The text dialogues in this game are relatively simple and straightforward, which is exactly what I would expect them to be, seeing as how this game revolves around Jingles, a curious cat. Specifically, giving the player quick and easy dialogue not only forces the player to think like a domesticated cat would, but it also “starves” (for lack of a better word) the player into quickly moving onto the next object to find and interact with. To illustrate this point, I’ll mention one design choice that the developer DID NOT make. The dialogue in the game didn’t really provide any sort of “bigger picture.” What I mean is that the dialogue didn’t imply any sort of existence of a world outside of the cat’s personal life/thoughts. The game’s dialogue didn’t go on and on about the brand of tuna that Jingles finds, nor did the game expand any further on why Jingles’ water bowl was empty. But should the game try to include something like this? No, it shouldn’t, and as a player, I’m glad it doesn’t. Animals don’t have complex thought processes like humans, meaning they never question why something is the way it is. Rather, to an animal like Jingles, something is the way it is because it just is. As I played through the game, it reminded me of how I personally think my dog’s thoughts sound.
In a sense, because of the quick dialogue boxes, the player becomes the curious being in the game. We as humans are always searching for more information, trying to put the bigger picture together, and in the end, that’s what sparked my curiosity about the game as I paged through the tall grass trying to see if there was anything that I missed.
The rooms are organized where they take up their own bitsy room, utilizing two-way exits which connect each other in the house. Typically these exits were symbolized by a tile representing an open door. Inaccessible rooms in the house were closed doors. Cardinal transition effects emphasized the connectedness of the rooms depending on the direction the player takes to enter it emphasizing the idea of their connectedness. For example, walking up the stairs had an upward transition effect, and conversely walking down them had a downward one respectively. Most rooms were empty, with no more sprites or items to interact with than a couple. The main kitchen had empty bowls and a bed the cat was not tired enough to use, which was likely conjected given the restrictions of the intractability of items/sprites in the Bitsy engine. Not every room had the same amount of things that the cat could interact with either, keeping each new one unique and worth exploring. The confined nature of the house based on the way the levels were laid out gave it a very constrained atmosphere, despite the free-roam nature of the game. The only moment I felt free was walking outside and running around in the grass and that was only for a moment. Perhaps it is a result of me not playing enough, but the rooms were not really worth re-exploring, though. This was because the only item I remember obtaining was a piece of tuna left in Andrew's room. I thought that perhaps this would cause a branching list somewhere in another room, but I don't remember finding one. The tedious restrictedness of the level design really brings to life the mood that the player really is an aimless pet.
The tiles in this game is composed to illustrate the world from the view of a cat. The designer had gave most attention to the major tiles that represent big objects. This might be because that cats have a bad eyesight, so they can only pay attention to the big items in the room, like the table and chairs in the living room or desks and beds in the bedroom. Objects that are given even more attention to are the objects that have a close relationship to the cat in the game, like the water bowl, the fridge, food, or its own bed. Although they should be items, most of those tiles are made as sprites for them to be able to trigger the dialogues for multiple times in the game. Sometimes the designer will use multiple tiles to build one image, like the big table in the living room, or the big bed in the bedroom. The tiles that caught less attention is the tiles that construct the rooms. They're just simple walls and stairs that cat won't pay much attention to.
The grass tile is particular in this game, it's also the only animated tile in the game. The animation gives an impression of wind blowing over the lawn outside of the house. This is the part where the designer fighting with bitsy, when a room full of single grass tile can produce an impression more than that. As a cat that loves to be out door, the lawn seems much bigger than the crowded inner part of the house, like it could stretch for ever.
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The text dialogues in this game are relatively simple and straightforward, which is exactly what I would expect them to be, seeing as how this game revolves around Jingles, a curious cat. Specifically, giving the player quick and easy dialogue not only forces the player to think like a domesticated cat would, but it also “starves” (for lack of a better word) the player into quickly moving onto the next object to find and interact with. To illustrate this point, I’ll mention one design choice that the developer DID NOT make. The dialogue in the game didn’t really provide any sort of “bigger picture.” What I mean is that the dialogue didn’t imply any sort of existence of a world outside of the cat’s personal life/thoughts. The game’s dialogue didn’t go on and on about the brand of tuna that Jingles finds, nor did the game expand any further on why Jingles’ water bowl was empty. But should the game try to include something like this? No, it shouldn’t, and as a player, I’m glad it doesn’t. Animals don’t have complex thought processes like humans, meaning they never question why something is the way it is. Rather, to an animal like Jingles, something is the way it is because it just is. As I played through the game, it reminded me of how I personally think my dog’s thoughts sound.
In a sense, because of the quick dialogue boxes, the player becomes the curious being in the game. We as humans are always searching for more information, trying to put the bigger picture together, and in the end, that’s what sparked my curiosity about the game as I paged through the tall grass trying to see if there was anything that I missed.
Prompt 3:
The rooms are organized where they take up their own bitsy room, utilizing two-way exits which connect each other in the house. Typically these exits were symbolized by a tile representing an open door. Inaccessible rooms in the house were closed doors. Cardinal transition effects emphasized the connectedness of the rooms depending on the direction the player takes to enter it emphasizing the idea of their connectedness. For example, walking up the stairs had an upward transition effect, and conversely walking down them had a downward one respectively. Most rooms were empty, with no more sprites or items to interact with than a couple. The main kitchen had empty bowls and a bed the cat was not tired enough to use, which was likely conjected given the restrictions of the intractability of items/sprites in the Bitsy engine. Not every room had the same amount of things that the cat could interact with either, keeping each new one unique and worth exploring. The confined nature of the house based on the way the levels were laid out gave it a very constrained atmosphere, despite the free-roam nature of the game. The only moment I felt free was walking outside and running around in the grass and that was only for a moment. Perhaps it is a result of me not playing enough, but the rooms were not really worth re-exploring, though. This was because the only item I remember obtaining was a piece of tuna left in Andrew's room. I thought that perhaps this would cause a branching list somewhere in another room, but I don't remember finding one. The tedious restrictedness of the level design really brings to life the mood that the player really is an aimless pet.
The tiles in this game is composed to illustrate the world from the view of a cat. The designer had gave most attention to the major tiles that represent big objects. This might be because that cats have a bad eyesight, so they can only pay attention to the big items in the room, like the table and chairs in the living room or desks and beds in the bedroom. Objects that are given even more attention to are the objects that have a close relationship to the cat in the game, like the water bowl, the fridge, food, or its own bed. Although they should be items, most of those tiles are made as sprites for them to be able to trigger the dialogues for multiple times in the game. Sometimes the designer will use multiple tiles to build one image, like the big table in the living room, or the big bed in the bedroom. The tiles that caught less attention is the tiles that construct the rooms. They're just simple walls and stairs that cat won't pay much attention to.
The grass tile is particular in this game, it's also the only animated tile in the game. The animation gives an impression of wind blowing over the lawn outside of the house. This is the part where the designer fighting with bitsy, when a room full of single grass tile can produce an impression more than that. As a cat that loves to be out door, the lawn seems much bigger than the crowded inner part of the house, like it could stretch for ever.