Game Design: Mechanics II

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Now listening to: “Song of Healing“, by Theophany

There’s are things called dominant strategies. Bad games like Starcraft II suffer them. Worse games like Monopoly are irretrievably broken by them.


Hey, listen. I didn’t invent the concept. If your game needs a balance patch every few months to keep it from crystallizing into two or three optimal strategies, that’s no one’s fault but your own. I’m not saying I can do it better. I’m just saying that, for me, playing a game where there’s little room for deviation from a tightly measured recipe is boring. I hear that a lot of people enjoy playing a classical piece flawlessly on the piano.

All games suffer from a crystallizing effect due to dominant strategies. There are no games without dominant strategies. It’s a byproduct of having rules. If there are rules, there are boundaries. If there are boundaries, there are jagged edge cases. If there are jagged edges, there are opportunities to exploit.

“Meta” is a term that arises from the need to analyze the current state of affairs as far as dominant strategies go and how players react to them, Strategy is a function of an assessment of risk and skill. A strategy that requires little skill and poses no risk and finds itself dominant is game poison.

A disparity between a player’s expectations of the levels of skill and chance required to play a game can spell disaster faster than anything else can. It is up to the designer to establish clearly what the rules are and to lay bare any clauses that a player might need to know to avoid the feeling of being cheated. A failure to do so will result in the player not understanding the boundaries of play and quitting in frustration.

I can only assume what “Head and Hands” must be all about. I’m thinking something about balancing motor skills with mental skills. That’s probably it.

#39 Meaningful Choices

#40 Triangularity

#41 Skill vs. Chance

#42 Head & Hands

Game Design: Mechanics

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Now listening to: my baby girl gurgle

This is all very theoretical and abstract. The space presented to the player is rarely the space in which the designer develops, yada yada yada… I don’t care too much for abstract thought and theoretical jerking. I get it. It’s easier to visualize the core of the game when you strip away the bells and whistles. Got it, thanks, next.

Time, however, is important. In marketing, as in comedy…

… timing is everything.

There’s something about the machine state, which makes me think about Ghost in the Shell. There’s something more about secrets, fuck if I remember, I read that bit months ago. I didn’t even write anything down. I was in such an emotional and psychological funk that I just trudged through these pieces. I’m sure that if I had been in my current mood, those paragraphs would’ve been found ladden with meaning and insight. Oh well, moving on.

Gameplay is decision making. Wow, brilliant. Yes, it is. Moving on. There’s a small annotation about the difference between tactics (raw action) and strategy (higher-level decisions). There’s something about emergent gameplay, heard the whole gaming community masturbate to that term furiously decades ago. Not much there. There’s a bracket stating that a tactic requires a verb to be considered one. That’s actually pretty clever to be sure you’re properly dimensioning them.

There’s a half-baked idea to implement elemental motes on a game I’m working on with a couple of people. It’s a horrible, slap chop piece of design, but maybe it can fix a problem we’re having.

Ah, goals! Finally! Paydirt, baby!

A goal is concrete, achievable and rewarding. You use skills to make it happen.

Holy. Shit. I was in such a bad funk that I literally forgot to jot down two lenses into my notebook. That job was fucking killing me. Well, glad that’s over. Too bad, though, cause this looks really interesting. I’ll have to revisit these chapters later. There’s a few lines about probability. I remember finding that refresher a treat.

I really like the part about players choosing between the low-powered but reliable Magic Missile and the high-powered but unreliable Lightning Bolt. A live example of this can often be found in competitive Pokemon. Most competitive players will shun the extremely powerful but fickle Hydro Pump water attack in favor of the more moderate but also more reliable Surf.

Balance is not just about raw power. It’s more like a recipe. You know when it’s just right.

#26 Functional Space

#27 Time

#28 State Machine

#29 Secrets

#30 Emergence

#31 Action

#32 Rules

#33 Goals

#34 Skill

#35 Expected Value

#36 Chance

#37 Fairness

#38 Challenge

Game Design: Speak with Child

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Sometimes called Speak with Dead.

I like new things. That’s what I like. I find delight in new experiences. That’s why board games appeal to me so strongly. They’re a new experience every time. Even the same game with the same people often provides a new experience.

A man desires mastery, competition, destruction, spatial reasoning and victory through trial and error. Guess that’s why I like X-wing so much. And why my wife hates it. Women prefer emotion, ties to the real world, nurturing mechanics, dialog and verbal components, to learn by following an example. She loves Great Western Trail.

Schell has a fairly interesting passage about needs and how they fit into our lives according to Maslow. Haftas vs. wannas, however, takes the cake.

Haftas solve for pain avoidance. Either I block or I’ll incur in serious damage. Wannas solve for pleasure seeking. If I chain this just right I’ll build my attack into a massive combo. The parry is a sublime mechanic. The parry marries a hafta with a wanna. The hafta portion is avoiding damage, while the wanna portion is building your combo bar.

The amazing thing about Nidhogg is that you can disarm your opponent while dueling. Without that, I don’t think the game would be nearly as fun as it is. It’s not an indispensable mechanic, oh no, but pulling a disarm makes you feel like a million dollars.

Intrinsic and extrinsic motivation, pain avoidance and pleasure seeking, these are the axes of drive. To me, the appeal of novelty is overwhelming, I’m a junkie for new and delightful experiences. That being said, there’s no such thing as a universal set of motivations. There are base motivations to do so, true, and if one digs deep enough one can reach the layers of instinct. But even instinct varies from person to person.

There’s no one universal motivation to play. That’s why it’s important to hit the nail in the head. You need to know what you’re building and who you’re building it for.

#22 Needs

#23 Motivation

#24 Novelty

#25 Judgement

Game Design: Resistance II

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Now listening to: “Baket Street”, by Gerry Rafferty

It’s been months, and what I wrote last was “know your audience”. I was missing a small additional sentence.

Know thyself.

This is the slowest book I’ve read in my life. Ironic, since this subject interests me immensely. I feel, though, that there’s an underlying fear crippling my efforts to move forward with this. So back on the saddle for me, I guess. There’s other stuff I want to read at least. 2017 will be a very slow book year for me otherwise, and the Discworld series is long.

I’ve learnt something reasonably important as far as skill and challenge go. Games that offer too much of a challenge drive players away out of sheer frustration. The task is so beyond your skill and reasonable chance to accomplish that you just give up. And before someone bleats “Bit whit abit Dirk Sils!”, because I just know you fucking trolls are out there, know that the Dark Souls series and roguelikes in general are a reaction to decades of dumbing down games to the mainstream audience.

There’s a band of difficulty that generates pleasure when overcome, and this band is different for everyone. Some people get off on a band that would bore others to tears. Others get off on a band that would generate despair on the hardiest of gamers.

Why am I talking about skill and challenge? Because it ties to my last post months ago. You have to know your audience, and the bands of difficulty that they get off to. If you try to peddle the Assassin’s Creed series to Dark Souls junkies you’ll burn up on entry. I myself, from time to time, like a challenge. Is it the same level of difficulty every time?

Hell no. I went on an Enter the Gungeon binge a few months back. It was fun as hell until I hit a brick wall that I just couldn’t get over. Then I scaled it back to Darkest Dungeon. That held my interest for a while until it got repetitive. Now I’m looking at Stellaris and lusting after it.

Who’s to say that in a few months I won’t be back to hardcore roguelikes? I just might. But you know what I get tired of far less frequently?

Multiplayer games.

I recently went on a WoW binge and dropped it. The challenge is kinda sorta there but there’s just so much grey paste to chew down with it that it’s just not worth it. I dabbled in LoL again. The only role I find actually fun, the jungler, holds little to no secrets I find worth exploring anymore. I’m doing a bit of Overwatch, and it’s fun. The only problem is that the difficulty levels from match to match vary so wildly that it throws me off completely.

There’s a real problem lately for me in finding the game that appeals to my specific flow of difficulty.

#22 Flow

Game Design: Iteration

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OK, funny thing happened yesterday.

I came back from a print shop with an 300 gr A3 board full of cards. And, just to disappoint you as much as I did my wife, these were not my game’s card.

Yesterday I discovered the worst feeling in the world. Disappointing my wife. Holy shit, I had never been on that particular stool and I don’t care to ever sit on it again.

But it came from the most unexpected angle. See, I’m developing this game quite under wraps. I tell very little people about it yet, because I don’t want to make too much of a fuss about it, considering I have some other issues to attend to that make game development seem like the stupidest possible endeavour.

Certainly, I hoped my wife wouldn’t think too much of it, because she’s dealing with these other issues as much as I am and sometimes a lot more. I felt that letting her know I was devoting my time to developing a game was not only a dumb thing to do but a complete waste of time. She knows I’m passionate about them. Hell, she even plays quite a few games herself. But I always felt like we’re talking about F-level priorities when game development is concerned.

Well, apparently, not so. Of late I had to put it a few extra hours to make a few things of this project come together. She, being my wife, of course noticed and asked me about what I was doing. My shush job is not my strongest suit, so I answered vaguely with some Illustrator/Photoshop mumbojumbo.

Imagine your wife’s face. If you don’t have a wife, imagine your girlfriend’s face. Now imagine it sad. Sadder. Take all the wind out of her. That’s the face she presented.

“Oh, I thought you had finally made a game!”

Ladies and gentlemen, Elvis has just left the building.

Anyway, about iteration. The thing I realised is that I’ve been jumping the gun. Everything I have had until now are just ideas. The vampire game. The fire game. And a billion others that popped into my mind as I crunched through Schell’s book. They aren’t games, and ideas are a dime a dozen. Really.

So I decided to record every single game idea I’ve had so far that I can remember since I started reading this book. I just dumped them on an Excel spreadsheet. If I get a good riff on one of them going, I just jot down additional notes for them. Still, just ideas. Not games, ideas.

The first thing I have to do is choose the idea that I think has the best chances of surviving the gauntlet.

Right off the bat? I’ve got like 18 game ideas. Not 300, or 3,000, certainly not 30,000. Just 18. Ranging from pretty good to absolutely bland. I like “very low-level D&D”, think a “duelists” game has potential, think a game about an “auction of ridiculous opulence and competitiveness” sounds stupid but fun and that a game about creating a “spaceship engine by adding tiles and distributing power” might be really cool.

I’ll put each idea quickly through a condensed ringer and see what comes out. I’ll give myself a little while to mull things over before picking a finalist. I can already kind of tell that the fire game is out or will change dramatically before even coming out of the gauntlet.

#15 Eight Filters

#16 Risk Mitigation

#17 Toy

#18 Passion

Game Design: Elements III

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I couldn’t test drive even the most rudimentary form of game prototype this weekend.

I realized last time that I had nothing. Or, more likely, I had something. Just not clearly defined.

I played some Oink Games games this weekend. “Insider“, “Deep Sea Adventure“, “Startups“. They were all amazing and all just slightly larger than two stacked packs of playing cards. The first one had cards, a plastic hourglass and 7 role tokens. The second one had a small cardboard submarine with an oxygen counter printed on it, six coloured meeples, a small wooden token to keep track of oxygen levels and a bunch of shape-coded tokens representing treasure. The last one had six company tokens, a bunch of two-sided coins (1 and 3), a stack of company cards and a few extra chits for an alternate playing mode that we didn’t really use.

I repeat, they were all incredible. They were so, so, so much fun. We played each one multiple times over, loving every single playthrough.

Congrats to everyone involved in getting those games in my hands!

I’m willing to go out on a limb here and say that these incredible games didn’t fit in these boxes during development.

I need to put footprint in the back. I need to put aesthetics, story, technology away. I need to focus on creating a fun game.

“You can watch someone and copy moves, but you can’t copy inspiration.”

I could try for the rest of my life to copy Bruce Lee, but I’d never be able to get his moves just right. He had his own thing going on, as we all, so there’s no point in striving for a perfect copy.

It’s funny. I’m reading my notes and, amongst many ideas for games, there’s one about “scuba diving”. I just played a game about scuba diving and treasure hunting and, let me tell you, the designer nailed the feeling for it. Yeah, you got other variables, but everyone who’s gone scuba diving knows that oxygen is what matters. You gotta keep an eye on your oxygen levels. Everything else comes second because, if you run out of oxygen, you got seconds to live. Everything you do under water, every decision you make, is mediated by your oxygen supply. In that respect, “Deep Sea Adventure” is pure genius. Get it.

What’s the quintessential experience of building a fire? I’ve built a fair few. I should be able to pin this down!

It’s the trance of the dancing flames.

It’s the warmth.

It’s the embers in the heart of it.

It’s getting lost in its wonder.

When travelling across Turkey a couple of years ago, my mom and I were staying at a pretty snazzy hotel. It had everything you could possibly wish for and more, but given its modern design, what it did not have was a fireplace. Of course, a fireplace is a pretty specific thing to want, so most people are not troubled by it. But if you’ve been out on a cold, rainy day, want to take your wet socks off and dry off? Trust me, a fireplace is exactly the kind of thing you want. This hotel, however, didn’t have one on account of its aforementioned modern design.

What it did have, though, was a fairly cozy reading room across the reception area of the lobby.

In it, a large selection of books was available. It had comfy armchairs, tables and warm lighting. It also had, however and for some bizarre reason, a large TV right where a fireplace should be.

A large, crisp 1080p TV, a video of a crackling fireplace playing merrily on its screen.

Instinctively I approached it. The damn room didn’t have anything resembling heating, and I was still needing the comfort and coddling that warmth promised. I approached the screen.

And, of course, nothing. My monkey brain stood there for a second, confused. Then I burst out laughing. A few minutes later, the screen switched to another kind of fireplace, then to another, then another. My mother and I found this hilarious. This was so not what we needed.

The hotel, the reading room and the TV have all gone down in our personal history as the place where we found “The Fireplace Channel, Home to the Best Fireplaces From Around the World!”.

When we want to bring attention to something that we find particularly ridiculous, useless or inane, we always bring up The Fireplace Channel.

There’s little that I can remember that proved to be a greater disappointment than huddling around a digital fireplace and feeling no warmth.

And for that I have ridiculed the hotel, that reading room, that TV and the whole concept of a fireplace TV channel for years now!

Can you convey the feeling of warmth without actually lighting something on fire? Can you convey what firelight does for us without building a fire?

Because fire, without warmth or light, will not feel like fire. A game about fire that does not get those feelings across is, if not completely pointless, not on theme.

“He who derails, rerails.”

#13 Infinite Inspiration

#14 Problem Statement

Game Design: Elements II

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Now listening to: mirth, laughter and a guitar.

So, back to the drawing board. I’ve got an initial Y-shaped burning tree. I’ve got my stack of fuel cards. And I can already tell that there’s a pretty obvious mistake I’ve made.

I have no idea how this is supposed to work. So I step into the shoes of the first player.

Player 1: I go out in search for wood. (take a burning log)

*draws three cards

(… is it more exciting to not be able to reveal what you found?)

Player 2: I too go out to search for wood. (take burning log)

*draws three cards

(… hmmm, this is the same, isn’t it?)

Player 3: Uh…

BRRRNT! First problem. The third player is out of things to do. Even worse, there’s nowhere to go, strategically speaking. Either you go out and search for wood or… what?

Erase. Again.

So it’s the mechanics, by far, the piece of a game that needs the most attention in the early phases of development. I mean, really, right now? Aesthetics don’t matter. Technology doesn’t really matter unless a lack of it impedes the flow of the game. Story only matters insofar as it inspires interesting mechanics to play around with. Interplay between the mechanics and the story will drive development of the game forward.

If to write a mighty book you need a mighty theme, to develop a mighty game you probably need the same kind of thing, right? A resonant theme. That’s easier said than done. A strong theme drives a strong story, and from a strong story the inspiration for strong mechanics flows. I should get in the shoes of the cavemen and really try to capture what fire meant for them when they discovered it. It meant survival. It meant taking control of nature. It meant man at the top of the food chain. It’s fire that’s made man transcend the monkey and venture into the darkness of the night.

So I need to prey on my players. The hunted need to become the hunters. A victory condition could be to rewrite the food chain with them at the top. That’s interesting. Maybe they get chewed on during the first half of the game. And once fire is discovered, there’s their chance to make a break for it, so to speak.

#10 Holographic Design

#11 Unification

#12 Resonance

Game Design: Elements

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That being said, I can’t stop writing and reading while I wait for each playtest.

Even if I can make ’em happen weekly, which is a big “if”, I need to read and write faster than that. Some of Schell’s questions will have to be tagged as “TC” (“to come”) until I can answer them with further playtesting.

So, about elements.

There’s a reason, apparently, as to why I became so invested in looks. It’s the most visible part of the game. In fact, a large portion of the modern gaming industry treads on looks and polygon count. Holy fuck, if I’m gonna shoot straight dice, my last two computer purchases were probably completely driven by that single factor. And the kicker is, I don’t even like those high poly games. I’m perfectly happy playing Monaco, or Fez, or WoW, or Crusader Kings 2. Never have I ever felt the need to really upgrade my computer because a game I truly, really, actually loved demanded more than what I had to give.

Except, maybe, Skyrim.

But yeah, aesthetics count. They’re just not important right now. Right now, what’s important is to get the mechanics right. It’s what’ll make the game fun. The right mechanics, the right story, underpinned by the right technology.

Technology? Right now it’s cards, so I think we’re OK.

Story? I still feel it might be a little bit dry, but if add a few mechanics which might make the game even more enjoyable there might be a story to tell there.

And mechanics? Well, that’s what I should be working on right now. That’s what I should’ve been grinding over these past few months. Zeroing in on the few interesting mechanics that either make my game a fun game to play or a piece of garbage.

So I need a goal for my players, which right now should be to survive.

  • How? By keeping a large enough bonfire alight.
  • How? By placing fuel on top/next to the already lit sections of the fire to keep it going.
  • How? By scrounging for resources.

There’s a lot to unpack right there.

At its core I want the game to be a sort of puzzle game where, turn over turn, the puzzle changes. You’re sort of managing a naturally dwindling fire that’ll go out if you don’t add enough fuel. To add fuel, you need to place the logs over or adjacent to other lit logs and in the next turn you flip them over to their lit side. The logs stay lit for a whole round and then go out, so players need to go out and get more. But there’s a trade-off, because each player gets only a couple of actions on their turn:

  • Search for logs: take a lit log from the burning pile to do this. It is consumed in the process. You may draw three cards from the top of the deck.
  • Add to the bonfire: you may take three logs from the general supply and add them to the bonfire.

This is not terrible, but it is certainly limited within the spectrum of decision-making. Firstly, you don’t get to choose the cards you draw when you search. You are just given the top three cards. There’s no strategy there. Secondly, when you return, you just get to add them wherever you want within the mosaic of unlit, lit and burnt logs that is the puzzle. Very, very thin strategy there as well. And I haven’t even figured out how the “general supply” factors into all of this, or why is it even necessary.

So the only interesting thing is figuring out how to place the logs to keep the fire going, which kind of sucks. I mean, there may be some meat on those bones, but it’s congealed gristle.

Let’s give it another shot.

How about we start with a little story?

  • There’s a miserable bunch of cavemen huddling beneath a tree while a storm rages around them. They’re cold from the rain and afraid of the wolves that are about to eat them.
  • Suddenly, lightning strikes the tree, lightning it on fire. Warmth seeps into the cavemen’s bones and the wolves disperse.
  • They are saved, and realize that fire is a powerful tool to wield. As long as there’s enough fire, they’re safe.
  • Not long after, they are scrambling to keep it alight.


So maybe the game can start with a few pre-lit and unlit logs? Kinda like a starting scenario that allows the players more freedom to explore? Maybe a roughly Y-shaped thing at the centre? So now the players can go out and search for fuel.

Searching for fuel, the cavemen find different kinds of things. Kindling, tinder, softwoods, hardwoods. These can have different effects when placed on the ongoing bonfire. Softwoods could be your standard kind of wood. If you place it, it lights up by the start of the next player’s turn. Maybe hardwoods take longer to light up but last longer as well? You can add some tempo considerations into the game as well. Maybe tinder or kindling lights up right away, allowing you to pull off a magnificent save or jumpstart something.

Now, what do cavemen need to survive? Assuming they have a ready supply of water, they also need food. Maybe, at the end of each month, the tribe needs to have a certain amount of food. Without food, the cavemen starve and die, losing the players the game. This is starting to sound a bit Agricoly, which is not a bad thing, but it may step into the realm of something more complicated than what I want.

… let’s cross out food for now. They just need to have X amount of lit logs at the end of each of the 12 rounds. If not, they lose. Is 12 rounds to much? Hmm…

My first test will be to see if this firebuilding puzzle thing has any legs. Maybe it doesn’t, maybe it does. I can think of a couple of ways the exact mechanic can be exploited to make the challenge trivial so I’ll also test for that.

#9 Elemental Tetrad

Game Design: Resistance

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Now listening to: nothing.

I’ve hit my first Resistance roadblock. I’ve been finding myself unable to proceed without a working prototype. This is a larger gap than I had expected.

See, Schell’s book asks a lot of questions. That’s what a good book does, I guess. But I’ve been finding that a lot of questions cannot be answered without some playtesting. And some playtesting cannot be done without a game to test. So I’ve been trying to get a prototype going.

But that created another roadblock in itself. Because I knew (lol!) that even if I could wheedle my friends (lol again!) into playing my crummy little game (lololololololololol!), if it didn’t look good the odds of them ever playing it again would drop dramatically.

Keep in mind, I haven’t tested this game even once outside the vague ideas my head.

WARNING! lulz reaching critical levels…

Jesus, talk about getting over yourself.

You know what’s gotten the ball rolling again? That I’ve set myself the goal to read at least 12 books this year. Last year I could only manage 8, and I felt like an idiot, because the year before that I had managed 16 or something. But I cannot read the next book until I’m done with the current one.

So those are my options. Either I’ll get over myself and learn to make games, or at least read a book about how to make them, or I’ll never read anything else again.

So here we are.

My first idea was to buy small paper stock from Staples and cut it into quarters to get a small stack of blank cards going. After that, my plan was to draw what I need over them and have my friends playtest that. Simple, ugly, reasonably fast.

This was a couple of months ago.

I’ve spent the intervening period coming up with ways to cut down on the time required to make the cards faster and prettier. Exactly the opposite of what a prototype has to be.

Not gonna lie, I’m not proud.

Or, I am, but I’m also very stupid.

Right now, though? Screw it. I cut the paper into quarters. I’ll just draw what I need on them and take the prototype to a LAN party this weekend. My friends are actually kind of stoked to try my shitty little idea.

I feel kinda bad, though.

They’ll try something that neither they nor I know if it’s worthwhile or not. I should playtest it a bit with myself later tonight at least to see if it’s worth a damn.

IF I have time, I’ll spend some time fiddling around with Photoshop or Illustrator to send better cards to a local print shop.

Doubt it, though.

I just spent a couple of months doing fuck all.