MKW: Pushing a Prototype 2

Tonight, I played the final push of MKW’s core system (see the article on the second push if you haven’t already), and it worked.

At this stage in the prototype, literally everything could still change. If I change something that blows up all other rules in the game, so be it, provided it’s the right thing to do. Making a game (a good game, let’s hope) means that you sometimes have to do a lot of backtracking. You need to re-write, re-design, re-test stuff that was perfectly functional because the right way to do it came along. It’s just how it goes. Mercy killing is the law in game design. Sometimes, I find people fret about that, thinking they wasted all this hard work. It’s never wasted. It was necessary to get to the center of the game. Besides, you will use it somewhere. Othertimes, people hang on to these crashed systems, and band aid the right way to the old way just to keep it alive. This ends up creating a game that is loved by its designer alone. And their mom.

As I noted after my last prototype push, due to a change in how one resource was distributed, I effectively destroyed the economy of the game during the test. I couldn’t come up with a solution on the fly, so I ended the session and played another game instead.

When I refer to economy, I’m not strictly referring to just the financials in the game. In any system, all stats are controlled by a single controlling figure. It all boils down to that. In FPS’s, it’s HP (bullets = negative HP, med paks = positive HP). In many RPGs, there are two controlling figures, gold and XP.  Every system has a base value, and everything needs a controlling statistic. (This officially fulfills part of my promise to cover RPG system design to Ian Schreiber.)

So, this morning, I woke up with an idea that might fix the problem I had created, and it’s that idea that I wanted to test tonight. In essence, I wanted to release the resource into the game such that no particular player had at advantage when it was released and secondly, I didn’t want to make that release random. If the game is to be one of brain-vs-brain, any random elements needed to affect all players similarly. A die roll, unless that same precise roll affects everyone, doesn’t cut it. For what it’s worth, there are no dice in the game.

We did three rounds of this central gear, and on the second round, I could feel it. It had potential. It had the right dynamic. The surrounding math wasn’t working, so I divided by 2, and that felt better. Take that to heart, by the way. Dividing/multiplying by 2 is the solution to solving your economy problems in games. Really, and I am not even close to the only designer who thinks so. If I feel like I am way off, I divide/multiply by 10.

So, having had that basic design challenge resolved for the time being, I stopped the prototype to get feedback. The next step in my process will be to compile the rules into a formal set (what one would consider a full playable), think through the economy and loose ends some more, and ultimately drop on the second gear. The second gear is another system in the game that overlays the one we tested tonight. If you have played a game like Puerto Rico, you get what I mean by multiple gears. Basically, there are things that happen every turn. There are also things that happen every round. I make sure the first gear is working before layering on the next.

Another note on this prototype – when I said that I woke up this morning with the idea, that’s quite literally true. For many years, I have worked exactly like this, what Ian Schreiber refers to as “black box design.” I stuff as much information about the problem into my head as I can, and eventually, the answer will rise. It’s hip when it happens first thing in the morning.

Wall Street Journal Article on Train

The Wall Street Journal’s Jamin Brophy-Warren (@JaminBW) has published an interview and a video segment on Train: The Board Game No One Wants to Play More Than Once.

MKW: Pushing a Prototype

Tonight, I played a prototype of MKW (working title) the fourth game in my Mechanic is the Message series. This is only the second time I’ve played it, and I’m using a specific prototyping method I refer to as “pushing.”

When I push a prototype, I start with an idea of what I want the game to do, and I have a loose idea of the player dynamic that I’m going for. More often than not, I’m simulating some system that exists in the real world, so it’s a matter of modeling it rather than pulling it from thin air. If you’re an aspiring game designer, look for these pre-existing systems. They are your bread and butter.

In the case of MKW, on the first test, I pushed it from concept through to first prototype. When the other player and I sat down at the table, I had no idea of how it would play, but I did know the system I wanted to emulate and had a rough idea of the dynamic I wanted. So, I literally made up the rules, the resources and the costs for things as we went along. Therein lies the “push.” By necessity, it requires several restarts. Also, sometimes I am not even playing the full game, but pushing a particular system.

This evening was my second push on the prototype. I posted this to twitter:

bbrathwaite

MKW prototype lives for two rounds before I kill it. Sig rule change affected resource deployment. Need to fix before playing again.

I received the following reply:

ngibson42

@bbrathwaite # of games per round of testing? Rule tweaks between games? Curious how long before “pros” give up on initial design/mechanics.

Obviously, this post is your answer, @ngibson42.

So, when I prototype a game, it feels like I’m starting a soup or something. I expect everything to change. Rarely do I get hooked on specific mechanics or dynamics, unless they have some larger meaning to the overall piece. If I write a full rule set out, I expect that it will change radically from inception to end. If I am pushing the prototype, it’s all in a constant state of flux. I say this to answer that last line – I never really give up on them. I don’t trust them to begin with. They’re like the soup that’s only cooked for 5 minutes which needs something added to it. During play, I am looking for ways to optimize and ways to make players interact more with one another. I will often make rule changes turn to turn and round to round. Tonight, in the space of a single round, I changed:

• Turn order 2x
• The way players obtained key resource #1
• The way players obtained key resource #2
• Clarified (also made up) rules due to player questions

It was one of the resource changes that necessitated a restart of the game. Basically, I made a limited resource which was obtained through random roll instead a deliberate decision and predicated on something else. This change forced a restart after one round. I will not restart for smaller rule changes, even if they make the play “unfair”.  Typically, in push sessions like this, the game never actually gets to an end anyway.

When I am playing, I make rule changes constantly. Tonight, I probably made one or two per turn. If you try to push a prototype, it’s important that your players understand that the game isn’t really a game as such, but a concept that will hopefully push a game out the other side. I also ask them to hold back on suggestions during play since they may not understand the full dynamic I am going for, particularly if there are other systems not yet in place. Suggestions and comments come at the end.

I “gave up” on tonight’s prototype session after my first significant resource change affected the way another resource was distributed. It broke the math. Suddenly, there wasn’t nearly enough of it. Player 1 had a very clear advantage. Player 4 was screwed. I kicked it around for a bit, but an obvious solution didn’t show. It’s times like that, and out of respect to my testers, that I kill it. As a designer, you know when you need some time to solve a problem. So, away went MKW and out came a published game.

In my entire career, I have only once had a rule set remain unchanged from concept to completion, and I am surprised that I even got one of those (it was Siochan Leat, the Irish game).

So, I’m working on the MKW problem now. I had an interesting idea tonight which may or may not work. I need to think about it some more. I am tempted to prototype the whole thing in Excel to force the math out, but I think I’ll try a couple alternatives on Monday night instead.

Game Criticism, Pollock and Taste

Over the break between quarters, I visited the Smithsonian to see Pollock’s Lavender Mist. Click on the image at the right to see a detail from the painting. I spent 40 minutes with the piece looking at the thickness of the paint, the movement, the raisin, the cockroach and the crumpled up and paint-covered cigarette pack. Depending on where I stood in relation to the canvas, I could actually feel how his arm swayed or the strength of the movement necessary to create the lines. Up close, I could see how the colors blurred and melted into one another to create the lavender, a color that was emergent rather than primary in the painting’s creation. It was during this time that a guard approached me to say, “I like this painting. Pollock makes me feel like I could be in this museum, too.”

I know enough about his work to know that people suspect he had an innate understanding of movement and that his movements were significant enough to produce fractals. I know enough to know that I could never make what Pollock made. So, comparatively, me and this guard, we are both uneducated art critics offering a perspective on a piece. We both liked it, yet neither of us is able to offer anything that will further the discussion much in the years to come. Our taste, our liking of the piece, doesn’t particularly matter.

Art critics, on the other hand, provide value when they explore a piece and provide us with context on its creation (historically, culturally and politically) as well as a detailed look at the piece itself from a formal point of view. What color paint did Pollock use? What were his tools? What was happening in his life at the time? Why did he number the painting instead of naming it? The painting is Number 1. It was later titled Lavender Mist. Art critics are able to tell us how Pollock emerged from the crop of painters at the time to become the greatest American artist of his time, and we can later see how his work influenced others, including me. It is through this study of context that how art affects culture and how culture affects it, that we are able to generate meaning about a piece both when it is completed as well as 100 years from now. I see the role of the critic as the primary person who captures information which may then be used again and again as our understanding of a medium, a movement or an artist grows.

And now, we come to games. Grats on your 94%. To merely assess something as good or bad or interesting is a reflection of taste, and doesn’t provide context for future interpretation of the work. In the game industry, critics often resort to studying odd metrics (play time, “tilt” or a number rating) which provide little in the way of useful information for the medium as an artform. Twenty years from now, a 94% will mean little.

Taste is immediate and it is subjective. Criticism is lasting and looking. To say we merely like a piece fails to take into account the evolving nature of art or the importance of the work to come. Taste considers only the viewpoint of the critic and not those who might be consuming the work through his or her interpretation. To put taste into the equation is to take a very different role in the consumption of the piece. Criticism allows me, the reader, the latter viewer, to interpret the work, the game, for myself.

To a degree, however, taste does enter the equation. If an critic chooses to cover something, clearly his coverage tells us that this piece or this artist should be considered worthy of attention. Numerous critics have been influential in launching artists from one level to the next as in the case with Greenberg and Pollock and even Rohrer and Bogost.

MIT Gambit Review of Train and Siochan Leat

Just got this incredible amazing review of Train and Siochan Leat from MIT Gambit’s Abe Stein: Train of Thought. This review is unlike the others because Abe approached the game thinking one thing, and left with quite another thought.

Reviews of Train and Siochan Leat

Collected in my travels:

• Playing the Irish Game, Talking about Train – Post Position, Nick Montfort
• How a Board Game Can Make You Cry – The Escapist, Jordan Deam
• Brenda Brathwaite is Amazing – Sources and Methods, Kristan Wheaton (it is hard for me not to love that headline and feel embarrassed at the same time)
• Train: The Mechanic is the Message -Game Culture
• A Game That Matters – Subversive Puppet Show, Jason Mical
• Train – Play This Thing, Ian Schreiber

Home. Now what?

After a whirlwind trip that brought me to Parsons, NYU, Games for Change, the Wall Street Journal, George Mason University, the Innovations in e-Learning Conference, MIT’s Gambit Lab, the Games for Health Conference, Carnegie Mellon’s ETC, the Games Education Summit and finally a visit with a potential client in Philly, I am finally home. Typing that made me tired.

Three weeks on the road with me and my games. In this case, I had Train and Siochan Leat (aka The Irish Game). It reminded me very much of the early 1980’s when I’d run into people like Richard Garriott at the Washington Apple Users Group. He showed Ultima. I showed Wizardry.

I am planning a mostly working summer and hope to complete two games in the Mechanic is the Message series. Some other things that I’m considering:

• Working on a digital game (rules designed with a friend are in alpha)
• Writing about RPG system design because Ian Schreiber tells me I should at every other opportunity
• Actually writing about the design process in one of my games as I go through it to more than a tiny group of friends (currently 3 of them)
• Getting a new car due to the totaling of my beloved BMW. The car actually drown while I was away on this roadtrip. A seal in the door leaked, there was rain, and there you go.

If there’s a topic you’d like me to write about, now’s a great time to suggest it.

Drew Davidson’s Well Played 1.0 Available – For Free

Download a copy of Drew Davidson’s Well Played 1.0. It’s completely free and contains essays from the likes of Noah Falstein, Greg Costikyan, Clint Hocking and more.

Design Problems in Twitter Game Development

In the last week, a couple games appeared which use the Twitter “engine” – BackChatter and Spymaster. BackChatter is a conference game in which people submit three keywords and then wait to see the payout for said words in the #whatever channel that is covering the conference. Spymaster is currently in closed beta. I have not played, but judging my some of my friends’ Spymaster-related tweets, it’s similar to Mob Wars, level based, integrates an inventory system and lets players complete missions vs. others also in the game and on twitter.

As is my standard M.O., I am fascinated with the potential of any new platform. Twitter poses a couple interesting design challenges, though:

• Channel flood: If the game or app in question causes one to spam the channel with messages like the one pictured, it begins to annoy people. These people, in turn, unfollow people or the channel until the game or trend has passed, but whether this is a desirable thing from either player or follower is questionable.

  
  While playing BackChatter and in an effort to test an exploit in the system, I asked my followers to retweet a particular message which contained my three key words as well as the #g4c tag. The result was dozens of messages floating through the #G4C channel interrupting actual conference-related material. Any twitter game whose primary mechanic relies on frequency or quantity will have similar issues. This perceived annoyance is enough for some players to stay away, yet this also appears to be the primary propogation mechanic used by these games. On Facebook, the annoyance of dozens of invites coupled with the flooding of the main channel, most recently with with every manner of top 5 quiz under the sun, was one reason many of us tired of Facebook in the first place. Mob Wars also updated the Facebook status feed, but because play required the player to wait X before accomplishing Y, the feed seemed less flooded. Since I haven’t played SpyMaster, I can’t peg the comparative math. A Parking Wars model which updates less frequently might prove a stronger model to follow. Since the feed in Twitter is the whole of the experience, attention to its flooding seems more critical than in Facebook.

• Follower Advantage: In mentioning my flooding of the #G4C channel, I was able to leverage my 500+ strong followers list (@bbrathwaite), and asked Ian Bogost (@ibogost) to retweet my message to his 700+ strong followers list. Between the two of us, we probably have something like 400 discrete followers. The exploit that I noted previously relied solely on our ability to leverage this group of people. This is not unique to Twitter, of course. A larger network of friends allows you to succeed in many games. Typically, games tie your success to your willingness to propagate. By design, though, a game must consider how a player with 50 followers could possibly compete with a player whose followers number in the thousands (@djaffe).

• No Desirable Opt Out: How do we not follow something in Twitter? In Facebook, I can notify it that I never want to receive an invite to a particular app ever again. In Twitter, my only perceived means of doing this is via unfollow.

I welcome your thoughts, as always, and please feel free to identify additional considerations that I’ve missed.

The +1 Road to Happiness

Consider this for a sec: you are ridiculously happy, genuinely deep down happy, and people actually notice this about you. Where does that come from, and what does this state of delirious happiness have to do with games?

As you may have noticed in a previous post, I’ve been giving thought to the concept of happiness lately and how that structures our play and design experiences both in the real and virtual worlds. I believe there is great value in the line, “Happiness comes to those who wait,” and there is also something to be said for the amazing power of +1.

In a larger sense, we may be in search of something in a game (or in the real world, for that matter). This thing that we search for, we may know it precisely (the Holy Grail), in part (a killer on the loose) or not at all (we become aware of a general progression toward something amazing). In the case of an unintentional search where we get on to something we weren’t expecting without a precise idea of where the hell we’re going, we’ll often follow a path because it just feels right, and we like the journey. The world gives us all the right feedback, and though we don’t know what we’re on to, we do know that we are onto something.

It is the process, the path, that are important.

In game worlds, we structure this progression toward happiness through rewards. They are doled out generously – visual and sound effects, XP or points, items, levels, finishing animations, new areas to explore, or special recognition through an Xbox live achievement. In digital games, rewards come every two minutes at least. In non-digital games, these rewards take a little longer, and each is an incremental step toward that big thing that we desire – the raid, the boss or the object that we’ve been looking for.

The challenge in reward delivery is to keep people interested in the progression from intent to object and the formation of intent to clear agency.

Intent to Object

Upon arrival in the world, you have been tasked with finding an object rumored to be incredibly powerful. The last known location of this object, however, was with a man who hasn’t been seen for well over a hundred years. The object itself drove him mad, and so to protect everyone else from its power, he sacrificed himself and died with the object still in his possession. It took the player at least 50 hours to complete this quest, and as its designer, I remember feeling a sense of great pleasure when I’d completed the long, long list of things that needed to happen from mission assigned -> mission accomplished. For those of you horrified at the thought of a 50 hour quest, bear in mind that this was in the days of the old school RPGs where 70 hours of game play was not uncommon.

There can be (and were) over 400 quests of various sizes between you and that object. Those 400 quests – those little +1’s – provided you with something key to  your experience: it provided you many incremental steps of desire, discovery, reward and recognition. These steps are essential to building the necessary anticipation and ultimate pay off the game has in store.

Intent to object, however, is fairly basic unless it truly becomes something the player wants versus a roadblock.

You Reminded Me

Through these many +1’s, we build a library of knowledge about a person, a quest or a story. Each +1 serves to reinforce our current beliefs, modify them for the better (or for the worse). In a game, such incidents can serve to remind us of previous successes, and as a designer, these +1’s are essentially freebies.

Consider for a moment how you feel as you fall into that heady space of affection with another human being. There is a beginning flirt and ultimately a wonderful feeling pervasive happiness, and each thing said reminds you of previous things said. Collectively, they gather together to present what ultimately becomes an amazing human being.

These same principles can apply to our games. If we provide small rewards along the way, each of which builds upon the last, we craft a tight space in which the player can experience not only the immediate success, but be reminded of past successes while building anticipation for the future. They form clear agency.

Intent to Clear Agency

Through these many +1’s, through this building anticipation, through the attachment of repeated success, reward and feedback along the way, ultimately, this intent to object becomes intent to clear agency. It is something the player wants because she wants it, wants to solve it, wants to complete the circle that started her down this path in the first place. It is something that players deeply desire, and this desire goes beyond the game itself. It becomes what the game is about, and something we will brag about to our friends.

If you’re reading this article, odds are high that you have experienced moments of waking up where the first thought in your head is about completing a quest or perhaps waking to turn the page on book you couldn’t bare to put down the night before and instead fell asleep reading. This type of direct player agency is the highest kind. Carrying an object from point A to point B because some random NPC told you so isn’t.