on "The Art of Game Design"

Just yesterday I had to receive a few immunity shots (including anthrax and smallpox) and I've been considerably more tired as of last night than I normally am. Because of this, I was only able to make it through the first 10% (I'm reading on a Kindle) of "The Art of Game Design." On top of it all, I read slow. I don't read slow because I can't read fast, I read slow because I frequently stop to consider what an author is thinking when they write any given sentence, what their motivations are, what other consequences of a theory there may be, and so forth. I do this with fantasy and sci fi novels just as much as with theoretical books; it's just how my mind develops. What little I did get through proved to be better than I had anticipated.

Have you ever read a book and had the feeling you were reading your own writing? As if a version of yourself, a life you might have otherwise lived, had manifested itself in some other author who put down their thoughts in almost the exact manner you yourself had considered them? That is how I felt the moment I began reading "The Art of Game Design." I'm sure most people can relate to this experience, even though on its face it appears to be one of those things only an egomaniac might say.

The only real issue I have with the book is that, on occasion, the author seems to be defending himself from his invisible colleagues who he knows will read and scrutinize the work. So, he sometimes ends up delving into one "now, you might think this is silly because __" after another. Once in particular this rabbit trail got a little bit absurd, and it was clear he was defending himself from an anticipated retort from a colleague in his own mind. However, I can hardly fault the author for this, as I have caught myself doing the same thing, even on this young blog. So, I fault him for this in the manner I fault myself for it: it isn't that good, but I certainly sympathize with it.

A few particular areas of interest:

After describing everything he's ever been in his life, including professional juggler and comedian, Mr. Schell says the following: "I mention all this only because at various times in this book, I will be drawing examples from these experiences, since every single one of them has taught me valuable lessons about the art of game design. That might sound surprising now, but hopefully, as you read this book, it will help you see the ways that game design meaningfully connects to the many experiences in your own life." No, Mr. Schell. In fact, I could not possibly agree more.

Another later quote: "...you will be even more surprised to see how [this book] uses principles, methods, and examples from music, architecture, film, science, painting, literature, and everything else under the sun will be pulled in...Everything you know and everything you have experienced is fair game at the design table. [emphasis mine]

It does not make much difference what a person studies. All knowledge is related, and the man who studies anything, if he keeps at it, will become learned. - Hypatia"

It is incredibly refreshing to see my own sentiment stated by an established, respected game designer. It isn't knowledge of games that makes a great designer, it is knowledge of anything and everything. As I said in my first entry, it is the renaissance man.

The following gave me a little bit of comfort as I have been struggling to get to a discussion of the specifics of game design on this fledgling blog. Here are his two cents: "Game design is not an easy subject to write about. Lenses and fundamentals are useful tools, but to truly understand game design is to understand an incredibly complex web... Everything in this web is connected to everything else...Most experienced designers have built up this web in their minds, slowly, over many years, learning the elements and relationships by trial and error. And this is what makes game design so hard to write about." He then goes on to describe the difference between linear entertainment that is driven by the entertainer, and the non-linear form gaming takes on as it puts the fate of the experience in the hands of the recipient. To me, it is this fact that makes a sandbox game world the greatest form of game design of them all: it puts the player's fate in their own hands like no other form of entertainment attempts to do.

This next quote seems to support this opinion: "There are certain feelings: feelings of choice, feelings of freedom, feelings of responsibility, feelings of accomplishment, feelings of freindship, and many others, which only game-based experiences seem to offer." What form of game combines and magnifies these more than all the others? Admittedly this is debatable and changes from player to player, but in my mind, the answer is the sandbox MMO.

He later says: "Anyone who creates something that people are meant to experience and enjoy has something to teach us, and so we will pull rules and examples from designers of every stripe, being as 'xenophilic' as possible." This was a humbling area for me, as it has not been the purpose of my profession to create enjoyable experiences for others (although I feel it may be my calling). There are those all across the entertainment industry that know the particular principles far beyond my bare understanding. I have played a few musical instruments in my life (oboe, drums, steel drum, and guitar mainly) so music is the only place where I feel marginally competent. Even in that field, I have close friends whose knowledge of musical theory simply puts me to shame, and they aren't even industry professionals (although they easily could have been). This area was a lesson well taken, and imagining myself in charge of a group of people each with deep knowledge in lighting, music, sound, graphics, and all other aspects of production quality, was a very healthy thing to do.

The first Lens is "The Lens of Essential Experience." This lens is about distilling what the overall experience you wish to convey is, and finding creative ways to cause the player to experience it. This Lens is fantastic. Mr. Schell gives one example when he describes a game whose essential experience was to recreate a snowball fight. He talks about the differences between players with gloves and those without (they form more compact balls, but their hands turn blue, begin to shake, etc.), he speaks about the sound of the wind whistling by, of puffs of mist coming out of players' mouths, and on and on. He lists all of the memorable experiences involved with a snowball fight, and attempts to determine the essence of each memorable experience. There is some confusion in this chapter, as he seems to define Essential Experience on the one hand as that experience which is essential to the game's design (perhaps to its core mechanic, I do not know), and on the other hand as that particular essence of any experience which makes it memorable. He kind of bounces between the two, so I'll assume he did this because he thought of them as two sides of the same lens. Applied to my own MMORPG, I am able to pin down the essential experience in my mind, but I'm not quite ready to attempt to describe it in words. I will endeavor to do so in the future. I feel that discovering the essences of those experiences within the game that I intend to be memorable will be a much easier task.

The second Lens is "The Lens of Surprise." Mr. Schell makes a fair attempt to explain how surprise is a part of all entertainment. This Lens' description is extremely short, and I vaguely feel that it is a little superfluous, although not necessarily useless. Surprise seems to me to be better served as a means to a larger experience than as an end in and of itself, so I fear this Lens may be somewhat misleading. Nevertheless, it is worth keeping in mind.

The third Lens is "The Lens of Fun." He begins this chapter by saying that "Fun is desirable in nearly every game..." Nearly every game? Unless he is referring to "game" in the purely lexical senses (i.e. "war games" etc.) then I can't imagine a game in which fun is an undesirable trait. It is often difficult to know if he means words like "game" in all the lexical contexts in which they might occasionally enjoy use, or in the sense that we would expect him to actually mean in this kind of book. This can occasionally cause a bit of confusion. In any case, I found this Lens to be, ironically, the most fun so far:

Mr. Schell spends most of the chapter trying to define "play." He walks us through various popular definitions, and the humorous thing is that all of these popular definitions are grossly flawed. He points out exactly in what way each one is flawed, but anyone with half a brain can quickly discern the reasons for him or her self. It becomes evident that Mr. Schell is not entirely sure that a 100% accurate definition is possible. However, having debunked all these other definitions, he offers up his own: "Play is manipulation that indulges curiosity." He is quick to add that this definition is not perfect, and asks the reader if they can find the flaws. So I did.

Quite simply, there are instances of "manipulation that indulges curiosity" that are not also play. For example, if you reach your finger into a light socket, wondering what will happen, it would seem strange to define that as "play." Let's say further that you are a homeowner, and in order to diagnose an electrical problem in you house, you (fairly stupidly) decide to test the socket by sticking a fork in it. Clearly, that was not play, regardless of whether you are electrocuted or not. You might as well define play as "intentional discovery." I would also ask in what way running around playing a game of "freeze tag" indulges curiosity - yet it is clearly play. I suppose in some shallow sense people playing tag indulge their curiosity over who will win the game, or who is the fastest runner, yet this feels like fairly empty reasoning.

So, I came up with my own definition of play, which I think is relatively solid. To me, play is: the act of entertaining a fanciful ego. I mean "entertaining" in the sense of indulging. Every sports player who plays is entertaining their ego, or alter-ego if you prefer to call it that, of being a great ball thrower, runner, catcher, quarterback, etc. A cat playing with a ball of yarn is (likely) entertaining its ego as a slayer of mice. Children playing tag are entertaining their egos as great predators, quick-running sportsman, or any number of other things. This definition is unique because it incorporates the reason someone does something: two people may do the same thing but its possible only one is playing. That occurs frequently in real life. The one we would call "playing" is the one entertaining some part of their ego; the one who is not entertaining their ego is either "working" or doing something akin to it. Mr. Schell gives an example of a man who inspects boxes, has done so for years, and loves his job. The man has turned his job into a game by trying to beat his personal average inspection time each day, with each box (each box requiring roughly 30-45 seconds to inspect). He is entertaining his ego as the great Olympic champion of box inspectors. The book even states that, as quoted by a psychologist who has studied the man, "he approaches his task in the same way an Olympic athlete approaches his event..." Remember, it's not just the person's ego in general, a key word in the definition is fanciful.

I would also say that a person who is mindlessly playing a game such as Minesweeper, is not actually "playing" at all. They are merely acheiving an objective, and it would be more accurate to say that they are working at Minesweeper. The fact that we don't say a person is "working Minesweeper" is a failure of us, socially, to use words of proper conveyance - unless, of course, the person using the game is entertaining their ego (vying for a top score, for one example). Perhaps the reason we always assume activity such as Minesweeper is play is simply because we cannot know their mind, and the word play is inherently less depressing than the word work.

So, what do you think of my definition, and of Mr. Schell's?

The final lens I had time to read was "The Lens of Curiosity." It is only discussed briefly, and serves to ensure that the player in a game is still active in attempting to learn new things. This lens is extremely important in today's MMORPGs, which seem to have dumbed down player quests/goals with relatively boring, linear systems lately.

Next comes the section that actually attempts to define a game. Knowing that this section would require the full brunt of my attention, I decided that it was a good place to stop for the evening.

I have left out a lot of information in this synopsis. These are the parts that intereted me the most. There was a great deal of discussion of experience in the metaphysical sense, how philosphers have thought of it over time, and of the more pragmatic (and scientifically accepted) way of dealing with human experiences: i.e. subjecting someone to something and watching how they react. He also discussed why the metaphysical way of looking at experience is more useful to us as game designers (although both can be). There really was a lot of good stuff I don't have time to discuss, and that is how it will be as I continue to report on the book in future entries.