Friday, 21 November 2014

Boundaries, Edges, Maps and Dungeon Keeper 2

The last couple weeks have been a measurement in both being busy and apathetic pushing this down on my priorities.  Having commissions and talks to do is an understandable task to prioritise, but apathy (or quasi-laziness depending on your perspective) is something that gets in the way.  I know that I’m still trying to figure out the most suitable day to schedule writing these posts, but I should make sure that I get it going at least once a week.  Regardless let’s get onto talking about a classic I’ve been playing over the past couple weeks. 

Dungeon Keeper is a part of Bullfrog’s classic collection of games from the 1990s that featured a combination of traditional real time strategy (RTS) and management elements in a dark aesthetic.  For many people, its original from 1997 will be the better game with its range of sprite-based creatures presenting a more varied design beyond typical bipedal, humanoid body types; but for me the second entry will always hold a greater impression in shaping my early pc gaming years alongside such titles as Total Annihilation or Unreal Tournament. 

Dungeon Keeper 2 released in 1999 with myself buying in at the turn of the century, which if I remember correctly it was bought with Populous: The Beginning as a bundle.  Being someone who was used to playing TA and CnC styled RTS games, my first experience of Dungeon Keeper 2 was a confusing one as I didn’t understand the tile system for rooms.  This was probably down to me picking skirmish rather than new campaign and thinking that one temple tile for 3000 gold must be good (and that couldn’t be further from the truth).  Once I took a step back, I understood the tile system and started to really enjoy the game, particularly the My Pet Dungeon mode which was part-tutorial part-challenge mode.  To this day, I install DK2 ever so often and power through the content over a week or so much like marathon’ing an old TV / film series.  Since going to University, I’ve played through DK2 three times and recently I started to think about how the tunnels and tile systems align with some architectural theory; in particular boundaries and how we map our space in correspondence to others.

To those who aren’t aware of these systems, DK2 takes place in an ‘underworld’ where the area needs to be mapped out through the tunnelling of rock by small worker creatures called imps.  Rather than tunnelling free-form through the landscape, the rock is carved into cubes where each piece of rock needs to be tagged to create paths and rooms.  As you do this, your worker imps can also claim the land (as long as you own the land next to it) turning it to your dominion as well as generating mana (one of the game’s resources).  Each of these tiles can then have a number of things placed on them to augment their usage; with room tiles to provide content for your creates like sleeping accommodation (lair) or traps and doors to defend against potential enemies of both the evil and goodly kind.  The rooms in question have a minimal size requirement ranging from 1 tile to 5x5 (25) tiles.  Because of this, tunnelling through rocks to create rooms requires a combination of pathways alongside rooms with designated spaces to facilitate certain activities which in turn entice different kinds of creatures into your domain.  With this tile system taking into consideration, one can see there’s a nod to cartography in how we construct an image of our surroundings alongside the spatial awareness of architectural theory and how we consider ourselves in the built environment.  Adam Sharr’s book “Heidegger for Architects” takes this example and uses the Lake District of northern England (a reinterpretation of the Black Forest in Germany) and considers the play between the small market towns, car parks, mountain paths and treelines together creating an overall map of the area to which millions of people visit every year.  All these actions feature a range of tasks that are both important and mundane, but they all come together and create a picture of the area and the actions they took place inside of it (or their map).  Much like DK2 and its tunnelling, players will create their dungeons in specific ways for both mundane and important decisions, but in turn they all have mapped out the land in their own way. 

Another factor in DK2 I briefly mentioned was that of boundaries.  As you progress in the game, you start to encounter other keepers and goodly heroes who all have their own territory specific to a certain colour (white, blue, green, yellow and purple alongside the player’s own red).  There will be a number of situations when you’ll have unclaimed land in between two or more players; where the corresponding imps will move closer and closer to each other until they interact with each other only to attempt to overtake the oppositions land.  At this point, the only factor is the number of imps each player has available to the action, but like in any conflict, the victory can be stacked towards you through a use of aggressive tactics like grabbing your militant creatures to scare the enemy imps.  Naturally, the enemy then may use their own creatures and a conflict is born.  In architecture is conflict can be a mixture of this physical aggression (invasion) or ideological indifference; but it can also be a factor of form and aesthetics in how two pieces contrast each other or functional application like heavy industry being next to a residential area.  In the past, we have discussed the idea of ‘voids’ in architecture and this concept of boundaries comes nicely into the fray when we consider how fog of war is used, not just in DK2 but generally in the RTS genre. 

Overall, Dungeon Keeper’s system of tiles presents an interesting concept behind the creation of space and how we interact with others in both a physical and theoretical manner.  As a side note, the series “Thinkers for Architects” which is authored by a number of architectural historians is a nice resource to have.  It gives a nice bridge between basic thoughts on architecture and the denser essay collections that get into the finer details behind the subject.  I hope you find this post interesting and I hope to be back on track in the next week. 

Resources:
·         Sharr, A (2007). Heidegger for Architects. Routledge. London
·         Dungeon Keeper (1997). Bullfrog Productions. Electronic Arts

·         Dungeon Keeper 2 (1999). Bullfrog Productions. Electronic Arts

Thursday, 6 November 2014

Warframe, Futurism, and Archigram

As I have mentioned on a couple posts, I have been playing Warframe for around two years on and off.  It has been a surprising choice for me as before playing Warframe, I was never really interested by third person shooters and the initial experience felt a bit limp.  As updates have been applied, the range of content and the general user experience has been improved greatly (with some minor hiccups along the way) and these days it’s the closest I get to a ‘monogame’ while keeping to my ‘try something new every day’ ethos.  I’ve wanted to write something about this game for a while, but I wasn’t sure how to go about it.  Do I write a traditional review with my time spent playing this game; create a reinterpretation of my ‘Japanese Architecture and Roguelikes’ piece and discuss the nature of the construction of levels; or do I try to look at the aesthetics and what they mean to me?  This last question came up recently and it’s the basis of the discussion today. 

People of many different professions and ideologies throughout history have considered what the future holds for us as a species.  Much like a scientist looking forward to new technologies and forms of energy, an architect may consider how we’ll reside or a sociologist in how we interact with each other.  This can be invoked by a single action / inspiration and in turn spark a cultural shift for example; Modernism of the 1920s and its white-cubists structures was a significant change from the earlier Arts and Crafts movement of the Victorian age with an intention to create a style to unify people through architecture (aka the international style). 


Villa Savoye a Poissy, 1928-31, Le Corbusier.  Photo taken February 2009

A little bit earlier than this movement, Futurism took the lead in the ideology of ‘looking forward’ towards new technologies and design choices that could be produced.  Originally starting in 1909 Italy, a group of writers and artists (later adding architects) felt like the current trends in design where outmoded by the fast pace of change; with such things as cars and aircraft greatly improving one’s ability to traverse the world and experience more ideas.  They were also influenced by materials, particularly glass concrete, and steel which in turn can be considered as a significant influence for the design eras that followed, like Modernism, Brutalism and Deconstructionism. 


With this taken into context, there is a certain comparison that one can make when it comes to the aesthetics of Warframe’s environments alongside a range of architecture eras which prominently revolve around this evolution of futurism (futurism as an on-going design rather than directly the era itself). 


Grineer
(Grineer Ship interior with Volt Warframe.  Screenshot taken October 2014)

With the heavy industry aesthetics and reduction of the ‘frailty of flesh’ ethos presented by such people like Ruk, their tile sets do a great deal to present this to the player.  The Grineer tile set design features exposed piping; machinery whirling as steam rises; and filtered lighting with a generally darker materiality.  At a first glance, this could be tribute to a dystopian civilization which makes sense due to the nature of Grineer Hierarchy, but I feel like there’s a nice mix of 19th and 20th century influences.  There’s the Victorian industrial revolution mentality of wanting to ‘show off’ the engineering (akin to Paddington station or Crystal Palace); 1940-60s Brutalism with its harsh materiality and strong presence aesthetically; and 1970-80s Deconstructionism shifting the Victorian ideology into Spartan art (such as the Lloyds building in London or Pompidou centre in Paris). 


Corpus
(Corpus Ship Interior with Volt Warframe.  Screenshot taken October 2014)

Corpus, in my opinion, has a more traditional future aesthetic with a ‘sci-fi’ feeling akin to books/TV/movies.  Its colour pallet revolving around the blue / green hue mostly reinforces this aesthetic giving a clean, clerical mood behind the techno-religious cult it presents.  I’ve not been too sure about which particular architectural styles it reminds me of, but if I was to settle on something I’d say that the modern day glazed spires of the world (such as The Shard of Glass or Gherkin in London) present this design; alongside a high-art monument ideology akin to Neil Leach’s “Nest and the Pillar of Fire” where architecture is closer to art, giving reason to its existence by existing. 


Orokin
(Orokin tile set with Volt Warframe.  Screenshot taken October 2014)

The mysterious Orokin at first glance gives the impression of a church or similar holy structure; with its vast light levels and open spaces coinciding with flying archways.  Even thou it is clearly in the vast future, to me this feels a bit like Gothic architecture and its strong play of light to reinforce a feeling of piousness and grandeur.  I briefly did a post on the consideration of gothic in the past which you may want to look over, but this style resonates with me while I interact with this particular environment

With all this being said, when it comes to the future of architecture, there is one area I feel could be experimented with on both a visual and theoretical level.  This is the world of Archigram and its take on what the future holds. 

Archigram (or architectural comics sometimes referred to as) was an architectural movement started during the 1960s which discussed the medium in relation to its connection with popular culture.  Its ideas were for the majority created on paper via conventional methods (pencil to paper) or collage / montage which followed an ideology of being modular and adaptable.  In its early years, it was influenced heavily by pop-art, which gave way to strong, bright colours and unconventional design which look striking even today.  One particular example (A Walking City, 1964) features large, bug-like structures carrying its population around connected to others via a series of tubes for transport against a backdrop of a conventional city like New York, producing a nice contrast between the two. 

In summary, the future is always an interesting thing to consider from both a technological/scientific and artistic/aesthetic manner as they naturally seep into each other.  Many people have considered what the future will look like and Warframe presents an interesting range of architectural design choices across the ages.  That being said, I would be interested to see what could be accomplished taking a page from Archigram and marrying culture with technology.  I hope that this piece has been an interesting look into the world of architectural futurism and I shall see you next week


Links / further reading
Warframe Digital Extremes (2012-ongoing), PC, PS4, Xbox One
Archigram Not a great website, but gives examples of Archigram.  Otherwise, a quick google search will present many examples
* Leach, N.  Dark Side of the Domus.  This maybe slightly abstract in this context, but you may find it interesting