Play! 100 Rogues

Current total obsession: 100 Rogues on iPhone. And by a long, long way, it’s not being played enough if a figure of 946 players on its Game Center scoreboards is anything to go by.

That’s because 100 Rogues is one of the most consummately crafted games for a mobile device I’ve come across. Not bad considering that until the latest update it crashed and wheezed with staggering abandon on my iPhone 4 and features an interface that, if you’re not grumbling at its convoluted menu, you’re cursing because it’s gotten you killed.

100 Rogues is a perfectly honed Rogue-like for the touch generation, which is to say that it’s the direct descendent of one of gaming’s oldest genres: computer Dungeons & Dragons. You take your Crusader, Fairy or (new addition) Skellyman into a dungeon with the laudable aim of killing Satan. As you descend though its five- or six-room randomly generated levels, you’ll kill monsters and gain experience and find chests and gain equipment. Experience means levelling up and gaining skill points which you can spend in each of the character class’ finely balanced and wonderfully differentiated skill trees.

Here’s the rub: like in most Rogue-likes, when your character dies, it dies for good. Because, as developers Dinofarm Games and Fusion Reactions say on its website, “100 Rogues is about player improvement more than character improvement”. That’s to say, rather than the game steadily improving your character so it’s better at facing the game’s challenges, the game teaches you how to play so you’re better at facing the incredible tests it’ll present you.

Brilliantly characterful pixel art is wed to a casual disregard for fantasy canon, happily throwing you against flying babies, sniping ninjas and knife-wielding cowboys. Each monster has its own special attacks and abilities, from the tele-swapping and fireball-throwing Gypsy to the skeleton-raising Necromancer. Some will crowd and batter you to death, others will reduce your armour to nothing and rain arrows on you from a distance. You’ll need to learn how to deal with them through trying and failing, making your way a little further into the dungeon each time. Sometimes, too, you’ll know what you’re doing, but you’ll get complacent, impatient or fatally fail to notice a danger – the fault’s always with you. Being turn-based, 100 Rogues never rushes you.

Indeed, your personal responsibility is the beauty of 100 Rogues. There’s also a lot to admire in the skills you’ll choose to invest in your character over each game. The heavily armed and armoured Crusader’s all about running in and hitting hard. The Fairy is a physically vulnerable magic user who can teleport about the place to avoid getting close to monsters while hitting with powerful ranged shots. And the similarly weak Skellyman is about movement, getting in close and vaulting over enemies to deal out backstabs.

It’s up to you to choose and perfect the strategies you want; I’m terrible at it, but like the best games, it implores me to try again after another stupid death because it’s made me feel just that little bit better at it.

So yes, I can’t recommend 100 Rogues enough. Put it this way: it’s not often that a bugged-out piece of rubbishy engineering turns out to play so magically.

Going public

About a day after releasing the game, I got a mail saying basically “well, you got my money, but I can’t play your app because it crashes.”

To me, this feels like getting punched in the stomach: Somebody gave you his or her money, and the app doesn’t work because you screwed up or didn’t test enough or didn’t think of some special case. They have every right to be pissed off, because you basically stole their money.

So says a Swiss programmer called Lukas Mathis about his first app for iPhone, a game called Goo Gun. His fascinating blog post reveals some of the pressures that result when a single coder, like him, releases a program for sale on a global marketplace.

Though his app is essentially sound, it’s subject to the vast range of conditions in which the 20-odd million iPhones (and lord knows how many iPod Touches) presently at large operate. Whether users have reset their machines to clear memory of unnecessary data and application processes, which can lead to the few cases of crashes and low memory warnings his game was throwing up. Whether users have installed the latest version of the phone’s operating system. Or whether they’ve been jailbroken – that is, whether the user has cracked the security on their iPhone in order to have freedom to install any program they like on it.

The latter condition can mean that the iPhone’s memory and resources can be eaten up by software that Apple has not certified, constricting other programs’ operations, but not that many users would know about that. And their natural reaction is to question the quality of the software they’ve paid for.

It’s a circumstance that throws up two interesting questions. The first is the legitimacy of cracking closed platforms like iPhone. It’s easy to feel that any product you’ve bought is yours and thereby believe you should have complete freedom over what you do with it. With that in mind, Apple’s control over what you can and can’t install on your iPhone is highly questionable. But Mathis’ predicament illustrates a convincing argument for such restraint – control the conditions and you have a chance to present a unified platform for programmers like him to create products for.

The other is the effect that the App Store has had in giving ‘bedroom’ programmers unparalleled closeness to the public. Without the resources of a large publisher behind them, they don’t have anything like the opportunity to test and hone their products against the vast array of conditions to which their apps will be exposed. And that leaves them exposed to the slings and arrows of public reaction – whether written for all to see on the App Store or sent in personal messages.

For all his fundamental confidence in his game, Mathis blames himself, but he sees the bigger picture. I wonder how well other programmers take it.