Sekiro: Accessibility in games is much more than a "difficulty"

By Cherry Thompson

The "difficulty" in the games is entirely relative to the individual players; what is "ultra hard" and "unplayable" for one is "too easy" and "boring" for another. That is to say, it is a construction of the realities created by game designers and precisely adapted to the perceptions of their audience. In addition, accessibility – my focus as a gaming consultant, working with AAA developers such as Guerrilla to Indies, such as Gambrinous – is an area of ​​game design that is often deeply misunderstood; these are obstacles and not difficulties. Thus, by focusing on "difficulty modes", we may miss other opportunities to accommodate more players, as they may perceive a number of barriers to play quality or relief without pain / stress. . I'm here not only as an expert trying to shed light, but also as an avid fan of exhausting games like Souls-like who would not want to see any of their decisive qualities diminish.

The punishment, but it's so good

Before getting into the thick of it, it's important to explore why I like to punish myself with such grueling games. It's fundamental to understand why on Earth everyone would like to participate in that.

I have physical and cognitive impairments with too complicated medical names, but it boils down to muscle strength and pain. My joints break up and I get hurt easily (more pain). I've had strokes that affect things like memory and brain fog, and I'm also autistic and I have ADHD, which affects my ability to deal with any type of information, organize tasks and think quickly. Because playing any type of game is not just a physical task, but also a cognitive one.

So, I'm disabled and I finished Bloodborne solo, beating most bosses in two to five attempts. It was an intensely emotional experience. heartbreaking sometimes, uplifting, overwhelming, terrifying, beautiful, shocking and painful. It is a unique narrative method, touching and indescribable. For me, it's the heart of soul-like games, and it trains me over and over again. Surge is the only game for over 30 years that I have completed three times! Quite the statement for a player with ADHD.

The soul-like experience leaves me raw and vulnerable in a way that no other game does. Repeated failure, combined with seemingly unbeatable odds, contrasts nicely with my natural ability to persist, find strength among weaknesses, and learn. I am a very determined person, often to my detriment, and these games reward him.

Despite my intelligence and my absolute determination to succeed, I am exhausted and extremely vulnerable. I am often beaten with despair, but I find a way to come back victorious. Or, it's what a good soul-like soul makes me feel ingeniously through subtly crafted mechanics and almost invisible direction. While I'm on the verge of tears, completely broken, mumbling in a trembling way: "I can not do that," I have a decisive step forward; I recover the last strengths of my courage, my courage and my strength and … I win. Just like that.

It's a really fascinating psychological and physical journey because there is more to do: it's the intimate relationship between mechanics and history. The stories at the base are always about transcending the darkest periods, overcoming probabilities and trying to come back from desolation. The way the amazing gameplay echoes the narrative is so impressive that it can only be experienced while playing. It is a beautiful and ugly representation of life and existentialism.

For me, these games are special because they look so much like my life. Being handicapped, it is navigate the world in difficult mode permanent; constantly confronted with the barriers, threats and painful realities of life, yet I am a survivor because I am human. The fact that I can even make this analogy speaks volumes about the concept of difficulty.

Of course, there are things that I can not do and that's fine; it's life, for everyone. But for people with disabilities, we often can not participate simply because no one thinks of us. It is insupportably insulative and sad to be confronted with the palpable joy and companionship of others when you have to look aside, again. Nor is it always a situation of all or nothing. Sometimes doing the thing is painful or very exhausting (that is, harder than it should be). So, yes, I completed Bloodborne, but I suffered hand injuries that took months to heal – and I'm not hyperbolic. Playing m has exhausted mentally and physically. This has made me hyper aware of my limitations as a disabled player.

When a game like Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice is released, the discussion often turns to "modes of difficulty", in part because people want to participate, in a healthy way and that meets their needs. They are tired of being completely excluded or feeling inadequate because of their limitations. They desperately want to be part of the hype. Missing the last big problem really hurts, especially when it happens as often as for people with disabilities.

With the cries of "Git Gud" comes the basic misunderstanding of what accessibility is really about. Are these "modes of difficulty"? It's sometimes a small part of it, but it's also a lot more. Difficulty options are just one of the potential routes to solving the unintentional obstacles faced by disabled players – and many non-disabled players – but this is not always the best way to solve them. In my work, I actively encourage teams to approach the subject with nuance and creativity, because there is an insidious misconception that disabled players can simply "play well".

Accessibility 101

Stand up: what is the "unintentional barrier"? Games are, at the base, a set of barriers designed to create a challenge, mixed with the illusion that you solve everything yourself. There are times, however, when developers have been able to create obstacles we do not know exist. That's why we test and that's how we end up accidentally excluding players, especially disabled players, that we would like to include. We deliberately mitigate and remove obstacles throughout the game design (Sekiro does this through his idols of frequent checkpoints and stealth indicators, for example), but if we do not design and test with the full spectrum of our player base in mind, we will inevitably have unintentional barriers.

It's where accessibility comes in – we work to intentionally include as much of the audience as possible. We may not be able to remove all the barriers and keep the game we want to create. It is therefore essential to make the experience as consistent as possible for as many of our audience as possible.

It is important to understand that when players ask for "difficulty options", it may be simply because it is the easiest way for them to communicate their needs. It is not their job to find the ideal solution to obstacles, but their role is to make known their concern of not being able to play at all. Declarations that a game is "too difficult" are valid. Again, the difficulty is relative to the individual and it is an abstract concept that can be deeply related to the functioning of our body or mind. We have become accustomed to easy / medium / hard / ultra-mega-hard values ​​by proliferation, but in the end … they have no meaning (look, I'm an existentialist, agree?).

If I learned something by playing Souls-like, there are 10 different ways to crack an egg (or a boss). This is also a fundamental truth in game design, and if players find the barriers too steep for them, we may be able to take a closer look at why and how much accessibility there is in games. Here are some truths that I like to tell:

• The handicap is a normal human variation, so we are already in each base of players.

• Some people who need accessibility do not identify themselves as disabled (RSI, arthritis, back injury, broken arms, ADHD, overworked, tired, etc.).

• There are hard and soft barriers (both = "too hard"):

  • Difficult = Impossible to play at all because of physical, cognitive and sensory barriers.

  • Soft = Play is painful / exhausting / stressful / "difficult".

• Each option or setting is accessibility for someone.

• Accessibility is often accidental (organic).

• Accessibility does not have to fundamentally change the basic experience of others or affect the artistic vision.

FromSoftware has already made progress in accessibility

FromSoftware has made many improvements to its family formula since its first games, which shows that there is plenty of room and a more accessible place. As a fan, developers are constantly improving the ultimate experience of persistence. Contrary to popular opinion, I do not think that Souls games are a question of know-how, but to encourage people to face their demons, to understand the consequences and to continue. It's also probably a little futility, but it's another article. There have been a lot of QoL improvements over the De games and this is a root of accessibility as a concept. QoL is about making sure players have a smooth experience and do not run out before we want to. This is important for all players, but especially for disabled players, because sometimes we have less energy, more pain or greater limitations to start with.

For example, since the first Dark Souls, there is a very subtle but very important accessibility nugget: audio sliders. I have a disorder called sensory processing where sounds, visuals and haptics submerge my brain; it stops and I stop processing the information completely. You can probably imagine the impact it would have on any game, let alone on a punitive game. It's not about my skill level. The boss music in Bloodborne is sublime, but it made fighting almost impossible for me. So, I set the music to 2/10. The sound effects were vital for locating the movements (my visual processing is slow), so I left them in place, but I also lowered my voice as it included screams and roars. It was my secret to beat most bosses in two to five attempts.

From Bloodborne to Sekiro, there were big jumps. The most important is the remapping of the controller – I can now avoid hurting my hands and making the control scheme more accessible to me. Unfortunately, commands use each button and remapping a frequently used action amounts to sacrificing another one, such as spying or targeting enemies. Through parameters, I control my experience to make it more accessible. adapt and conquer.

Similarly, the user interface (menus, HUD, tutorials, skill upgrades, etc.) has been significantly improved in Sekiro. It's not perfect, but the size of the text, the simplicity of the layout and the density are better than in any of From's previous games. The degree of accessibility of the UI can really affect my ability to play an extremely exhausting game. If I'm tired of reading a dense text or trying to analyze the stats of the characters, by the time I get to some kind of fight, I'm already half-exhausted. Thus, improvements in quality of life are direct accessibility. It's not a question of competence.

In addition, I am still quite early in Sekiro, but so far, it is much better to present me clearly, without it upsets or tires me. Again, other people sharing their frustrating experiences still have some way to go – more information on how to play could be given to those who are new to the genre but not to veterans who do not need it, for example. The training area at the very beginning is also a very important accessibility tool because it allows people to have a secure area (without risk of losing) to practice their timing and become familiar with the commands.

I'm not here to write a full report on Sekiro's accessibility (after all, as the Joker has taught us, if you're good at something, never do it for free), but here some concrete examples of settings or features that will help you with accessibility without being a "difficulty mode"; challenge the idea of ​​what is the difficulty. Virtually all of the improvements in quality of life and existing settings reduce the "difficulty" for me, making Sekiro both more accessible and more affordable (yes, they are different too). I could say the same thing about the fact that the design of the game in Sekiro is more tolerant, from the timing to the controls, through the multiple possible game styles (stealth, loading, finesse, parry, denigration). The fact that if I am ahead for a parade, most of the time, it becomes a blockage is huge for me because I am often too early. Hey, I'm afraid of slow reactions to make up for what I can say.

But as I said, there is still room in a game like Sekiro for more accessibility. A quick look at the lean menus should be enough to see it. Nothing is perfect and the creators always try to improve themselves and get closer to the vision they have for their players. We can achieve many things with the parameters defined by the player and it is not necessary that it be an "easy mode" in itself. There are many ways to improve and the fact that many people talk about how they want to play but who can not should let us ask how. I hope we will overcome the concept of difficulty to become more understanding of the spectrum of the human experience.

Empowerment, understanding and acceptance

In the end, accessibility in games is to allow as many different types of players as possible to have predefined experiences. The reality is that we are not all homogenous and that we will have to change some things to suit us. We will not all buy the same size of jeans! The difficulty is a construction and an illusion of game design. Each setting can change the "difficulty" perceived by a given player. If the camera's sensitivity is too high and somebody does not move, the game suddenly becomes difficult. even for someone we could consider highly qualified.

As a larger community, we should also seek to create a more welcoming space. It's so amazing to share a deep experience with other people. Is it not time that we begin to listen to ourselves and understand what our different struggles are? I am sensitive to people who can not play or who hurt too much when they do it because I went there. You are told that something as big, exciting, fun, stimulating and wonderful does not hurt, especially when it could be.

It is important to note that I do not want to fundamentally change games like this for everyone, I want to give more players the opportunity to manage their own challenge. I want to build the confidence of the players so that they know what they want and need to have access to a similar experience and challenge themselves to deal with these exhausting themes. Perhaps we can move on to recognize that the options for operations such as beating buttons are not really different from inverting controls or adjusting sensitivity. It's just about adapting the experience to our body and mind. It's great when it's as magical as in the fabric of challenging games like the main gameplay.

Cherry Thompson works on accessibility in games and practices ultra violence with feelings as a speaker. They have a one-eyed cat named Odin who is really good at designing his own games. You can follow them on Twitter @cherryrae.