Monday Tip-Off: Is A Franchise Game Ever “Failed”?
We’re at midcourt, and the ball is about to go up…it’s Monday Tip-Off! Join me as I begin the week here at the NLSC with my opinions and commentary on basketball gaming topics, as well as tales of the fun I’ve been having on the virtual hardwood. This week, I’m tipping things off with some thoughts on whether a franchise mode game can ever truly be failed.
I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: completion is what we make it in basketball video games. There are also different reasons to play video games in general, with completion being but one of them. For example, our NLSC THRILLHO squad played over 500 games of 2K Pro-Am in NBA 2K17. We didn’t win any tournaments, snare any prizes for a top ranking, or reach a definitive end point. However, we were having so much fun that we kept meeting up to play all those games, and in doing so, created many fond memories. Competition and camaraderie were the point, not completion.
Traditional NBA season play, whether in the form of a single season, franchise, or career mode, is obviously a little different. Sure, it’s also about competing and having fun along the way, but the format provides a long-term goal: finish at least one season and ideally cap it off with a championship. Franchise modes have also grown deeper over the years, inviting us to customise the experience to our liking and take on more responsibilities. It’s all too easy to get impatient and bored during a long season, or find that setting up the board was more fun than playing the game. Completion is what we make it, but even so, is it ever fair to say that a franchise game has “failed”?
Technically speaking, “failed” is a fair label for any franchise game that ends without closure. I’d say that most of us have had one. We have a scenario in mind as far as the team and maybe a few trades we want to make, so we take the time to set it all up in anticipation of playing a season (or more) of what seems like a fun project. After a few games, we completely lose interest and abandon that franchise file. Perhaps the idea sounded better in our heads, but in practice left us with an unbalanced roster, or a team that was otherwise unenjoyable to use. Whatever the case, if we barely play any games in a franchise after making all of the preparations, we can say that it failed.
This was even worse if you also started an accompanying story topic in the Forum, as I’m sure some of our long-time members can attest (me included)! During the heyday of franchise stories, you never wanted to gain the reputation of being the person that constantly began new franchise games with great enthusiasm, only to lose interest ten games into the season, if not sooner. It didn’t exactly inspire your fellow gamers to get invested in what you were doing, as they began to recognise that an outstanding first chapter would quickly be followed by an abrupt ending and sheepish apologies. Story topic or not however, once again, I’m sure we’ve all had at least one failed franchise.
I’ve certainly had a handful of franchise games that I’d described as failed! I originally intended to play a Cavaliers Dynasty in NBA Live 2005, and even began a story topic for it. A couple of games in however, I realised that I really wanted to play with my favourite team – the Chicago Bulls – and so that’s what I did. I don’t regret the move, but that Cavs Dynasty was undoubtedly a bust of an idea. A few years earlier, I had a Knicks Franchise in NBA Live 2001 PC in which I assembled a strong starting five featuring Chris Webber and Jason Kidd, at the expense of gutting the bench. I didn’t get too far in as I wasn’t feeling the gameplay, so it’s another failed franchise game.
And then there’s my Jazz Franchise in NBA Live 2002, where I traded John Stockton for Mike Bibby, brought in Scottie Pippen, and turned Karl Malone into a sixth man; purely for the absurdity of the scenario. It was briefly amusing as a companion to my more serious Kings Franchise, but the novelty wore off after a couple of games. These failed games demonstrate the two most important factors in maximising your chances of having a long and successful franchise experience: choosing a scenario that’s likely to hold your interest, and a desire to spend hundreds of hours on the sticks. Of course, it’s also possible to sour on an idea or gameplay that you initially found appealing.
That brings me to my Timberwolves Franchise in NBA Live 2003. I played about half of the first season before my frustration with specific aspects of NBA Live 2003’s on-court experience led me to shelve the game, along with that franchise. However, the 40-something games I played on 12-minute quarters represents more than 50 hours on the sticks, which is a good amount of time to sink into a game. I also really enjoyed tinkering with my lineup and putting up numbers with Kevin Garnett; something that no doubt influenced my more successful NBA Live 2004 Bulls Dynasty. No, I didn’t finish a single season in that Timberwolves Franchise, but it wasn’t a waste of time.
The same goes for my Kings Franchise in NBA Live 2002. I played around 60 games on 12-minute quarters, which means I probably tallied about 80 hours of gameplay in that save file alone. It was one of my most memorable basketball gaming experiences despite not finishing the season – my re-creation of it not withstanding – so to me it was time well-spent. That’s what ultimately matters, but it could still be argued that progressing that far and not seeing the season through to the end does fall short of the intended goal. To that end, we could fairly consider a franchise that crashes and burns midseason to be “failed” as much as a game that never managed to get off the ground.
Indeed, from a certain perspective, being so close and yet so far from completion may be seen as a bigger blunder than playing a couple of games of a failed franchise, and deciding it’s not going to work out before you’re in too deep. If nothing else, we could perhaps conclude that there are multiple ways for a franchise to be failed rather than it coming down to a specific number of games/hours played. Mind you, failure is in the eye of the beholder here, and the way we look at the franchise games we didn’t finish is what determines whether or not we “failed”. Sure, technically speaking we failed to achieve completion, but if it was still fun, didn’t the game serve its intended purpose?
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained” is the saying that comes to mind here. Yes, we usually strive for completion when it comes to any kind of season play in basketball video games, but we can still have a blast in a “failed” attempt at doing so. Consider other genres of video games. I could name a number of titles going back to the 8-bit era that I’ve never finished, yet I still consider them all-time favourites that I’ve really loved playing over the years. Similarly, there are basketball games in my collection that have become favourites – sometimes retroactively – despite the fact that I’ve never even begun a franchise or season in them. I’ve just enjoyed those games in other ways.
In fact, because completion is what we make it, I’ll go a step further and suggest that any franchise game that fizzles out quickly hasn’t necessarily failed; not in a way that actually matters, anyway. Granted, it’s embarrassing if we shared the experience with our fellow gamers via a story topic and got everyone excited for a tale that wrapped up before it even began with no resolution, but at least we were moved to give an idea a try. The same goes for franchises that last a bit longer. Maybe they lost their appeal, or perhaps life got in the way, but we were willing to dedicate as much time to them as we could. It speaks to our passion for the mode that we progressed as far as we did.
Are there some regrets involved? Absolutely! No one starts a franchise game hoping that it’ll join a list of seasons they failed to finish. There’s disappointment that an idea didn’t pan out, or that the gameplay failing to keep us hooked made it impossible to sink more time into an intriguing franchise scenario. Personally, I regret that I was careless with the save files for some of my “failed” franchise games as I’d love to give them another try, or at least be able to fire them up to reflect on the results. What I don’t regret – what none of us should regret – is having the interest and motivation to explore an idea in a game mode that’s so extremely enjoyable when everything clicks.
Even some of my franchise games that failed to produce enjoyment on the virtual hardwood still involved making satisfying trades as I was reshaping my roster to set up the desired scenario. They were learning experiences, showing me some of the possible swaps and methods of maximising my return on trades. It gave me ideas for players that I might want to acquire in other, more successful franchise games. And of course, the process of setting up a new franchise is actually a lot of fun. Truth be told, the satisfaction of seeing a vision take shape and the enticing promise of a clean slate is probably why some people in our community enjoyed starting over so frequently!
When you take personal satisfaction and enjoyment into account, a failed franchise – much like completion in basketball video games – is what you make it. While my “failed” franchises obviously don’t represent my most successful efforts in one of my favourite modes of play, they’re nevertheless fond basketball gaming memories. My silly Jazz Franchise is amusing to reminisce about. As I’ve come to accept NBA Live 2003 for what it is – Courtside Comedy and all – I can’t help but consider re-creating that Timberwolves Franchise. These “failures” stick in my mind not because they’re regretful blunders, but because they underscore my enthusiasm for franchise gaming.
In terms of falling short of achieving completion, yes, it’s technically possible to have a failed franchise game. Whether you’ve barely begun a campaign or you’re deep into the season when you abandon a file, it’s not an entirely successful effort. However, I’d suggest that “failed” is too harsh of a word that misses the point. If you play a game for 50-100 hours and have a blast on the sticks, it wasn’t a waste of time. It’s still a meaningful experience, even if you didn’t reach a definitive end point. With that in mind, it can still be a fun journey. Indeed, if a failed franchise game was ultimately enjoyable, then on some level it was successful, and thus a worthwhile endeavour.
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