I have an open question for y'all that I'm super curious about!
How do you feel about games with overarching, relevant time limits? This includes things like Majora's Mask, Unsighted, Persona, or Pikmin... anything where there is a deadline that influences your experience and how you play.
I've heard many people say over the years that they disliked or outright could not play Majora's Mask because of the moon timer, which makes me curious about the general feeling on these kinds of mechanics.
I'd love to hear what you think in the comments, and please feel free to elaborate!
- Why do you like, dislike, or not mind overarching time limits?
- How does the game structure change things? (long-term limit, short-term limit, ability to plan ahead, ability to increase or reset the timer, etc.)
- Do you have different views on active timers (Majora's Mask) vs. turn-based timers (Persona 5)?
- Are there examples of games with time limits that you really like or dislike?
Thank you for all of your thoughts!!
~ Lily
Wanna talk a little bit about my favorite example of a timer game, which is a little different mechanically but gets at some of the same stuff: Breath of Fire: Dragon Quarter. In the game your main character Ryu has a dragon inside him that gives him super strength and will eventually kill him. The D-gauge as it's called starts at 0% and it goes up a certain amount whenever he uses dragon moves, and also goes up more slowly just by walking (so it's not really a timer, but close enough) and once it hits 100%, it's game over. The game then puts you in situations where you have virtually no choice but to use the dragon powers, and also have no way on an initial playthrough to judge how much must be saved for later. Nominally an RPG, the game actually borrows heavily from horror games and adds elements of its own all to stress you, the player, out, make you feel trapped, hopeless. The setting is likewise claustrophobic - society lives underground, forbidden from seeing the sky, pollution from stale air promises to slowly wipe out society. You'll climb from the lowest point up to the surface, if you can. The principal accomplishment of this game is to make it to the point any other game would start at (if this sounds like the first episode of Gurren Lagaan, take a look at Ryu's visual design compared to Simon's). You can't copy your save file, and you can only save by using a limited number of save tokens. The UI also plays a role in that: the D-gauge percentage is ever-present in battle and field screens. Everything in the game conspires to make you feel as if you are at an unrecoverable disadvantage. There's even a button in the menu you can press to intentionally give up. Giving up, though, isn't the end. You can start again in one of two NG+ modes - one keeps your current plot progress but starts you with extremely limited resources, leading right back to over-reliance on dragon powers, the other starts you at the beginning with firmer footing. Starting over also has the benefit of unlocking more plot and character screens. It's an intended part of the game's cycle. I can think of very few games with an ending more impactful, that really capture a feeling of hope puncturing overwhelming despair, than this one.
Being the fifth entry in a beloved and generally more colorful (if not more cheerful) franchise, was not received particularly well when it came out. But it is a brilliant, brilliant game, and I think you can find its DNA in the likes of Dark Souls - the journey from sunlight through the depths to blighttown and then back gives me very similar vibes, the quiet call for perseverance in the face of overwhelming adversity, and the idea that a game needs to be replayed for a player to be able to contextualize the stuff that happened the first time around. Good stuff.