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Official_Xbox_Magazine_USA_Issue_202_July_2017

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OpiniOn<br />

inSider<br />

Steve Hogarty is...<br />

The Fixer:<br />

Steve jiggles the handle on the trope of the unopened door<br />

Here’s an experiment you<br />

can try right now, using<br />

nothing but the pair of hot<br />

meat hands God blessed<br />

you with. Stand up and<br />

stride purposefully to the<br />

nearest door. Grab the handle with grace,<br />

civility and confidence. Give it a twist,<br />

wink to an unseen observer, and then give<br />

it a tug. Observe how this door swings<br />

open. Open as a plum. Now walk through<br />

it. Enjoy the simple pleasure of moving<br />

from one room to another, in a way that<br />

you have never permitted yourself before.<br />

(This introductory paragraph is presented<br />

with apologies to the small percentage of<br />

OXM readers currently residing in jail.)<br />

However, if you want to try this trick in a<br />

videogame, you’ll be sorely disappointed.<br />

You can push on them, pull on them,<br />

you can even sing them sweet, sweet<br />

lullabies, but videogame doors don’t<br />

work like real-life doors. Most doors in<br />

games exist not to allow safe passage<br />

between two adjacent spaces, but simply<br />

to decorate what would otherwise be a<br />

featureless wall. Like those bowls of fruit<br />

you get in people’s living rooms. They look<br />

pretty, but aren’t edible, and that is one of<br />

the worst crimes I can think of.<br />

The Problem<br />

Videogame doors are as useful as a Wile<br />

E. Coyote painting of a tunnel on a cliff<br />

face. They are the level designer’s closest<br />

ally and cruellest facade, a trope now<br />

so ubiquitous that we have all become<br />

numb to its presence. Somewhere along<br />

the way, we’ve come to accept that<br />

most doors in games don’t actually<br />

lead anywhere or do anything. Like the<br />

unbreakable window, the bottomless<br />

pocket, and the invincible tree, the<br />

unopening door has managed to weave<br />

itself into the gaming lexicon.<br />

Locked doors are so universally<br />

recognized that level designers have to<br />

think of clever ways to convince us to<br />

even attempt to walk through doors in<br />

“Doors that can’t<br />

open usually have<br />

a gaping hell portal<br />

in front of them”<br />

games. Visual cues are the most common.<br />

Doors that actually open are signposted<br />

by fluorescent green lights and screaming<br />

neon arrows, or left slightly ajar in an<br />

enticing manner, with dark shadows<br />

curling out into the corridor.<br />

On the other hand, doors that don’t<br />

open are grey and badly lit, often with a<br />

cardboard box, wet floor sign, or gaping<br />

portal to hell strategically positioned in<br />

front of them. That there are so many of<br />

this kind of fake door versus the opening<br />

kind, curtails any sense of freedom that<br />

games could otherwise offer, and makes<br />

me resent the rooms I can enter.<br />

The Solution<br />

The reason for all this barring of access<br />

is intuitive enough: If you could just stroll<br />

through any door in any game you could<br />

go anywhere in the entire world, which<br />

would mean at least a couple of extra<br />

days’ work for the level designers, who are<br />

far too busy making DLC. We can’t have<br />

that, so let’s move on.<br />

Instead, let’s design our games so that,<br />

while every single door can be opened,<br />

they nearly always lead somewhere you<br />

don’t want to go. Perhaps one could lead<br />

to a room in which your family are sitting<br />

around the dinner table, and an awkward<br />

topic has just come up. Another might<br />

lead to a room with nothing but a ceilingto-floor<br />

screen displaying a live feed of<br />

your own face as you sit drooling on the<br />

sofa with Dorito shards littered across<br />

your chest. A bunch of rooms could<br />

simply be screaming pigs. The point is<br />

that they’d all be real doors, and that they<br />

would open and shut as hinges intended.<br />

Of course, the unintended side effect<br />

of my excellent solution is that games<br />

would mostly be rooms filled with the<br />

mortal shrieks of slaughtered swine, and<br />

it would become very difficult to hear any<br />

dialogue or navigate the world without<br />

incurring some degree of psychological<br />

trauma. But I’m afraid that’s the job of<br />

some other poor fixer to sort out. It’s my<br />

role, nay my great privilege, simply to<br />

solve gaming’s numerous problems with<br />

my brilliant ideas—not to stick around to<br />

oversee their implementation or justify<br />

them in any way, to anyone. n<br />

Steve writes for City A.M when he isn’t in<br />

trouble kicking down locked doors<br />

023<br />

the offiCiAl xbox MAgAzine

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