To go with my recent theme of talking about single players games on an overwhelmingly MMO-centric site, this article focuses on what happens after the end of single player games. What does that even mean? I don’t know, but let me try to explain. You might be thinking: “well, the reason it’s a single player/console game is because it has a definite end, so what’s the point of talking about what comes after that?”. Well, even traditionally, this isn’t even correct.

Single player/console games are known to have some of the most engaging end-game content in the gaming industry. The ability to unlock new modes of play (Chrono Trigger, anyone?) and experience the same content again from a new standpoint (Half-life: Opposing Force) differs from the MMO end-game lineup. In an MMO, you play the same content over and over again. In a single player, you play the same content, but there’s an entirely new twist to it. Whether you’re playing at warp speed, playing from the beginning with all of the weapons you had when you beat it, or playing from a completely different perspective, single player is able to deliver fresh gameplay by barely lifting its metaphorical hand. In addition to this, there is even “MMO”-style end game content in some games out today.

Super Paper Mario. A seemingly simple game, which turns out to be quite long and engaging. A very well-planned and perfectly-paced RPG that doesn’t seem like an RPG. Attack power, health points, experience, item upgrades, and the like; all of the components of a traditional RPG are there, but the gameplay is so well-meshed with the Mario universe that even seasoned RPG veterans might not care to notice. In addition, this game also boasts and impressive end-game itself. Players patient enough to let the credits roll without turning off their Wii are rewarded with a save point at the end of the credits, and an open-ended plot stem as they step back into the starting town, Flipside. From here, the game is totally open. Visits to all of the worlds previously visited for any number of reasons: grinding points (experience), finding new items and powerups, finding ingredients for cooking, finding recipes, engaging in any number of the end-game minigames (mini is sort of a misnomer here, as some of them are quite long). In fact, there’s even a way to go back and fight amped-up versions of most of the bosses encountered throughout the game itself! At the end of the story-based game, the recipe book is left unfilled, and the key-card index is far from complete. The end game consists of completing all of these tasks, a pursuit which would likely take longer than beating the game itself.

So what’s the point in all of this? Well, as yesterday’s article mentioned, I believe that the same euphoric feelings of accomplishment achieved in MMOs can be had in single player games, as well. In that article, I didn’t even acknowledge the existence of any sort of end-game in the single player games, though. Adding this fact into the mix makes the case even clearer: I believe that, even socially, just as much fun and reward can be had from a single player game in all of it’s forms (story and after-story, that is, end-game) as in an MMO.

I’ve been on something of a wii-frenzy lately. It’s the only current-gen console I own (and the only 4th-gen console I will ever own) and I’m trying to “keep up” with the console by playing through all of the headliner games. So far I’ve played through several, the most notable being Super Paper Mario and The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess. These two games are very well placed on the wii, their controls complement the capabilities of the wiimote (and in the case of Zelda, the nunchuck) very well, and the story and gameplay are most excellent. Another thing I’ve noticed, independent of the console itself, is that these two games (in particular) are very long.

Super Paper Mario, when it was all said and done, took about 17 hours to beat. Of course 17 hours isn’t really too great a time investment for someone with hundreds of days locked up in MMOs, but I don’t think anyone would disagree that for a console game aimed at a younger audience, 17 hours is about the threshold, at least as far as attention-span is concerned. The game was engaging, witty, and oh-so-loveable for the entire 17 hours, to the point where I didn’t even realize how long I’d been sitting in my chair playing. That, in my opinion, is a good measure of a game’s quality.

In Twilight Princess, however, I’ve already spent a good 35+ hours adventuring non-stop (my gameplay says 44 hours, but I’m not sure if it counts up while the game is paused, etc, so this is adjusted a bit) with the strategy guide. I mention the guide just because I’ll finish the game with every heart piece, poe, bug, and special item, so this may be a fairly bloated number. Just running through the temples and everything may be fairly shorter. Sitting down and playing for 5-6 hour sessions in Twilight Princess doesn’t seem weird at all. The game is so fluid and continuous that I hardly flinch when presented with a new series of temples to grind through at 2-3 hours each.

My conclusion, and the point of this article, doesn’t really have anything to do with these two games in particular. The reason I wrote this article is because I’m high on that feeling, the one you get after you beat a really long game. To me, it also feels a bit like the feeling you get when you loot a really freakin’ sick item in an MMO that you’ve been playing 40+ hours just to get. The thing that intrigues me, though, is which feeling is stronger? Which feeling has a more lasting effect? Maybe the answer to this seems obvious to a lot of people reading this. I wonder, however, how many people would continue raiding and playing MMO games full time if they realized that the feeling that comes from multiple days of raiding and the feeling that comes from playing through a single-player game are similar?

In an MMO, you are rewarded with a permanent upgrade to your character (permanent, at least, until the next expansion comes out). In a single-player game, you’re rewarded by being “released” from the game itself. You probably no longer have the urge to play as much. In addition, you’re rewarded socially to, in my opinion, a greater extent than you are in an MMO.

Think about it this way: when you hear people talk about EverQuest, or any MMO they’ve played in the past, there are many people who can relate, because there are many people who played. At the same time, even people who never breached level 20 in EverQuest are still able to talk nostalgically about the game, simply because playing and getting somewhere was an achievement in and of itself. Even if the person talking spent years raiding, they can still level with you on some topics: “omg jboots quest”. Here, so many years later, the newb is on the same level as the pro raider in terms of their endearment toward the game. In a single player, game, however, people can talk about their experiences with beating the game. It seems like there’s a far greater difference between someone who’s beat a game talking about it and someone who hasn’t. “dude, ocarina of time was so awesome, remember how hard the ganondorf fight was when we were little?”

Maybe part of it is that the likelihood of a person beating 10 single-player games is higher relative to the likelihood of a person playing an MMO for 10 times as long as it takes to beat a single-player game.

So, and this is the essence of this article, why would you spend the same amount of time achieving a marginal upgrade for your character when you can get the same social feeling from beating a game on your own? I wouldn’t, but that doesn’t mean that everyone shouldn’t. I’ve done both, and don’t regret either choice. It does give an interesting, new interpretation of time, though.