Entries from March 2008 ↓

Well, Joseph asked, and since I’ve mostly spilled the beans on as much gameplay talk as I am comfortable with, I thought maybe I could discuss some of the technology we’re building for Lila Dreams.

Some graphics snobs will scoff at a 2d game. The client is what? Flash? The server is what? Java?! Ha-ha-ha-ha! “Your game is so low-tech players have to pedal to keep it running.” (Ok I just made that up–it’s bad, I know.) But, seriously, there’s a lot to love about 2d art. Especially when you’re on a budget!

One central technology for the game is the “2d bones” animation system. That’s just fancy-talk for little bits of art attached together like a paper doll puppet that has joints. Only digital. This has a ton of great benefits over traditional animation techniques.

Avatar Customization

Since player avatars are made up of various pieces, it’s really simple to mix and match. So, instantly you get a huge range of customization options. And because the system uses hierarchical rotations, we can do cool things like attach items to your avatar’s hand and the item will move with the hand. It’s gonna rock.

On-demand Animations

Because the art is in pieces, and there are no “cel” frames, we can create animations separate from the art, then mix and match animations. For instance, maybe there are several styles of walking animations (one of which is a limping walk, just for Chris Pasley). Since the animation consists only of motion data, and not artwork, that animation can be used by any avatar.

But wait! There’s more. This opens up a particularly large amount of options for emotes! You could have hundreds of emotes. I could design a dancing mini-game around that fact. (Wait, did I just type that out loud?)

This just goes on and on.

Creature Comforts

Well, maybe not comfort, but body parts! Interchangeable ones. So the game can randomize body parts for creatures and the issue of a room full of clones goes away. So maybe for each creature there are several head, torso, and limb variations, and each creature would have some random configuration of them so that each one appears a little different from the others. How cool is that?

Animation for Everyman–sorry, Everyperson

One more nice thing about this system is that to create an animation, you don’t have to be able to draw. You just drag joints around and set keyframes. So even if we can’t all be an artistic god like Greg, we can maybe make some really cool animations. This has the benefit of allowing us to spread that workload around the team, or maybe even to talented community members! That way we can generate mountains of animations without killing a single starving artist.

So, there’s a little taste of the kinds of things we’re doing in terms of technology. We’re doing a lot of other stuff, too, but we have to parcel this out across weeks so there’s something to talk about! It’s for your own good, so don’t complain.

And now, we present concept art of a snail mail courier.

This week, I want to offer another bit of prose by Ted and demonstrate one way that the things in Lila’s outer and inner worlds connect.

In the game, there is a small village where nomads of a certain sort gather. It’s called Jalopy, and although it is a village, it has no true citizens because it’s a common stopping point for a group of nomads that travel with their houses, churches, and shops mounted onto their vehicles. While there, everyone enjoys entertainment by nomadic puppeteers and their giant puppets.

* * *

Dad only calls him by his first name, Jerry. Mom says he’s a modern day hobo. Lila figures “hobo” must be a couch-surfing shower user, because on the rare occurrences he pops up, that’s all Jerry seems to require.

The door bell would ring — this is the era when mom and dad were still together — and dad would usher him into the living room. Mom’s back would stiffen, she’d crisply acknowledge him with a “Hello Jerome”, and then she’d disappear up to the bedroom, returning only once Jerry had disappeared for another 7 or 16 months.

Lila would watch dad and Jerry talk. Man-talk, adult-talk, in low tones. Lila would cast herself far enough away to give them privacy, but still see their faces. Dad’s large, dark eyebrows rising and falling, arching and pressing together; it looked like a woolly bear ballet. Jerry’s face reminded Lila of the neighbor’s basset hound, skinny and saggy. His jowls would wobble with agreement, swing and ripple.

Jerry’s visits perplexed Lila. She sensed that Dad was tickled and glum, all at the same time. When she asked where Jerry came from, Dad would only respond, “Oh he’s a friend from Wayback.” Lila looked in a school room atlas once: Wayback didn’t exist.

Mom was only too unhappy to talk about Jerry. “He’s homeless” “He’s a mooch.” “He’s a smoker.” “Your dad and Jerome went to college together. Jerome was too lazy to get his degree.” “Finish everything you start. Or you’ll be a Jerome too.”

Mom never said anything about Jerry talking to himself, but Lila noticed. He would go outside when he had his cigarettes. Their skin was so bright and clean compared to Jerry’s stubbly tan. The pumpkin-orange tip reflected in his eyes.

He’d gab with a mouth-shaped wrinkle of his trench coat. Or he’d move his toes in his boot and chat with the unglued sole as it flapped up and down. He’d laugh as his gloves danced — the two middle fingers making very convincing legs. He could animate the lips of his poor-boy hat, throw his voice into his breast pocket and make it squelch to a stop when he slid his pack of smokes back in.

He’d mediate arguments between paper bags when they accused their plastic cousins of ruining the environment. Effortlessly, he would create snaggle-toothed ghosts with Styrofoam cups and twigs of wood.

Watching and listening to him, the seams of her skull stretched to bursting with fascination. Lila so wanted to talk to him or his menagerie! But it always felt like she’d be interrupting. Something grandma said gave her the idea: “Never go to a full house empty-handed.”

Lila drew a picture of Jerry and all his friends clustered about him. Wriggling ghosts rose out of the smoke of his cigarette. Smiles and winks hid in the folds of his clothing. Weeds and porch knotholes angled their new-formed ears at him.

She held on to the picture through a Christmas, an Easter, the end of one school year and into the beginning of another. Finally the door-bell rang.

Later that evening, Jerry and a Kleenex-and-plastic-straw creature stopped their discourse about the silliness of baseball when Lila opened the screechy screen door. The Kleenex instantly lost its life and Jerry stubbed out his smoke. He smiled.

Lila gave him the picture. His eyes widened and spread. Grinning.

And from then on, Jerry’s traveling menagerie was eager to include her in their chin-wags. And every time Jerry left — apparently he had many friends with many couches — Lila would draw him more pictures, usually of the stories and descriptions relayed to her by his improvised puppet-friends.

The last time she saw Jerry, her dad hadn’t been home. Mom had Lila’s new “uncle” met Jerry at the door. The tone was terse, low. The sounds Ernest made when he saw another cat through the window. Jerry went away and a month later Mom and Dad split up.

Dad had to move out, so if Jerry had ever came back, well, Lila was sure her mom wouldn’t bother to tell him where Dad had gone. But Lila’s latest pictures, all 24 of them, were waiting.

* * *

You can find the concept art for Jalopy in the gallery.

[This week we have an interview-style chat with our very own visual designer, Mr. Gregorius Maximus!]

Who are you and what do you do at Creatrix Games?

My name is Greg Tice, and I’m the sole artist for Creatrix Games. I guess you could say I wear all the many hats (and helmets?) of the art department, from intern to director. Its my job to make sure Lila has a visually striking and unique style. Its Jason’s job to make sure I don’t take it too far! Worry not–he shall not succeed.

What’s the most recent game that you played?

I’m replaying Planescape Torment for the 100th time. I am determined to go through the game with an evil alignment. I’ve never actually managed it, my bleeding heart always gets the better of me. As for new games, Mario Galaxy is currently in heavy rotation.

What are your favorite art mediums to work with?

Ink, acrylic, charcoal, and anything that I can find in the parking lot, kitchen, or scattered about my desk. This means that some artwork has a vitamin water or coffee scent.

You are responsible for visual design of everything from characters to architecture. Where do you get inspiration for such a diversity of visions?

I have a treasure trove of art history books. You can’t go wrong with the masters. But really inspiration strikes at the oddest times and from the quirkiest things. I do keep a notebook in the bedroom since I often wake up with quite a few interesting ideas that are quick to fade.

What color is your hair lately?

Dr. Pepper can colored at the moment.

As the visual designer of Lila Dreams, you have immense power over the perception of the game to its potential audience. How are you planning to shape the look of the game so it appeals to a broad group without it becoming generic or watered down?

Its a tight rope walk. We bounce all the ideas around and eventually end up at a result that is unique and not too far off the deep end. I believe that if places and things have a foundation in reality you can take them pretty far before you start to lose people. However, the public doesn’t always shy away from the strange and absurd. Just look at the success of Alice in Wonderland and Dr. Seuss!

What’s your favorite flavor of coffee?

Coffee has flavors other than coffee? I’ve been on a Turkish coffee bender lately. Its like pure energy mixed with pond sediment.

What aspects of yourself or your thoughts are you putting into Lila Dreams?

I often think back to my perceptions as a child. How the world looked and what fascinated me. Basically I’d like to instill that sense of wonder of exploring a larger than life and mysterious environment.

In what ways will visuals contribute to the fun of playing Lila Dreams?

Oddly enough I’m not a graphics snob. I still play the old Infocom text adventures every now and then! However, as an artist I am aware of how immersive good art direction can make a game. I’d like players to forget they are playing a 2D MMO and feel as if they have a tiny window onto an imaginary world that they are oddly a part of.

Thanks for your time and thoughts, Greg!

And now, the latest of his Lila Dreams works made public: Experius, the city of administration.

Today we introduce the official writer of Lila’s fiction: Ted Ludzik.

Writer, actor, and all around really smart guy, Ted has been a tremendous asset to the project since he began collaborating with us about a month ago. Bringing his own style to the game’s world, he’ll weave the words to chronicle Lila’s ups and downs.

So, here we present a short vignette from some of the experimental stories being created to help us define Lila’s life in all its dimensions. In this brief excerpt, Lila is at her grandmother’s funeral reception, which is taking place at her grandmother’s house.

(Disclaimer: the events herein may or may not be in the final canon of Lila’s story. We’re still exploring possibilities.)

Lila hadn’t realized the turmoil that had been roiling under her skin. Like a greasy-backed sea serpent three inches below the surface of an algae choked Sargasso, she had been alone with her frustrated sadness upstairs. In the midst of her “closest” family, she had flailed with a hydra of simmering anger and was befuddled by how she was supposed to act in a never-before-experienced situation. Nobody told her how to do this yet!

But her jaw released and what her dad described as “the only pouting smile on the face of the planet” and “Lila’s lip mushroom!” began to billow up.

With her dad’s butt sticking out of the dishwasher, she couldn’t help but smile.

In his best suit (which was half a decade out of style), he was scooping out small wads of tomato chunks, bloated spaghetti strands and amorphous dollops of dishwasher-digested globs.

“Izzat dinner, dads?”

Startled, Lila’s dad spasmed a little further into the gloom of the washer. Bravely, he clambered back out, his caterpillar thick brows rose in greeting, “Naw, just some maintenance.” He looked almost fondly at the dead food gathered in his hand. He stuck it up towards her, “Unless you’re hungry?”

“Ewgh! I’m all good, thanks.”

He kneeled to standing and shook his hand into the garbage can, then washed the remainder out in Grandma’s white porcelain sink.

Lila talked over the gush of water. “I thought she never used that thing. She was a hand washer, wasn’t she?”

Dad dried his paws on the tattered rag that hung off the oven’s wood-patterned handle. “Yeah. But she was feeling pretty dragged out those last few weeks. Amazed she even had enough mustard to get up and dirty a few dishes.

“How are you doing, pod?”

Pod. His first ever nickname for her. Born before Lila was born; it came from her dad’s favourite veggie from Grandma’s garden and the furious cell-division that was carbonating in his wife’s pregnant tummy. His little pea-pod.

His work as mechanical engineer changed things up occasionally; she was also his “favorite little cog;” when she misbehaved, it was “Spanner;” when she was acting all goofy, she transformed into his “wankle rotary engine.” But now, even as she started to wrangle teenhood by its grade five horns, she retained the “Pod” moniker.

How was she? “Um, I dunno, kinda… empty?”

“I think you did a lot of your, mm, accepting while she was sick,” he said to her, but his eyes were looking through the yellowing lace curtains hanging off the kitchen sink window.

“Is that what it was? I thought I had turned into a drippy snot-machine.” At her dad’s subtle smirk, she asked gently, “Whaddaboutyou? I didn’t see you cry at all.”

The smirk flattened and his pupils suddenly seemed miles deep. Kneeling back to the dishwasher he stated quietly, “Well, like your mom says, ‘We all grieve in our own way.’”

His torso crawled back into the maw of the dishwasher and his elbows began to produce more grease.

And, here’s your weekly concept art: buildings from a city called Experius.