The RPG Scrollbars: The genius in the inventory

I forget which game it was, exactly. If I had to pick one, I’d say probably the text adventure Humbug. It doesn’t really matter, as it’s not really the game’s fault, but I still remember the sadness of being told to go into the inventory and realising that while I was thinking of a big room full of bubbling liquids in interesting flasks and other cool science stuff, the game was actually saying ‘look in your pockets’. Especially as if it was Humbug, it’s a game about wandering around and exploring your crazy inventor grandfather’s house. I must have searched for whole minutes, back in 1990.

There’s never been a game that really harnessed that desire, but still, it explains a lot about one of my favourite things in RPGs – particularly those of the early 90s – that the inventory often was a place to experiment rather than simply pluck the correct item at the correct time. Even if then, as now, it’s often been more accident than design.

Now, I am not talking crafting. Heroes. Don’t. Craft. I’m thinking of more a general sense of cleverness, invention and mad ideas allowed by the rules of the game and in particular your gathered equipment, where exploring and experimenting leads to the world feeling more complex, more interesting, and more pliable, without blocking everything off with the local equivalent of “I can’t do that,” or the hand of the programmer coming in to smack away an interaction with an out of context ‘nope’.

In particular, I’m thinking of the way that a good RPG tends to be a mess of interlocking systems, with the emphasis firmly on ‘mess’. Unlike a traditional adventure, there are simply too many interactions and situations to be hard-coded. Unlike most other games, the genre’s demand for interesting items, skills and spells constantly magnifies the scope for stuff to be overlooked, for good or bad. Often it’s in things being overlooked that interesting stuff happens. For example, take Deus Ex, and how it’s officially impossible to do a no-kill run because the plot demands you kill baddie Anna Navarre either at Point A or Point B. However, because the AI has the ability to open any door, it’s possible to raise an alarm, have someone else open the one she’s guarding, and blitz out. In my favourite ever example, Two Worlds, the villain spends most of his time standing near the starting village, pretending to be your mentor. He’s too tough to beat up personally, but there’s nothing stopping you kiting him over to some other folks and finishing the game in literally two minutes. When rule is overlaid on rule overlaid on rule, unexpected situations – ‘edge cases’ to use the design parlance – are rife.

And of course, frequently awesome.

Inevitably, Ultima VII – take a shot – has some of my favourite examples. As much as we deservedly praise its world simulation, I think we can all agree that the real goal of Ultima VII has nothing to do with defeating the Guardian and everything to do with breaking Britannia over one knee. Oh, the possibilities! Making ladders out of crates to sequence break. Avoiding penalties for stealing by smashing the cases things are in, apologising profusely when caught, then casually wandering back later to take all the stuff that used to be inside them. So many powder kegs…

And of course, the true game-breakers – the ability to pour poison down any enemy’s throat just by clicking a vial on them, or send anything from a guard to a dragon into a screaming tizzy by using a soiled diaper on them. Diapers that you can gather in infinite supply in Lord British’s castle, and ‘arm’ with a trip to the nursery. Clearly unintentional, but convenient! And all it took was someone not being too specific about only being able to feed things to friendly people or dragons being a bit above such things.

But I don’t count this as a bug. I love when NPCs have to follow the rules, and the rules are actually applied. I hate for instance knowing that if I’m given some spell called “Death’s Deadly Cloud Of Instant Death”, every boss in the game is going to simply no-sell it because fuck you, that’s why. If you don’t want me casting that spell, then either don’t put it in the game in the first place, or give me a really good reason. I will happily accept a fireball spell doing nothing against a fire elemental. Against some regular dude, I expect a HP meter falling faster than Top Gear’s ratings.

Fallout for instance really went above and beyond here, with fans quickly learning two amazing tricks – reverse pickpocketing, and healing to death. Reverse pickpocketing is the art of taking a bomb, activating the timer, quietly shoving it into someone’s trousers, and then getting the hell out of Dodge before it explodes. As long as you’re not on the map when it happens, you can return with the relevant character quietly assassinated and nobody any the wiser. Hurrah! Or alternatively, you can use a quirk of the stock health-giving Super Stimpaks. They immediately heal for a ton of points, but at the cost of a metaphorical kick in the balls a couple of minutes later. A canny player can therefore just pump their target full of them, stand back, and watch as they collapse dead. Neither of these tricks was ever presented openly to the player, but were simply clever ideas based on looking at the rules and going “Hmm…”

(Reverse pick-pocketing was of course later added to Fallout 3, complete with an achievement. Rather taking the fun out of things in my book, but… well, there you go. It’s at least easier to do subtly as long as you don’t get caught in the act. The same mechanic also allows for forcing NPCs to wear specific armour, though you take a karma hit even if you’re doing them a favour – one of many reasons that karma reaaaaaaaaaally doesn’t work in that game…)

Over time though, the march has been pretty definitively towards trying to avoid this kind of thing, with the major exceptions we see being the game-breaking variety rather than immersion-boosting ‘of course it works’ flavour of cool inventory items. Speedrunners for instance habitually use tricks like being able to stick an item through a wall in Bethesda games to jump ‘out of bounds’ and ignore vast chunks of the game, or more overt stuff, like how Morrowind’s alchemy neglecting to prevent potions improving your, uh, alchemy, made it possible to become godlike in just a couple of minutes, or how items in the air can be used as steps in Oblivion. And that’s cool, obviously, but not quite the same as when exploring the real-world potential of something like Deus Ex’s LAM or Hitman: Blood Money’s magic coin. For me, part of the charm of the examples here isn’t their cheating potential, but the fact that they feel like clever, actual uses for items that you might have – like you’re some fantasy MacGuyver, figuring out that with your strength mod, you can avoid the fight that the designer wanted you to have and build a set of stairs with those crates in the corner, or that blinding the basilisk with a custard pie will prevent its petrifying gaze. (An actual example from Nethack, as in The Dev Team Thinks Of Everything).

And let’s not even get STARTED on Dwarf Fortress.

Easily my favourite modern successor to all of these games was Divinity: Original Sin, which both set about doing the Ultima VII thing and making a world that would be bulletproof even in a multiplayer setting. The easiest way of doing this would have been to lock everything down. Instead, it opted to make it so open that you can just murder everyone and still progress. Some of the tricks allowed in beta were patched out, like being able to teleport any item out of a locked building and just pick it up. Most though stayed, like having one character distract an NPC while another stole everything in their house, making you feel like an expert grifter rather than just adventurer, or playing with rules like trying to knock down a locked door dealing weapon damage by just repeatedly hitting it with fire. As before, the bosses weren’t given any special immunities to most of this stuff. You could quite easily set traps or yoink them out of their intended combat area, with even the developers surprised when one player saved an item called the Lava Core for the final boss and one-shotted it.

I’ve yet to play much of the sequel – like most of this year’s, I have the Early Access version, but prefer to wait until It Is Done. But as you can probably imagine, I’m looking forward to it. It’s the first RPG since that quiet afternoon playing Humbug that really feels like it’s going to embrace the creativity and bastardry that I want from my RPG systems. Tricking another player into drinking poison at a crucial moment by taking a poison potion, colouring it red with some dye, and reverse-pickpocketing it into their bag? That’s the kind of game I want to play, to say nothing of having much more scope to try messing with the scripts with spells and triggered items and things on timers. Hopefully it’ll do it well and inspire more to try similar – to flesh out worlds in terms of opportunities and situations rather than simply flags and collectibles. Unlikely, I know. But hey, if the next Dragon Age or Witcher or big AAA attempt even tries to sprinkle a little chaos into an increasingly tiresomely locked down genre, I reckon we all win.

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18 Comments

  1. Landiss says:

    Does it not destroy immersion for you? Personally I really don’t like things like that and I’m actively trying to not to use them. Perhaps, after I completed the game already, I might have some fun, but not on my first playthrough. Additionally in many cases it feels like cheating. It’s especially visible for me in strategy games. I prefer to win while I play by the rules, it’s more satisfying, even if it means I can’t win on higher difficulty level.

    • Richard Cobbett says:

      Nope. I find arbitrary rules way more distracting. Also, in most cases you don’t actually find out about this stuff until after a fair amount of play. I’ll trade fairness for those moments of feeling like a genius (which you don’t have to use) any day.

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      Jekadu says:

      It’s a pretty cool feeling coming up with a weird way of solving a particular puzzle or neutralizing a trap in Divinity: Original Sin and realizing that it makes more sense than playing according to the rules.

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      Drib says:

      Takes me out if it makes no sense. Pickpocketing a live grenade onto someone? Okay, I could sorta see that.

      Going up to the President in Fallout 2, and injecting him eight or nine times with super stims while he just stands there and doesn’t notice? That’s stupid.

      • Ghostwise says:

        Yeah. I’m more about RPG/adventure games/etc. as an immersive experience meself, rather than a game/toy primarily made of mechanics.

        But ignoring the hacks that can’t be justified in-universe is usually trivial. So it ain’t much of a problem, really.

        • Kaeoschassis says:

          I’m pretty much the opposite. I love when a game immerses me, but – and this is going to make NO sense and I apologise for that – I’m at my most immersed when a game doesn’t spend too much time trying to deny it’s a game. It is what it is. When I read a book or watch a movie I’m always aware that I’m being told a story, I just don’t MIND being aware, I can acknowledge that and immediately just sort of set it aside and get on with enjoying the experience.

          Games are pretty much the same way for me. As a result of that, I ADORE a game that I can gradually learn how to take apart piece by piece until it dances to my tune. Granted, on a first playthrough I often play things fairly straight, especially if the game in question has a genuinely enjoyable plot. Once that’s out of the way, though, I love nothing more than figuring out its systems so I can break them to pieces. Sequence breaking, killing unkillable bosses, completing that fetch quest and immediately stealing back the item in question, etc.

          Of course, as Richard touched on, it’s even better when the devs saw it coming and built it into the fun. An example, since it’s fresh in my mind – I recently, FINALLY got around to playing Mark of the Ninja. Yes, I now realise I should have done that years ago, good lord is that game good. Anyway, making the discovery that I could scare guards by hurling bodies at them from the shadows was a game-changer for me, that was the moment I knew I had to break the game to bits. Getting terrified guards to shoot eachother in their panic is fun, yes, but also obvious. Realising that guards stumble backward when something spooks them was a subtle clue that I could do more with it. The moment I actually managed to jump out in-front of a terrified guard at just the right moment to make him fall backward over a high ledge and plummet five floors to his squishy demise was one of unbelievable satisfaction – that the devs actually realized people would want to do this and added animations for it just makes it all the sweeter, but only because they did not, at any point, tell me how to do it, or even that I COULD.

          I’ve rambled a lot here, damn. Well, tl;dr? For me, games are most immersive as games – as stories, as systems, as entertainment – and when the game doesn’t arbitrarily put up walls in my way to prevent me from breaking it, that’s when I’m most invested.

    • Chillicothe says:

      For me, it ACCENTUATES it. Like in D:OS1 where I strolled up on that burning boat at the beginning and my paladin-like character cast Rain on it (just a hunch) and. It. WORKED.

      That is realism far, far beyond most games can do, or have tried. I’ve heard quite alot of anectodes of gamers getting their SOs to play this game coop and having less trouble with immersion as if X does Y in the real world, it’s liable to do Y in the game too instead of the “those doors don’t open” or “this thing is invulnerable to fire cuz balancing” things.

  2. DaceX says:

    Exploiting the systems like this is always something I´m reluctant about, for some reason, but reading about these examples kinda want me to embrace them more. They are viewtiful.

    And I really need to play Ulitma VII, do I?

    Oh, and you just linked to tvtropes so casually.
    You monster :D

  3. Bullfrog says:

    Oblivion was great for this, characters fall unconscious at zero fatigue so for my pickpocket thief I made Sleepy Trousers (damage fatigue over time on self/wearer). All you had to do was put them in someone’s inventory, watch them happily equip their new duds and wait for them to keel over. Rob house/shop/shrine/palace, remove trousers again and be out of the door before they woke up.

    • phlebas says:

      Morrowind and Oblivion were both great like that!
      In Morrowind I had a ranged spell that conferred a short-lived waterwalking ability. Approach enemy from the sea (with a much longer waterwalking spell), cast spell at enemy, watch enemy come charging towards you across the water, watch enemy sink. Hours of fun.
      In Oblivion I couldn’t do that but I could enable my horse to waterwalk and take shortcuts across the lake. It made a sound like gunfire.

      • syllopsium says:

        I did that in Morrowind too – water walk and throw fireballs at foes whose AI was too stupid to dodge, instant awesome armour! Up until the point where I was chased by a hellhound, decided to run over the water and kill it and discovered it could swim..

    • malkav11 says:

      If only Oblivion’s homes and stores had had anything worth stealing. :(

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    subdog says:

    Planescape Torment stands out to me for being the game that had me the most worried about my inventory for completely different reasons than most games.

    I wasn’t concerned with the resource management side of my inventory- having enough healing items or whatever. But I was constantly fixated on whether this random piece of junk, or sack of teeth or strange talisman is imbued with deeper meaning, possibly unlocking a portal to a new area or triggering a unique piece of dialogue.

  5. Von Uber says:

    Divinity Original Sin was great. Had no what the hell the plot was about or really where to go, but the co-op combat made up for it (especially as a mage).

  6. Retrofrank says:

    Uargh.Don´t you talk to me about Ultima 7s inventory.
    Where to stop, recounting it´s atrociousness ?
    Having to hand-feed a party of hungry, whiny children from a backpack that was full of icons stacked on each other.
    I really didn´t want a realistic backpack-simulation.And you had to try out every key in the inventory to find out wich door it fits and they all looked nearly the same and by the end of the game, you had loads of them.
    Why do even otherwise great games like Witcher 3 or Skyrim fck up the inventory ?

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      Ninja Dodo says:

      Probably because there is no agreed upon ‘perfect’ inventory system and different games have different needs. Didn’t find Witcher 3’s inventory bad at all, personally. I was less fond of the crafting.

  7. Leland Davis says:

    Anything that lets me get past a locked door or an unclimbable wall is entirely within bounds, because those are consistently the dumbest content gates in RPG’s. I look forward to the future when advances in design have made the locked door an irrelevancy, as opposed to the primary means of controlling player progression through the plot.

    This really bugged me in D:OS, actually. There were more than a few plot-locked doors which simply COULD NOT be opened by any means. Lots of other doors could be opened illictly, sure, but I could quickly suss out where major plot developments were going to take place by finding the indestructible, un-openable doors.

    I remember the gleeful feeling I had when I discovered that cannons could open locked doors in Ultima 5, and I even recall using that to effect once – maybe to get into Lord British’s apartment on the roof? Too long ago. I remember playing around a LOT with crate stacking in Ultima 7 and 8, specifically trying to get past stupid doors and whatnot, and only occasionally succeeding. Serpent Isle was particularly egregious when it came to keys and doors, as that game was almost entirely “go to a new area to progress the plot,” and that progress was inevitably gated by locked doors, and the thousand different individual keys you needed to get through. Ugh, I think Shamino’s castle must have had at least ten all on its own.

  8. Uninteresting Curse File Implement says:

    Boiling Point: Road to Hell, being a huge ol’ scrap heap of a game, had perhaps the most of these moments for me. (shut up, it’s an action-RPG okay).

    Have a mission to fight tooth and nail through 3 floors of a druglord’s mansion to reach his office and confront him? Get in a helicopter you’ve left over from a different mission but never lost, fly to the third floor… one missile and you’re done.

    Need to get into a bad guy’s villa that’s on a steep cliff, and the only road is filled with henchmen? Inch your way up the cliff, which takes a long time, but then you catch everyone with their pants down.