Sunday, July 17, 2011

Timesink Tower

I've been spending a stupid amount of time over the last couple of days playing Tiny Tower (thanks, Chloe, for introducing me to it. I must find some way to repay the favour...) so I thought I'd write up a quick analysis in a futile attempt to pretend that all those hours haven't been completely wasted. (And also because, due to my current project at work, I've been spending quite a bit of time recently thinking over what makes a game addictive and fun.)

The first thing to note is that Tiny Tower isn't a game. There is no way to lose, no "Game Over" state, and although you can make progress — we'll see how important this is in a moment — there is no way to win, to beat it. Instead, Tiny Tower is an entertainment, in the Farmville mould.

Gameplay (yes, I'll still call it "gameplay", despite the proceeding paragraph) is simple. You build a tower from either residential or business floors. "Bitizens" live on the residential floors and are assigned jobs in the businesses. Each has a set of stats matching their skills against each of the categories of business. Matching a bitizen with a job they're good at makes them happy — which I presume increases their efficiency somehow, maybe with faster restock times or better sales, I haven't been able to tell which.

There are two currencies employed in the game. One is coins. You use this to buy stock for the businesses and to purchase new floors for your tower. It's generated by the businesses selling their stock. The other currency is towerbux, and it has a far more insidious role.

It's perfectly possible to play Tiny Tower without ever using towerbux — but it would make for a slow, tedious process. In short, what towerbux do is they make the game fun. You pay towerbux to shorten the drawn-out processes of building floors, of restocking businesses, and of selling that stock. Sure, there are occasional bonus lift users who will perform these tasks, but their random appearances cannot be relied upon. (And, yes, you can leave the game and come back later to see how things are going — the app giving the appearance of running in the background — but that isn't the point.)

You get towerbux in one of two ways. The first is as a — often random — reward for performing some task, such as locating a bitizen or taking someone up in the lift, or as a bonus when purchasing a new floor. The second is by buying it through in-app purchase. Yep, we're in the land of freenium here.

So while you're playing the game — while you have the app open in your hand — what will you be doing? A small amount of your time will be spent on hitting the buttons to order more stock for your shop, but most of it will be taken up by pointless make-work tasks, predominately moving bitizens about in the lift. You earn a small amount of coins for this, but ultimately all it is doing is providing you with something to keep you busy while you're waiting either for some long task (restocking, building) to complete, or while you're waiting to earn enough money to buy your next floor.

So why have I been playing it so much? Why have I checked it a dozen times during the writing of this piece? Why will I continue playing it for the rest of today, and probably get caught checking it during work tomorrow? I wish I could put my finger on exactly what it was. There is a satisfying sense of achievement as you hear the money clinking in and watch your tower grow. There's something which makes you want to see what you can build next. There is something, ultimately, rewarding in the experience.

À la Recherche this Japanese Pupet Thing from When I was a Kid

Among the seemingly random collection of memories of my early years which have stuck with me are brief fragments of a TV show. It was SF, performed with puppets, and very definitely Japanese in style (although I wouldn't have recognised that at the time). There was a big red robot which was formed when some spaceships combined. My most abiding memory was of some bearded guy being killed by a space bug — I think this carried an emotional impact, which would explain why it stayed with me. For years I tried to find out what the show was called. And then came the Internet. One quick question of a TV forum and I had my answer: Star Fleet (X-Bomber in the original — we'll stick with Star Fleet, if only to avoid me making bad X-Bob-omber jokes).

So one trip to LoveFilm (whom my over-consumption of American content makes me want to keep calling "Netflix") later, and I've got the DVD of the first six episodes to watch. And I have to say I'm impressed. The visuals hold up well, with their distinctive styling and cartoony special effects. The continuing story arc is something I've always preferred over purely-episodic TV shows. Sure, the writing is sometimes cheesy, and many of the usual manga tropes are present, but it still tells an interesting story. Oh, and the synth rock. You mustn't forget the synth rock. In all: brilliant. I can't wait for the other discs to show up. What can I say? Six-year-old me had excellent taste.

[Image from Tim Maughan's Review]

Thursday, July 07, 2011

"(I am not a) Creative"

There isn't a day which passes when I don't offer a silent prayer to the Powers That Be that things haven't got so bad that I've started writing poetry... What you see below are song lyrics — admittedly ones which voice will never share. They're the lyrics to "(I am not a) Creative", the song which went viral for Erin from "Internet Famous". Imagine them sung by a slightly kooky young chanteuse with an acoustic guitar, filmed on a webcam, and then uploaded to YouTube. (In fact, if anyone would like to, please feel free.) It's all part of the world-building. I might try my hand at writing "Geeky Girlfriend" next...

I took this photo
To immortalise your smile,
You won’t see it on a box
Down some supermarket aisle

I shot this movie,
It shows our lives in a beam
Of light upon a wall,
Not some kitten-based meme

I didn’t brainstorm this idea,
I can’t show you any scamps,
But my brand message is clear,
It’s you and me and romance…

I painted your picture,
Captured your soul in every stroke,
A gesture to make you want me,
Not to make you want a Coke

I told you this story
Because I thought that it was funny
And that it would make you laugh
Not make you part with your money

Now here’s my call to action,
Move your body over here,
Can you feel the attraction?
Hold me and kiss me, My Dear…

I composed this tune
To lift your mood,
To brighten up your day,
Not to sell anyone fast food

I wrote these words,
Poured my soul on pages blank,
A missive from my heart
Not a circular from your bank

I sang this song because I wanted to sing,
It wasn’t sung to sell anything,
Except for me to you,
You know I do, love you, love you, love you…

Wednesday, July 06, 2011

"Internet Famous"

I wanted to say something about the difficulty in making a living from the Internet under the prevailing culture that everything should be given away for free. It's a position usually fervently espoused by, typically, a particular type of author — the type with a publishing contract and their own ad network — the type who can happily give away digital versions of their books because they've already got the five-figure advance sat in their bank account. (Mentioning no names...)

I'm not sure how much of that survived. In the end, Erin and Cal sat down, started talking, and sort of hijacked proceedings. If ever a writer complains to you that they're at the mercy of their characters, don't treat them like their mad — treat them like someone in an abusive relationship, or like the jewellery store clerk who's apologising for the shop being closed in the middle of the day while frantically mouthing "We're being robbed".

Sunday, July 03, 2011

"Kirstie & Phil: House Hunter"

(No, I have no idea why "Kirstie & Phil" are a "House Hunter" singular. I gave up trying to discern any logic behind this project in about mid-January.)

The latest iOS application I wrote for my day job — Phil & Kirstie: House Hunter — was released last week. For those of you keeping count, that's two so far this year. Yeah, I know what you're thinking: "Slow down there, Stu. It's because of prodigiously productive sods like you that I have to wade through thousands of titles looking for that one fart app which is right for me." Point taken. I'll try to pace myself a little more slowly for the rest of the year (although I may have to medically-induce a coma to do so).

I won't be offering any insight into the development of the app, because if I tried I'd probably get very unprofessional very quickly and start using phrases likely to denigrate web monkeys who think they'll have a go at designing iPhone apps, not to mention the general "just do us a copy of this other app" mentality which seems to prevail these days. Instead I will simply link to this video and leave it at that.

(The app also has its own Twitter account — @HouseHunterApp — but I won't be following it. The app and I don't really have much to say to each other. It knows why.)


Still, one of the nice things about working on something so comparatively high-profile is you get featured in the App Store — although they could have gone with a more interesting image. I wanted one of my Creative colleagues to sex it up by PhotoShopping an explosion into the background, but they refused. (Or rather, they just ignored my e-mail. Typical. I mean, come on, ladies. How long would it have taken one of you? It's probably just a single button click.)

Saturday, July 02, 2011

"Poems from a Notebook [#6022]"

As I mentioned in the comments accompanying Poems from a Notebook [#328], under the Many Worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics, there were a near-infinite number of ways in which that story could have been told. So here's another of them. It's the last, I promise.

The plot differences here reflect one of the alternates I considered when planning the previous story. The character of Dr. Antonov is older than in #328, and here he is morning a dead wife rather than going all emo over a bad break-up. I think, in reflection, this combination is far more in keeping with the kind of Golden Age feel I was originally aiming for.

CSI: Elsinore

HAMLET
Act II, Scene II

HAMLET

More relative than this: the play's the thing
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.

HORATIO

It's time to put some cheese —

He doth don dark spectacles.

— in this mousetrap.

MINSTRELS

Yeeeeeeeeeeah!