Here's five pages of the Idiot's Guide to GMing, a book I'm not really writing. These five pages are a how-to on immersion. I hope you'll find them useful or, if not, tell me why not.
Talk to Strangers
(Google Documents has some irritating issues with non-HTML formats. Anyhow, looks best at about half window width. :P )
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Friday, November 17, 2006
Wandering Too Far
The restrictions of language preclude relative unknowns from propagating advanced theory, therefore they must achieve a reputation for incisive comments about common theory first.
There, academic enough for ya?
There, academic enough for ya?
Monday, November 13, 2006
Big Book o' Social Play
Here's a 25 page essay, if you're man enough to read it! Or woman enough! Or whatever. I suggest tackling it two pages at a time, with copious amounts of webcomics, caffiene, and wild beach parties between sessions. Invite me.
Anyhow, it explains my most recent theory in grotesque detail. There really is a lot of juicy, applicable stuff in there. At least, I think so.
Just keep in mind this is not exactly a polished document. Especially at the end, it kind of dwindles to random tips and notes. But it is full of juice! You will definitely learn some interesting game design tips, although I might be talking out of my buttocks. You'll never know unless you read it.
Big Book o' Social Play
Anyhow, it explains my most recent theory in grotesque detail. There really is a lot of juicy, applicable stuff in there. At least, I think so.
Just keep in mind this is not exactly a polished document. Especially at the end, it kind of dwindles to random tips and notes. But it is full of juice! You will definitely learn some interesting game design tips, although I might be talking out of my buttocks. You'll never know unless you read it.
Big Book o' Social Play
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Interactivity
Games are interactive.
Most people think that means that the player does something and the game reacts. This isn't quite right: it's too narrow a definition.
Games have more in common with sports, work, and hanging out with friends than with movies, books, or spreadsheets. The first three are definitely, deeply interactive, whereas the last three are arguable.
See, a player doesn't have to interact with the game. Most games - and here I'm talking the whole scope of games, not just video games - most games are more about interacting with other players than with the game itself. Most games are simply structures that support an interesting way to govern interactions. They give players an excuse to be social together in specific ways, mixing up their normal social tendencies in a pleasant, structured, and relatively low-stress way.
A game's rules can be quite complex - roll the dice, choose three cards, if such and such then such and such. But in the end, the game's primary appeal usually boils down to the way it allows for interesting forms of socialization and its various cousins. This, of course, includes dominance play and so forth - not just simple socialization.
For example, poker isn't simply about percentages and potentials. It's about interpreting the body language and bids of the other players to determine how they fit into the percentages and potentials. It's about manipulating them into giving you the most cash.
Even the most unsocial games (like go or weiqi) are actually about socializing - about you reading your enemy's capabilities and aims, and seeking to counteract and accomplish.
Even single player games are about socializing!
Solitaire creates an imaginary second player: the deck. Using randomization, it attempts to simulate the actions and reactions of a human player. In Roulette, we use a bouncing ball.
Don't believe it?
Then why do so many gamblers think about the luck of the game as if it were human? Sure, they're not usually being serious when they think of "lady Luck", but they are being serious when they say that their luck has got to change, or that they are "hot".
We're hardwired to think of everything interactive as if it were at least marginally intelligent. Kids pretend (or flat-out believe) that stuffed animals are sentient. Adults treat their cars like they were people. We curse at the game when it gets too irritating, because that's what we'd do to a person who pulled this kind of stuff.
We're social animals.
We play social games.
The rules of your game aren't there to provide a specific level of challenge or whatever. The rules of your game are there to either provide a framework for people to socialize, or provide an imaginary person to socialize with. Someone who can be interesting and reliable.
As it turns out, providing a complex pattern to learn about and fun places to explore is an excellent way to provide enough of a social pattern to keep your players playing.
But when you think of every game as a dialogue, you'll be able to start telling what is "good" play and what is "bad". You'll be able to tell when play is "shallow", because you'll think to yourself, "our imaginary person is kind of getting off-topic." You can tell when play is "deep" because you can think to yourself, "wow, our imaginary person is insightful..."
And when it comes to connecting players to players?
That's a bit different. You're not creating an imaginary person: you're guiding real people.
Maybe I'll cover that some day.
...
Believe it or not, I really am working on a contiguous set of topics. All the recent posts about fundementals tie into this easily: the fundamentals are the "personality" of our imaginary person. The topics they like and the things they know most about.
Sorry it's so... scattered. I suppose I should write a book, but that's so tacky. Yah, because posting to your blog isn't tacky.
Anyhow, just some thoughts. Lemme know if you agree or not.
Most people think that means that the player does something and the game reacts. This isn't quite right: it's too narrow a definition.
Games have more in common with sports, work, and hanging out with friends than with movies, books, or spreadsheets. The first three are definitely, deeply interactive, whereas the last three are arguable.
See, a player doesn't have to interact with the game. Most games - and here I'm talking the whole scope of games, not just video games - most games are more about interacting with other players than with the game itself. Most games are simply structures that support an interesting way to govern interactions. They give players an excuse to be social together in specific ways, mixing up their normal social tendencies in a pleasant, structured, and relatively low-stress way.
A game's rules can be quite complex - roll the dice, choose three cards, if such and such then such and such. But in the end, the game's primary appeal usually boils down to the way it allows for interesting forms of socialization and its various cousins. This, of course, includes dominance play and so forth - not just simple socialization.
For example, poker isn't simply about percentages and potentials. It's about interpreting the body language and bids of the other players to determine how they fit into the percentages and potentials. It's about manipulating them into giving you the most cash.
Even the most unsocial games (like go or weiqi) are actually about socializing - about you reading your enemy's capabilities and aims, and seeking to counteract and accomplish.
Even single player games are about socializing!
Solitaire creates an imaginary second player: the deck. Using randomization, it attempts to simulate the actions and reactions of a human player. In Roulette, we use a bouncing ball.
Don't believe it?
Then why do so many gamblers think about the luck of the game as if it were human? Sure, they're not usually being serious when they think of "lady Luck", but they are being serious when they say that their luck has got to change, or that they are "hot".
We're hardwired to think of everything interactive as if it were at least marginally intelligent. Kids pretend (or flat-out believe) that stuffed animals are sentient. Adults treat their cars like they were people. We curse at the game when it gets too irritating, because that's what we'd do to a person who pulled this kind of stuff.
We're social animals.
We play social games.
The rules of your game aren't there to provide a specific level of challenge or whatever. The rules of your game are there to either provide a framework for people to socialize, or provide an imaginary person to socialize with. Someone who can be interesting and reliable.
As it turns out, providing a complex pattern to learn about and fun places to explore is an excellent way to provide enough of a social pattern to keep your players playing.
But when you think of every game as a dialogue, you'll be able to start telling what is "good" play and what is "bad". You'll be able to tell when play is "shallow", because you'll think to yourself, "our imaginary person is kind of getting off-topic." You can tell when play is "deep" because you can think to yourself, "wow, our imaginary person is insightful..."
And when it comes to connecting players to players?
That's a bit different. You're not creating an imaginary person: you're guiding real people.
Maybe I'll cover that some day.
...
Believe it or not, I really am working on a contiguous set of topics. All the recent posts about fundementals tie into this easily: the fundamentals are the "personality" of our imaginary person. The topics they like and the things they know most about.
Sorry it's so... scattered. I suppose I should write a book, but that's so tacky. Yah, because posting to your blog isn't tacky.
Anyhow, just some thoughts. Lemme know if you agree or not.
Candy Tests
I am a huge fan of playtesting. I playtest everything I build. Every game I make has a playtest phase before I even think about releasing it, and these playtests always catch issues that didn't occur to me. Every time.
Of course, there's two weaknesses to playtesting that you have to keep in mind at all times.
The first is that playtesters aren't (usually) testing the game for the length of time that your fans are actually going to play it. This means your more long-term play usually goes largely untested.
The second problem is that playtesters are subject to what I call the "Pepsi Challenge" fallacy.
The Pepsi Challenge was to determine which soft drink tasted better: Pepsi or Coke. Random testers nearly universally chose Pepsi. Why? Because Pepsi has a higher sugar content. It's a sweeter drink.
But it turns out that over the long run, Pepsi is less pleasing. Coke still wins out for the long-term drinkers, because it isn't too sweet.
What this means in terms of game playtesting is that testers will often choose whatever mode makes them feel stronger. However, a slope of challenge is what makes the game have staying power. So the testers will choose the variant that is actually worse for the long-term appeal of your game.
Basically, what you have to remember when using testers is pretty simple:
Watch them. Don't take what they say too straight: they aren't designers, they aren't testing the long-term play of the game, and they're heading for a Pepsi Challenge Fallacy.
What matters isn't what they say they prefer: it's what their play says. If they struggle to play, you need to polish that. But if they test two variants and have no trouble with either, the better variant is not necessarily the one they prefer.
Of course, some people are naturally immune to Pepsi. These people make great playtesters, but often don't represent your target audience very well. :)
Of course, there's two weaknesses to playtesting that you have to keep in mind at all times.
The first is that playtesters aren't (usually) testing the game for the length of time that your fans are actually going to play it. This means your more long-term play usually goes largely untested.
The second problem is that playtesters are subject to what I call the "Pepsi Challenge" fallacy.
The Pepsi Challenge was to determine which soft drink tasted better: Pepsi or Coke. Random testers nearly universally chose Pepsi. Why? Because Pepsi has a higher sugar content. It's a sweeter drink.
But it turns out that over the long run, Pepsi is less pleasing. Coke still wins out for the long-term drinkers, because it isn't too sweet.
What this means in terms of game playtesting is that testers will often choose whatever mode makes them feel stronger. However, a slope of challenge is what makes the game have staying power. So the testers will choose the variant that is actually worse for the long-term appeal of your game.
Basically, what you have to remember when using testers is pretty simple:
Watch them. Don't take what they say too straight: they aren't designers, they aren't testing the long-term play of the game, and they're heading for a Pepsi Challenge Fallacy.
What matters isn't what they say they prefer: it's what their play says. If they struggle to play, you need to polish that. But if they test two variants and have no trouble with either, the better variant is not necessarily the one they prefer.
Of course, some people are naturally immune to Pepsi. These people make great playtesters, but often don't represent your target audience very well. :)
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Deep Social Gameplay?
I explain why social gameplay is a hard problem, and some various ways people have tried to solve it. It's not long, and it's not written in acad-speak! It is kinda steeped in deep game design stuff, but other than that, it should be pretty accessable.
Tell me what you think.
Social Gameplay.
Tell me what you think.
Social Gameplay.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
A Personal Post
I generally don't make personal posts. Feel free to skip this one.
I have been told five times in twenty hours to vote.
Voting doesn't do anything. It makes you feel nice. It makes you happy. "I'm guiding my nation!"
I want the ocean to be yellow, therefore I should pee in it?
Voting is an emotional release. It has no actual mathematical merit, and the logic that convinces most people is not logic at all. It's an emotional appeal. In this case, an emotional appeal to vote for one freakjob or another, universally twisted by "public service" into horrifying monsters with painted smiles.
So, no, I'm not freaking voting. That's right, I will not change the outcome of the election.
Of course, me not voting has nothing to do with me not changing the outcome of the election.
I have been told five times in twenty hours to vote.
Voting doesn't do anything. It makes you feel nice. It makes you happy. "I'm guiding my nation!"
I want the ocean to be yellow, therefore I should pee in it?
Voting is an emotional release. It has no actual mathematical merit, and the logic that convinces most people is not logic at all. It's an emotional appeal. In this case, an emotional appeal to vote for one freakjob or another, universally twisted by "public service" into horrifying monsters with painted smiles.
So, no, I'm not freaking voting. That's right, I will not change the outcome of the election.
Of course, me not voting has nothing to do with me not changing the outcome of the election.
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