Dishonored: Dunwall, a fully-realised artistic vision

This is a repost of my 2013 article for Thunderbolt.

Dishonored’s city of Dunwall is one of the most memorable and immersive cities in this generation – once experienced it lingers in the imagination, imploring you to revisit its murky streets and secure its future. Although it exists in an undetermined time and another reality, Dunwall feels real and engaging from the game’s beginning. Moribund due to the corruption of its keepers, Dunwall is still a living, breathing and believable city.

This is due to the experience and talent present within Dishonored’s developers, Arkane Studios, and a process that allows for more creative input. As noted by Gamefront, usually conceptual artists and architects are rarely involved in game design past the pre-production stages, but level designers worked alongside architects throughout Dishonored’s design.

As noted in this interview with The Creators Project, visual design director Viktor Antonov reveals the game was originally going to be set in medieval Japan. This was avoided due to the, largely European, development team’s lack of knowledge of the era, and the setting was instead changed. Art director Sebastien Mitton and Antonov shifted their focus to Victorian London, specifically the 1660s, the time of the Great Fire of London and the Great Plague epidemic. The two artists conducted detailed research by travelling to both London and Edinburgh, surveying and recording each city’s architecture. Besides this, the pair were influenced by a wealth of artistic sources; paintings and architecture, including the beginnings of the Elizabethan and Jacobean Renaissance.

Like many of the settings in the works of H.P Lovecraft, Dunwall has a strong dependence on the surrounding ocean – its economy is based around whale oil and – much like the River Thames in London, the Wrenhaven River bisects the city. It’s a shame there’s no olfactory videogame technology at present, as Dunwall’s coastal breezes would surely bring in the oceanic scent of salt and seaweed. Besides evoking the murky and supernatural atmosphere of Lovecraft’s coastal fishing towns, Dunwall has also genuinely captured the feel of London’s streets – something Antonov intended, as revealed to The Creators Project:

“We wanted to study the rhythms existing on London streets, its architecture, as well as the general mood which is specific and interesting, something we wanted to preserve.” For overt comparisons, look at the similarities between Dunwall Tower and the Tower of London, or Kaldwin’s Bridge and London Bridge. Besides this, Dunwall’s architectural features are often lifted directly from London’s , such as its “specific rooftops […] smokestacks and façade ornaments…”, as Antonov stated in an interview with Press2Reset.

Much like London, Dunwall has been built upon the remnants and vestiges of what has come before it. London is known to date back at least as far as The Bronze Age, whilst the Outsider-worshipping ancient civilisation that once existed on the site of Dunwall is said to date back 1,000 years before the events of Dishonored. This helps lend Dunwall its archaic atmosphere, a feature that’s expertly contrasted by the prevalence of Sokolov’s advanced industrial technologies such as the arc pylon, Walls of Light, Tallboys and rail cars in the city (interestingly, Mitton rejects the ‘Steampunk’ label often associated with the game).

Contrasts are perpetuated throughout Dunwall’s locations, with the architecture often informing the narrative. The divide between Dunwall’s upper and lower classes is blatantly established by its buildings. The wealthy denizens live in the heavily guarded mansions of the Estate District and Dunwall Tower, often in elevated, well-lit positions on the city’s topography – serving to physically place them higher than their oppressed and suffering subjects. The Estate District’s Boyle Mansion, which features elements of the Queen Anne style of architecture such as sash windows in painted boxes, stone quoins emphasising its external corners and steps leading to a carved stone door case, is a prime example of this elevated affluence.

The lower class are forced to live in run-down and darkened Victorian-esque masonry-constructed homes, cramped into undesirable areas such as the crime-ridden slums of the Distillery District. It’s these cramped and unclean living conditions which undoubtedly helped the terrible rat plague to spread with such crippling efficiency, before the City Watch’s curfews and quarantines further afflicted the unwealthy and unhealthy populous.

Looking through the eyes of the supernaturally agile Corvo Attano, players are able to traverse Dunwall’s many areas in a variety of ways. Either skulking through its sewers, shifting at speed over ground level or darting across its rooftops – you experience the city from a number of varying perspectives and, by using Possession, can even experience the city from the point of view of its vermin. This gives you a comprehensive overview of the city not offered in many other videogames, and this allows you to forge a strong link with Dunwall’s layout. Further to this, you must use the city’s many structures and spaces to your advantage in order to progress through the game; hiding in its shadows, using its brick and stone as makeshift cover and dropping from its heights to incapacitate your foes.

The Flooded District serves as a dark jewel in Dunwall’s environmental crown – a broken-down area made up of dilapidated factories and other failing buildings. Given its name due to a collapsed water barrier, the area is a haven for criminals and cultists; a cesspool of hostility. The local fauna, the horribly mutated river krust molluscs, irksome hagfish and streamlined but feral wolfhounds, all serve to further increase the overbearing disarray and violence in the area by attacking Corvo at every opportunity. Dumped by the ruthless City Watch, the bandage-wrapped carcasses of plague victims litter the district like an awful garnish on a last meal prepared for the dark god of pestilence. Like The Glow in Fallout or the Hollows of Gears of War 2, The Flooded District is not a place you wish to linger unless you’re suitably equipped.

Dunwall is a triumph of design, one that surpasses both its creators’ previous works (Antonov helped design Half-Life 2’s City 17) as well as becoming something more than the sum of its parts. If games such as BioShock, Portal and Shadow of The Colossus are to be put forth as videogame examples of art, then on the basis of Dunwall and its overall design quality, so should Dishonored, as Antonov’s intentions are purely artistic and have been purely realised:

“Subjectively, I would like the players to end the game with memories of Dunwall as if they had visited a real city that they found very exciting and intense. I want it to leave them with memories of lights, noises, fear, and beauty they could never have in real life, anywhere in the world.”

Source: Dishonored: Dunwall, a fully-realised artistic vision

Transistor: Cloudbank and Art Nouveau

Aptly described by Hardcore Gamer as like a ‘living painting’, Transistor’s city of Cloudbank is a distinct location that deserves praise for its outstanding design. Conceived by developers Supergiant Games, the city exists in a technological future realm and houses hundreds of interconnected buildings across the four main districts of Goldwalk, Highrise, Fairview and Sandbox.

Cloudbank

Cloudbank’s rectilinear building forms lend it an angular quality that’s juxtaposed with its decorative details and ornamentation. The city’s architecture is imbued with the undulating forms of Art Nouveau, a late nineteenth century artistic movement and philosophy that drew inspiration from the curved lines and rhythms of nature. The style was used in many artistic fields including painting, sculpture, jewelry design, interior design and architecture. As reported by Hardcore Gamer and Edge, Art Nouveau was a key influence on art director Jen Zee, as described by Supergiant’s Greg Kasavin:

‘(Art Nouveau was) characterized by lots of gilded and natural patterns, as well as elongated and classical-looking forms. We were interested in combining these vintage types of elements with ideas for what a futuristic city could be like. We wanted to create a romanticized setting — classic rather than utopian.’

‘We didn’t want like a far-future world with laser-guns and space-ships and stuff – instead it feels almost vintage, more like the 1960s than the far-future. Jen took inspiration from a whole variety of sources, from various games to a number of art nouveau painters like Gustav Klimt…’

This dualistic artistic vision has clearly been achieved: Cloudbank feels both of the past and future. Despite the various advanced technologies it possesses, much of the sprawling city has a distinctly European feel. Certain areas feel like hubs of organic creativity, although their emptiness is haunting. A quiet stillness looms where once there was the bustle of residents.

Transistor’s protagonist, Red, gazes upon an Art Nouveau style poster advertising one of her live performances.

The Art Nouveau influence is notable in Cloudbank’s expressive doorways, stair-treads, lifts, awnings, street furniture and bridges. A notable characteristic of the style is the “whiplash” motif, depicting the “sudden violent curves generated by the crack of a whip”, which is how Pan magazine evocatively described Hermann Obrist’s seminal painting, Cyclamen. The whiplash motif can be seen throughout Cloudbank, as seen below [click to enlarge]:

Although the walkway is the centrepiece, note the two artistic wall panels depicting the whiplash motif.

Materials such as red brick, tile, glass, fabric, brass and cast iron are all represented in Cloudbank’s construction.

One real-world precedent that springs to mind is the cast iron Paris Metro entrances designed by the French architect and Art Nouveau figurehead, Hector Guimard. Featuring a representation of plant life in both form and colour, some of the Parisian entrances also support a fan-shaped glass awning which invokes the image of an insect’s wing. These particular glass awnings are clearly referenced in the architecture depicted below, serving as functional canopies and as a way to naturalise the bold lines of the buildings on which they’re housed:

Abesses Paris Metro station entrance by Hector Guimard

Among an array of floral references and imagery, perhaps the city’s standout design piece is its half-height street lamps. A floral base grows skyward from the ground, and in lieu of a flower head, proceeds to cradle and support a glowing cuboid lamp – manifesting a perfect balance of the city’s alternate elements and a superb example of form and function working in harmony.

The natural forms of Cloudbank’s Art Nouveau features are complimented by small trees and potted plants but there’s also indicators of the coming disharmony. Vegetation spreads over brick courses and out of planters to visually illustrate how the city is falling into disrepair – its gardeners no longer able to tend to the overgrowth. Hiding in plain sight from the offset, chevrons are another motif and may be read as both wayfinding points and depictors of motion, although these are based in the geometric realm rather than that of the organic.

Note the detailing on the stairs, platform and its support structure.

The Art Nouveau interior of the Vitebsk Railway station in St Petersburg. Designed by Sima Minash, similarly designed arches can be found in Cloudbank.

The organic design elements of Cloudbank serve as an ideal counterpoint to the blandifying soulessness of Transistor’s antagonists, the Process. Once the semi-autonomous robot servants of engineer Royce Bracket, their attempt at a city-wide takeover is shown to physically change and reshape Cloudbank. The interdimensional machines are engaged in demanufacturing the city into an indistinct mass of white building blocks. 

A Processed area of Cloudbank

These areas become more complex as you progress through the compromised areas and begin to be punctuated by red windows, behind which seems to burn a single-minded malevolence. As described on the Transistor Gamepedia, the Process ‘treat the city and its inhabitants as if they were code and re-writable.’ As such, the Processed areas could be read as a kind of swathe of architectural minimalism – forcibly modernizing and replacing Cloudbank’s distinct character with something inhuman and sterile – a cruel fate indeed for such a visual marvel.

BioShock: The Art Deco design of Rapture

This is a repost of my 2013 article for Thunderbolt.

In 2007, 2K Boston’s BioShock was unleashed onto the gaming consciousness like an immense trident of creativity thrown by Poseidon himself. The game’s multi-pronged facets of a novel worthy narrative, compelling gameplay, benchmark graphics, ear-haunting sound design, genuine scares and its completely original world made it an instant sub-aquatic classic. As both critics and the press lauded it as something special, one prong was especially sharp: the game’s unique setting and aesthetic. From the moment it’s revealed to you in all its splendour, it’s clear that the underwater city of Rapture is an outstanding achievement of design – a fully realised, retro-futuristic Art Deco Atlantis that’s rightly been acknowledged as a wonder of the gaming world.

The prevalent use of Art Deco in both Rapture’s external and internal spaces is principally responsible for their distinctive look. This design style, prominent in the 1930s and 1940s, embraced the rapid advancement of technology by highlighting geometric forms and symmetry in patterns with vibrant and contrasting colours. It’s not a style that’s been plucked from obscurity by the games’ creative designers, it was used to demonstrate opulence and fits in with Andrew Ryan’s utopian vision perfectly. It also conveniently played into the budget for the original game, as lead animator Shawn Robertson noted in a recent interview on IGN, ‘…Art Deco is full of nice, solid shapes[…]you can make something Art Deco and it’s automatically low-poly and fits into a game budget perfectly because of its large simple shapes.’

Rapture’s underwater skyline is a direct reflection of New York City’s, with its towering Art Deco skyscrapers like The Chrysler Building, Rockefeller Center and The Empire State Building. It’s not inconceivable to think that the architects of Rapture, Simon and Daniel Wales, would’ve been massively influenced by contemporaries such as William Van Alen (Chrysler) and William F Lamb (Empire State) besides Art Deco specialist Raymond Hood and artist/sculptor Lee Lawrie. As referenced on the BioShock Wiki, Hugh Ferriss’ perspective drawings of NYC were another influence on Rapture’s external design, and the comparison between the works of art is clear.

For the most part, gamers are used to battling aliens, mutants and psychopathic killers aboard spaceships and military bases – not amidst affluent surroundings at the bottom of the ocean, and therein lies another part of the games’ special allure. Besides its signature visual appeal, Rapture’s spaces also feel realistic and functional; like they’re actually part of a working city. This was a specific intention by the designers, as level architect Alex Munn notes (with regards to a hospital design) on the second BioShock 2 Community Podcast, ‘We try to think of it more as like a functional space, to design around what would architecturally make sense and what would have good game mechanics.’

Besides Rapture’s buildings and internal spaces, Art Deco design exists within its sculptures, posters, paintings, signs and marquee entrances, among other items and features. Ancient Greek, Roman and Biblical stories and culture are referenced in the names of Rapture’s many locations and the prevalence of power signifying classically inspired statues can also be attributed to this influence. The huge metallic bust of Andrew Ryan in the Lighthouse’s bathysphere entrance stares intensely at you, its existence intended to visually hammer home the the banner’s statement of ‘No gods or kings. Only man.’ The Kashimir restaurant’s hulking Titan Atlas statue, often used as a symbol of Ayn Rand’s Objectivist philosophy (to which Andrew Ryan subscribes), is clearly a tribute to Lee Lawrie’s bronze Atlas statue which lies outside the Rockefeller Centre.

The grand ‘welcome to Rapture’ entrance both invites and dominates entrants in equal measure. The large glazing allows you to see the enticing magnitude of what awaits in Rapture but the towering, obsidian male statues signify strength and power. The elaborately designed Securis door frame is a symmetrical combination of geometric forms with sharply contrasting colours and the door itself is sleek and industrialised.

Possibly constructed from bronzed aluminium composite or steel with a bronzed chrome finish, the vents which act as portals for the haunting Little Sisters are superbly designed Art Deco sunflowers. The stem is depicted through strong vertical lines, with leaf offshoots, which lead to a dramatic sunburst motif for the sunflower’s inflorescence. The vent shown above is especially noteworthy as the area around it shows the beginnings of a barnacle infestation, and this provides a stark contrast between the colliding worlds of the man-made Rapture and the relentless Atlantic Ocean.

The games’ vast array of neon-lit marquees are often a spectacular site to behold, especially as their unnatural glow sharply contrasts with the city’s dark spaces and the gloomy depths of the ocean. Found in the Minverva’s Den DLC for BioShock 2,The Rapture Central Computing Marquee is an extravagant example of a sunburst motif, boldly offset by a ruby red font. Fort Frolic’s atrium is a fine example of the dazzling effect of multiple marquees in close proximity to one another, each of them loudly vying for the player’s attention. Notice also the lighting at the top of the bold structural pillar which holds up the first floor, looking both elegant and also like some luminous sea slugs clinging to the column.

The atrium is also host to a large water leak, as are many other places (something Simon Wales blamed on his designs) and in both games, Rapture feels like it’s waning in its oceanic battle: the Atlantic is reclaiming this fraught space, its consent of usage was neither asked nor given. Indeed, perhaps even if it had been a success, Rapture was ultimately doomed by the very nature of its surrounding environment – its striking beauty always destined to be absorbed into the sea that once separated it from the world it sought to escape.

Source: BioShock: The Art Deco design of Rapture

The Importance of Architecture in Video Games and Virtual Worlds – Arch Virtual

Writing for his Arch Virtual website, Jon Brouchoud’s ‘The Importance of Architecture in Video Games and Virtual Worlds’, is one of the most thought-provoking and educational articles I’ve read on the subject. I implore you to go there now and read it, but I’ve also provided a brief overview in this post. In his own words:

‘Architecture in video games matters, and there is a right way and a wrong way to approach it. Games are chock full of buildings, but there is a tremendous deficit of ‘Architecture.’ Here are some thoughts on the importance and potential of architecture in game design and virtual worlds.’

The article is imbued with well-chosen quotations from architects and observations from Brouchoud’s unique perspective as a designer of both real and virtual spaces. He offers insights that may alter how both players and designers interact with the video games they play. Some of Jon’s thoughtful observations are quoted below, but this is merely scraping the surface:

Unfortunately, both the real and virtual worlds alike are chock full of buildings, but there is a tremendous deficit of ‘Architecture.’ Real estate developers want buildings that will make money, game developers want buildings that look sexy, yet architecture can be so much more.

You may have the most impressive and carefully crafted castles in a medieval games, or maybe a killer space station in your futuristic sci-fi game, or historically accurate and well textured bunkers in your war game. You may have even thought about the architecture, and worked very hard to create breath-taking, mind-boggling realistic buildings. But that doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve created architecture. Buildings aren’t always architecture.

The use of materials, beyond understanding the technical aspect of shaders and texture, is also a key player in architectural design. Materials can do so much more than simply helping to achieve realism. Soft and warm materials have a completely different emotional impact than hard and desaturated materials. Using the psychological impact of different surface textures and colors can shape a player’s experience and attract or propel them to or from various gameplay elements.

Read the full article at:

Source: The Importance of Architecture in Video Games and Virtual Worlds – Arch Virtual

Fallout: Architecture of The Wasteland

This is a repost of my 2012 piece for Thunderbolt.

Think of the Fallout series and it’s likely your mind’s eye will envision the post-apocalyptic desert wasteland in which the games are set. Yet much of the series unfolds in and around a multitude of architecture, every piece of which has been thought-out and designed by the games’ developers. The series’ architecture is crucial to the atmosphere of the games and acts as a robust vertebra in the backbone of its distinctive quality.

In the 1940s and thereafter, the Atomic and Space ages had a large influence on contemporary US culture and this surging period of technological optimism was reflected in architectural styles such as Googie, Art Deco and Streamline Moderne (all three can be grouped into the ‘Raygun Gothic’ catchall). It was during the post WWII period that the series’ timeline deviated from our own and followed a course which led to The Resource Wars and nuclear Armageddon. Up until that point the architecture of the pre-war Fallout universe had remained true to the aforementioned styles and it is their presence, along with keenly-designed posters, infomercials and other features which create the series’ retro-futuristic aesthetic. This is all deftly melded with the inevitable post-war remains, debris and plenty of innovative new buildings to create the many locations found in the Fallout games.

The early games are somewhat limited by their isometric engines and rely heavily on basic buildings in most of their locations: dark, dismal and monotonous boxes which reflect their titles’ pessimistic tone. The massive cathedral in Fallout is probably the most architecturally impressive structure in the game; its striking form a blend of a traditional main structure with a Futurism-influenced spire – a spectacular backdrop for the climactic battle with the cultish Children of The Atom.

Another location of significance is Junktown, as – although it houses several crude buildings fashioned primarily from corrugated iron and steel, it also contains Doc Morbid’s hospital. This building is notable due to its smooth white finish which contrasts sharply with its neighbouring buildings and also for its rounded edges and triple horizontal line detail, the latter two being characteristic of Streamline Moderne architecture. Finally, the town’s perimeter wall made from stacked automobile carcasses and entrance fashioned from a rail-carriage seems both a practical and realistic use of salvaged materials – illustrating the resourcefulness of the fledgling post-war civilisation as well as being a memorable addition to the game’s aesthetic.

Fallout 2 features a greater number of locations that its predecessor and many excellent ideas for these were conceived by Black Isle: Gecko is a town built around a failing power-plant, the Enclave’s base is a fortified old oil rig and Arroyo village features a temple as its centrepiece. The towns of Redding and Klamath are made up from a combination of previously featured buildings and new ones that show slightly greater detail, such as those with walls constructed from large clay blocks rather than indistinct metal panels. Vault City and the New California Republic both house an abundance of smooth, pale stone buildings with prominent structural openings which serve to let the player know they’re in a more advanced and ‘civilised’ location.

New Reno is certainly a highlight – hapless junkies and graffiti tarnish its streets as you pass under the iconic Reno Arch warning you that shady shenanigans and outright lawlessness lie ahead. The crime-families’ bases of Salvatore’s Bar, the Shark Club and the Desperado all feature extravagant personalised entrances, emboldened with boastful neon signage – used to both entice feckless addicts and display their owner’s affluence and power.

Fallout 3 not only takes the series’ locations to superior numbers once again, it also realises them in a fully 3D environment courtesy of the Gamebryo engine. Fallout 3’s architecture is far more prevalent than before, with a multitude of power stations, shacks, depots, diners, stores, towers, train stations and many other buildings all serving to populate the wasteland with hundreds of structures. A prominent example of Googie architecture found in the game is the numerous Red Rocket refueling stations. The main structure of the station comprises a Space Age-inspired metal rocket fixed onto elongated, acute-angled supports which feature protruding horizontal tailfins – all coming together to create a reassuringly familiar sight as you traverse the game’s topography.

The game famously features a post-war recreation of downtown Washington D.C. complete with architectural landmarks such as the Capitol Building, Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial, all of which, unlike the White House, managed to escape complete destruction. The inclusion of these iconic buildings was a masterstroke by Bethesda as their classically inspired forms greatly contrast with the disorder of the wasteland and their real-world significance adds to the game’s forlorn atmosphere.

Although it has a smaller map, Fallout: New Vegas boasts more locations than Fallout 3 and through a tweaked version of Gamebryo, it employs many similar building models but also an abundance of new ones. New Vegas contains the strongest architectural designs in the series and the Googie style in particular was on the artist’s minds when they were designing it, as Obsidian artist Brian Menze revealed to GameBanshee: ‘We wanted to give the audience a real sense of Vegas and the time period, so we felt it was important to go that (Googie) route and partially it’s what anyone would expect Vegas to be. We pulled (just a little) from the 60’s here and there as well, but Googie is what influenced us most.’

An irrefutably Googie gas-station in Goodsprings, a massive recreation of a T-Rex (Dinky) guarding the Dino Dee-Lite motel and the skyline puncturing HELIOS One solar plant are all exceptional architectural additions to the tapestry of New Vegas’ world. But, of course, the New Vegas Strip is the game’s marvellous centrepiece. As no missiles directly struck Las Vegas during the Great War, its colourful neon-signed majesty was preserved until it was re-settled some two centuries later. The massive hotels and casinos have been expertly crafted by Obsidian and the Lucky 38 and Ultra-Luxe are particularly awe-inspiring. The Lucky 38 is based around the real-life Space Needle and the Stratosphere Las Vegas whilst the top of its tower (which houses an array of laser-cannons) was modeled around a roulette wheel. The exterior of the Ultra-Luxe was largely influenced by Caesars Palace whilst its interior was based upon the Bellagio (both of which are found in the real Las Vegas).

This article merely skims the surface of the architecture of the Fallout series but hopefully it has given some insights into the amount of detail that goes into just one aspect of the series’ design and how that, in turn, influences gamers’ experience of it. The Fallout games thrive on their distinctive setting and their architecture and landscapes are as much a part of the experience as anything else, be it power-armour clad techno-soldiers, gangs of merciless raiders or packs of hulking green-skinned super-mutants.

Source: Fallout Shack: Architecture of The Wasteland

Video Game Architecture

There’s a vast scope of content that can be covered in a blog about video game architecture. From the recreation of real-world-based cities in the Grand Theft Auto series, the exploration of fantastical habitats in the BioShock series and the planning involved in SimCity and Minecraft – there’s a constant overlap between the architectural and video game worlds, both in the way they’re designed and how they’re experienced.

A poorly designed building may, among many other potential negatives, not make economic usage of its available space, not make use of natural lighting and leave its occupants disorientated. In a worse-case scenario, a poorly designed building may lead to injury or even death. However, these aspects may actually be requirements of a building, for instance in a maze, funhouse or prison. Many of these pitfalls can also apply to a video game level, space or building, and will have a major effect on how they’re experienced.

Another consideration is the effect the style of architecture and art direction has on its user/player. The Brutalist and monolithic structures of the Unreal and Halo series, the Art Deco of Grim Fandango and BioShock, the Art Nouveau of Transistor and the Googie of Fallout all have a specific influence on how they’re experienced. This is an area I find of particular interest and is one I’ll continue to explore in the future.

There are also various questions that may arise when discussing the subject, such as:

• Is video game architecture actually architecture?
• Does video game architecture hold any benefits over real-world architecture?
• Will video games ever be viewed as art, or with the same respect as architecture?
• Can architectural professionals transfer their skills to video game development and vice versa?
• How will virtual reality affect both realms?

These are all areas and questions I look forward to exploring over the course of the blog. Over the coming days, to help get Video Game Architecture up and running, I’ll be reposting relevant pieces from Thunderbolt and linking to interesting articles covering video game architecture from other websites.

A flame ignited

In June 2009, the Architects’ Journal website ran a list-article titled ‘Top 10: The architecture of computer games’. This short piece is now behind the site’s paywall but when I read it, I was inspired. Its entries were brief but thoughtful and interesting, as illustrated by the entry for Halo and its sequel:

‘The prevalent use of local sandstone and homogeneous approach to design make for an environment that is comparable to the Regency spa towns of Harrogate or Bath. The indigenous material is ubiquitous – whether left rough in rural settings (to encourage the growth of moss and lichens) or finished smooth for urban environments, it lends a sense of grandeur to the to local buildings. The warren-like town planning of many of Halo’s urban centres and individual buildings, originally designed to improve sociability, have since been devastated by ethnic warfare between humans and the aliens of the Covenant.’

The piece encouraged me to look upon the video game worlds I’d been exploring for decades with a new perspective and with greater appreciation for their developers’ attention to detail. I was also pleased to see video game coverage in a publication from outside of the field without it being wholly derided. If pressed, I’d have to say the reason the piece had this effect was that I was actually working full-time at an architectural practice and writing about video games in my spare time anyway! I set about writing some pieces of my own.

I’d been playing the Fallout series since the first game and decided to start researching the distinctive style of its art direction and buildings for a possible article. Weeks later, after many hours spent scouring the web for information on the series and ‘Googie’ architecture, the result was ‘Architecture of The Wasteland’ for Thunderbolt. I learned a lot from writing the piece and it’s one I’m still proud of. I later searched the web to see if there’d been many other pieces relating to video game architecture but there was barely anything except for this excellent piece by Jon Brouchoud of Arch Virtual.

I’d heard many references to ‘Art Deco’ in pieces about BioShock, knew it was related to architecture, but I didn’t know anything about it and so set to work on another piece. This resulted in ‘BioShock: The Art Deco design of Rapture’, which was again educational to write and lent me a deeper appreciation for the game. I later wrote a similar piece relating to the exceptional setting of stealth FPS, Dishonored besides blogging about my experiences playing Minecraft. At around this point my career became busier but I observed, with pleasure, a growing focus on the subject in outlets including the Architects’ Journal, ArchDaily, Gamasutra, Architizer Dezeen and Kill Screen.

I’ve had the idea of starting a website focusing solely on the subject for a while now,  and I’m keen to pick up where I left off and continue to educate myself about both video games and architecture.