An observation from a year’s worth of weekly trips to the local billiards bar with a group of friends: without fail, the male members of the party are there to play pool. For many, it’s the reason they attend the event at all — many don’t like bars, aren’t extroverted people, don’t enjoy drinking or being drunk all that much. Upon entering, they head immediately for the table and focus their attention it almost exclusively for the next several hours. They play seriously, strictly enforcing rules and caring about the outcome. If they socialize, it is with the other players or other members of the party, but they always give priority to the game. They get annoyed when people aren’t taking their turns in a timely manner because they are chatting or getting a drink.

The female members do not come to play, or at least not with the single-minded intensity the males do. They come to socialize. They interact with many people including a wide variety not associated with the game or the group. They play few, if any games, and tend to care little about the outcome when they do play. They cheer for their companion male (if applicable) and watch the games, but with moderate interest only.

What is remarkable about this dichotomy? Pool, though fun and challenging, is not riveting or immersive in the way that a videogame (such as Guitar Hero) is. It does not require deep, uninterrupted concentration. It has a modest pace. The learning curve is steep beyond the beginner level, so games tend to be drawn out and highly dependent on luck amongst casual players. Surely, if the males were interested in a good game, they could find many others far more compelling. So what is it that attracts them so in this particular situation? Is it the situation itself — the setting and company? Does the context of playing in a bar, with a group of friends, while drinking, somehow translate their attitude to seek some sort of refuge in play? Does the ability to focus on the game and act in it’s context somehow shield them from the far more complex social game going on all around them? I submit that is it exactly. The men, introverted and shy, seek comfort in the familiar and understandable world of the game. From this safe place, they can make controlled forays into the social game and in so doing plumb its more dangerous depths and find safe paths through it. The game becomes a medium, a lens and a shield that helps them reach out. Seem plausible?

As you regular readers (or feedburner checkers) may have noticed, I’m a bit behind. I missed posting my regular Sunday game design last Sunday, and I seem to have missed it yesterday as well. The reason for this is that I am currently engaged in northern New England in a summer job that, while not monopolizing all my time, does demand so much of my attention that thinking and writing about games has become extremely difficult.

The poetic irony is that I took this job and came up here for many reasons including a break from the computer lab. Now, it has worked so well that this mental vacation is growing to include more game-design-related activities, specifically blogging. It illustrates remarkably just how strongly one’s attitudes and preferences are controlled by their situation. They say falling in love is more a question of fortunate timing and mitigating circumstances than compatibility and genuine attraction. Certainly the same must be true for other endeavors?

Note that the effect is incomplete — game design is an avocation for me, and I’ll never truly abandon it. No doubt all game designers would agree, regardless of what they’re doing right now and whether or not it involves actually designing a game. It’s something you do anyway, independent of external pressure or influence. But what is true is that it is easier and more natural when you are surrounded by like interest. At SCAD, I spent much of each day with other designers or design professors; much of each day designing or criticizing or researching games. Up here in the North, that “environment of design” does not exist, and so the process is much more arduous. I’m not in the head space anymore.

Naturally, this is a problem. And naturally, the answer to this problem is obvious: try harder. And so I will. But it remains a curious affliction everyone can recognize but few, perhaps, care to name directly. The next time you have designer’s block, consider: is it because you have no environment of design to absorb? Perhaps finding or establishing that kind of structure is the key.

Introduction: In honor of my lateness in conceiving and posting this design — a game about being late! Roll the dice and rack up your score as the turns go by, but be sure you cash in before the deadline hits. If you’re late, you get one chance to make it right before your score goes back to zero.

Players: 3+

Materials:

• A number of six-sided dice, at least three per player plus one extra.
• A notepad or similar to keep score.

Setting Up: Distribute the dice evenly to all players. Place one in the center, turned to show a value equal to the number of players — this is the time die (If more than six players are playing, set it to six). Designate a first player; play proceeds to the left.

How to Play: Each turn, players roll dice and either score them as points or contribute them to the deadline — a value that represents the time remaining until the round is over. All players roll their dice simultaneously and leave the results showing on the table. Beginning with the first player, they may choose from the following actions: select one of their dice declare how they wish to use it, or cash their current score. Options for using dice are these:

• “Score:” They set the die aside and add its value to their score on the scoresheet.
• “Time:” They place the die in the center of the table and adjust the value of the time die as appropriate (see below).
• “Discard:” If a player cannot or chooses not to use a die for score or time adjustment, they simply set the die aside and pass their turn. The discarded die is now used.

Cashing a score simply means locking in the value so that it is not lost when the round ends. However, cashing in a score disallows the player from adding to it for the remainder of the round. All their remaining dice must be discarded or used to adjust the time die. When cashed, each round’s score adds to the player’s total game score, tabulated and updated at the end of each round

Time and The Deadline: The game begins with a time value equal to the number of players, indicated by the time die in the middle. Every round — after all players have used one die — the time decays by one: flip the die to show the new value. Every time a player uses a die for time, the time die is adjusted as follows: add one to the current value if the value of the player-added die is greater than the current time value. Subtract one if the value of the player added die is equal to or less than the current time value.

If the time die ever reaches zero, the deadline has arrived and the round is over. Every player who has not cashed their score by this has an opportunity to avoid losing it. They designate a number and roll the time die. If they roll the value they have declared, they succeed in “squeezing in” before the deadline and may immediately cash their current score. If they miss the number, they may “buy” re-rolls by spending points from their total game points — the score they have accumulated from previous rounds. Each re-roll costs ten points, and each player may buy a maximum of five re-rolls per round.

If they still fail to hit their number or opt not to buy re-rolls, they lose all the points they have accumulated for the round, adding nothing to their total game score.

Winning the Game:  At the end of all rounds (recommended eight to twelve), the player with the highest accumulated score is the winner.

This showed up on Raph’s blog the other day. I can’t believe the simplicity and subtle genius of this idea. But more than a static instance bank with a cheesy LCD game that kids can play like the old Tiger toys, why not a full-fledged online MMO like Habbo Hotel or Club Penguin? Think of the possibilities!

• The game is structured around digital currency or digital item sales, with subscription-like benefits based on the child’s total savings. The theme could be literally anything, from a virtual kid-world like Habbo to a full-on fantasy RPG, like Mythos or any of the innumerable Chinese MMOs. It could even involve casual-style gaming like an MMOC — Puzzle Pirates, or whatnot.
• The software interfaces with the child’s bank account in a secure manner. It is only allowed to monitor the level of funds, never add or subtract from them. Parents monitor the amount as well, with executive control in order to enforce their own play and saving rules. Perhaps participating banks would create special “kids accounts” for this purpose as subsidiaries of the parents’ accounts.
• Based on the amount in the account and rate at which it is added, the game treats it like subscription fees or digital currency deposits. For every ten bucks added each week (for example) the player gains X experience points.
• Deposits and rate of increase should be capped to prevent parents from flooding the account at the outset and giving their kids a powerhouse avatar from the get-go. The objective would be to encourage steady savings over the time — to grow a habit of saving. Deposits would have to be regular and reasonable and sustained over significant time.

Children save to participate in the game, and the rewards are all digital. It has all the draw and production value of WebKinz or other browser-based kid MMO, but the money is retained by the child and the service supported by ad revenue or sponsorship — philanthropic organizations, grants, or even the bank itself as a promotional venture. When the child wishes to stop playing, they have the combined savings from their total play time. Can you imagine how well this could work? Kids grow the saving habit, they see the benefit of long-term saving, and they get to play an MMO while they’re at it. And can you imagine the social ramifications? Financial incompetence is one of the primary causes of poverty, suffering, depression, and suicide in our world, especially in America. People just don’t learn how to be responsible with money anymore, and the culture of credit only makes it harder to build good habits. If someone pulled this off, it could have sweeping positive effects on the lives of the people who play it — a truly mass-influential serious game! Imagine the consequences for the promotion of other serious games, and for public perception of gaming in general! Incredible! I like it so much, I would almost change my thesis to this if it weren’t way, way too late

I’ve been reading Max Brooks’ seminal work, World War Z, for the second time this past week. If you’re not familiar, check it out. Also listen to the interview on NPR’s Talk of the Nation. It has to be one of the most captivating books I’ve ever read, and that includes classic literature. The funny thing is, it’s not a horror book. There’s actually very little graphic description of violence or murder. It’s not a gory story, except in select parts. The most horrifying moments are often those seen from a distance, abstracted in some way. The real story is a human one and, I submit, a fundamentally hopeful, optimistic one. This is a book about people and their experiences in the face of unbelievably horrible circumstances. Some of the most compelling tales barely involve explicit combat or bloodshed at all, just implied as in any story about war or conflict.

Yet despite it’s very un-movie-like presentation, it is the most visceral, terrifying account of a zombie plague I have ever encountered. You read about a third of the book and you are so drawn in, you start to think something like this could really happen. By the time you’re halfway, you’re thinking that it really did. It scared me more than any film has ever or could ever do, and it inspired me about the potential of humanity to unite and overcome great odds more than any politician’s speech or activist’s dream.

As I’m reading, I’m trying to figure out how he did it, and I can’t. Max Brooks is truly a magician, and his book is unsettlingly immersive. The attention to detail is incredible, but more than that, it’s the choice of detail to pay attention to. Each story is carefully seeded with real-sounding facts and events, and everything fits together so seamlessly you can barely detect its subtle power. I wonder if the lack of pictures makes it stronger, playing on the reader’s own internal zombie nightmare and tapping it through the use of dialogue from “innocent” external characters. I wonder if it’s the variety of perspectives and the multicultural interviewees: there are accounts from everyone and everywhere — American soldier, South African street kid, Japanese otaku, Russian priest, Chinese submariner, Australian astronaut, and scores of “ordinary” people who were just trying to find their own way through the crisis.

I’m trying to dissect the book for clues about how to form a strategy for achieving this level of immersion in a game. No game has ever come close to convincingly me that a patently unreal scenario was real, the way this book has. Undying came close, as did Half-Life 2 and Bioshock. Maybe I can play those game again and compare them. Certainly it’s about the story, the amazingly real and seductive tale that Brooks tells through the eyes of the thirty-or-so interviews, and game designers have long ago decided that dialogue and NPC-development alone is not the key to true immersion. There must be something more…

Introduction: Somehow it seems harder to make a truly first-rate second-rate movie than it is to make a blockbuster. Limited funds, cheesy sets, fake blood, and goofy actors — sounds like a recipe for success! In this game players, take turns as the Producer, creating the most outrageous, ridiculous, and hilarious screenplay they can imagine, drawn from suggestions from their fellow players.

Players: 4-5+

Materials: None

Setting Up: Simply convene the players in a comfortable setting where all can speak and be heard conveniently. Designate a first player to begin the game.

How to Play: Play proceeds in rounds with one player acting as the Producer and all others offering suggestions of film assets. All players throw numbers (see below) with the Producer acting as the key. All players still in after this round proceed in turns (clockwise from the Producer) to name one of the following assets: character, prop, setting, plot twist, finale, special effect, and genre. Each film has exactly one of each asset, and each asset can be designated only once — once one player names something for a particular asset, no other player may name something else for that asset.

After the initial round of suggestions, all players who have not yet made a suggestion do so, completing all remaining asset types. If there are more remaining asset types than there are remaining players, the players simply continue to make suggestions in the same order until all categories are complete.

For example: Seven players are playing. Numbers are thrown and four players are knocked out. The remaining three each make a suggestion: Player 1 chooses to suggest a character, Player 2 suggests a plot twist, and Player 3 suggests a finale. When they are finished, the remaining four players make their suggestions, choosing from the remaining assets: prop, setting, special effect, and genre. Player 4 suggests a prop, Player 5 suggests a genre, Player 6 suggests a special effect, and Player 7 suggests a setting. If there had been fewer than seven players, these four would have continued to make suggestions (beginning with Player 4 and proceeding clockwise, as they did the first time) until all assets had been named.

Once all assets have been named, the Producer must then immediately tell the story of a screenplay using all the suggestions her fellow players have made. They may take as long as they like, but they must begin speaking immediately and not stop until the screenplay is finished. Once they have finished, all players rate their story by throwing numbers, except that in this case the number each player holds is their rating (one is lowest, three is highest). For each score of two or three a Producer gets, they score one point. Once the rating is complete, the next player clockwise to the Producer is the new Producer, and a new round ensues.

Throwing Numbers: This is a mechanic similar to rock-paper-scissors. On a count of three, all players raise a hand with one, two, or three fingers raised. One player acts as the key (usually the Producer): players whose numbers match the key’s number are in, and players whose numbers do not match are knocked out.

Winning the Game:  Play continues until all players have had an equal number of chances to be Producer. When all rounds are complete, the player with the highest score wins.

Next: Designing “B Movie:” Keep reading »

Last night I visited with my uncle Mike and his family — the “game uncle.” He is more enthusiastic about board games than I am, and his formidable collection is always growing. He introduced me to all the Days of Wonder games (Shadows Over Camelot, Pirate’s Cove, Ticket To Ride), and on this visit he purchased their latest, Colisseum.

The game has a feel much like Amun Re, actually. There are only five turns in the whole game, played in phases in which each player takes a turn. So players have “turns” four times per round, but the effect is a semi-simultaneous progression. Contrary to whole-turn games like Risk or Settlers, the players’ positions are improved incrementally, all meshed together. It makes for a game that, while appearing slow, is actually very engaging and lends itself well to advanced strategy. The extra time and relatively small steps by which players act gives people plenty of opportunity to analyze the situation and make considered adjustments — neatly addressing the problem of getting more casual players into a deeper game.
The theme of the game is players as Roman impresarios, building lavish arenas and staging events to impress the Roman nobility. Players have little colisseum tiles spaced around the board, laid across a track that little pawns representing the Emperor, consuls, and citizens move along. Their movement is controlled by rolls and getting them to land on your colisseum nets you bonus points. Colisseums can be improved by enlarging them (increasing the chance of getting a pawn to land inside, as well as offering the chance to stage bigger events), buying season tickets that produce a steady stream of points and wealth, or building an Emperor’s Loge that lets you roll two dice for pawn movement instead of one.

Staging events involves a simple form of set collection and resource management, with a few twists. One of the phases is the “asset tile auction:” five groups of three tiles are arranged in the center of the board. The active player selects a group and opens the bidding on it for all players. If the active player wins the auction, they take the tiles into their hand, replace them with new ones drawn from a bag, and the next player gets to start an auction. If another player wins, the active player does not replace the tiles removed but instead picks another group to start. This continues until every player has won once, and that’s how you get tiles. There’s also a phase for trading in which you can exchange tiles for other tiles or for money. The tiles are used to stage events, which are simply lists of sets needed and a associated point value, but there’s a broad range of options for tiles and events. One set may require three Gladiators, three lions, and a Chariot, for example, while another may require two Actors, two Musicians, two Priests, and a Decoration. Producing an event nets point values, plus any bonuses from things like nobility attending, previously produced events (i.e. your colisseum’s reputation) and so on.

The scoring mechanic is also unusual. Instead of a total score for the game, your score is equal to whichever event was most successful out of the five chances you had to produce one. If the best event you produced was a combat on turn three worth 56 points, then 56 is your score.

My impression from play was a game that was extremely well-balanced and consistently engaging despite its relatively complex interwoven mechanics. As I mentioned above, the reordering of turns into phase-based rounds slows the game down enough to allow people to get into it and plan. I noticed people who normally don’t much care for long term strategy scheming and plotting with the best of us. The set collection and resource management is fairly straightforward and familiar, but you hardly notice it amongst all the other things you have to consider. I particularly like the auction mechanic, which is much like Amun Re. It’s easy to see how necessary it was to randomize some aspect of resource collection given how predictable everything else is, but I appreciate that they didn’t just do a random draw. Five groups of three tiles to choose from every round and the task of trying to predict what other people are going to put their money down on makes it a challenge and a pleasure to try and get what you need each turn. And if you mess up, you can always try trading!

In summary, Colisseum is a solid addition to the Days of Wonder catalog, displaying the characteristic attention to detail and fine craftsmanship I’ve come to expect. If you’re looking to pick up a Days of Wonder game I would still recommend Shadows Over Camelot first, but Colisseum would make a great second choice

Last night an old friend of my brother’s came by and hooked up his machine to play games with my brother and me. We played Starcraft, Sins of a Solar Empire, and Battlefield 1942. There were stores of Coke and chips and Twizzlers, and the basement room in which we were arrayed heated up by a good ten degrees. We spent about an hour just getting ready, passing the install CDs around and getting the updates. And best of all, we even had all the classic LAN problems we used to have when we did this weekly in high school — inexplicable Windows crashes leading to an on-site reformat and reinstall, mysterious network errors, version incompatibility and many minutes of patching, and the quintessential older computer that couldn’t handle newer games very well and lagged out the back door to the fury and frustration of its player.

It’s funny how LAN parties, for me, have become a form of nostalgia. This is what I did with my spare time, and a great deal of my not-spare time, from age 15 to 18. My circle of friends was the LAN group, and we met at least weekly in someone’s house, at least eight or nine strong on average, and played all night. We even had our own acronym — MANGLED, or the Milwaukee Area Network Gaming League For Extreme Deathmatching. I know, right?

Now I’m in grad school, I’ve lost touch with nearly everyone from that crowd, and LAN parties are things we have with two or three people “for old time’s sake” once or twice a year when people are back in town for holidays. Can you imagine? Computer gaming and social gatherings centered around it have evolved and embedded themselves into everyday life enough that they can now be categorized as “old times,” and be a source of fond reminiscence of youth. It’s different from the arcade generation, because that was an external location at which people gathered, like a diner or a drive-in. LAN parties have a different flavor, and a different effect on you when you have them in your home.

As the average gamer age tops 30 and climbs, it’s funny to see gaming start to climb over the hill. Videogames are middle-aged! What a riot! No matter how people rant and rail about the evils of violent games and corruption of youth, games settle into our lives and our history with the slow, incontrovertible persistence of a glacier. Someday I’ll be watching my kids hosting or attending LAN parties (probably) and thinking back to when I was a teenager heading off for the same. Some day, games will be a common experience that unites the generations, instead of dividing them. Some day, the word “gamer” won’t exist. It’ll be synonymous with “person.”

Introduction: A game of young love with all its wonders — especially the rumors, gossip, and secrecy! The annual school dance has arrived and the night is alive with possibility. Choose your sweetheart and court them as the dance wears on, but beware! Gossip is delicious, and your opponents will expose you and your tender secret if you get too careless — as you would do to them, naturally. Try to keep your heart concealed as you work to uncover the hidden desires of your opponents’ fancies.

Players: 4+

Materials:

• Pens or pencils, one per player.
• Small scraps of paper, four per player (a standard sheet of letter-sized paper torn into eighths works well).
• Medium-sized sheets of paper, one per player, for scorekeeping (a standard sheet of letter-sized paper torn in half works well).
• One ten-sided die.

Setting Up: All players take positions around a table or in a standing group such that they form a circle — no player should be able to see the back of any other player. Distribute the scraps of paper and pencils, one per player. Each player writes the name of another player on a scrap, folds it, and conceals it. This name is their sweetheart for the game. They sign the other three scraps and set them aside. Designate one player to act as master of ceremonies, or ‘MC’: this person is responsible for moderating each round (see below).

How to Play: Each player’s goal is to dance with their sweetheart as many times as possible while minimizing the rumors written about them. The game proceeds in rounds with all players acting in random order, as follows: the MC announces each round by saying, “Boys and girls, the next dance is beginning. Choose your partners.” After this is spoken, each player places both hands behind their back (or under the table) and indicates a number from one to ten with their fingers. The MC will count down from three, and all players will reveal their chosen number simultaneously. The MC will then roll the die to determine in which a player (or group of players) acts. In the event multiple players hold the same number, they will act simultaneously when that number is rolled. For simultaneous actions such as this, the MC will count again from three and each player will announce their chosen action (see below).

Players should continue to hold their chosen number until after the MC has rolled it and they have taken their action; the MC continues to roll until all players have acted.

When it is their turn to act, players choose one of these three actions: dance, start a rumor, or gossip. 

• Dance: The player indicates a person with which they wish to dance by pointing at them and saying, “Care to dance?” Acceptance of dance requests is compulsory The pair writes the name of their partner on their score sheet. Neither player may take any further action this round, with one exception (see “Gossip”). Dance requests always take precedence over other actions for resolving simultaneous actions. If two dance requests conflict, the MC rolls off to break the tie.
• Start a Rumor: A player may choose to make a guess about another player’s sweetheart. They write the names of the players on one of their three small scraps in the following manner: if they believe that Player A has Player B’s name written down as their sweetheart, they write “Player A loves Player B.” After this is written, they fold the scrap and hand it off to any other player. Note that, because each player has only three small scraps, they may start only three rumors during the whole course of the game.
• Gossip: A player may choose to read the rumors written by other players. They simply select the scrap of their choice, read it, then write their initials on it and return it to the player from whom they took it. However, if the rumor was handed to them by another player, then the rumor is held by them and they may read it for free at any time without using their action, even while dancing (Note that they must still initial it after reading). A player may read the same rumor multiple times, but they do not initial it more than once.

Winning the Game: Play continues for a number of rounds equal to the number of players multiplied by three (twelve rounds for four players, fifteen for five, and so on). After all rounds have been completed, each player reveals their sweetheart. For each dance they recorded on their scoresheet with their sweetheart, the player gains one point. Additionally, for every other player who named them as their sweetheart, the player gains one point.

After the sweethearts have been revealed and scored, the MC collects all the rumors in play and reveals them. For each accurate rumor, the targeted player loses one point (in the example above, Player A is the target of the rumor “Player A loves Player B.”). For every set of initials written on an accurate rumor, the player who started it gains half a point. The player with the highest score wins.

Next: Designing “Sweethearts:” Keep reading »