Tag: game studies

Hitting the “Motherlode”: Cheating/Modding in The Sims & World of Warcraft

I guarantee that no two User Interfaces in World of Warcraft will be quite the same. Both WoW and The Sims have notoriously supported modification to their videogames over the years, even going so far as to convert existing addons or mods into actual features of later gameplay. Where they differ greatly however, is their stance on cheating.

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Straight from EA’s official The Sims 4 website.

While it might be front and centre on their website now, The Sims franchise used to have its own share of community shared and pseudo-mythological cheating console commands in circulation. While they were never so obviously discussed by the developers, the existence of easy-to-remember codes like “rosebud,” “kaching,” or “motherlode” for more money, always seemed to suggest that they were ‘in the know’ in giving these tools to players. Further still, there are plenty of things that the early entries to the franchise required you to do via console command, such as stopping aging, that are now features in the normal ‘settings’ of The Sims 4.

Cheating is a big part of the game. Not only is it easy to access, but it’s even something we kinda, sorta, actually encourage. Strap in as we show you not only how to cheat in The Sims 4, but tell you a few of our favorites The Sims 4 cheat codes (EA, The Sims 4)

Can these kinds of cheat codes even be considered “cheating” if they’re considered an endorsed part of the gameplay? Rather than allowing for extra lives or level skips through an implicit playtesting model, EA has gone one step further and condoned the use of their cheats as an active alternative to play. By so doing, they are acknowledging a number of ways for players to consume their content, and allowing people to use it as a building or design sim, rather than just for playing house. Further still, the game doesn’t penalize you for using cheats of any kind, and achievements in the game continue to record as they would if you never typed the [`] key at all.

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Their endorsement of cheating comes alongside their in-game promotion of modified Sims and Lots (houses/businesses/community, etc.) through the Community Gallery. Practically since its inception, The Sims generated a very active modding community. They’ve been the source of providing new hairstyles, clothing options, furniture, houses, meshes, and a whole load of features before the game developers themselves included them. For example, the modding community already had versions of cat and dog companions (within a very limited vein) before an official expansion was ever released to include them. What we have to consider alongside this seeming embracing of “cheating” and “mods” within the native client of The Sims 4, is that the company is attempting to exert control over its modding community.

When a mod system is detached from the game itself, any number of issues can arise, both for the company and for the player. The players could run themselves the risk of downloading harmful files or corrupting their game beyond repair. The developers on the other hand, may risk financial loss over user-created content that mimics things they’d otherwise charge you for. In the end, by including a community gallery within the game itself, EA encourages its players to pay for the game itself, and its expansions (the gallery is not available through pirated versions), as well as discouraging players from reaching beyond their borders for content, via sites like ModTheSims or TheSimsResource. Despite efforts to contain the modification of The Sims, sites like these continue to prosper, providing content to the community where EA and the gallery cannot.

If we go way back, this design philosophy has almost been with The Sims from the beginning, and it seems to me that these kinds of cheats are not really cheats at all. User driven content and world-spontaneity has always been a desired feature on The Sims‘ horizon. Back in 2001, the Game Studies journal conducted an interview with Will Wright at Maxis, aka the mind behind The Sims, SimCity, SimAnt, and more.

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Only in 2002 could The Sims Online be taken seriously with Comic Sans as a default chat font.

While this interview was conducted before the failure that would-be The Sims Online, a sim-universe MMO, Wright shared some interesting insight into what his view of the future of the franchise would be.

I would much rather build a system where the players are in more in control of the story and the story possibilities are much wider. For me the size of the space is paramount. Even if it was between the player controlling it or it being random, I still would want larger space in either case…Because I think you could always make the possibility space larger at the expense of the plausibility or the dramatic potential, or the quality of the experience. There’s probably some relationship between the quality of the experience and the size of the possibility space. So we can make the possibility space huge, just by giving the player a thousand numbers. And “Here, you can make any one of these thousand numbers whatever you want it to be.” That’s a big space. It’s just not a very high quality experience. So we start wrapping graphics, sounds scenarios and events around those numbers, and we’re increasing the quality of the experience you have. It has more meaning to you. In some sense it becomes more evocative. You can start wrapping a mental model around that, as opposed to this pile of numbers (Pearce).

The Sims was never supposed to be just about what stories Maxis (and later EA) could tell you, but rather the stories you could tell yourself. Part of this meant allowing for as broad of a ‘possibility space’ as the code could provide, and where those borders could no longer contain the possibility, the community took over instead. In this way, The Sims in principle can never be modded or “cheated” too much to be considered failure. The inclusion of these things from the game’s very design philosophy presupposes that we might not even have a word for their use within the game’s system. As much as it’s hard to call endorsed “cheating” cheating, it can be equally hard to call inclusion of hairstyles, clothing, or furniture mods, when they fulfill the game’s ‘prime directive’ as it were: enhancing, or even ‘extending,’ the possibility space and user experience. Perhaps “extensions” is more appropriate in this case. “Players of The Sims 2, like players of the first version, have found that one of the most gratifying aspects of play is sharing unique objects with other players. For example, in just under four months (September 2004– February 2005), Sims 2 players created and uploaded more than 125,000 characters and houses to share with others” (Flanagan 50). If The Sims is just about playing house (Flanagan), the only limits ought to be those of your imagination, and as long as the community is willing and able to push those limits, all extensions and cheats are effectively working as intended.

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In contrast to The Sims’ stance on cheating and modification, World of Warcraft and other similar MMOs have a much heavier hand. Mods in WoW toe a very fine line between acceptable usage and bannable offence. Generally over time, Blizzard Entertainment, developers of WoW, have taken strides to limit what mods can and cannot do to their game in order to limit how mods can help (or hinder) player experience. Where The Sims is about expanding one’s possibility space via cheats and community content, WoW is about delivering their content through a myriad of lenses, so long as it doesn’t give any one player any significant advantage.

As WoW is a web-based always-online game, with achievements, the need to control cheating is paramount and judged accordingly. Even if a mod ‘arguably’ only affects your experience, like hacking the visual skins of your characters on your game files alone, could be deemed a bannable offence (as happened to a guild member of mine back in The Burning Crusade expansion). Along these same lines, however, while there are no mods allowed that give a significant advantage to one player or another, the community (particularly in high-end raiding or PVP situations) has deemed a number of mods indispensible or effectively required in order to proceed through the “stock” client. Many of these ‘essential’ mods are aimed at modifying and improving user-experience for more difficult content. Mods like “Deadly Boss Mods” (DBM) or “BigWigs” give players access to boss timers, debuff and ability announcements, and often even player cooldown notifications while facing difficult foes in large groups. This kind of information is argued to be indispensable, and yet, is not something ‘truly’ included in the base files of the game. While bosses tend to give visual or audio clues to when they’re about to slam in front of them in a frontal cone, the average player believes they benefit from having DBM on their side to give them a 10 second heads-up.

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Guild screenshot of “Hello Kitty Club” 10-year anniversary brawl.

Like The Sims, WoW‘s mods are user and community driven. But unlike The Sims, it is not the existence of the mods where the community ends its say, but rather in WoW, it is only the start. Alongside DBM, other mods for average user experience are often touted as being essential, features that change your action bars, your bag space, your interaction with Mission Tables, your party information panels…even your outfit management. While many of these mods have worked in concordance with WoW’s stock user interface, I have heard many player say that they struggle to play the native client without their mods. Even when Blizzard has incorporated a version of the mods “Outfitter” or “Grid” into the basic UI, there’s always something “off” about them, and it can be hard to acclimatize. When hearing that some players play with the stock UI, aside from ‘essentials’ like DBM, players often scoff and ask “if they still have auto-attack keybound as well.”

Installing mods in this way is observed by the community almost as a rite of passage, essential not only in what needs to be downloaded, but that something has to be downloaded at all. And unlike The Sims, all mods are governed outside of the Blizzard umbrella, currently governed primarily through Twitch (formerly Curse).

What the WoW example asks us, however, is how much of a game has to change before it ceases to be the original game? In this example, Blizzard limits what can be done with mods enough that the game is required to stay more or less the same in terms of narrative and basic interaction on the live client. What changes is how people interact with that world. It remains to be seen whether or not that qualifies as a different game for every version of a UI that players look into Azeroth with. Whereas The Sims retains its identity not by being scrutinous of how the game is changed, but rather that the game is changed at all. Although both modding and cheating exist within both games, neither one changes what the game is at its core, and thus, arguably, the game is “preserved” despite them.

As we will soon see however, this is not the case for all games and modifications. Onward to Bethesda, and the modvolution.

Academic References/Further Reading:

Flanagan, Mary. Critical Play (2009).
Pearce, Celia. “Sims, BattleBots, Cellular Automata God and Go: A Conversation with Will Wright.” Game Studies (2001)

Videogames: What makes us cheat?

Gone are the days of mythological cheat codes and glitches now that we constantly share and update gaming strategies through YouTube, GameFAQs, and more. Yet, the need to cheat was there at the beginning, and so does the trend seem to continue through our contemporary gaming market, even in the wake of leadership boards and achievements. Thus we return to the primary question of this post: why are we doing it?

Perhaps we can revisit the idea that original cheat codes were meant to help playtesters in their intentional bug-finding failures for an answer. Jesper Juul spends a good deal of time breaking down our relationship with failure and videogames in The Art of Failure. Juul (2013) comments that while we generally avoid failure in our daily lives, we often seek out games that ultimately provide some kind of failure, even though we would otherwise avoid it (33). “[E]ven though players appear to dislike failure, we tend to believe that games should make players fail, at least some of the time” (34, emphasis added). He continues on to liken videogame experiences of failure with art, and most importantly, that our videogame failures offer us compensation somehow (like the exhilaration of finally achieving a difficult task), and that we don’t always seek them out for pleasure. “The most important thing in life is not the triumph, but the fight; the essential thing is not to have won, but to have fought well” (The Olympic Creed, as quoted by Juul, 43).

Interestingly, we often fail to remember that cheating, modding, and hacking videogames can be either to make games easier or harder. Up and until this point, I have even focused on cheating as that which makes the game easier, but there are plenty of examples of the opposite, including ROM Hacks and code-changing to give games that extra edge gamers desire to really “prove” themselves. Arguably, in these cases, players are actively seeking the possibility and likelihood of failure, so that when they finally do succeed, it’s that more momentous. Some games even have this built-in, as Juul discusses later on. GLaDOS seems to take joy in taunting the player in their ‘ineptitude’ while progressing through the Portal series (50), particularly when she is a potato. These taunts push us to excel and to feel better despite this sanctioned kind of ‘abuse.’

Katherine Isbister explores how videogames work actively and intentionally on our emotions within her book How Games Move Us and might be able to help shed some insight here too:

To the human brain, playing a game is more like actually running a race than watching a film…When I run, I make a series of choices about actions I will take that might affect whether I win. I feel a sense of mastery or failure depending on whether I successfully execute the actions…My emotions ebb and flow as I make these choices and see what happens as a result. In the end, I am to blame for the outcomes, because they arise from my own actions (3).

Sound familiar? GLaDOS taunts the player forward so that the player continues, but also because it helps to convince the player to be emotionally invested. This emotion is derived not only from the content of the game, but also through its design (again, via Procedural Rhetoric). You are required to be the active agent that makes decisions and makes the game progress. Games that centre around this “flow” as Isbister calls it, “[t]he ability to choose and control your actions” that cause players to ‘get in the zone,’ “…time seems to melt away and personal problems disappear. Well-designed games, with the control they offer users over actions in a novel world, readily engage players in a flow state” (4). She goes on to cite the necessity of goals, action and awareness, challenging activities, loss of self-control, and altered sense of time as features of this flow. What’s interesting for our discussion of cheating and modding, is that in some cases, these features remain. The very act of modding, as we’ll see later with Skyrim and Fallout 4, can be as emotionally engaging as the game’s content itself.

So if cheating to make things harder follows Juul and Isbister, what can we say about when games are made easier through cheating and modification? What happens when the risk of failure is reduced, if not removed altogether?

Juul spends a great deal of time discussing the different types of failure we encounter when playing videogames. However, I would like to suggest that modding (of some kinds) and cheating to make things easier on the one hand makes failure nearly impossible in-game, but actually equates to “failing” in the real world. By neglecting to play the game “as intended,” you ultimately circumvent any real engagement with the content and ultimately fail before you even begin. While you may feel no guilt or remorse for cheating, you will always be aware that you cheated, even if it was only once. The entire experience of that game is now attached to your decision to cheat. It will never be “the same” as if you had progressed naturally. In this way, it becomes nearly impossible to avoid failure altogether when playing videogames, as when cheating to make things easier, you might only be cheating yourself out of an authentic experience.

But alas, things are never quite so simple. There are plenty of ways to cheat that can be legitimized–not all console commands are created equally. While this leads us into our upcoming discussion of The Sims and World of Warcraft, I will end off on my own anecdote about utilizing cheat codes at my disposal.

When I first started playing Skyrim on my Xbox 360 I got lost in the ‘flow’ and wasted a good number of hours in the woodland mountains. As I type now, I’m even listening to the world nighttime music of the game. I was seriously invested. After more hours than possible to reset, I encountered a game-breaking bug where I was unable to progress the main storyline of the faction I wanted to join. Vehement that I could not join the opposing faction, I found a way to port my save file to a USB before plugging it into my computer and converting it to a PC game file, and console-command progressing my character along the questline I needed, past the bug. I then reconverted the file to an Xbox 360 save, plugged it back into my system, and continued being the Dragonborn.

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“It got me thinking, maybe I’m the dragonborn and I just don’t know it yet” – Every Skyrim guard ever

Do I feel guilty about this? Does it taint my memories of the game? Well, no, not really, but I’ll always know I did it. While I felt justified in my reasoning behind progressing my save, and while my Xbox 360 achievements never blinked an eye, I was still saddened that it was something I was forced to do. While toying with Bethesda bugs is something the modding community is well-invested in (something else we’ll tackle in a later post), there’s something to be said for cheating justification in our gaming–and that’s not even something that’s just from the developers. What’s acceptable to modify or how one chooses to cheat within the gaming community is vastly different depending on what kind of game it is (solo vs. multiplayer, online vs. offline, to name a few). Even the pedigree and age of a game can affect how players see any sort of deviation from the scripted norm. There are countless and fascinating areas worth looking into and studying when dealing with this area, and I regret I’m only able to touch on so few.

The next few posts will look at cheating and modification in action as viewed through The Sims (series), World of Warcraft, Skyrim and Fallout 4. Buckle in, it ain’t over yet.

Academic References/Further Reading:

Bogost, Ian. Persuasive Games: The Expressive Power of Video Games (2010)
Isbister, Katherine How Games Move Us (2016)
Juul, Jesper. The Art of Failure (2013)

The Legacy of Cheat Codes & The Game Genie

In order to truly understand the how and the why of cheating in videogames we need to look back at some of the earliest examples, namely the inclusion of cheat codes or inputs alongside off-brand cheating systems, like the Game Genie.

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The original console command system.

Perhaps one of the earlier, and most well-known of these sanctioned cheat codes created by developers was the Konami code, or the Contra code, first ‘discovered’ in the original NES Contra game. This code, ↑↑↓↓ ←→ ←→ B A START, was found not only within this title, but also within other Konami games, hence earning it’s primary title as the “konami” code. Later it later became a staple of ‘gamer’ culture, appearing in non-Konami games, on clothing, and other paraphernalia. How does a code, one that gave players a mere 30 extra lives, an official cheat-system, gain such a cultural traction? It wasn’t just Contra and Konami games either that featured cheat codes like these in the earlier days of console gaming. Sonic 2, featured a level-select option within the ‘sound test’ section of the options menu, among other choices like debug mode or unlimited lives. Even games like Disney’s Aladdin featured a level-select mode on its Option menu, mirroring the style of the Konami code: A, C, A, C, A, C, A, C, B(x4).

While cheat codes were primarily instituted by game developers for playtesting purposes (having unlimited lives is a really good idea if your job is to potentially find glitches via death in Sonic), they were clearly never taken out of a wide array of games. Alongside the question of the popularity of cheat codes, we can similarly ask why these were left in at all by the developers? In the case of games like Sonic 2 or Aladdin, level-select was a very useful option for players who had beat the game a number of times and didn’t want to “work their way through” again, only to get to their favourite level. Lacking a cartridge save option, something that would be later included with Sonic 3, it made sense for players to have access to these kinds of perks, after being “in the know” to find them. That being said, Sonic 3 continued the tradition of cheat codes and still had its fair share of cheats.

It also wasn’t just thanks to the great sleuthing of early videogame fans that we found out about these codes either, in the pre-launch and early years of the internet. Participating in cheat code culture in social circles, scribblings in the back of Blockbuster rental copy game books, and even licenced game magazines like Nintendo Power, or even strategy guides, often included these to help other gamers find them. Soon after, the pseudo-mythological state of the cheat code was born, and it felt like everyone was on the lookout for the next one they could share with their friends, or fellow rentee.

Official codes weren’t the only things that players found in efforts to modify their gaming experiences at this time. The discovery of glitches, exploits, and in-game skips were also common inclusions in this realm of “cheating” and modification. I can remember playing the original Pokemon Blue and learning about the different ways I could cheat the code and glitch it into giving me things like unlimited pokeballs or items, alongside even getting a Mew super early in the game. A lot of these kinds of glitches, the Mew nonwithstanding, required access to other Gameboys or different bits of technology to get them to work. Following clever-use-of-game-mechanics (as Blizzard loves to label it), players could flash-restart, controller switch, or cartridge remove-replace their way to a whole array of new things that were very much part of the original code, even if not used as intended.

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Fancy meeting mew here.

Unlike learning that Mario can skip a bunch of worlds by dropping behind a white block in Super Mario Bros. 3 and using some fancy flute play, these kinds of glitches were off the books, even if their inclusion in the game was somewhat ‘intentional.’ We can take this to the next level at this point, to consider once again the Game Genie, and perhaps it’s odd and sanctioned cousin, Sonic & Knuckles.

The Game Genie was a 3rd party development released for a number of the early consoles, including the NES, SNES, Gameboy, and Sega Genesis. The device came with a book of codes which allowed players to cheat their way through a variety of games through the Game Genie’s bypass system. Essentially, because the device acted as a mediator between player, console, and cartridge, it allowed for the system to read the game code emitting from the cartridge differently from its actual output, allowing for the player to reap the benefits. In addition to the codes that shipped with the device, players were able to create their own codes by random generation, or even could subscribe for updates via a paid service. It was quite an era for cheating. However, it should come as no surprise that Nintendo in particular fought back hard against the system, trying to claim it infringed on copyright. The legal case settled in Game Genie’s favour, however, and their ‘unsanctioned’ cheats were safe.

In contrast, Sega was in full support of the system, as long as it didn’t provide cheats for games which allowed for saving. Sega’s approach to software circumvention adds an interesting layer to an analysis of cheating in videogames, as it again suggests that cheat codes, even unsanctioned ones, were meant to help players bypass unwanted content when saving along the way was not an option. It’s unsurprising that they followed this ideology, as Sonic & Knuckles allowed for players to have a pseudo-sanctioned version of the Game Genie already. The cartridge had a slot on the top which was intended for players to insert only Sonic games into it, allowing Knuckles to join the fray of Sonic 2 and others. Instead, it also allowed for players to have randomly-generated Chaos Emerald stages in the Sonic 3 style based on the code of nearly any Sega game that was inserted.

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Sonic & Knuckles stacked with Sonic 3 to create Sonic 3 & Knuckles

More commonly today, we see these kinds of cheats available through ROM-hacking emulators, console commands (PC), or unofficial patching/editing by the savvy game community. Further still, all of this so far has been related to software or “soft” cheating and modding of videogames, not even considering the hardware or “hard” modification, which requires going in and tweaking the actual hardware in order to run things you weren’t intended to. While there isn’t time to discuss this fully here, it’s interesting to consider again that by virtue of their design, videogames require an entirely different kind of systems for modification than their board game cousins. After all, it’s easy enough to make up your own pieces for a board game versus wanting to play N64 games on your Xbox 360. Yet again, there are also often more legal issues surrounding hardmodding, as we saw recently with Nintendo and modding chips.

While it’s becoming increasingly rare to see “official” cheat codes in video games (except in the case of games like The Sims, though more on that in a later blog), we do see the inclusion of console commands and the ability to modify games through “mods” available instead. We’ll look into this realm of modding and cheating later, but it highlights something within the gaming community: we can’t let games be. As soon as a game is released, especially for current systems, we are continually seeing them adapted, cracked, modified, and eviscerated by the community so that the original intended experience is no longer the only one we have access to. Why does there seem to be such an essential ‘need’ to cheat?

Academic References/Further Reading:

Bogost, Ian. Persuasive Games: The Expressive Power of Video Games (2010)

(Video)Games: A Need to Cheat

Along with the idea of fairness comes its necessary complement: cheating. Cheating is what someone does to give him/herself a more than even chance to win. At least, that’s what we most often call cheating.

When I happen to notice you attempting to draw universal attention to my little cheat, I am aware that the motivation for your sudden intensity stems not as much from your concern that I have broken a rule as from your feeling that I have  somehow deprived you of your opportunity to win…

It is obvious that your concern with my cheating is biased in your behalf. If I’m doing something wrong, even if I’m in flagrant violation of the rules of the game, as long as you perceive yourself as winning, everything’s cool (Koven 24-25).

To what lengths will you go to win, to succeed, to overcome the technical rules of whatever game you’re playing to get a little bit of an advantage? Would it make a difference if the game enabled you to accomplish this task via embedded cheat codes? What do we make of sanctioned cheating vs. unsanctioned cheating? What if you don’t even know you’re circumventing the rules-as-intended?

When playing board or card games with friends, we already know the routine. Often “house rules” need to be established alongside “legitimate” ones, because we seem to have a predisposition to change games as they’re presented to us. We demand that our friends and family reveal their house rules before a game even begins, lest we find out mid-way through that people are actually not on the same page. What happens when you land in free parking in Monopoly? I’m sure we’d be very divided on the answer. “Wait, that’s cheating!” we’d be inclined to say, when our peers reveal themselves to be playing an entirely different game than us, while all looking at the same board. Some strange parallel reality where someone jumps up and stops you from buying a house on your second pass of “GO” in Monopoly.

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It’s not surprising that this was a heated conversation in the board games subreddit, and spawned at least one thread trying to spin the ‘positivity’ of house rules. These are things we usually only find in board and card games, because (without mods or hacking), in video games, the code simply doesn’t allow us these affordances. This is thanks to Procedural Rhetoric, where game philosophy and developer ideological visions are written into the very laws which govern how the game operates. For example, when playing UNO on the Xbox 360 (or other ports), the kinds of house rules faced by this unfortunate redditor would simply not be possible.

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The code would prevent such frustrations from occuring in a the videogame version of this card classic. Even when “house rules” are allowed, they’re usually custom-made and allow only for people to enter into the game acknowledging them in advance, with no room for mid-game shifts in playstyle. Even custom games in more recent first-person shooter titles like Halo or Overwatch, lay all the custom rules upfront–people know what they’re getting into. At all stages of these custom maps or games, players are often required to choose from what the developers have already accepted as “sanctioned” deviations from the norm.

This idea of customizing game rules and house rules within board games and their video game companions brings us closer to the question of what it means to cheat in games. The implementation and adaptability of board and card game house rules are perhaps more complicated than a handful of blog entries can address, but, I think we can safely look at why and how we cheat in our games through looking at some specific videogame history and case-study-style examples via the following series:

Academic References/Further Reading from the Series: