I wanted to quote this at the top of the new page (for you 50-posts-per-page people).
Yup, my feeling as well.
If this is the first time you encounter them (~ 9:26 mark), they introduce them over solid ground so there's no penalty from falling. This allows you to learn their properties before they test you for real.
I'll have to respectfully disagree on that last point.
Yeah, the magic books are a nice exception, and by no means the only one. Look at the stretch leading up to them, though, enemies like the jousting horse, the flying rats, or hazards like the cauldrons and the chandeliers -- same pattern. Another good example are the jellyfish in the Flying Machine. While they are introduced right away hovering over a pit, they're positioned in a way that it's very unlikely you'll not reach the ladder. Two screens further you have the variation: now they can electrocute you; if you fall, though, you merely are sent back to the previous screen. Two screens further you have both pits that lead to your death and electrocution alongside the introduction of two new elements. This pattern continues (the fans, the wind, the propeller guys, obscuring parts of the level); almost always in this way. This is the final regular level! Yeah, the occurrence of new elements is often cleverly interwoven with older elements at varying states of complexity (say one's two steps ahead, another one three), -- but it still strains the level design. Almost every level is too long. It's obviously not the only reason, but it's one.I'll have to respectfully disagree. In the previous example of Pridemoore Keep, your weaning period with the magics books lasts for one quick screen -- one quick jog up the magic books. A mere three seconds of training -- the equivalent of a "sentence" in the parlance of gameplay. What immediately follows on the next screen is a gauntlet featuring multiple such platforms over a bottomless pit with lava streams in-between that can knock you down if you mistime your jumps.
Give the 3-5 seconds reaching that point, the setup is hardly annoying or inelegant. It doesn't even stand out as a tutorial; it falls right in line with the game's natural rhythm and what would've just been "connective tissue" for pacing in lesser games.
The game trusts you to learn at a rapid rate at this point (the first "true" level) precisely because the tutorial was so thorough teaching you the core cadence of gameplay, and the mechanics that form its basic vocabulary.
But then you're comparing multiple levels from other games against one level from Shovel Knight. I know that's especially the case in Super Meat Boy, which has a very piecemeal approach of one (maybe two) mechanics per stage.
I'm not ignoring you. I appreciate your perspective. I'm just saying that for me, the weaning period for each new element was brief enough that it didn't burden the pacing or overall flow of each level. For me, it felt like the game was introducing new elements while more rigorously testing established ones, and layering them together before repeating the cycle anew... but the game was always clever about it, providing new arrangements that kept the game interesting.... such that I never noticed a level dragging. So I guess this is a case where my mileage just varied from yours.
Sure, but what I'm trying to say is that it's not just a matter of how things are taught, but the context in which they are taught. That's why the "full level" distinction is key, IMO -- the mechanics in Shovel Knight are taught across a full level that feels like a full level, rather than a series of exhibits presented piecemeal. This masks the fact you're being taught anything in the first place, teaching players without most of them realizing they're being taught. When a new mechanic is bookended by the start and end of a stage, it's a bit too transparent.
Your example is a person attacking in a first-person shooter. The equivalent in Shovel Knight is the player swinging their shovel. I didn't call special attention to this, other than to show that they put an enemy and non-enemy element in close proximity so you learn from the onset your shovel has more than one use.
The spikes convey their danger by their very appearance, a basic tenet of game design that hearkens back to Nintendo's age-old stance: "If it's dangerous, make it look dangerous." So even mildly experienced players will avoid them. However, those who fall in will learn early on they're instant death, only to be reset to a checkpoint the previous screen and learn what that glowing orb was all about. If they proceed without falling into the spikes, they will learn it later, but it's there for players who perhaps didn't grow up with 8-bit/16-bit games and don't sail through it with ease. Other levels have more learning opportunities on spikes, which I may detail in a future post.
I think they didn't want players to get frustrated breaking the checkpoint (not knowing what it is) and then resetting to the start of the level if they fall in the spikes on the next screen. They chose to first establish them as checkpoints, leaving players to discover the risk-reward mechanic of breaking regular checkpoints later.
I think they take three strikes, right? The sphere starts to crack only a little at first. Maybe that would have been enough to make the player stop immediately. It's pretty clear that you might want to reconsider destroying something that's established as extremely positive by the audio cue.
I'm praising the game for very smart and thoughtful design that teaches one new concept after another, and reinforces each in turn, all in the context of an actual level that never comes off as a tutorial.
No one ever said that particular bit doesn't have precedent in other games. What's exceptional is the way all of these elements fit together in the level as a whole: Whether it's a familiar fixture (checkpoints, spikes) or less obvious mechanics (shovel dropping down, and shovel dropping UP), every lesson is strung together in one cohesive level that eschews the trappings of the modern tutorial. You learn everything through playing, thanks to the carefully crafted level layout, and this includes not only inputs, but their applications (when and where to use them) and techniques (how to use them well). No "tips and tricks," no control schematics, no button prompts, no pics, no text, no dialogue whatsoever. Nothing resembling a training room whatsoever. Everything comes off as a real level, because it -is- a real level -- just an incredibly well-designed one that teaches through its design.
I'd hazard to guess that when most people start a game, they would rather feel like they're playing it than reading text, or studying schematics, or listening to chatter from HQ. And like I said, you can pull up blind playthroughs where people learn all of the skills described in the way I described, just by playing. It's a commendable feat when pulled off. Would I penalize a game for failing to do the same? Of course not -- different games have different demands. But do I admire a game that tries to teach through action rather than words, pictures and other cues? Of course.
This is also true.
What I like about Shovel Knight's first level is it's perfect to replay when I feel up for some platforming goodness but don't want to commit to one of the longer levels. Sometimes I'll play it a couple times in a row to get my fix. It has a very satisfying progression to it, and it's fun to revisit after beating the game... You can see how daring you've become since you started.