Metroid: Breaking a frame

When I thought about frames in video games, I started to think not about the framing in game stories, but the framing in their design.  When a gamer plays a game, they take many preconceptions with them based on the game's genre.

For example, if a gamer starts playing a first person shooter, they immediately construct a generic FPS frame around the game.  This frame includes game controls, objectives, mechanics, obstacles, etc.

• I can use the WASD keys to move, and the mouse to look around.  Clicking the mouse will shoot my gun.
• The goal is to get to the end of each level.  There will be things trying to kill me the whole way.
• These numbers at the bottom of the screen are my health and ammo.  Both can probably be replenished by finding things in the level or killing enemies.  Falling to 0 health will cause me to lose.

But what if the game doesn't fit this frame?  Perhaps this game isn't a generic entry in the genre; perhaps it tries to break those confines.  Maybe the goal isn't to get to the end of the level, or maybe killing enemies actually reduces your health as well.  If the player goes into the game thinking it works one way, and it works a different way, it could confuse them, make them get stuck somewhere, or cause them to get frustrated and quit the game altogether.

In order to prevent this, the designer needs to break the frame that the player constructed around the game, and construct a new frame that better fits the game's mechanics.  But how does he do this?  It's generally assumed in the industry that players aren't gonna bother to read a manual, and a lengthy tutorial can be boring.  In these cases, the designer needs to incorporate the frame-breaking elements of the game into the early levels as quickly as possible, to teach them to the player.  By presenting them to the player in an early, simple scenario, the game can modify the player's frame.  For example, a character often takes damage when he falls a great distance.  If there is no fall damage in your game, you might show this to the player by forcing them to jump down holes in the first level - perhaps in the very first hallway.  If walking over glowing floor tiles kills you, the designer might script a sequence where an enemy steps on a glowing tile and disintegrates, showing the player that hitting those might be a bad idea.

My favorite example of this is the original Metroid, for the NES.  In these early days of gaming, platforming games were very common.  Most of them were very similar, and followed rules which are illustrated in the original Mario:

• You start at the left side of a level, and the exit is at the right side.  Walk right to progress.
• You can find temporary powerups, but your core move set (run, jump) remains the same from the beginning of the game to the end.

Metroid follows neither of these rules.  Metroid is an exploration based game, where the player needs to move back and forth, in every direction, often backtracking.  Finding a powerup gives the player permanent new abilities, which let him access new areas.

So how do you teach the player these things?  The NES certainly didn't have the capability for lengthy tutorials, and nobody was going to read the game manual.  The designer needed to teach the player all the mechanics within the gameplay itself.

The player's starting position in Metroid.

In order to do this, the game immediately gives the player two directions to move: left and right.  More importantly, moving right immediately takes the player to a passage that is far too small for him to enter.  Faced with this obstacle, the player has no choice but to move left.  Just to the left of the starting location is the first upgrade of the game: the Morph Ball, which lets the player turn into a ball and roll through tight passageways - letting the player through the narrow passage to the right.  This immediately shows the player two things - that they need to explore both left and right in order to progress, and that they need to collect powerups to travel further in the world.  In the very first room, the game breaks the traditional platformer frame and gives the player a new frame for their experience.

The Morph Ball upgrade, just to the left of the starting position.

So how would I change this?  For starters, I would put a door to the left of the Morph Ball upgrade that required missiles to open.  When the player sees the door they'll try to open it (and fail), showing them that they'll have to return here at some time to open that door.  This would further drive home the "backtracking and exploration" aspect of the game, and also give the player the thrill of wondering what's behind that door.

What if I wanted to change the frame altogether?  Let's say I wanted to change the frame from exploration to, say, survival horror.  I might cause some sort of trigger effect when the player grabs the Morph Ball.  The room could start crumbling and a timer could appear, or I could make monsters appear when the player grabs the powerup.

Super Metroid, the sequel to Metroid, frames its opening in a similar way to add a sort of horror aspect to the game.  The Morph Ball room is almost identical, but the music is more ominous and ambient, and there are no monsters up to this point.  When the player gets the Morph Ball and comes back the way he came, the corridors are suddenly filled with monsters.

Super Metroid also plays with frames a bit to scare the player early on.  The first few upgrades the player picks up are held by Chozo Statues, like in Metroid.  However, when the player picks up the Bomb upgrade from a statue later on in the game, the statue comes to life and attacks the player.  The frame (statues sit there and give you upgrades) is used against the player, surprising them with a statue that suddenly poses a threat.

From this...

To this.

The Metroid games are an excellent example of manipulating gameplay frames in early game design, and a lot can be learned from them.  Any game designer who wants to do something that breaks the bounds of established genres should study these games.  Nowadays, mainstream game companies often reject complex, genre-busting games, on the grounds that players will be confused by them and won't like them.  Metroid shows that with a little work, this simply isn't true.