Trains In Games, Part 5: First Class
by Owen,
at 23:01 UTC
pseudo-intellectual rambling | permalink | rss
Yesterday on TRAIN WEEK we looked at games that played off the restrictive nature of travelling on rails. Today we’re going to make a short detour through a siding to consider games in which trains symbolise technological development. Obviously trains aren’t the most amazingly futuristic devices in the world, but – perhaps influenced by the current state of our technological development – trains often represent technology which is both high in standard and widely available.

Typically one of the first technologies discovered in a game of Civilization is The Wheel, which unlocks the ‘road’ tile improvement. Roads generally provide two benefits: a movement bonus for units, and a trade bonus for cities. Generally speaking, players primarily use roads to connect their cities (to make use of the movement bonus), and then fill in the spaces around cities with networks of roads that go nowhere (to maximise the trade bonus). Quite late in the game – around the late industrial period – players can research the Railroad technology, which allows them to upgrade their roads, improving the movement and trade bonuses. The process repeats – major city links are upgraded, then minor cities, then bored Worker units cover the countryside in steel rails.
The result is that, at the end of a long game of Civilization, the world map resembles an endless spaghetti junction of twisting railways. It looks ridiculous – as with many other aspects of Civilization‘s design, railways aren’t supposed to appear realistic but instead just represent a certain tile upgrade concept. What’s notable is that rail is presented as a straight upgrade over road, and the huge time gap between discovering The Wheel and discovering Railroad puts it in a very privileged position in the player’s mind – perhaps even more so when you consider that this is generally the only situation in which a tile upgrade can itself be upgraded!

Sim City on the SNES tells a similar story. From the start of the game players have access to both road ($10 per tile) and rail ($20 per tile). Both tiles function in exactly the same way, except road tiles generate traffic and pollution, while rail tiles generate none. There is NO REASON WHATSOEVER to build road instead of rail, except to save $10 per tile, which isn’t really a worthwhile saving once you have to start paying out more to deal with the consequences of having a city clogged with traffic – in practice, players will find themselves scanning the city data maps for heavy traffic, deleting those sections of road, and replacing them with rail – at a total cost of at least $31 per tile!
This is one of many examples of Sim City‘s political bias – in this case, the idea that public transport (in the form of a light rail service) is a desirable replacement for roads and private cars. Speaking as someone who used to live in Gothenberg, it doesn’t sound so crazy to me! But regardless of how you feel about the statement, it is relevant to us as another example of trains being presented by the game rules as an aspirational technology – the pinnacle towards which players (and by extension, real-world city planners) should work.

The above scene from Secret of Mana is one of those moments where everything you thought you knew is turned on its head. The game is a fantasy RPG not unlike Zelda – there are swords, there is magic, there be dragons. Aside from a couple of lines in the prologue about an extinct civilisation there are very few hints as to what lies in wait towards the end of the game, but the player receives a strong clue deep beneath the legandary sunken continent. Now resembling a coral reef, players can only access this area through the temple of Dryad – the only building not to have been swallowed up by the sea when the island sank in ancient times. To begin with it looks more or less the same as any other temple in the world of Mana – the same tilesets, but with different colours and tints to reflect the patron spirit – but as the lower levels of the temple open out into an underground city, players begin to notice unusual new background graphics and objects creeping into the game. And then they board a subway train.
The change in environment comes as a real shock! It’s as if you’ve fallen out of Shadows Over Mystara and landed in Final Fight. The use of a subway train in this manner informs the player that the ancient civilization that built the city were technologically advanced, and had all kinds of junk which has since been lost to the world (later you will wonder whether the zombies on the subway are supposed to represent dead commuters who have been riding the rails since their civilisation fell to disaster). The everyday nature of subway trains makes this location instantly recognisable despite being so unexpected, and begins the set-up for some of the big twists going into the final chapter of the game; obviously the train is a much more advanced technology than has been seen previously in the game, but I think what really makes this scene work is that it’s presented in such an unassuming manner. It carries a deeper implication – not just that this kind of technology existed in the past, but that it was just a normal part of everyday life.
The other notable feature of this subway train fight is that the players have to deal with the shape of the carriage. There are many smaller areas in the game, but few with such an awkward shape – zombies often wander off between seats, forcing the player to join them in these enclosed spaces as demonstrated in the above screenshot. Tomorrow we will look at this aspect of the train experience in more depth – the sense of binding, the claustrophobia, and the intimacy of travelling within a small, locked box.







