Charm School: The proliferation of gristle...

The lemmings, those stricken beasts from the game of the same title, were famously the result of a disagreement over the minimum amount of pixels that could be used in an appealing character (eight by eight, it turns out). Such debates were the result of severe hardware limitations, including restricted colour palettes, memory, and disk space. The desire to extract optimum performance, and use every byte as efficiently as possible forced contemplation of the best way to represent characters onscreen, and an analogous streamlining: rather than the amount of data it was possible to fit into memory, the amount of personality it was possible to fit into a sprite.

Mario’s design was similarly driven by limitation, his cap and moustache simply solutions to avoid animating hair and facial expressions, whilst white gloves were added to distinguish what his arms were doing. Clearly, limitations catalyse resourceful design and the result of this desire to achieve more than the sum of the available parts has left gaming with a rich and diverse character roster. The lemmings, Mario, Link, Sonic, Ryu, Blanka, Samus, Bomberman, Blinky, Pinky, Inky, Clyde and even Cannon Fodder’s cannon fodder; the list goes on. Compare the number of unforgettable protagonists in today’s games to those of yesteryear and it is telling that, with a few notable exceptions, the most striking characters are reiterations.

It is possible, of course, for nostalgia to cloud objectivity and it is all too easy to find yourself lamenting the fact that everything from Curly Wurlys to cartoons are not as good as they used to be, but it is difficult to imagine Blinx being fondly remembered in 30 years time. Ape Escape’s Specter and associated primates were wonderfully designed, but what of the rather forgettable hero, Spike? Even Nathan Drake, stripped of Nolan North's memorable performance, is surprisingly generic. Design today is so often focussed on technology, rather than appeal, but covering a charmless character model in physics enabled trinkets or clever cloth dynamics is simply lipstick on the face of a gorilla, and no amount of superficial decoration can make up for an inherent lack of personality.

Even so, a classic character’s appeal, despite its legacy, can still be diminished through over complication - play Pacman World or sit through the 1993 film Super Mario Bros again for a painful reminder - but for the most part, good design elicits an immediate positive response. It is symptomatic of the more prosaic mainstream market’s tastes that variety (at least, commercially successful variety) is diminished, and this has led to an over-reliance on steroidal marines with impossibly proportioned weaponry. Yes, this type of character has long existed, but who would argue that Marco Rossi doesn't have more personality in each pixel than Marcus Fenix can muster with the entirety of his heavily post-processed triangles?

Thankfully, all is not lost. Perhaps the greatest triumph of modern character design is Media Molecule’s Sackboy, from LittleBIGPlanet. Simplistic in design, and brilliantly suited to his environment, Sackboy’s appeal is ever-present no matter what ridiculous combination of clothing the player has bestowed upon him. In a time when console mascots have lost a great deal of their importance, Sackboy has succeeded in becoming the unofficial poster boy for Sony.

There are many other great examples of charismatic design today (not least the enigmatic Jon Marston), and thankfully plenty of talented artists who know what is important in a good games character. The limitations of Flash have led to some memorable pixels (Meat Boy, Spewer et al) and Q-Games Pixeljunk series is re-exploring the 8 and 16-bit landscapes with creative hindsight. As long as we remember the lessons learned before the Uncanny Valley's far side came into fuzzy view, there is still hope that character design will remain exciting, and players won't be driven to hurling themselves from a cliff just to forget the forgettable.