A central issue in game design is accessibility. Meaning, how easy is it for someone new to
the game to “grok” it and begin extracting fun from it. I’m going to focus my thoughts on boardgames,
since this is a big issue for me. Here’s
the problem (and I know this is common):
I’m the person in my social circle who buys and collects boardgames. It’s my hobby – it’s something I’m passionate
about. I love the social aspects of
table top games, I love the physical presence of cardboard components, and I
love learning the intricacies of a strong design. However, most of the people I play with are
not regular gamers, although they are often interested in trying a game every
now and then. So when those situations
occur, I have to think very carefully about what game to pull off the
bookshelf.
People often call these “gateway” games. Games that are attractive, accessible, and,
often, not too cognitively taxing. I’ll
use Ticket to Ride as the prototypical example, in part because I have used it
successfully to introduce new people to the hobby. Ticket to Ride (all of its many
manifestations) features a lovely map upon which players place tiny train
pieces, as they attempt to form routes from city to city. There’s a visceral pleasure in manipulating
the train pieces, there’s joy in imagining the traveling you’re representing as
you play the game, and there’s just enough strategy and competition to make
things interesting. At least for a few
games. Personally, I’m fairly tired of
Ticket to Ride – not because I think it’s a poor design at all, but because I
don’t think it hits that sweet spot of combining accessibility with strategic
depth.
In Ticket to Ride, you basically take one action per
turn. That’s absolutely lovely if you’re
looking for a game that you can teach in 10 minutes and that even young
children can play competitively.
However, the design space of the game is limiting when it comes to
strategic options and choice. And here’s
the important bit – I think even “novice” gamers often detect this and walk
away dissatisfied.
Ticket to Ride Europe: pretty but shallow |
People sit down to boardgames for many different reasons. Sometimes, it really is just to socialize –
and if that’s the case, I suggest you pull out some paper and play Eat Poop You Cat (or Telestrations, if you must). Or
for something a little more polished and hip, Dixit. But a lot of the time, people play boardgames
to exercise their minds. Certainly,
that’s my primary motivator. Sure, I
love boardgames that tell a good story (Castle Ravenloft) or let you be a hero
(Talisman, Relic). But I especially love
games that let me feel smart. And that’s my biggest issue with most “accessible”
games. In the interest of keeping rules
simple, elegant, and quick-to-learn, they sacrifice cognitive challenge.
Not all “accessible” games do this, however! And those games are among my absolute favorites. I’ll just give one example here: Fresco.
Ha! You probably thought I was
going to say Settlers of Catan! Well,
that’s for another entry, I suppose. No,
Fresco. Fresco is a “eurogame” in which
you play a master painter working to restore a fresco in a Renaissance church. Each turn you take several actions in an
attempt to most efficiently paint sections of the fresco and thus score
points. You need to buy paint from the
market, mix paints into different colors, and ensure that your apprentices are
happy. There’s a fair amount to think
about and good decisions pay off.
Fresco (thanks to ckirkman on BGG for this image) |
Too many euros utilize mechanics that are just too far dissociated from the theme to make sense to non-gamers. As an example, consider the feeding mechanics in Agricola. I’ll quote from the rulebook here:
“At the end of this phase, each player must feed his or her family by paying 2 Food per Family member. Offspring that were born during the current round (“Newborn offspring”, typically from a Family growth action) only consume 1 Food for this round, but will require 2 Food in future Harvests. Each unprocessed Grain or Vegetable may be converted to 1 Food at any time. Fireplaces and Cooking Hearths, as well as other specific Occupations and Improvements, allow players to convert Vegetables at any time, at a better exchange rate. Improvements with the ___ symbol can be used to convert animals to Food at any time. Improvements with the ___ symbol can be used to Bake bread, but only when the player takes a Bake bread action during a round. Unprocessed animals have no Food value.”
Uggg. Try explaining
all that to novices. Sure, some of it is
thematic and intuitive (you can’t just eat an unprocessed cow), but there are
so many exceptions and minor rules in there, it’s a bear for people to
remember. Which is one reason why no one
would call Agricola accessible.
How does this inform my own game design? Well, I should first say that I don’t want my
games to be niche products – for example, I don’t want to design hyper-complex
wargames that appeal to only a small subgroup of hardcore gamers. I want my games to be accessible insofar as
everything makes sense – the mechanics fit within the theme, so that new players
can approach the game with pre-existing notions (based upon their understanding of
the theme) that are useful. For example,
I’m designing a post-apocalyptic Road Warrior-esque card game. One way that players can lose the game is if
they are “decked” (their draw pile runs out).
I call this running out of gas. And there are a number of card effects that
cause you to lose gas (discard cards).
Meshing theme with mechanics well means that you don’t need
to sacrifice strategic depth or cognitive challenge. Instructions can even expand beyond 10 pages
(!), as long as the rules are logical, there aren’t a million exceptions, and
the basic gameplay (what the player does on each turn) is straightforward. If you give people an accessible game that
also makes them feel brilliant when they’ve won, you’ve created something quite
special – and something more likely to bring them back to the table in the
future.
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