Hands Off (MSE504 Final Paper)

Hands-Off

Nintendo’s New, Good-feeling Approach to Teaching the Player

Alexander Villescas

MSE504 - University of Advancing Technology

Professor Matthew Henry

It’s a common issue in gaming- everybody hates tutorials. No matter the company or the platform, many games often have heavy-handed approaches to teaching the player how to play the game. With the rise of the casual gamer in the last decade, the issue has only worsened, with even veteran players often having to sit through endless amounts of tutorial text or patronizingly easy levels intended to help rope inexperienced players in. Of all companies that do this, Nintendo was among the worst of offenders- which is why 2017’s Breath of the Wild and Super Mario Odyssey were both a breath of fresh air and hugely important to the direction of their franchises. Odyssey and Breath of the Wild take very different approaches to teaching the player how to be successful, with each game having a different style of conversation to help the player understand what affordances they’ve been given in the game and how the game itself functions. Through a blend of successful level design, intelligent tutorial methods, and offering the player space to explore and experiment with their tools, both games manage to be successful at teaching the player what awaits out in the larger world for them to do.

A Tale of Two Franchises

Before we can examine the modern games, we first have to look at what’s come before. I believe that when discussing game franchises as storied as Super Mario and The Legend of Zelda, we have to examine how we got where we did- only then can we also understand why Nintendo chose to make the choices they did in designing these games how they did, how they sought to address the shortcomings of previous games.

Both Breath of the Wild and Odyssey occupy different genres, with the former being an open world adventure game and the latter being a collect-a-thon platformer. Strangely enough, the genres of both of these two games are deviations from the more recent entries in both of their franchises. Both franchises began their move into the third dimension in the late 1990s, starting with Ocarina of Time and Super Mario 64. Both games had widespread critical acclaim, and were praised for how they translated their two-dimensional progenitor’s ideals into the third.

Super Mario 64 was the first time that the franchise began blending the genres of platforming and collect-a-thon, and also served as the template for much of the Mario franchise concept and design moving forwards. The collection of stars to open up more challenging levels and Mario’s specific moveset were firmly established with that game. However, as the Mario franchise developed, it used 64’s control style as a base, and then would offer a gameplay-changing twist with each successive game. Sunshine allowed the player to use F.L.U.D.D, a water cannon. Galaxy and its sequel took Mario to space and played with gravity across sprawling levels, and even offered the player a spin move. To this day, players yearn for a third game in the set. With 3D Land and 3D World, the franchise seemed to take a step away from innovation in the entries following that, instead sticking with the tried-and-true controls of 64 and shifting them into a level scheme more reminiscent of the 2D games, with power-ups making a big return and having individual courses, rather than repeat visits to the same level to gather things that had been missed or freed up. Nintendo has certainly tried to vary the gameplay up between titles- even the sequels have featured at least small innovations in gameplay, attempts to build upon Mario’s core moveset while still letting you know you’re playing the same franchise. They even kept 64’s level structure of revisiting familiar locations multiple times to collect stars.

Mario has often been a gateway game for people jumping into Nintendo’s consoles- it’s supposed to be very easy to pick up, and any player could conceivably stumble their way through World One in your average Mario game. The games would often hold your hands, teaching you the controls and keeping you on rails for a fair amount of time.

The Zelda franchise has often been accused of being static as far as development goes. Ocarina of Time is one of Nintendo’s best-selling games, and it set the tone as far as future Zelda games would go- everything 3d would be based upon the Ocarina formula. In the eyes of many, this would be to the detriment of the Zelda series, leading it to stagnate while other games would innovate, especially in the realm of combat. By no means have the post-Ocarina games been bad, but it’s often seemed as if the formula hasn’t changed very much. Majora’s Mask featured a very interesting core piece of gameplay in how the player could reset time back to the beginning of a 3-day cycle, but was made on Ocarina’s engine. The Wind Waker’s way of swapping things up was by making Link sail around in a boat, but the core gameplay of combat and dungeon navigation remained firmly rooted in the model from the N64 games. Twilight Princess felt like another sidestep. Allowing the player to turn into a wolf for some of the time was an interesting big of gameplay, but it felt inferior to playing in Link’s regular form and lacked depth. The game did make temporary strides forwards in combat with the Hidden Skills, but they still weren’t the push that could help redefine Zelda. Skyward Sword was the biggest jump away from Ocarina in some respects, offering 1:1 sword control via the Wii MotionPlus. However, it still kept the same conventions of game navigation established in Ocarina, and the motion controls tended to be more of a miss than a hit for most players.

Oftentimes, Zelda has been accused of being too easy. While the games have never always been about the combat, they certainly have tended to not present much of a challenge in the realm of combat and moment-to-moment gameplay (in fact, sometimes the hardest part are the block-pushing puzzles rather than any enemy or boss). They’ve also been accused of holding the player’s hand too much, something that came to a head with Fi, the companion character in Skyward Sword, who was too helpful, pointing out obvious solutions and even spoiling the fun of figuring out puzzles.

We can see that both Mario and Zelda each took different paths from their original N64 games, but both did rely heavily on the formulas set up in them. With Mario, innovation came in the form of new gameplay elements between the games and unique level designs, but they kept things such as Mario’s basic moveset and the way the player proceeds between levels and hunts down Power Stars largely intact. With Zelda, there’s a bit more stagnation, with each game’s gimmick being more central to certain moments of progressing around the world rather than actual in-the-moment gameplay. Zelda’s main evolutions came in elements like storytelling and world scale, and even perhaps in the dungeon designs. Both franchises notably made heavy-handed attempts at tutorials and guidance to the player, with Zelda being noticeably more intrusive and spending large amounts of time trying to acquaint them with controls that weren’t really that complex to begin with.

Course Correction

With the learnings made from their past games in mind, Nintendo’s most recent entries feel like both responses to critique and course correction to the formulas that had been around for nearly 20 years, by that point. Both Breath of the Wild and Odyssey are sprawling, massive games that celebrate the spirits of the franchises that spawned them.

Most importantly, they each manage to breathe new life into what people once might have believed to be stale formulas. Despite their gameplay and genre differences, both of these games manage to have a shared focus on one important thing: a sense of discovery and learning. They both teach the player how to play without being heavy-handed in their approaches. In the case of Breath of the Wild, it’s one of the coolest tutorials ever made, a microcosm of all you’ll face in the vast world beyond. In Odyssey, it’s a sense of constant learning, pushing your abilities and discovering new ones through capturing enemies. A common theme running through both of these games is that they use the level design to subtly communicate with the player, to encourage them to try and use their abilities in new and interesting ways, or to attempt a game mechanic they’ve never experienced before.

Foggy Beginnings in Bonneton

Super Mario Odyssey begins in much the same way many of the games from the franchise begin- with Bowser kidnapping Princess Peach and flying away on his gunship, sending Mario flying off into the distance with a mighty punch. Mario eventually comes to in the foggy land of Bonneton, and this is where the player gains control of him. During the opening cutscene, Mario’s shredded cap is collected by the floating hat ghost we soon come to know as Cappy, who panics upon realizing Mario is awake, and flies off.

Mario is expected to chase after him, but notably, this is entirely up to the player. This starting area, just by virtue of its design, is able to begin teaching the player about how to move around in the level. No guidance is given on how to do so, only the vague goal of chasing after Cappy. Even just this beginning section of the stage has been level designed out with the intent of familiarizing you with your controls, though. If you choose to head up any of the hills near you, you’re instantly learning how Mario’s run speed slows as he goes up them, and then he starts rushing down on once he reaches the other side. Advancing through the dips between the hills will teach you how fog will part around Mario. Heading off to the side of the hill, there’s a small pool of water in which the player has the option to familiarize themselves with their swimming skills. Of course, this is all on top of having nearly full controls as Mario- and so the player can experience any, all, or none of these in the first 30 seconds of the game beginning. After clearing the hills, the player is faced with a raised platform. They could either run up the ramp, or jump onto the steps one by one that can lead them onto the top of it- a way for them to gently push the player into testing their jumping skills. With that, nearly Mario’s entire set of moves can be tested around in a risk-free playground where the only goal is to go find the remains of your hat. Once you decide to do that, the rest of Mario’s moveset opens up, and you now have the game’s trademark “gimmick.” Nintendo is famous for designing games around a specific gimmick, and throwing your hat and using it for a number of actions is Odyssey’s.

As defined by James Paul Gee in his book Unified Discourse Analysis, affordances are what things are good for, based on what a user can do with them. (Gee 17) Affordances are a concept that comes into play a lot here, because one of the primary points of Mario’s in-level tutorials are to give you a thing, let you play around with it, and then widen your perception of the affordance. They show you more things that can be done with it, but this is done via level design, letting you discover that for yourself at your own pace.

Now, Mario has just been given a hat. A small pop-up appears on screen telling you you can throw it with the Y button, or use the motion controls, but tells you little else. Of course, once you have it, the level is right there, just begging you to use it. There are posters of Bowser to rip down, little pegs you can pull out of the ground, and even lamps you can turn on. It’s all simply part of the level, but because of how satisfying it is to toss your hat everywhere, it does a massive amount for teaching the player how to use their hat well without shoving it in their face. What this does remarkably well is that very same widening of perception mentioned earlier- now we know we can use our hat to interact with objects in the game world, from switches to coins. At the same time, Bonneton is not flat, and this gives the player the chance to improve their platforming skills while they move around in pursuit of coins and things to test their hat on.

Nintendo has an approach they’ve established in the past with regards to Mario games and teaching new concepts to the player, developed and refined by Koichi Hayashida, who was co-director on Super Mario 3d World and also served as the level design director on Galaxy. The concept is called Kishōtenketsu, a narrative structure used in four panel Japanese comics. They introduce an concept, develop it, offer a twist, and then a conclusion. Mark Brown lays out how this has been applied to Mario games in his video “Super Mario 3d World’s 4 Step Level Design.” In the video, he explores how Kishōtenketsu is applied to various levels in 3d World and why the game feels so innovative because of this application. As he puts it, “What it means is that Nintendo has developed a handy, reusable structure that allows for inventions to be taught, developed, twisted, and thrown away.” ("Super Mario 3d World’s 4-step Level design," 2015)

What’s absolutely radical is that Bonneton follows this same structure, and it’s a part of why it’s able to convey so much information about playing Odyssey to the player. The first area the player encounters has no danger, no threats, and few things to interact with. It’s perfect for learning how to move in without any fear of danger or any pressure to move quickly. Once the player crosses the bridge, the second main concept is introduced in the form of your hat. From there, the two concepts of movement and hat usage are developed a little bit more- as I mentioned, the player becomes aware of the affordances they’re given, and their perception widens with each new use. As the level progresses, they’re introduced to a trio of mini Goomba enemies, and then they learn that the hat can be a potent weapon, too.

The twist in Bonneton, the third step of Kishōtenketsu, is the twist- and boy, is it a big one. Once inside Top-hat Tower, which lies at the far side of Bonneton, you’re faced with a series of very tall ledges- too tall for Mario to jump to, normally. Cappy suggests you toss him at one of the frogs hopping about nearby, and should the player do that, they’ll be treated to a (rather horrifying) clip of Mario taking possession of the frog. That’s right- Odyssey’s twist as a game, and it’s second major gimmick, is that you can take control of various entities via tossing your hat at them.

Kishōtenketsu happens to be begun a third time here, once you’ve taken possession of the frog. You’re given a safe place at the bottom of the tower in which you can jump around, get used to how the new form controls, and gather some coins. The concept is developed further through additional exploration of the area, and inventive usage of being a frog is rewarded with a fair amount of coins. Then, it throws a twist at you: a pack of mini Goombas. Unlike in his regular form, Mario can’t really engage in combat as a frog, and so the player has to figure out how to handle this twist. They could jump out of frog form and use their hat to engage in combat, they could attempt to jump on the heads of the goombas (which is easier said than done), or they could simply skip past them. No matter how they deal with them, it manages to teach the player about being careful in captured forms, since some may be more vulnerable than others. The inside of Top-hat Tower concludes with a few high jumps through some enemy-covered platforms, and then rewards you with a power-up that doubles your health. With your frog form mastered, you can safely leave it, and go on your merry way.

The other two instances of Kishōtenketsu we have going on here come to their own conclusion at the top of the tower in their own satisfying way: a boss battle. And of course, they manage to teach the player one more thing about the game, via the boss battle’s mechanics. Having more hats is equivalent to having more health- in order to win the boss, Mario has to hit the Irish Broodal three times to knock away his hat defenses before stomping on him. To do this, the player has to bring their skills to bear. Their hat throwing skills are needed to knock the hats away, and their now-developed movement skills are needed to avoid the danger while the boss’ hats are flying around, as well as to get close and stomp on his head. When he falls, this brings our last two threads to their conclusion.

In one short, seemingly simple level, we have three separate separate Kishōtenketsu stories running that introduce our player to the most important aspects of playing Super Mario Odyssey. The most important part? There’s hardly a text box explanation in sight for your controls, unless you seek it out. The player is simply left to figure everything out on their own, being guided subtly by the level’s design and the hazards they face in it. I think this is a masterclass in how to design a “tutorial” level, one that introduces players to the aspects of the game without patronizing them.

Bonneton’s Kishōtenketsu, Game Feel & the ZPD

I’d be remiss if I didn’t bring up Steve Swink’s Game Feel here, as well. Game Feel discusses a lot about what makes games feel good to play, and attempts to establish specific definitions of its various aspects and principles.

One of Swink’s claims is that a key player experience of good game feel is the pleasure of learning and mastering a skill. As players of games, we like to feel as if we can make incremental improvements in a skill and eventually develop a mastery over it.

Nowhere is this easier to see than in the Kishōtenketsu formula presented by Nintendo- and it’s a part of why their Mario games feel so good to play. Odyssey’s Bonneton is just another level on the long list of the ones Nintendo has engineered to feel so good because we develop a mastery over their mechanics so easily.

Also of note is the Zone of Proximal Development brought up by Gee in Unified Discourse Analysis. This ZPD is the area where a person can perform an action with help and an action they cannot perform at all. (Vygotsky 1978, 86) What Gee claims is that “well-designed games are good at working within players’ ZPDs.” (Gee 124)

What’s interesting is that Bonneton and Kishōtenketsu manage to work within the idea of a ZPD, especially in regards to first-time players. Nothing is impossible or too hard to accomplish here- Bonneton does not ask anything complex in the way of controls. Furthermore, the first and second parts of Bonneton help introduce and then refine the concepts of movement and cap throwing, but do it in a safe environment. This safe environment is key for developing the ZPD because the player isn’t asked to do anything impossible, either- that safe environment itself is the aid given to the player to keep them within that ZPD.

A Pattern Repeated

Super Mario Odyssey is a game that constantly keeps the player learning. While not always given a situation of Kishōtenketsu, elements of it are certainly involved in most of the capture actions a player could potentially perform- and there are fifty-two potential things Mario can capture in the course of the game. While not all of them have true learning curves to all of them, there’s still a substantial amount of completely new movesets that the player has to make sense of. Even the very next level has the player capturing Chain Chomps and using them to destroy rocks, eventually twisting it into fighting enemies, and then into a boss fight at the very end. A side objectives lets them use their mastery of that specific possession to collect bonus Power Moons for their trouble.

Odyssey doesn’t just reward the player with skill- it showers them with reward for figuring out how to apply their newfound knowledge of how to best use captured enemies. The best part of this all is that Nintendo is able to introduce these mechanics, let the player learn how to truly use them, and then the game can put them back into a box for drawing upon later. I found myself getting excited while playing Odyssey and an enemy I had previously captured and used for a level had returned in a later one. They’re able to draw upon their earlier building of the player’s knowledge when familiar enemies return, meaning that there’s less time needed for a tutorial, and more can be spent on dealing with challenges. There is something so satisfying when mechanics can be brought back and you can instinctively go to deal with the challenge because you’ve already seen and developed a mastery over it. It’s good game design, and Nintendo absolutely deserves praise for what they did with Odyssey.

What’s also important to bring up is how Mario explores the world now. Without a “hub world” to be forced back to after reaching an objective, it leaves the player with a powerful sense of freedom to roam around and collect moons they feel are within their reach- the ZPD is at play here. No longer do they need to worry about being forced back to the hub world and have to backtrack based on what they collected first, and it eliminates the unnecessary padding prior Mario games had because of that.

Wake up, Link...

Now, it’s time to take a look at the other core franchise game Nintendo put out in 2017. I’ve written previously about Breath of the Wild’s tutorial experience, saying “it’s so well done that you hardly realize it’s a tutorial.” That still remains very true, and I think one of the best-designed parts of Breath of the Wild is this sequence.

What’s striking about the Great Plateau is how much Nintendo wanted to harken back to the very first game in the franchise with it. In fact, that sentiment runs true for much of Breath of the Wild. The first game just drops you into Hyrule, with only a bit of text crawl talking about finding the Triforce and saving the princess Zelda. Similarly, Breath of the Wild opens up with a disembodied voice telling Link that he must be the light to shine on Hyrule... and that’s sort of it.

From there, the player is left on their own, and they get to see a gorgeous view out that pans to show just how expansive Hyrule is. In a way, it feels very much like the moment in The Lion King where Mufasa says “everything the light touches is yours, Simba.” The very moment of walking out into the game world stole my breath away. Instantly, the game is able to convey its scale to you, the epic journey it will send you on across the land stretching in front of you. After that incredible shot, the player is shown a view of an old man sitting by a fire. While it’s encouraging them to go towards the man, it’s important to point out that they don’t have to. You can simply wander out into the wilderness if you like.

The opening moments of the game already have managed to convey a few things to the player. Firstly, it introduces the concept of armor and clothing, by giving Link some to put on before he heads out. Secondly, it forces the player to have to climb. Free climbing is a big feature of Breath of the Wild, a big first for the series. While climbing, the Stamina wheel is also introduced. Within moments of starting the game, already two tools have been shown to the player, and they have to use them to get out of the starting room.

A step outside the shrine where you begin the game will give you a two options as to where to go. You could go forward, and very quickly have the game teach you about fall damage and how fatal it can be. Your other option would be to go off to the side, towards the aforementioned old man. Along the way, the game will teach a curious player about a number of tools they could use- but as a continuing theme, it does so with as little text as possible. Collecting a tree branch on the ground can give you your first weapon.

Experimenting with button presses will help you learn the related affordances. You can swing it and throw it, at the very least. A few eye-catching mushrooms on a nearby ledge might teach you that you can climb smaller heights to reach things very easily, without depleting much stamina in the process. If you attempt to climb the rest of the mountain, though, you’ll be swiftly introduced to the limits of your affordances- which are another important thing to keep in mind while playing this game. A player can and will run out of stamina while performing certain actions, and part of the gameplay is to be smart when budgeting the stamina needed for tasks.

Of course, climbing the wall or grabbing is completely optional. In fact, on my first playthrough, I completely missed it because I was too busy collecting sticks for my growing weapon collection. When Nintendo was making this game, they really sought to make sure that progression was as open as possible.

A full discussion of the Great Plateau is unfortunately beyond the purview of this paper, but what I admire most about it is what it manages to contain. Youtuber HeavyEyed did a video essay on the subject, and I think his words manage to capture just how excellent of a tutorial this is- and perhaps give some insight into just how the Great Plateau teaches through world and level design. He claims that “It [the Great Plateau] acts as a microcosm for the greater area of Hyrule... you’re free to explore how you see fit. Whatever rules apply outside of here also stay true within it.”

What strikes me about the area is that despite needing to cross it and operate within it for the opening of the game, not all of it is used or explored in-depth, if at all. There are secrets hidden everywhere, as well as parts that have absolutely no bearing on the required parts that are needed to leave the zone and get to the rest of Hyrule. HeavyEyed does an excellent job of giving a brief overview of these areas- such as a hidden boss out in the world that can help teach the player the fact that boss battles will occur outside of dungeons, or an area with dried grass that can easily be lit on fire.

Breath of the Wild also uses the Plateau as a way to introduce world mechanics, and not just affordances like Odyssey does. The dried grass and fire is just one example. Another would be environmental extremes- there is a chilly peak that Link’s clothing is too thin to protect him from. He’ll have to brave it to reach two of the shrines, but there’s a number of ways to get past that. It’s a clever way of getting the player to test out the limits of what’s been afforded to them. My way of getting past the chill was to stock up an inventory full of wooden clubs (since I didn’t know what a torch was just yet) and light something on fire just before the club would disintegrate, and then pick up the flame with a new club. The way Nintendo wanted the player to approach it was through learning how to cook and making a hot dish to keep Link protected, but the fact that I could also simply ignore that lesson and barrel right through it with stubbornness is a testament to how open the tutorial experience is, and how it allows the players to put together the puzzle pieces of affordance in their own way, rather than using Nintendo’s way alone. I didn’t even learn how to cook until long after I had completed the first dungeon of the game, but the game was very gentle in how it approached pushing players to test the limits of their affordances (or learn of their existence at all.)

The other part of the Great Plateau I want to briefly highlight are the Shrines. To earn the paraglider and get off the place, the player must complete four shrines, which give Link his full range of abilities. Each shrine is linear, and serves to introduce the player to the new powers they’re given. The tutorial text here is very minimal, and only serves to tell you the bare minimum of what controls are used to operate each power and a general idea of what can be done with it. It is up to the player to discover the limits of each affordance and just what else it may be used for.

A good example of this is in the Oman Au shrine, which gives the magnesis power, allowing the player to manipulate metal objects and move them around. In Oman Au, you’re first tasked with lifting a metal plate. Then, you’ll have to learn that you can either push or pull a block to reveal the path forwards. After that is an enemy, and should the player still have hold of the block, a creative player might discover a new affordance in the fact they can beat the enemy to death with the block. Alternatively, they could pull out their weapons. On top of that, the enemy fires lasers- so a player might be able to use the metal block to stop the laser attack before moving in closer. While the opening shrines are nothing to write home about as far as challenge goes, their main point is to introduce a player to their abilities and what affordances they might have.

This is reinforced out in the Great Plateau. Once your powers are acquired, you can use them for various things- such as bombs making shortcuts through rocky paths and opening caves, or digging up treasure from the bottom of a lake via magnesis. The world itself encourages playing with your tools and discovering what affordances you can make use of. Once more, this brings Swink’s player experience of mastering a skill into focus, here. The more a player can play with their new toys and discover potential affordances for them, the better the game feels. It’s a sense of discovery, and it’s also a sense of developing skill as time goes on.

A Link to the Past

I began this paper by examining the past of both Zelda and Mario games. In many ways, the core DNA hasn’t changed all too much since the N64 days, lending a feeling of uniformity to the games- especially in the Zelda franchise. This has worked both to its benefit and detriment, depending on who you ask. I’ve just spent a fair amount of time discussing how open the Great Plateau is, how it serves as a miniature version of the challenges that lie ahead for the player. However, I think that the best way to highlight how groundbreaking this is for the Zelda series is to compare this intro to that of Skyward Sword- which is more or less a polar opposite.

Where Breath of the Wild focuses on exposing the player to Hyrule and the aspects of survival in it, Skyward Sword does the opposite. It serves as an introduction to Skyloft, the main city of the game. Much of the intro is rooted in a schoolyard drama plot, which serves to introduce the characters of Link and Zelda, and get players to attempt to care about their friendship. There are some hints at romantic tension as well during it, which is a good device to try and construe just how important Zelda is to Link. Unfortunately, the rather lackluster gameplay manages to bore just about anybody who tries to play it, even for the first time. There is no sense of danger, no chance of failure, and ultimately, it holds the player’s hand so tightly that they can grow resentful of Nintendo for it. I’ll borrow a quote from HeavyEyed’s video Looking at Every Zelda Intro to try and sum up my thoughts on it. “Skyward Sword should go down as the way how not to do a Zelda intro. Really, how an introduction to any game shouldn’t go... there is significantly more handholding than what’s needed. Little things like this guy telling you how to push a block to gain access to higher ground are concepts even a newer player could grasp. This handholding is prominent throughout the entire game, adding what turns into hours of pointless interruptions and souring the entire experience.”

Conclusion

In both of Nintendo’s 2017 entries for the Mario and Zelda franchises, we can observe a reaction to lessons learned from their prior games- and the culmination of the two decades’ worth of change from their respective franchises’ original incarnations in 3d on the Nintendo 64. In the case of Mario, a good deal of positive change came in the development of the Kishōtenketsu formula over every game since Galaxy, and its perfection in the opening level of Odyssey. Mario’s base moveset also was greatly expanded, and when the capture mechanic is added into the mix, the player is constantly learning new ways of putting their abilities to work, discovering and mastering new affordances, and constantly kept in that zone of proximal development. With Zelda, the positive change came from balking series traditions such as long, complicated introductions and instead trying to teach players game mechanics via the design of an area, encouraging them to test the limits of their new abilities. Zelda was able to use Breath of the Wild to escape out from the shadow of Ocarina of Time and avoid heavy-handed, long tutorials that serve only to waste the player’s time.

The most important lesson to learn from Nintendo is that game designers can educate players without being patronizing, and I would argue that it leads to a better overall feel for the game if the game isn’t overtly holding their hands. Nobody likes being treated like a five-year-old. Players like to develop skill, and we should give use skillful, formulaic level design to gently guide them into developing that skill and making them feel like they accomplished it, while also rewarding them for pushing the limits of their given abilities.

References:

Gee, J. P. (2015). Unified Discourse Analysis, 1st Edition. [VitalSource]. Retrieved from https://online.vitalsource.com

Swink, S. (2008). Game Feel. [VitalSource]. Retrieved from https://online.vitalsource.com

Brown, Mark. “The 4 Steps of Level Design in Super Mario's 3D World!” SCHOOL OF GAME DESIGN, Retrieved from schoolofgamedesign.com/project/super-mario-4-step-level-design.

Brown, Mark. [Mark Brown]. (2015, March 16th). Super Mario 3D World's 4 Step Level Design. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dBmIkEvEBtA.

[HeavyEyed]. (2016, December 2nd). Looking At Every Zelda Introduction. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4uhLx3cBnVU.

[HeavyEyed]. (2018, January 29th). The Design of Breath of the Wild's Great Plateau. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RECRuY8L3FQ.