The Edge Defines the Cut

Promotional image from Aspyr Media for Tomb Raider Remastered, which features 3 different versions of the main character Lara Croft.
Promotional image from Aspyr Media for Tomb Raider Remastered, which features 3 different versions of the main character Lara Croft.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but a lot of AAA-games have started to homogenize into a certain formula: open-world design with light RPG elements driven by a loot-based gameplay loop, and topped off with live service monetization.

There’s a lot to be said about each of those things, both good and bad, but I want to look at things a bit more broadly. These games tend to have a high level of mechanical polish. That’s not to say they launch without issues, but the core gameplay loop is generally solid.

For instance, Halo Infinite’s multiplayer launched with a minimal amount of content, but the mechanical act of moving around the map and getting into gunfights was really good—I would say the best in the series history. That’s the kind of polish I’m talking about.

A screenshot of the video game Halo Infinite, where the graphics are exhibiting severe visual glitches.
Yeah, this isn’t the polished part. Image Source: Halo Infinite Screenshot by author

The mechanical act of playing games has (arguably) never felt so good, so why do a lot of new games feel so… empty? It’s like the experience is overly smooth to the point where the experience just washes over you.

This really came into focus since I’ve started working through older games in my backlog. I’m a big fan of revisiting older games both to see what we can learn from them in terms of game design, and to see how they’ve held up. With the release of the Tomb Raider remasters, I finally decided to fire up Tomb Raider and try it out.

Tomb Raider was an early 3D game, originally launching in 1996, before controllers had dual analog sticks. As such, the platforming controls were designed around certain limitations, and those limitations no longer exist today.

Product picture of an original Sony PlayStation controller on a blank background.
We had to play 3D games using 2D controls. It wasn’t great. Image Source: Wikipedia

Nowadays, climbing and platforming is usually standardized to the Assassin’s Creed style: push forward on the stick while holding the climb button.

1996’s Tomb Raider was a bit more… nuanced, shall we say? Looking back, it’s clunky and not very intuitive. But there’s something I find really interesting about the controls. They are extremely distinct in how they feel. There’s a certain level of trust it gives the player that more polished games aren’t willing to give. Where modern games just sort of let you move in the general direction you want to go, usually in a quasi-predetermined fashion, Tomb Raider lets you be the judge of whether or not you’ll be able to make the jump.

To put it lightly, Tomb Raider’s controls are rough around the edges. But there’s a bigger lesson to take away from this beyond a discussion about controls. The edge defines the cut, and an overly polished edge has no bite.

I’m not asking developers to be intentionally sloppy with gameplay design choices, but I am asking them to be unafraid in really trying something different.

There’s something to be said for creating a memorable experience, and I’d rather have a memorable game that might age poorly over hours spent with a game that pass without anything worth talking about.

Header image courtesy of Aspyr Media


What am I doing here?

I made my website several years ago with the goal to generate demand for my freelance work. I can unequivocally tell you that it absolutely failed at that—I failed at promoting it in any useful capacity. Turns out that if you don’t tell people about your website, they won’t come to it. I don’t know what I’m doing here.

Between my domain and hosting costs, it’s about $120 to keep the lights on, and at this point, I mostly use it for access to my email, which I’ve now used to sign up for lots of things and can’t be bothered to change all of those accounts over to a free service. Oops.

As my domain renewal draws nearer, I find that I can’t bear to have a website that is just a drain on my finances, but I also don’t want to lose access to my important emails (and the flex of having a custom email address), so I’m looking for a solution, but I don’t know what I’m doing here.

My solution right now? Do anything and everything. This is my space, and no one is watching. I can say… whatever I want, and no one can stop me. Do I want to write about games, movies, annoying YouTubers, and the nihilistic thoughts that force me to always keep an earbud in with a podcast playing at 100% volume? Of course, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. You really should stop me though—I don’t know what I’m doing here.

If I’m going to scream into the void, at least I can scream into my own little $120-a-year corner. Who knows, maybe someone will notice that I’m screaming. Maybe they’ll start screaming too.

What does this mean for my website? I’ll be changing some things and removing some pages (not like you would have noticed based on my analytics). I might even make a blog post more than once every few years!

I hope you have some fun this week. If you feel like you don’t know what you’re doing, it’s okay. I don’t know what I’m doing here either.