The Thinkie Corner

In Outer Space, there is plenty of time to think, at least, when you are not playing video games.

I wonder if the first mission of a game designer is to convince the player that the designer's way of playing the game is the most enjoyable way. People talk about "playing the game your way" but it seems that most of the time, your way is a variation of a successful way to play the game.

From there then, it also seems that three things generally happen when a player faces what the designer has put in front of them.

1. The designer fails to make a clear case that educates the player on the merits of the designer's intended play style, or the player is so determined to play it a particular way - possibly due to strong pre-conceived notions - that the player fights against the way the game is designed. The player concludes that the designer is an idiot for not making the game "the right way".

2. The designer fails to understand his own self the optimum way to build on his play mechanics and becomes obsessed with an artistic vision to the point he simply misses the obvious. Even if the designer does a good job of explaining his vision to the player, the player may (and probably will) see what the designer missed, and find himself unhappy that the game is designed to funnel the player away from the better or more enjoyable way to play it.

3. The designer both succeeds in selling his ideas to the player and did in fact create an objectively superior design with play mechanics that work with the strength of the basic concept. The player gets it, and in the most rare cases, the player then takes over where the designer left off - finding new ways to play the game that are extensions of what the designer began, rather than struggling against the designer's vision.

It seems obvious that design is tricky as different players will always see your game from a variety of viewpoints, and attack it in many ways. Even if you try to tightly herd them along a particular path, they will find ways to break free of it unless your game design is so tight that it becomes a form of shallowness. A practical example that has appeared recently is Mirror's Edge; A game played in the first person perspective and based around Parkour. Unlike most first-person games, the emphasis is almost entirely on running, jumping, climbing, and catching hold of grips in midair. Combat is possible, but your character is weak, ordinary, and not effective in running and gunning. The control scheme is laid out so that what combat there is, is best worked into a sequence of Parkour moves, before rushing past the stunned adversary.

Mirror's Edge does a good job of explaining to the player how to play, and makes a good case that it is more fun when played the right way; learning how to clear a scenario in one fluid sequence, including evading, disarming, and disabling enemies, is an art, and addictive to practice. But, because the ways of first-person shooters are deeply ingrained in gamers, many people complain that Mirror's Edge is poorly designed. They are determined to fight against the game design; they wish to pick up guns and have firefights as fluid and exciting as games designed for the purpose of a firefight. In truth, by doing this, they are missing the majority of the play mechanics and the fun of Mirror's Edge. If they are not interested in running and jumping, and mainly wish to have combat, the game may simply not be for them. But it is an example of a time when a designer can succeed and still be perceived as failing by the player.

Thus, the designer is faced with the problem that even when they succeed on all counts, they may fail to win the player over, due to the human factor. I find this curious, but being a Space Dinosaur, it is little wonder that the human factor tends to elude me.