Bit.Trip Runner isn’t exactly a new game, and every last pundit on the internet has put in their two cents. I could link you to a dozen articles by better authors than I about the game’s perfectly-tuned mechanics, difficulty, or the seriously genius combination of movement and music, but screw it – I’ve spent the past hour (note – not my first hour) beating my head against stage 3-9 (appropriately entitled “The Gauntlet”) and I need to rant.
First of all, screw off, Bit.Trip Runner.
Second of all, I kind of love you, Bit.Trip Runner.
Seriously, no other game in recent memory has captured me in quite the same way. I just don’t have the same kind of stamina for insane difficulty that I had as a kid. If a game is more hard than fun, I’ll simply quit. It doesn’t happen often – modern games tend to be easier by design – but I have just given up on a number of titles just because they stopped serving as escapism and became more of a chore.
Do you want to know how many times Bit.Trip Runner has killed me in the past hour? No, really, I counted. I’ve died thirty-seven times. Thirty-seven. And yet, I haven’t thrown my 3DS across this crowded office (which is probably good – you don’t want to smack sleep-deprived research scientists in the skull with large blunt objects).
I’ve been hacking at this level for a week, and while I’ve come so, so close to those lovely goal posts, I am still so very far away. Why the hell am I still playing this? More importantly, why am I eager to stop typing this article and resume playing?
I think there are three reasons for this. The first is that death in Bit.Trip Runner never feels cheap. Occasionally, a fireball comes roughly out of nowhere and scatters my pixellated atoms across the screen, but there actually was a split-second chance to avoid it. The next time that you reach that point, it’s fairly obvious what is happening (and, realistically, a couple more tries before you make it past that point). Being good at the game depends on timing, observation, and yes – memorization, but Runner doesn’t go out of its way to blindside you. There is a fairly natural skill progression until you master each level (“master a level” may be a bit strong- perhaps I should revise that to “finish the level”), and deep in your bones, you can feel that progression. Bit by bit, you conquer new territory, and it feels so good.
The second reason is exactly that – winning feels so, so good. When you pass effortlessly through a large portion of a stage, the sense of euphoria is staggering. You are dodging fireballs, narrowly diving under crossbeams, and kicking down crates, all at a speed that would probably result in a confrontation with a cop on a highway. Sonic the Hedgehog did the speed thing decades ago, but the feeling is completely different. The developers of the 2D Sonic games tried to design the experience as a compromise between speed and precision, but precision was never quite as important in Sonic as it is in Bit.Trip Runner. You may die a whole lot more in Runner, but when you live, you feel like a god.
The third reason that Bit.Trip Runner is so addictive – and perhaps this should be more of a corollary to the second – is the fact that the music is so intrinsically tied to the action. While the game provides a backing beat to the action, the actual soundtrack is generated through your movements. When you manage to successfully coast through a level and land each jump, dodge, or kick, the music sounds fantastic – a catchy chiptune accompaniment to your sojourn through danger – but if you miss a beat, the music skips a note as well. You know instantly that something has gone wrong, because you can hear it in the soundtrack. This is, of course, usually instantly followed by your untimely demise.
By pairing the music and the gameplay so closely, the soundtrack becomes a positive reinforcement device of sorts. When the soundtrack sounds great, you know that you did your part to make it work. That is, rather than being a passive attachment to the game experience, Bit.Trip Runner’s soundtrack is part of the experience and, as a result, it serves as one more element to draw you in and enhance your immersion.
While these three things all come together to keep you playing, they don’t quite for the whole picture. I think that the other reason that Bit.Trip Runner is so addictive is that it speaks to a primal fight-or-flight instinct inside of us. Video games tend to reward players for careful thought and long-term strategies, but Bit.Trip Runner presents the polar opposite. Runner rewards players for turning off their higher-brain functions and acting on pure instinct. Up, down, kick, brace for impact – these are actions taken in the moment, things you don’t spend much time thinking about. They are also the fundamental building blocks of Commander Video’s move set.
Many of the most addictive games offer the player escapism – a chance to step away from the concerns of day to day life. My very best scores in Bit.Trip Runner came when I managed to give in, zone out, and act purely on fight-or-flight reactions. This reaction, an out-of-body experience of sorts, takes escapism one step further. Even though Bit.Trip Runner can be a fairly traumatic experience – killing the player over and over again – I actually find myself feeling less stressed-out after a good session with the game. Part of the addiction that this game instills absolutely comes from the fact that it lets you tune in and tune out the real world for just a little while.
In conclusion, fuck you Bit.Trip Runner. You can be a frustrating, scream-inducing experience, but you’re also coldly calculated to latch into every addiction center in my brain.
So, I guess what I’m saying is that I like you.
(Header image from the talented IHasCupquake)