Nakatomi Space(bldgblog.blogspot.com)
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Nakatomi Space
http://bldgblog.blogspot.com/2010/01/nakatomi-space.html
8 comments
> Die Hard 2 tried to do this with an airport, but it was a much less interesting locale
Im not sure it is less interesting; I think mostly they used it poorly. Airports are a fascinating place and at times (i.e. when he used the storm drains to get out to the runway) I think there were examples of "Nakatomi Space".
The main problem was that an Airport is a very large and very open space - they didn't use that well.
Im not sure it is less interesting; I think mostly they used it poorly. Airports are a fascinating place and at times (i.e. when he used the storm drains to get out to the runway) I think there were examples of "Nakatomi Space".
The main problem was that an Airport is a very large and very open space - they didn't use that well.
This article made me think of video games and how a few of them have made really innovative uses of space (no, really!).
One of my all-time favorite is a game called X-Com from 1993 (called UFO: Enemy Unknown in the UK). It's basically a turn-based tactical strategy game. Perhaps its most defining feature is almost completely-destructible terrain. The gameplay ends up being very similar to the Israeli invasion described in the article: using the doorway is almost always the wrong choice. The computer will have the door covered. If you knock through/down the right wall, they have to spend the rest of the turn with their guns pointed the wrong direction (the game has overwatch) and their backs exposed. The most powerful weapon in the game does just enough damage to knock a man-sized hole in the side of a UFO; the qualitative change in gameplay is significant. Those corridors are twisty and treacherous, but entering from the middle instead of the start turns the advantage around.
The other game I thought of is the Splinter Cell series. Pandora Tomorrow, the second game, gave the series a very asymmetric multiplayer style of spies vs mercenaries. In addition to wildly varying, and anti-complementary, abilities, the two sides were practically playing on different maps. The spies could fit in air ducts climb over fences. The mercenaries could only navigate around in the "normal" space of rooms and doors, but effectively owned the places where they could walk, on account of automatic weapons. The result was effectively two maps, one wrapped around and between the other. Even before I was exposed to the idea of scripted spaces, the idea was mind-bending to me. After reading the article, it's even more impressive: one side in the asymetric conflict has an architectural advantage, balancing against its comaprative weakness in more traditional areas. I was never any good at the multiplayer, but it was still fascinating.
Chaos Theory, the third game in the Splinter Cell series, also had some impressive work in the single player. It's the first game I've played where using a non-traditional route like a duct or a drophole actually felt like I was hacking the level rather than following the route that was laid out for me. Games have been using air ducts since Half-Life, but whenever they're available it feels like you're supposed to use them, often because you have no other choice. I feel like I'm finding the way to advance the level. It's difficult to describe, but the holes in the environment felt more natural, like I was following real-world logic rather than game-logic.
I haven't played Mirror's Edge for myself, I would be interested to hear people's perspective on how original that game's use of space is.
One of my all-time favorite is a game called X-Com from 1993 (called UFO: Enemy Unknown in the UK). It's basically a turn-based tactical strategy game. Perhaps its most defining feature is almost completely-destructible terrain. The gameplay ends up being very similar to the Israeli invasion described in the article: using the doorway is almost always the wrong choice. The computer will have the door covered. If you knock through/down the right wall, they have to spend the rest of the turn with their guns pointed the wrong direction (the game has overwatch) and their backs exposed. The most powerful weapon in the game does just enough damage to knock a man-sized hole in the side of a UFO; the qualitative change in gameplay is significant. Those corridors are twisty and treacherous, but entering from the middle instead of the start turns the advantage around.
The other game I thought of is the Splinter Cell series. Pandora Tomorrow, the second game, gave the series a very asymmetric multiplayer style of spies vs mercenaries. In addition to wildly varying, and anti-complementary, abilities, the two sides were practically playing on different maps. The spies could fit in air ducts climb over fences. The mercenaries could only navigate around in the "normal" space of rooms and doors, but effectively owned the places where they could walk, on account of automatic weapons. The result was effectively two maps, one wrapped around and between the other. Even before I was exposed to the idea of scripted spaces, the idea was mind-bending to me. After reading the article, it's even more impressive: one side in the asymetric conflict has an architectural advantage, balancing against its comaprative weakness in more traditional areas. I was never any good at the multiplayer, but it was still fascinating.
Chaos Theory, the third game in the Splinter Cell series, also had some impressive work in the single player. It's the first game I've played where using a non-traditional route like a duct or a drophole actually felt like I was hacking the level rather than following the route that was laid out for me. Games have been using air ducts since Half-Life, but whenever they're available it feels like you're supposed to use them, often because you have no other choice. I feel like I'm finding the way to advance the level. It's difficult to describe, but the holes in the environment felt more natural, like I was following real-world logic rather than game-logic.
I haven't played Mirror's Edge for myself, I would be interested to hear people's perspective on how original that game's use of space is.
Mirror's Edge is extremely linear - there's usually exactly one right way to do things, and if you don't do it that way, you die, rinse, repeat, ad infinitum, ad tedium. I couldn't play it for more than a couple of hours.
Two games I relate to on the theme of navigation of space are the Thief series, and Far Cry 2.
With Thief, you have a rough map, and your task is to navigate the territory to get to your goals, avoiding hazards such as loud tile and metal, bright lights, guards, traps etc. With a selection of arrows for making the ground silent, extinguishing torches, and rope arrows for climbing, it can be a lot of fun. Constantine's Mansion (Constantine's Sword mission) is a particularly architectural delight, with optical illusions and a network of grassy tunnels joining different floors.
Actually, a defining metaphor of the first two Thief games is architecture as sexuality; in the first, your enemy is the earthy Pagan Trickster and his co-conspirator, wood nymph Viktoria, and you pursue him into the bowels of the earth. In the second, your enemy is a technocratic religious self-described prophet, and you pursue him in a monstrous skyscraper of metal, working your way up and up.
Similarly, a substantial and (for me at least) entertaining part of Far Cry 2 relates to the navigation between mission objectives. The roads are patrolled, and intersections are heavily enough guarded that clearing them risks depleting ammo, so the best policy is generally to navigate in the gaps between the roads, choosing crossing points, swimming in rivers, selecting the right angle of entry approach for mission destinations, etc. Given that every main mission involves at least three different destinations (one to your buddy in a safehouse, one to the buddy's preferred mission target, and a third as the original mission), you need to enjoy this navigation to get the most out of the game. (Most people didn't; it seems they stuck to the roads and found the guard checkpoints tedious.)
As to games like Half-Life and its successors in particular, they seem to me to inhibit exploration and be very linear. Any time there's an interesting passage hidden away in a corner, I make a note of it and scout out ahead to see what the mainstream alternative is; but in HL2 and episodes, it usually turns out that the main branch is a dead end, and you must go back and investigate that hidden passage. So it kills any chance of you feeling clever, and makes the unorthodox mundane.
Two games I relate to on the theme of navigation of space are the Thief series, and Far Cry 2.
With Thief, you have a rough map, and your task is to navigate the territory to get to your goals, avoiding hazards such as loud tile and metal, bright lights, guards, traps etc. With a selection of arrows for making the ground silent, extinguishing torches, and rope arrows for climbing, it can be a lot of fun. Constantine's Mansion (Constantine's Sword mission) is a particularly architectural delight, with optical illusions and a network of grassy tunnels joining different floors.
Actually, a defining metaphor of the first two Thief games is architecture as sexuality; in the first, your enemy is the earthy Pagan Trickster and his co-conspirator, wood nymph Viktoria, and you pursue him into the bowels of the earth. In the second, your enemy is a technocratic religious self-described prophet, and you pursue him in a monstrous skyscraper of metal, working your way up and up.
Similarly, a substantial and (for me at least) entertaining part of Far Cry 2 relates to the navigation between mission objectives. The roads are patrolled, and intersections are heavily enough guarded that clearing them risks depleting ammo, so the best policy is generally to navigate in the gaps between the roads, choosing crossing points, swimming in rivers, selecting the right angle of entry approach for mission destinations, etc. Given that every main mission involves at least three different destinations (one to your buddy in a safehouse, one to the buddy's preferred mission target, and a third as the original mission), you need to enjoy this navigation to get the most out of the game. (Most people didn't; it seems they stuck to the roads and found the guard checkpoints tedious.)
As to games like Half-Life and its successors in particular, they seem to me to inhibit exploration and be very linear. Any time there's an interesting passage hidden away in a corner, I make a note of it and scout out ahead to see what the mainstream alternative is; but in HL2 and episodes, it usually turns out that the main branch is a dead end, and you must go back and investigate that hidden passage. So it kills any chance of you feeling clever, and makes the unorthodox mundane.
Mirror's Edge doesn't quite evoke the same feeling - but mostly because the levels were linear, so despite some mind-bending literal leaps it always felt somewhat constrained. It does get you looking at normal urban structures like jungle gyms though ;)
Since you liked Splinter Cell, check out the new one that came out yesterday - I am reminded of the feeling you describe, where you feel like you're hacking the world instead of these unconventional movements being thrust upon you. Nearly every part of every level is traversible in the conventional way, but huge advantages abound if you take a few moments to figure out the unconventional move.
Nothing quite blows the mind like climbing along a pipe, above your enemy, dropping down on one of them, then leaping out of a window, shimmying along, and come at them again from a completely different angle while they're still trying to figure out where you are. The unconventional movements really make this game predatorial.
Since you liked Splinter Cell, check out the new one that came out yesterday - I am reminded of the feeling you describe, where you feel like you're hacking the world instead of these unconventional movements being thrust upon you. Nearly every part of every level is traversible in the conventional way, but huge advantages abound if you take a few moments to figure out the unconventional move.
Nothing quite blows the mind like climbing along a pipe, above your enemy, dropping down on one of them, then leaping out of a window, shimmying along, and come at them again from a completely different angle while they're still trying to figure out where you are. The unconventional movements really make this game predatorial.
X-Com / Ufo is one of the best games for a number of reasons, including the destructible terrain. They also explain almost all limitations in-game. E.g. you can only have a limited number of soldiers in a mission, because gameplay wouldn't work with huge armies--but in-game that's because your aircraft can only carry a limited number of person or robots.
The game called "Portal" is also a great one which is almost completely about exploiting the architecture of your surroundings.
That's funny, I actually found the link in this article http://www.gamesetwatch.com/2010/04/column_diamond_in_the_ro...
Quick summary: What I find so interesting about Die Hard—in addition to unironically enjoying the film—is that it cinematically depicts what it means to bend space to your own particular navigational needs. This mutational exploration of architecture even supplies the building's narrative premise: the terrorists are there for no other reason than to drill through and rob the Nakatomi Corporation's electromagnetically sealed vault.
The article is all about how "Die Hard" and an Israeli invasion of Palestinian territory in 2002 are both about using space in unexpected ways, and moving through everything except doors, streets and hallways.
The article is all about how "Die Hard" and an Israeli invasion of Palestinian territory in 2002 are both about using space in unexpected ways, and moving through everything except doors, streets and hallways.
Fascinating. I never thought of Die Hard like that, but he's right. The hero doesn't just improvise ingeniously - a standard hero trope - but specifically in terms of architecture. He isn't given clever gadgets like James Bond, but conjures them from the mundane. It's definitely hacking.
An architecture is a theory of space; he has other theories.
An architecture is a theory of space; he has other theories.
"What I find so interesting about Die Hard—in addition to unironically enjoying the film—is that it cinematically depicts what it means to bend space to your own particular navigational needs. This mutational exploration of architecture even supplies the building's narrative premise: the terrorists are there for no other reason than to drill through and rob the Nakatomi Corporation's electromagnetically sealed vault.
Die Hard asks naive but powerful questions: If you have to get from A to B—that is, from the 31st floor to the lobby, or from the 26th floor to the roof—why not blast, carve, shoot, lockpick, and climb your way there, hitchhiking rides atop elevator cars and meandering through the labyrinthine, previously unexposed back-corridors of the built environment?"
So, basically, just like a hacker. Like Mel using the values of opcodes as numeric constants, spacing instructions just right on the drum to slow down the computer's execution rather than using time delay loops, and exploiting a register overflow instead of a loop test. Not constraining one's self to the artificial rules the system is built to enforce, but dropping back to the fundamental physical rules the system was built upon in the first place.
Die Hard asks naive but powerful questions: If you have to get from A to B—that is, from the 31st floor to the lobby, or from the 26th floor to the roof—why not blast, carve, shoot, lockpick, and climb your way there, hitchhiking rides atop elevator cars and meandering through the labyrinthine, previously unexposed back-corridors of the built environment?"
So, basically, just like a hacker. Like Mel using the values of opcodes as numeric constants, spacing instructions just right on the drum to slow down the computer's execution rather than using time delay loops, and exploiting a register overflow instead of a loop test. Not constraining one's self to the artificial rules the system is built to enforce, but dropping back to the fundamental physical rules the system was built upon in the first place.
Exactly! The MIT hackers in particular were famous also for their exploration of the physical plant; see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roof_and_tunnel_hacking
In the Pixar film "Ratatouille", there is an amazing visual sequence where Remy the cutely digitally-rendered rat runs through the hidden spaces between houses/walls/interior.
For a more general look at this topic: http://johnaugust.com/archives/2006/air-vents-are-for-air
Would anyone really characterize the villains in Die Hard as 'terrorists'? What exactly is terrorizing about drilling into a vault in a secure building in order to steal money? How are they not just robbers?
They pass themselves off as terrorists to the public to hide the robbery plans, for a lot of people, that's probably what stuck.
Also, it conveniently avoids spoilers.
The movie was released in 1988. It's hard to spoil something that has already been consumed, processed, excreted, and reused to make a garden.
Consumed and processed by you, perhaps. The film was released (somewhat shortly) before I was even born. I watched Die Hard for the first time last year. Before then, the only thing I knew about it was that it had Bruce Willis in it. I don't think I'm particularly special, I just don't watch that many old movies.
The point is, spoiling it adds nothing to the conversation: "I watched the movie and you got this plot element that, while important to the film, is completely unimportant to your point ... wrong!". On the other hand, not spoiling it lets anyone a bit too young to have seen it the first time around not have their experience of the film permanently altered for the worse. There is no contest. Don't spoil things, even if it's old as hell. It really, honestly ruins things for some people who are a bit behind the times and care about this sort of thing.
The point is, spoiling it adds nothing to the conversation: "I watched the movie and you got this plot element that, while important to the film, is completely unimportant to your point ... wrong!". On the other hand, not spoiling it lets anyone a bit too young to have seen it the first time around not have their experience of the film permanently altered for the worse. There is no contest. Don't spoil things, even if it's old as hell. It really, honestly ruins things for some people who are a bit behind the times and care about this sort of thing.
The article argues that the logic of Die Hard rewards those who "infest" the spaces they inhabit, traversing them creatively rather than via their intended corridors, elevators, and doorways.
He uses the L.A. SWAT team running across Nakatomi Plaza's rose garden as an example of this.
I'd counter that the SWAT team's approach was actually conventional. They try to get in through the front door, and get blown away. Had they tried to tunnel in from below, for example, in Die Hard's world they would have been more successful.
Also, his point that the subsequent Die Hard films would have been improved by holding onto the premise of exploring an architectural space rings true. Die Hard 2 tried to do this with an airport, but it was a much less interesting locale. You could debate whether or not Die Hard 3 was taking the same approach to NYC or not...
If, as he says, Die Hard is more about architecture than characters, I'd argue that the true spiritual sequel to Die Hard is Steven Seagal's Under Siege, aka, "Die Hard on a boat." Throughout the (awesome) film, Seagal travels around a navy ship in all sorts of unconventional ways, letting the viewer explore the unfamiliar space in a fashion similar to John McClane's adventure in Die Hard.