Chapter 182
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 182
Chapter Title: Open World (2)
They often say the open world is the crown jewel of console gaming.
That unique feeling of exploring a vast and diverse world as another version of yourself is difficult to replicate in any other genre.
As such, the history of the open world runs deep.
From a time when the term “open world” didn’t even exist to the present day, its history of development has been brilliant, and the design principles of the genre are equally vast.
To briefly trace that history, it goes like this.
In the beginning, open worlds were designed around spatial movement through ‘map transitions.’
This was because hardware limitations made it impossible to implement one single, massive map.
As this was gradually refined, the concept of map transitions shrank, and the genre began to solidify around the idea of exploring a vast land by moving through it directly.
The true development of the open world began from there.
Once a single, large map was achieved, a host of new problems emerged. The genre evolved by solving them.
“It was just too bland. When you just lump the map together into one big area, you end up with empty spaces in between. That makes travel tedious.”
Think about it.
Do you think it’s fun to just drop a player in the middle of a barren field?
Can simply holding down the movement key to wander around be more enjoyable than an action game or a thriller?
Is it stimulating to stare at the same scenery between one quest and the next?
Absolutely not.
The map of any game is crafted to maximize the density of stimuli by meticulously calculating and compressing its components.
Open worlds are no exception to this rule.
An open-world game only shines when movement, combat, progression, and quests within its vast map interlock seamlessly, like the gears of a machine.
To make the game flow in one continuous breath, just as the map was unified, countless elements must be inserted in the right places.
And that brings another problem.
“The level design process becomes incredibly complex.”
As I said, if you reduce or eliminate tedious sections, you have to fill those empty spaces with events.
These events must contribute to the player's progression.
But that’s difficult in an open world.
Because players move not according to the developer's intentions, but for ‘what they themselves find fun.’
A level 1 player who has just started can go to the final boss's location or venture into a high-level danger zone.
And if they can, a surprisingly high percentage of players will do just that.
In fact, when they don't know any better, at least seventy percent of players will do whatever they want.
“That’s what makes open worlds so difficult.”
Han Seo-rim, having listened this far, furrowed her brow.
“Why?”
“Hmm?”
“Even if you skip the beginning and go straight to the final chapter, you can't beat the boss. You’ll just struggle, and skipping the middle chapters would cut the fun in half, right? Because you don’t know the story. Can’t we just guide them on what to do at the start?”
“It’s fun precisely because they don’t know the flow.”
“Huh?”
“The experience of discovering things for yourself is the core of an open world.”
I continued.
“The open-world genre is designed to encourage that very thing.”
Han Seo-rim's expression turned complicated.
But what could I do? That was the truth of it.
“It's about freedom. We have to make the player *think* they’re moving freely.”
This goes back to the direction in which open worlds have evolved.
In the beginning, they struggled with consolidating the map into one.
After solving that, they focused on tightening the loose structure of the unified map.
The problem that came after finishing that task.
How, then, should player progression be designed in this tightened, liberated map?
How could you make players follow the developer's guidance in an open environment?
The answer was provided by *The Legend of Link*, which has accompanied the history of the open world.
“You stimulate their curiosity. You make the player voluntarily control their actions and path.”
It’s not a difficult concept.
“For example, imagine you're standing in a map. From the starting point, you look ahead and see a huge, magnificent tower. What do you think you’d do?”
“…I’d go toward it, I guess? Since it’s the first thing I see.”
“Right. You’d move in that direction without anyone telling you to. Next question. The path toward it is blocked. But there’s a side path. What do you do then?”
“…You said the path is blocked. So I’d take the side path. Something has to come out of it…”
In the middle of her sentence, Han Seo-rim’s eyes widened as if she finally understood.
“…Ah!”
A gasp.
A sign of affirmation.
I nodded.
“That’s how you guide them. Some people might try to jump over the blocked path, and others might run in the opposite direction from the very start, but most will act just like you.”
You guide the player's movement sequentially by adjusting the placement and visual detail of structures.
Because the player is taking actions that no one has forced upon them, and because the process of reaching that path is based entirely on their own judgment, they ‘mistake’ it for free action.
“Progression is the same. Instead of a linear power curve, you take items of a similar tier, give them unique characteristics, and scatter them across the map. Let’s use elements as an example. To defeat a fire-element boss, you need a water-element weapon. The player will then go back to find a boss or a quest that gives a water-element weapon, right? And just like that, a path begins to form. Just as we planned.”
Han Seo-rim nodded as if she roughly understood, then added a comment.
“…But couldn’t they just decide not to go?”
“That’s right.”
It was an important question, and the answer was set.
“Then let them not go. Let them do as they please.”
Nothing is forced.
They can defeat the fire-element boss with a grass-element weapon if they want.
However, it’s human nature to gravitate toward the easier path.
This means you can guide the majority of players as intended, and for those who don’t follow, you can offer other options.
“Side quests. Or hidden pieces scattered throughout the map.”
Players who stray from the main path tend to have a penchant for uncovering the map’s hidden secrets.
You just need to get them hooked on the process itself by reinforcing the action-and-reward loop for their efforts.
No matter how much development conventions and technical expression have changed, the core of an open world is ‘indirectly experiencing another world.’
The elements that strengthen the world-building for this purpose are precisely those side quests and hidden pieces.
By completing them, players are encouraged to collect the hidden lore and various untold stories of this world.
“You get the basic structure now, right?”
With this, I felt I had instilled the basic knowledge required to create an open-world genre.
In fact, there was one reason I explained this to Han Seo-rim.
“About making the map. This time, I’m going to interfere a lot with your designs.”
An open world is completed not by the Art Director’s creativity, but by the thoroughness of the planning.
This meant this project was bound to be stressful for Han Seo-rim.
“I might get on your nerves quite a bit. Even if you think I’m being obsessive, please try to understand.”
When I asked for her understanding, Han Seo-rim suddenly froze.
Was she upset?
Just as I thought that.
“Interference… obsession… ahem…!”
“?”
For some reason, Han Seo-rim blinked, then turned her head and started spouting nonsense.
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Well, it’s not like I can do anything if you’re going to be so persistent. You’re my senior and my boss.”
“???”
“Do as you please. It's not like I hate being the subject of obsession.”
“?????”
What was she talking about?
* * *
That concluded the ‘how to do it.’
The next thing needed was the ‘how to apply it.’
In other words, now that I had covered the theoretical aspects of open-world development, I had to devise a way to apply them to *Hellic 5*.
“So what are we starting with this time?”
Myeong-gyu asked during the meeting.
He was the one who, despite his concerns about starting open-world development, was also the most excited.
I answered.
“First, I’ll explain the map. Whether it’s the gameplay style, the progression system, or the game flow, everything can only be explained once you understand the map.”
“…What in the world are you making? I only heard a broad overview at the last meeting, so I can’t quite grasp it.”
His tone suggested he didn’t understand the development order.
It was an understandable reaction.
Even I would think ‘has this guy lost his mind?’ if someone told me they were starting development with the map.
But it couldn’t be helped.
The moment I decided to make a game set in the Hell of Aesthetics, every aspect of the plan was conceived to reflect the characteristics of that hell. Therefore, I couldn’t explain any part of the game without first explaining the blueprint of this map.
I opened my mouth.
“As I told Seo-rim, the most important thing in an open world is guiding player behavior based on curiosity.”
I began the introduction and pointed to the beam projector.
“Visual presentation is key. When a player starts the game and looks at the screen, we need to make them think, ‘Ah, maybe I should go over there.’”
“Right? That’s exactly how *The Legend of Link* does it.”
Myeong-gyu, who cited the masterpiece that swept 2017, then spoke in a voice full of anticipation.
“So what are you going to use?”
I answered immediately.
“The map itself.”
“Huh?”
“I’m going to use the map itself to guide movement.”
A confused reaction.
Well, this would be quicker to show with a picture.
*Click—!*
I switched the slide on the beam projector.
At that, everyone in the meeting, including Myeong-gyu, widened their eyes.
“Ah, if it’s like this…!”
What appeared on the screen was a landscape that seemed to be inside a planet, with seven different-colored hells filling each facet.
What did this mean?
“You just enter, and when you look at the ceiling, you see another map. Look beyond the distant horizon, and you see yet another map. Wouldn’t that at least make you curious?”
The Hell of Aesthetics reveals the interior of a polyhedron made by irregularly connecting seven landmasses.
In other words, just by being there, you could see other maps no matter where you looked, meaning the map itself could stimulate curiosity.
But that wasn’t all.
“That’s not enough, of course. Simply seeing other maps can’t be fun on its own. A goal that’s too distant can actually diminish curiosity.”
So, one more mechanism had to be inserted.
And with that mechanism, I would guide the player.
“Times have changed. A game where you explore by leisurely walking is too slow. It would be the cherry on top if an open world could also offer a sense of speed.”
“Meaning?”
“We’ll place a landmark structure in each map. And we’ll place a boss in that structure.”
“Oh… so you’re making the boss of the current map a short-term goal?”
“Yes, but of course…”
That wouldn’t be enough. Once you beat the boss, the main flow of the map is over, isn't it?
Then, as I mentioned before, the average player following the main path would have to experience tedious travel.
I had a way to eliminate that while adding an active experience.
*Click—!*
The projector slide changed.
And lines appeared on the map.
Lines connecting opposite sides… for instance, the floor map and the ceiling map, and lines piercing through and connecting distant maps.
Metaphorically, it resembled the inside of a fruit that had been skewered.
“That’s…”
“A Loop. A loop that opens up one by one as you defeat the bosses in each map's landmark structure.”
When you defeat the boss on the map you’re standing on, a beam of light shoots into the air and connects to another landmass.
If you enter that beam of light, your character will travel quickly along the beam and arrive at another map.
The player will then head toward the landmark structure on the new map.
That is how we will guide map traversal and the progression path.
The concept itself is solid.
Of course, many players won’t follow it, but that’s fine.
For players who want to master the world itself rather than the main path, and for the experience of traveling to the landmark structure, a great deal of content will be inserted.
“That’s the basic concept for the map. Any questions?”
Myeong-gyu’s lips were pressed into a thin line.
He narrowed his eyes, adjusted his glasses, and stared intently at the screen.
Then he asked.
“…Yeon-ho.”
“Yes.”
“You’d obviously want to implement that Loop as a seamless, one-take sequence with no loading screens, right?”
“Of course.”
“Moving from one map to another via the ceiling, with a sense of speed, no delay, and fully optimized.”
“You’ve hit the nail on the head. I considered representing it as a tunnel, but it’s obviously more fun to see the entirety of the other maps as you fly. It would also be great to adjust the camera angle to give a little preview of the map you’re about to enter.”
“…And how do we do that, technically?”
A good question.
Implementing that empty space would surely be quite a burden.
There would be resource issues, too.
But.
“That’s something you’ll have to start thinking about now, Myeong-gyu.”
Isn’t that something the programmer, not the planner, should be thinking about?
“……”
“You can do it, right?”
“……”
I decided to take his silence as a yes.