5 Advantages of Destroying Your Game World; Something Unique to Video Games

As narrative designers, we strive to make the most of our medium by seeking new ways to blend literary and cinematic storytelling with gameplay. Through this experimentation, many qualities unique to video games have emerged over the last 30 years, one of which is: Destroying the Game World.

Apocalyptic literature and cinema exist, but games offer players a tangible world to explore and characters to role-play, making the annihilation of the world more impactful. A reader can cry and a movie-goer can wince at the destruction of the protagonist's home, but a player actually experiences that loss alongside the main cast. The player relied on that item shop, that quest-giver; that player-housing.

If you're writing and designing a video game world, consider destroying it for these 5 reasons:

1. Re-Contextualizing a Space:

Going beyond narrative decisions, destroying your game world benefits level designers and artists. You can effectively use the same play areas twice; refreshing them with a new coat of end-of-the-world paint.

Dragon Quest XI (pictured right) follows this formula. The peaceful blue skies fall ashen grey, and some spiked wooden fences and torches line the once serene country village.

With a few changes to lighting and geometry, the tone dramatically shifts from charming to menacing. This adds emotional range to your game's narrative, but also saves time on creating new environments from scratch.

Link to the Past (pictured left) also achieves on this same concept by presenting players a Dark World, opening the door for new kinds of puzzles, quests and items.

A compelling story can be told within the confines of a single room. Challenge yourself to maximize the narrative and gameplay potential of your existing levels. It doesn't take much to make old areas feel fresh.

2. Re-Contextualizing a Character:

Continuing with Dragon Quest XI, its world-ending event provides opportunity to re-contextualize or redefine the characters.

Players watch Hendrik (pictured right and below) rise from an antagonistic figure to a sympathetic one, and ultimately one of the game's most developed party members.

The destruction of the world tests Hendrik's values and loyalties. He made bad decisions, sure, but he wasn't a bad person. He can rectify his wrongdoing.

Think about media like Game of Thrones and the Yakuza franchise, in which fan-favorite heroes were once hated villains. Strong characters go through significant change, growth or decent. Consider writing opportunities for players to doubt a hero and root for a villain.

3. Re-Contextualizing Motivations:

Character and player motivations change through compelling game narratives. Ending the world is one way to incite this change.

The world ends in Final Fantasy VI (pictured right and below). The villain, Kefka, wins. The party fails. Priorities and motivations change from this point on.

The cast is no longer united, they're divided. The central protagonist (your eyes into the world), switches from Terra to Celes. The music and color palette fades from lush greens to pale yellows. The goal is no longer to stop Kefka, it's to kill to him. Your mission isn't to save the world, it's to salvage what's left of it.

Final Fantasy XV (pictured below) also presents the players with a world of ruin. Although small and underdeveloped, it still re-contextualizes motivations. What starts as a bachelor party road trip, ends as a melancholic suicide mission. A last hurrah before the final storm.

Why is re-contextualizing motivations important? Because it leads to player investment in your narrative and IP. It's how to make them care about your challenges, objectives and systems. Motivation is the very thing keeping your player playing your game.

4. Stripping Player Safety:

Especially pertinent when designing horror games, consider giving your players a hub to recharge in-between bouts of fear, dungeons or battles. Emotional and gameplay variety is key to player retention. Let that hub become a beacon of safety, and after it becomes predictable, add unsuspecting dangers.

Silent Hill 4: The Room (pictured right) executes on this idea. The gameplay loop brings the player back to their apartment, and although creepy, the room provides comfort from the greater horror outside. But rather than leaving this space untouched, the fear creeps in, further unnerving the player and cementing the game's themes.

Demon's Souls (pictured below) achieves a similar effect within its Nexus hub. A safe haven to chat with NPC's and restock, the Nexus can become a place of ruin through the invitation of a certain vile character. Unsettling the player causes doubt and distrust of your world and characters, which can be the desired effect in some genres and franchises.

Design Tip: Players can't miss something they've never had. Give them power before taking it away. Show them peace before conflict. It's a sure-fire way to build player understanding of narrative stakes, and/or eventual gameplay rewards.

5. Clear Consequences:

Showing the utter destruction of the world establishes clear consequences or repercussions for failure. In Ratchet and Clank: Rift Apart (pictured below), the player switches between two versions of the planet, Blizar Prime: one destroyed, and one intact. The objective isn't to restore the demolished planet, but to prevent the destruction of its counterpart. The player instantly understands their objective and the stakes: two things many games struggle to communicate without intrusive UI, waypoints, and repetitive dialogue.

Fallout 3 (pictured below) prompts players with an interesting option: to blow up Megaton—one of the primary cities. Outside of sick comic relief, negative karma and a player housing option, the game doesn't provide much incentive to destroy Megaton, but the choice exemplifies consequences for player actions. If selected, the player looses all access to the city (it being destroyed), its quests, shops and NPC's.

Rewarding players for actions is an industry standard. But with light comes shadow. Alongside your rewards, should come repercussions.

In Conclusion:

Destroying your game world incites change: Change in way of setting, characters and motivations. It can disturb players. It can punish players.

All of this serves to build player retention, investment, and understanding, while utilizing an environment/character/mechanic's full potential.

Not every game needs a world of ruin, but it's worth considering during development. It may be the thing that cements your game's narrative in the hall of greats.

Questions for the Reader:

• What are your favorite World of Ruins?
• What are the disadvantages of destroying your game world?

Jacob Conner Harris is a narrative designer and writer currently doing business as MSLA Creative. Please reach out on LinkedIn or at mslacreative.com to discover how Jacob can help your game's narrative succeed.