We are obsessed with numbers. We lap them up. We get immense pleasure out of watching digits decrease and multiply as we peer over bank accounts and scales and Vegas roulette tables.
Japanese role-playing games feed off this obsession, pelting us with giant numbers like weâre targets at a carnival game. Over the course of a single RPG, charactersâ number-driven statistics will grow exponentially. Itâs not uncommon to watch a heroâs health leap from measly double-digits to the thousands or tens of thousands.
http://uk.kotaku.com/5785206/why-do-our-role+playing-games-still-need-numbers-everywhere
Sometimes the numbers are straight-up hilarious. Some quick examples:
An optional boss in Final Fantasy XII, Yiazmat, has 50,112,254 HP.
Many games cap your charactersâ levels at 99. The anime-inspired Disgaea series caps your charactersâ levels at 9,999.
A boss in Disgaea 4 has 400,355,917 HP.
The recently-released Growlanser IV has 40 endings
Every Suikoden game features at least 108 recruitable characters.
In Final Fantasy VII, Cloudâs sword is over 40,000 feet long.
(Just kidding.)
As a kid I was always obsessed with these numbers, even if I didnât know why. Iâd rack up obscene amounts of damage with Knights of the Round while trying to take down Ruby Weaponâs 800,000 HP, but I never quite understood why I was doing any of it. I just knew that it was fun, that it was addictive. I figured bigger numbers were appealing in the way that owning more toys was. Who doesnât want to have more of something?
A bit later, when I was 13 or 14, I designed and programmed an online game called a MUD, a rudimentary text-based take on MMORPGs like World of Warcraft. Youâd interact with other players and kill computer-driven monsters by typing in basic text commands, like âattackâ or âget.â Set in the world of Konamiâs classic Suikoden series, the game encouraged players to form guilds and forge alliances and slaughter as many monsters as humanly possible. The usual.
Building the game was an exhilarating, exhausting experience that taught me quite a few interesting lessons. One of them: numbers matter, but not in the way I thought.
The rush we get from seeing giant numbers on our screen doesnât happen because weâre seeing giant numbers on our screen. What matters is what those numbers mean.
When SuikodenMUD started, it was packed with giant numbers. Your health would start in the five-figure range. Youâd do ridiculous amounts of damage from the outset. I figured: Why even bother starting lower? Everyone loves big numbers. I thought people would jump at the opportunity to wield swords that strike monsters for 50,000 damage a pop.
They didnât. Nobody wanted to play.
See, the rush we get from seeing giant numbers on our screen doesnât happen because weâre seeing giant numbers on our screen. What matters is what those numbers mean. The story they tell. The gradual elevation from zero to hero, from a pathetic mercenary with 80-90 health to an all-powerful, world-devouring, 9999-HP-adorned warrior. When my Cloud cast Knights of the Round Table eight times and dealt some 80,000 damage to Ruby Weapon, it wasnât cool because of the numbers: it was cool because I brought Cloud to the point where he could reach those kind of numbers.
So as SuikodenMUD went on, I found ways to satiate peoplesâ desire to watch numbers change. I gave them customizable skill trees with abilities that dealt different amounts of damage based on their decisions, so it would feel like every point came directly from their minds. I set up rare loot that might drop once in every million enemies, so people who found it would feel lucky, would remember exactly where and when they were when they finally got that jeweled sword or once-in-a-lifetime piece of armor.
On occasional evenings I would run âDouble Experience Nightsâ so that people could rack up numbers at warp speed, something that only felt special because it was so rare.
While none of these concepts are new to practiced game designers, they might be unfamiliar to outspoken gamers who might feel like theyâre being manipulated by these hilariously large numbers in JRPGs. But every number has a story. Itâs not a bad thing to let them enchant you, to let yourself feel drawn by the power of constantly-increasing digits. Thereâs nothing wrong with grinding for levels, watching your numbers and levels hike up massive mountains. And thereâs nothing wrong with letting big numbers make you feel like youâve accomplished something. Thatâs what theyâre there for.
Random Encounters is a weekly column dedicated to all things JRPG. It runs every Friday at 3pm ET.
