Hit points are a basic part of most video games, and most tabletop games as well. It's an easy way to represent the complex idea of how injured a person is. However, I'm starting to think that they are an unnecessary crutch in modern video games.
I've been playing Dungeon World, a hack of the tabletop game Apocalypse World, both of which focus on narrative story-building and repercussions rather than mechanics. Hit points are used for both players and monsters, but monsters also have tags that describe their behaviour. My favourite is called Messy, and it means just what it sounds like: this thing does not dish out razor-sharp cuts. With a fun (read: cruel) Game Master, this means that a failed roll when fighting a dragon may mean you lose a hand, or an eye, to it's big teeth. As the scars build up (if you survive), your character becomes much more fleshed out: The deafness caused by an acid-burned ear impacts your hearing (or at least, that's the narrative excuse for the failed roll to keep watch during the night), and the clanging of every other step reminds you of a debt you need to collect from a certain ogre.
This kind of flavour is much more fun, and it gives the player character a much greater sense of being real. It occurs to me that modern games are now capable of giving the same sort of experience, with the vast processing power at their disposal. Fallout already has this sort of thing with VATS and the limb system: if a body part is crippled, your character is affected until you fix it. But why not try and take it in-depth for the player, and give some lasting effects that really matter?
Imagine Spec Ops: The Line where, instead of having a bit of blood splashed on your face until you hide behind a chest-high wall for a couple of seconds, you suffer a series of minor wounds that makes you limp, makes you a little slower to react, makes your aim a little unsteady, makes you feel like Walker has been through hell, and it's your fault. Imagine Dark Souls where the boss doesn't flatten you outright because their damage is higher than some arbitrary number, but instead sends you flying across the dungeon, forcing you to flee while cradling the stump where your arm used to be, only to return with a new metal arm many hours later on a mission of vengeance and find the monster using your humerus as a toothpick.
We (people on the Escapist, and gamers in general) are always talking about games with choice and consequence, and most of the biggest choices and consequences that guide our real lives have to do with preserving our meaty shells. Not all games need to have a "Narrative Damage" system, but I think that the majority of RPGs, among others, would be vastly improved by giving us characters that are more human and fleshed out, and that means letting us lose flesh here or there.
P.S. This system could/should be extended to enemies as well, at least the big ones. Maybe you were underprepared to fight the Super Mutant leader in Fallout 5 the first time around, and barely escaped with your life. However, when you stroll back into that cave and see the augmetics it's used to repair the jaw that you blew away, you can't help but smile right before you open fire.
I've been playing Dungeon World, a hack of the tabletop game Apocalypse World, both of which focus on narrative story-building and repercussions rather than mechanics. Hit points are used for both players and monsters, but monsters also have tags that describe their behaviour. My favourite is called Messy, and it means just what it sounds like: this thing does not dish out razor-sharp cuts. With a fun (read: cruel) Game Master, this means that a failed roll when fighting a dragon may mean you lose a hand, or an eye, to it's big teeth. As the scars build up (if you survive), your character becomes much more fleshed out: The deafness caused by an acid-burned ear impacts your hearing (or at least, that's the narrative excuse for the failed roll to keep watch during the night), and the clanging of every other step reminds you of a debt you need to collect from a certain ogre.
This kind of flavour is much more fun, and it gives the player character a much greater sense of being real. It occurs to me that modern games are now capable of giving the same sort of experience, with the vast processing power at their disposal. Fallout already has this sort of thing with VATS and the limb system: if a body part is crippled, your character is affected until you fix it. But why not try and take it in-depth for the player, and give some lasting effects that really matter?
Imagine Spec Ops: The Line where, instead of having a bit of blood splashed on your face until you hide behind a chest-high wall for a couple of seconds, you suffer a series of minor wounds that makes you limp, makes you a little slower to react, makes your aim a little unsteady, makes you feel like Walker has been through hell, and it's your fault. Imagine Dark Souls where the boss doesn't flatten you outright because their damage is higher than some arbitrary number, but instead sends you flying across the dungeon, forcing you to flee while cradling the stump where your arm used to be, only to return with a new metal arm many hours later on a mission of vengeance and find the monster using your humerus as a toothpick.
We (people on the Escapist, and gamers in general) are always talking about games with choice and consequence, and most of the biggest choices and consequences that guide our real lives have to do with preserving our meaty shells. Not all games need to have a "Narrative Damage" system, but I think that the majority of RPGs, among others, would be vastly improved by giving us characters that are more human and fleshed out, and that means letting us lose flesh here or there.
P.S. This system could/should be extended to enemies as well, at least the big ones. Maybe you were underprepared to fight the Super Mutant leader in Fallout 5 the first time around, and barely escaped with your life. However, when you stroll back into that cave and see the augmetics it's used to repair the jaw that you blew away, you can't help but smile right before you open fire.