In my previous article, I presented my model that I use as a jumping off point for my game analysis. As shown in the figure below, I try to identify the “system,” the “scenario(s),” and the “structure” of each game I play. While I provided some light examples in that article, I wanted to dedicate a full article just to providing examples; I could and probably will write articles diving into more abstract details on each, but examples will get most of those points across better.

Tetris: The Absolute - The Grand Master 2 Plus

TAP (the common acronym for this particular entry, although saying the full name is very funny) is the perfect example of a system-heavy game. Every game has different contributions from each layer, with many of the examples from the last article favoring games with balanced layers. TAP completely ignores this: Tetris is Tetris is Tetris, and the way the game is instantiated isn’t going to vary much from session to session.

The mode select for TAP . The structure for this game more or less boils down providing initial scenario sets (the modes) and then sequencing any mechanical variable changes linearly by level achieved. [src]

Each mode is a distinct scenario, incorporating different aspects of the system such as rising garbage, powerup pieces, or multiplayer on a per-mode basis. Another discerning factor between scenarios are how they alter the parameters of the game: we can see from looking at the gravity and delay tables on this page that these are modulated at hardcoded level thresholds (your level increments for every block placed and line cleared) which vary based on mode. One could argue that the level chunks with consistent parameters are the actual scenarios, with the game structured by seamlessly placing fixed scenarios back-to-back based on the mode.¹

What’s notable here is that this is different from parameters programmatically calculated within the system. If, say, the gravity was a direct function of the level (for instance, if the gravity went up by 1/8G every five levels), it would be easier to argue it as a component of the system, specifically as a mechanic with a rule attached to it.² If we look at how gravity actually scales in the game, however, the uneven scaling throughout the game becomes quickly apparent. Newer players can likely survive until level 200, when the gravity drops down to a negligible 1/64G and the player can smooth out their stack. The quick on-ramp after this and then the jump to 2G at level 300 will quickly filter them, as at this point the high gravity begins limiting piece movement and rotation options. The integration of this gravity curve (and related curves such as lock delay and the ARE time between pieces) not only instantiate the mechanics but also provide hand-crafted scaling and pacing in a way unique to the Tetris: The Grand Master series.

This graph of the gravity scaling curve by level achieved clearly illustrates a handmade pacing, with much variation in its slope both in duration and direction until level 500. [src]

Regardless of whether you want to categorize the scenarios as the separate modes or as the curve design, each is lightweight compared to the system at play, and none of the modes drastically change the core mechanics. Something like high gravity affecting placement/rotation strictly derives from the details of how those are implemented and the organic way they cooperate; the scenario design here only affects the pacing. While I find this latter aspect to be a key differentiating factor for Tetris: The Grand Master games versus other Tetris variants, you could write an excellent critique of TAP and the other games in the series without specifying that in detail.

Zone of the Enders: The 2nd Runner

Although ZoE2 is mechanically dense in its own right, it’s also a setpiece-driven game, and thus works as our scenario-heavy game. Most setpiece-driven games (especially from this ’90s/’00s era) have linear structures that string scenarios back-to-back with little side content or non-linear navigation. Funnily enough, I chose ZoE2 here because the first Zone of the Enders actually does have more of an exploratory component, with player able to fly between segmented areas on a larger map and explore for objects or conduct missions at will, although the critical path is linear and the game isn’t particularly long.

Late in Zone of the Enders: The 2nd Runner, you’re pitted against the main antagonist in a damaged version of your mech Jehuty, having lost your shield, almost all your subweapons, and your long-range shots. Here the scenario has purposefully limited the actions available from the system in order to direct your focus towards the remaining mechanics. [src]

Unlike TAP, which did little to restrict the player on a per-scenario basis, ZoE2 has a progression to the player’s toolkit, giving them additional subweapons as the game goes on. Encounters after receiving a subweapon also often explicitly favor its use both mechanically and through your mech’s AI voiceover. For example, Geyser, which freezes enemies in place, is given at the same time commander enemies are introduced, which buff up identical enemies in their vicinity. Freezing as many enemies as possible to focus in on the commander works here, or preferably (on higher difficulties at least) freezing the commander to grab and throw them. In one fight the game actually takes away the majority of your move set for a minimal one-on-one fight with the main antagonist in the void, giving a sneak peek into the proper final fight shortly after.

Scenarios in ZoE2 also use particular entities or rules selectively. To some extent all encounter design works off of this principle (ZoE2 introduces new enemies as the game goes along and restricts which ones are encountered in each area, as most combat games do), but ZoE2 also deploys particular deviations from the standard combat system in specific scenarios without revisiting them. The two largest ones are the battles at Vascilia and the Aumaan Crevasse, where the first introduces damageable buildings and the second features an army of mechs that must be healed and managed throughout a large battle. Each one has its own internal score and rank, distinct from many other scenarios in the game. Other instances of this include searching for Taper inside of a set of crates, following orders to avoid hidden traps on the way to the Fortress City, and destroying battleships with the Vector Cannon.

The Aumann Crevasse battle tasks players with guarding a group of 40 LEV mechs as they assault the antagonist’s base. The vast number of enemies instantly distinguishes it from the other scenarios, as well as a new mechanic where using the Geyser weapon on an damaged mech (denoted by the SOS symbol you can see here) will cause your ally Leo to come heal them. It’s an iconic moment with a sensation of chaos that’s rare to find in this genre, even if it’s perhaps mechanically scattershot. [src]

There’s interplay between the system and the scenario here: even though the core part of the system here is the combat, from how Jehuty’s toolkit works to the properties of each of the enemies, all of these bespoke mechanics also derive from the system. Getting too into a bottom-up or top-down mentality when analyzing can result in accidental causal thinking, where design starts at one end and progresses to the other. In this case, there are elements in the system that were explicitly designed to function for a specific scenario, while there’s also scenarios that become much more nuanced thanks to the general rules established in the system. The games with the heaviest scenario layers are those where the vast majority of the system is tied to particular scenarios rather than having generic system elements the whole way through the game.³

ZoE2 succeeds at having the core aspects of the system influence the way most of the game’s scenarios can play out, turning what could be lock-and-key solutions to most issues into something more interesting. Something like the Nephtis fight after the train segment is transformed from “grab an enemy, block with it when she charges, then do a combo” by elements such as the enemy grab ranges and behavior (the CLOD enemies are lethal on higher difficulties) and the Gauntlet subweapon penetrating Viola’s armor. Differentiating and analyzing games on how often they incorporate the system versus leaving it out to dry is a prime way to critique the scenario layer.

Yakuza 0

Comparing Yakuza 0, the structure-heavy game on this list, to the two above yields notable differences off the bat. For one, the other two games had minimal structures, which were linear in both cases (or “flat” in the case of TAP’s menu, where you have multiple equally accessible selections). They also each had relatively consistent systems. The Yakuza / Like a Dragon games chuck that concept out completely: they rotate constantly between disjoint systems using a much less linear structure.

Not that the structure doesn’t have any linearity to it at all, however. The primary campaign is completely linear, using a 3D beat-em-up system in scenarios that either restrain the player to a small area in the main city or a “dungeon” contained in some building. Between these, the player can walk around one of the two main hubs to eat food, talk with people, explore nooks and crannies, or play minigames. The latter are where most of the alternate systems come in: bowling, pool, dancing, gambling, shogi, and others all have their own unique gameplay styles that have nothing to do with the “core” beat-em-up mechanics and only exist in their particular scenarios. Substories (the game’s term for side quests) are unlocked in fixed waves as the campaign continues, and multiple narrative-driven minigame questlines can be continued at any time by the player, although they have their own linear progression.

Playing through the Pocket Circuit minigame yields not only its own configurable racing system but also a progression of races to work through. It eventually starts tying in background narrative for the characters who frequent the establishment as you continue to play. [src]

If we wanted to reduce the complexity of our model here a bit, the game effectively stacks linear and flat structures together: at any given point you’re in a open world exploration scenario with the ability to switch into any of the other scenarios that have been unlocked. As I specified off-hand earlier about TAP’s flat structure, each option is equally accessible, and thus the player has a breadth of branches to choose from that all return to a central point. The player also isn’t locked into a set of scenarios with a given choice and can freely access any unfinished scenarios they’ve unlocked from the exploration scenario.⁴ These two points tie together to tell us that the Yakuza games are interested in providing a wide variety of system choice (often to the exclusion of depth, but I’m not diving into that) without overly privileging any scenario or playstyle preference. If the player wants to stop the main story early on to continually play the arcade games, nothing in the game will force them into a different scenario if they don’t want to leave. There’s a good chance you understood that intuitively, but now we’ve built the case from our model instead of free-handing it.

If we wanted to be really reductionist, we could say that the exploration scenario, since it’s effectively a way to access flatly structured scenarios, is a glorified menu a la TAP. If you’re going to take a strictly mechanical critical method, you could extend this into questioning the need for it and the amount of downtime spent walking from place to place.⁵ If you’re going to adequately defend games such as these (or other open-world / exploration-heavy series), you’ll have to begin dipping into the well of aesthetic critique. Something along the lines of exploring the space, examining the detail and life in the game’s recreation of real Japanese cities, discussing narrative, whatever you feel is relevant. SSS won’t tell you how to cover these ideas, as you can apply many critical concepts from literature, film, and art collectively to comparable forms in games. What it can do is get you to points like this, where you can see an abstract parallel between TAP and Yakuza and realize that you need to find an non-mechanical way to differentiate the two. Having a solidified chain of reasoning helps that process, at the very least.

Some Notes

You may have disagreed with me on what constitutes each scenario for one of these games or had a counterexample for how I defined a given structure. Good! The definitions here are precise enough to get people decomposing games but flexible enough to allow you to reason in your own way. What matters more is exerting conscious effort over your game analysis. You absolutely don’t need this model to come up with any of the critique of these games listed above, but when you rely on a model like this you can start doing it reflexively across virtually anything you play. You also get the benefit of having a way to compare games directly through your SSS decomposition of each.

I also consider it good form to avoid getting too technical with using any of these terms if you’re actually writing critique for others to read. Critique is personal, and using your own authorial voice to explain your thoughts helps reinforce that. I would suggest using this model to construct your thoughts or to form a basis for your observations, and then translate the ones that define the game best to your written review. You definitely don’t need to talk about each layer if it’s not relevant, and you don’t need to highlight any of these concepts by name: just convey your ideas naturally in the language of the game.

Also note that if you’re planning on doing in-depth mechanical analysis that there’s still a way to go between using the SSS model and actually tearing apart a system: that takes a lot more effort on understanding how mechanics can be defined and analyzed. It’s a bit old and it’s a dry read, but my State Space Model article dives into this issue. At some point I’ll rewrite that as a few different articles in less stodgy language. At the very least, what these examples should help you with is understanding the roles of scenario and structure in a game and how to identify their qualities. I find that these more often escape the domain of mechanical critique that I read, as the elements of the system tend to be flashier and applicable across an entire game and thus become the focal point. While I can take or leave structural analysis (I tend to play structurally light games anyway), understanding the interplay between scenario and system will strengthen your opinions on the individual mechanics in the long run.

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1. In this framing you can also skip certain scenarios through gaining multiple levels in a single action by clearing lines. If we think about this structurally, we can say that each scenario links to N other scenarios, which are the scenarios enterable by leaving the initial scenario with differing numbers of lines (how many levels you can jump is system-limited). Probably not something you ever need to write, but if this thought occurred to you, it occurred to me too, so I wanted to run over how I’d explain it. ↩︎

2. It’s technically a piecewise function, and at some level it is a mechanic with a programmatic rule attached to it (when you reach a new level, grab the gravity value from the lookup table), but it’s certainly not continuous, and any close look at the scaling should indicate that the amount of time it spends at any given speed varies in duration almost per-change. If you really wanted to classify this as an element of the system, I wouldn’t necessarily be averse regardless; my primary point here is that the game is system-heavy, and that we have to peer very closely to find the scenario design at all. ↩︎

3. The purest example I could think of for this was Incredible Crisis, which is just cutscenes and then little minigames in linear order. WarioWare is sort of similar but has this excellent system/structure synergy where the scenarios are delivered in a random order and speed up progressively the further you play. As for a truly scenario-heavy combat example, the JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind PS2 game came to mind. ↩︎

4. I tried to weave in the idea here that you can’t repeat scenarios but can at least play all of them through once. The only Yakuza scenarios that you’re locked out of off the top of my head are the Rikiya ones past a point in Yakuza 3, and these are accessible again in the post game. I also know of substories you can effectively “fail” in Yakuza 3⁶ and 4? But I don’t believe they truly lock you out of content. ↩︎

5. I have a bit I do on Discord where I say that players who enjoy Super Mario 64 through “solving” a platforming challenge by evaluating the physics interactions between the environment and the toolkit are wasting their time with all of the dead space spent walking or long jumping. Instead, they should play pool and get more decision-making and physics nuance with virtually no time wasted. It’s silly, but it’s a reminder that as tempting as it is to do purely mechanical critique, it’s good to have a rationale to explain our thoughts on the downtime as well. Or you can take that and say “you’re right, SM64 sucks!” My both sides SSS take on this is that it’s a phenomenal core system that the scenarios don’t often take advantage of. A 10/10 with 40% dogshit level design. But it’s got a genius structure that lets you skip all of the worst parts… Sunshine should have taken some notes. ↩︎

6. Stacking footnotes… wanted to tangentially bring up a reason I prefer Yakuza 3’s substories over later ones: they’re much more prone to bringing out bespoke elements of the system for one-off scenarios compared to the later games, which really began leaning heavily into the dialog option substories starting with Yakuza 5. If you use the idea here that Yakuza is fundamentally based in system breadth over depth, and we tie in the ZoE2 analysis that setpiece games rely heavily on the bespoke system elements to differentiate scenarios, you can see the sketches of an SSS-based critique: “Yakuza 3 succeeds in designing unique scenarios in comparison to later entries by adding new system elements for individual substories instead of molding each one around the same mechanical skeleton.” Then you provide some examples for 3 (balancing ice cream, acting on the movie set, the murder mystery one) and some examples against 5 and 0 (take your pick here)… bam, you have yourself a solid critique. I build a fair amount of my critique that way; I just don’t lay it out so nakedly. ↩︎

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