an action, and so, any success with this method is due to luck. The game begins to create frustration in a player, and, while not directly taking away any control, triggers the player to give away control to rules of luck. With a game like this, stay calm and enjoy.

Speaking of which, the music was excellently composed to reduce stress produced by the game. Although it is repetitive (As any background music will have to loop), it does not feel like it is. There are an oddly large number of things a player can focus on in the music alone, and doing so is the game’s way of allowing a player to combat the self-inflicted loss of control.

The next rule teaches a player to read between the lines. “Thou shalt not walk left.” Naturally, the door is on the left of the player. If you can’t walk, what do you do? Let’s run though a list of what this game has done to a player right now:

-          It gives the player complete control over the circumstances of the game.

-          It forces the player to give away control, due to frustration.

-          It gives to player a way to get it back, through music and art.

-          It stimulates creativity with very “strict” rules.

This game is playing with emotion, in the full sense of the phrase.

As the game progresses, it adds more and more variables that are out of player control. What the player must realize is that they are still in complete control of what happens. The game creates frustration, takes it away, suffocates control over the situation, and dares you to question it.

Towards the end of the game, the player end up breaking out of the tower, contradicting the ominous, omnipotent voice and destroying all the rules. It generates a great sense of relief, as if new freedoms have been bestowed on the player. They are free to do anything, now. Just like… At the beginning of the game. There was always control over the character, but at the beginning, there was no control that the environment had. And now it is that way again. The levels continue to increase in difficulty, but it will all feel easier, simply because the environment lost control over the character.

Overall, the game plays, very drastically, with control and lack thereof. It creates the illusions of helplessness, only to remind the player that they truly were nothing more than illusions. On top of that, the ending is fantastically poetic. My take on it is that the gods had a tight hold on the world. They were blinded by the idea that they were acting purely out of good intentions, yet failed to realize what they had done to mankind. After the end cutscene, when color floods the screen and the eight-bit repetition is replaced by a fully orchestrated wonder, it is due to the separation of the heavens and Earth that made beauty.

But this is only my take, although it fits nicely with ancient mythology. On the artistic side of this, the restoration of color and music ends our trip to the golden age of gaming, bringing us back to the present. This game is a gem of the golden generation.