When developing Aes, one of the early choices was to have a defined “good and evil.” This dichotomy is central to both genre and design.
The decision to have a good and an evil defined is part of what makes our game heroic. In the 90’s, the trend toward “edgy” blurred the distinction of the two, essentially negating them. By choosing to differentiate, we went with a classical feel to Aes. The core of romanticism is the clash of ideals, and good vs. evil is the easiest starting point for that.
The other main reason to delineate good and evil: conflict. Conflict drives game play. If every faction is just as sleazy as the next, then there’s no emotional connection to their battle. Good and evil helps give it more punch that explorers can attach to. And it still leaves open room for more complex battles, such as between two viewpoints that are both correct in their own way.
Knowing that good and evil would be implemented, the next step was answering the design question: what would be presented as good and what as evil?
We began by defining our evil. Artists communicate a lot about their values by what they choose to define as the problems of our world. Even those who have no solution may seek to raise awareness of an issue. The expression of values is one of the defining traits of art itself. Games are a form of art, so making a values determination in Aes was necessary for it to be complete.
The evil we’ve chosen is the dominant groupthink of our current time. For many years – over a decade by some estimates, far longer by others – there has been a kneejerk tribalism rising in various political circles. Social media – Facebook, Twitter, etc. – has been a driving force, as more and more people put themselves into echo chambers rather than challenge themselves to think and debate. Tumblr culture has been particularly toxic, with the tribe mentality driving some on that platform to push those they disagree with to suicide. “Conform to our way or you’re worthless” is a common mantra. With it, the breakdown of communication and empathy between people.
This way of thinking – or rather, this way of not thinking – holds numerous beliefs antithetical to rational human existence, such as:
- Censorship is fine if we define what’s being censored as offensive.
- Questioning authority is treasonous if the tyrant is “our guy.”
- It’s okay to use violence on those you disagree with if they won’t shut up when you tell them to.
- Your every action is justified if you feel you’re right.
To us, this sort of mentality was an obvious choice to be portrayed as the mindset of our antagonists. And since our genre is steampunk, we filtered that fundamental nature through aspects of the Victorian times. Social Darwinism, colonialism, racial atomism, socialism, and other plainly evil doctrines of the era became the values of those who behaved as unthinking tribes.
These factors gave rise to Zahnrad. There, central planners manage the lives of its citizens, to the detriment of all but the ruling elite. Lacking an “other” to blame for their failure, they created it, giving rise to the tishli. Their “you are not us” feelings lead them to treat the tishli as second-class, little more than objects. Sacrifice and obedience to the state are held up as patriotic ideals. And they seek to spread their views at the point of a gun to neighboring nations.
An interesting digression: when we first conceived of this form of evil, it had a very particular aesthetic. But with the change in political climate, the trappings have changed as well. Now there is more bombast and populism, rather than smug elitism. Still, both forms seem to be coexisting (if superficially conflicting), so we will likely present them as ideological siblings.
With our evil chosen, we designed the good to be its opposing force. We wanted a solution – a counterargument – to the problem we had defined. If an all-feeling mob addicted to the use of force to get their way was the great enemy, then the great hero had to be opposite: the rational individual, who used violence for self-defense only and who sought cooperation, not conformity.
Fortunately, the Victorian era had a lot to use for this. Positivism, the belief in science as fundamentally good, provided a basis for rationalism’s primacy. Classical liberalism held to a respect for the life and property of every person. And the very nature of the “punk” half of steampunk meant that defying the group to express individuality was expected.
One trap we avoided: utopia. While dystopias work great for gaming since they give explorers something to struggle against, utopias are very terrible – because they lack conflict. So even if we created a nation to contrast with Zahnrad, it could not be written as “it’s perfect.” That wouldn’t be believable; Zahnrad is a believable horror, because it’s based on history. Our contrast should be equally believable, if a much nicer place to live in.
Thus was born Aeneam. A nation where the only laws were in place to protect individual rights: no theft, no murder, no slavery, etc. There was no safety net, but there was no ceiling, either. Everyone treated equally, with value determined by character rather than how well they conformed to the party doctrine. However, while the average person sought to get ahead with cleverness and hard work, there were always those who would lie, cheat, and steal to get their way. And those are who explorers face off against.
Another source of tension within Aeneam: in any given nation that has a good beginning, there will always be internal forces that seek to knock it off its path. At this point in the world, Zahnrad is already fallen and corrupt. However, in its older days, it resembled Aeneam. Aeneam today is starting to see the same forces and thinking that lead Zahnrad down the path of oppression exert themselves. Will history repeat itself? Or will explorers be able to stave off corruption and keep Aeneam on the path of prosperity for all?
Good and evil are just the starting point to our design. We favor the victory of the good over the evil, because clearly people seeking to control and oppress others are villains and need to be stopped. Authoritarianism in its various forms has been a primary antagonist we’re all familiar with. These are conflicts where the side that ought to win are clear cut.
What we are also looking to embed into Aes is the higher order romantic conflicts, those were two sides could both be right, or where their ideals are at least not clearly evil, yet their goals are opposed. These kinds of conflicts, such as the type Victor Hugo loved to use in his works, put explorers in a much more interesting position of choice.
Aeneam will feature many of these, since its residents and leaders may differ on the direction for the nation, with no stand out “right answer.” In Zahnrad, too, the militias who resist the government will need to determine what lines they are willing to cross for their cause. By leaving these matters to explorers to determine, it gives them a larger role in deciding the long term fate of the world around them.
We hope this has been an insightful look into our design process for Aes. It would be much easier to try and avoid making choices of values when making art, but that would leave you – the player – with a more empty and lifeless world. That’s why we’ve taken the time to really think about these concepts.
Later, we’ll look at how we chose to integrate mechanics for our morality system into the game and broke away from the old “lawful/chaotic” “good/neutral/evil” categories of old.