I think there is something intrinsically human in our need to learn. This, of course, transcends academics and/or the assimilation of data. But learning is one of the most gratifying experiences within the scope of humanity. Learning can manifest in many ways, based on the objective.
One form of learning is mimicry. This is a performance-oriented mode of learning. On one end of the spectrum would be learning a fixed dance step. On the other, perhaps would be conjugating Latin verbs. One improves simply by doing what an authority does.
This is one of the least satisfying modes of learning, but it is efficient when performance (to an established standard) is necessary. In many gaming arenas, this may be called "Cookie-cutter builds/decks". For many, designing a deck or customizing a character is a large portion of the fun. But when initially learning the game (how it works, what its rules are, what is a good play or a bad play, etc.), mimicry can get a novice up and running quickly, providing a necessary entre into the game.
Once beyond mimicry, many learners move into proverbial thinking. This mode of learning is similar to mimicry, but allows for much more freedom and opens early opportunities to experiment and explore. Proverbial thinking is when the learner does not mimic the authority in execution, but rather makes his own decisions based on values laid out by the authority. Some examples of value-proverbs might be: "Cash is king," "Speed kills," or "Always stand on 17 or higher." Such proverbs provide a framework, but allow for ownership within those bounds.
Most casual players will stop at proverbial thinking. What happens within this mode is that players become more adept at adhering to the proverbs. Their performance will increase as long as their adopted proverbs accurately describe the reality of game mechanics.
The final mode of learning I am going to highlight is innovation. In this mode, the learner has moved himself (and perhaps his peers) to the position of authority. Typically, proverbs once learned are now challenged and tested for viability. Experimentation becomes a hallmark of the learning experience. The learner will often attempt to model (mathematically or otherwise) the phenomenon so as to thoroughly understand it. Innovation operates more in the theoretical and hypothetical than the other two modes.
Innovative gamers are the gurus that are sought for the cookie-cutters and proverbs. It is their play that gets studied by novices and amateurs. Interestingly, relaxation through play seems to be reduced as does "fun" in play. The "fun-factor" for innovators is the meta-game; the game of doing the game differently and/or better than it has been done before.
I find that proverbial players seem to be the happiest consistently, but it is impossible to be a different kind of learner than you are. For myself, I know that I am not satisfied with anything less than something distinctively my own, (even if it handicaps me for a time).
Showing posts with label gaming. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gaming. Show all posts
10.21.2009
9.08.2009
Themes and Flavor
I am currently developing a casual-style card game ("Exchange"), and I have to say that it is shaping up nicely. The mechanics are simple, the learning curve is shallow, but there is a discernable level of strategic play. Play testing has been pretty good so far.
But I was hung up on a different level: Theming. It's interesting to me that the core of the game (let's say the "game engine") can be nicely tuned and working great, but without a proper theme it can still feel lacking.
At first, I chalked up the notion of theming as simply a marketability issue. And even now I will say that for the most part it is. I have to say that I kind of frown when I try to picture someone walking through a game store (or game aisle in a big-box store) and look at my product. What is going to make them want to play it? Not much, yet. Not because the game isn't enjoyable or well tuned, but because I haven't made something that stands out.
But let's take it past marketability. There is something else that theming does to the game; it facilitates the emergence of a subculture. Theming, at the most basic level, provides a discrete language (jargon, if you prefer).
Now, indulge me in a short aside. I am wary of jargon in most of my socialization, game design included. It can be a barrier. For instance, I have in my game used the words "withdraw" and "spend" in the place of "draw" and "discard" respectively. Is it awkward at first? A bit. But, the game instructions explain the terms rather plainly, and ultimately I think it will serve the game. Nevertheless, it is unabashed jargon for its own sake.
Jargon is the language of exclusivity. And while most games don't aim to exclude potential players, exclusion can be a means of draw.
I know. It sounds counter-intuitive. Well, it IS counter-intuitive, but consider this: if you could not differentiate players from non-players would you want to become a player? Would you even know there was a game?
Any group that would like to grow should be both exclusive and inviting. What I mean is, there is a division between being in and out, but it is a line not a wall. If you want to be "in," you can be "in."
There may be multiple levels of "in"-ness (consider the acrimony between casual gamers and hardcore gamers), but they will all share in the same sub-culture at some level. A casual player may not have facility will ALL jargon, but he will have facility with some. He will grasp the basic tenets, even if the minutia escapes him.
Can a game have no theming at all? I don't think so. I think a community who plays will spontaneously discover their own jargon, their own rituals, their own narratives. But by intentionally theming a game, a designer has a guiding hand in the process (which is not, strictly speaking, a positive thing). However, this guidance should facilitate the rise of culture. Proper theming can, in some cases, even help bridge the gap between nominal interest and excitement.
So, as you may have guessed, I did work out a theme (though the question is by no means settled in my mind). I've decided to use a world currency theme, and use some very basic economics terminology. Verbally, I think it hangs together satisfactorily. Visually, I'm not there yet, but I can see some potential.
Guess we'll find out when I print out v1.03 (hopefully soon).
But I was hung up on a different level: Theming. It's interesting to me that the core of the game (let's say the "game engine") can be nicely tuned and working great, but without a proper theme it can still feel lacking.
At first, I chalked up the notion of theming as simply a marketability issue. And even now I will say that for the most part it is. I have to say that I kind of frown when I try to picture someone walking through a game store (or game aisle in a big-box store) and look at my product. What is going to make them want to play it? Not much, yet. Not because the game isn't enjoyable or well tuned, but because I haven't made something that stands out.
But let's take it past marketability. There is something else that theming does to the game; it facilitates the emergence of a subculture. Theming, at the most basic level, provides a discrete language (jargon, if you prefer).
Now, indulge me in a short aside. I am wary of jargon in most of my socialization, game design included. It can be a barrier. For instance, I have in my game used the words "withdraw" and "spend" in the place of "draw" and "discard" respectively. Is it awkward at first? A bit. But, the game instructions explain the terms rather plainly, and ultimately I think it will serve the game. Nevertheless, it is unabashed jargon for its own sake.
Jargon is the language of exclusivity. And while most games don't aim to exclude potential players, exclusion can be a means of draw.
I know. It sounds counter-intuitive. Well, it IS counter-intuitive, but consider this: if you could not differentiate players from non-players would you want to become a player? Would you even know there was a game?
Any group that would like to grow should be both exclusive and inviting. What I mean is, there is a division between being in and out, but it is a line not a wall. If you want to be "in," you can be "in."
There may be multiple levels of "in"-ness (consider the acrimony between casual gamers and hardcore gamers), but they will all share in the same sub-culture at some level. A casual player may not have facility will ALL jargon, but he will have facility with some. He will grasp the basic tenets, even if the minutia escapes him.
Can a game have no theming at all? I don't think so. I think a community who plays will spontaneously discover their own jargon, their own rituals, their own narratives. But by intentionally theming a game, a designer has a guiding hand in the process (which is not, strictly speaking, a positive thing). However, this guidance should facilitate the rise of culture. Proper theming can, in some cases, even help bridge the gap between nominal interest and excitement.
So, as you may have guessed, I did work out a theme (though the question is by no means settled in my mind). I've decided to use a world currency theme, and use some very basic economics terminology. Verbally, I think it hangs together satisfactorily. Visually, I'm not there yet, but I can see some potential.
Guess we'll find out when I print out v1.03 (hopefully soon).
9.02.2009
Serious Gaming: Part 2
(Continuing from the previous post.)
But for all the positives that serious gaming may have, there are some notable dangers. The one that I think needs to be highlighted is this: Taking it too Seriously.
This is the same thing that happens when screamed profanity barrels past the teeth of angry parents at tee-ball. But usually, "taking it too seriously" isn't nearly that obvious.
More often, in my experience, it is a gradual process in which your energy expended increases while your enjoyment decreases. It's an awful situation to be in, because the primary (and by which I mean physiological, psychological, and sociological) benefits of gaming are eroded, and - as stated previously - the game becomes work.
And you know what they say: All work and no play makes Jack a worn-out, burned out, neurotic overeater who is no fun to be around and gets very little done. Or something like that.
So... how do you fix it? Well, the first strategy is obvious: Take a break! Invest some time in some other activity... maybe there's a hobby you've long neglected, or maybe it's just time to play something different. Read a book.
Another thing you can try is to play differently. Some games have alternative rules; this might be a good time to explore them. Other games have built in variety, such as choices of race or class or alignment.
You could also impose artificial limits on yourself. For instance, I once built a MtG deck that only had 1 kind of red card; the rest was green. Sure it was gimmicky. It was not made for tournament play. It was just a curiosity deck that wasn't an absolute failure. Or take a much more impressive example from a Pacifist in WoW. At present he has almost taken a second character to max level without killing anything.
The point is, especially in cooperative gaming where people depend on you, gaming can feel like a responsibility and amass pressure and stress of its own. So, it's important to keep asking yourself, "Are we having fun yet?" If not, or if you're finding the question hard to answer, perhaps it's time for a change. I cannot say this emphatically enough, "It's a game."
Perspective, folks... always keep perspective.
But for all the positives that serious gaming may have, there are some notable dangers. The one that I think needs to be highlighted is this: Taking it too Seriously.
This is the same thing that happens when screamed profanity barrels past the teeth of angry parents at tee-ball. But usually, "taking it too seriously" isn't nearly that obvious.
More often, in my experience, it is a gradual process in which your energy expended increases while your enjoyment decreases. It's an awful situation to be in, because the primary (and by which I mean physiological, psychological, and sociological) benefits of gaming are eroded, and - as stated previously - the game becomes work.
And you know what they say: All work and no play makes Jack a worn-out, burned out, neurotic overeater who is no fun to be around and gets very little done. Or something like that.
So... how do you fix it? Well, the first strategy is obvious: Take a break! Invest some time in some other activity... maybe there's a hobby you've long neglected, or maybe it's just time to play something different. Read a book.
Another thing you can try is to play differently. Some games have alternative rules; this might be a good time to explore them. Other games have built in variety, such as choices of race or class or alignment.
You could also impose artificial limits on yourself. For instance, I once built a MtG deck that only had 1 kind of red card; the rest was green. Sure it was gimmicky. It was not made for tournament play. It was just a curiosity deck that wasn't an absolute failure. Or take a much more impressive example from a Pacifist in WoW. At present he has almost taken a second character to max level without killing anything.
The point is, especially in cooperative gaming where people depend on you, gaming can feel like a responsibility and amass pressure and stress of its own. So, it's important to keep asking yourself, "Are we having fun yet?" If not, or if you're finding the question hard to answer, perhaps it's time for a change. I cannot say this emphatically enough, "It's a game."
Perspective, folks... always keep perspective.
Serious Gaming: Part 1
I think the value of casual gaming is fairly self-evident. People want a bit of a distraction, something with little pressure, little stress, and little effort. It may be a way of fighting boredom (games like Solitaire, for example), or it may be a venue to be social (party or family style games like Cranium or Warioware). And without any real research into it, my suspicion is that the vast majority of people who play games at all play almost exclusively at the casual level.
But there is a segment of gamers who are much more invested - personally as well as fiscally - in the games they play. They tend to gravitate to a different type of game. Strategy or mechanical skill seem to be the prime factors of interest, because they serve as a means of bettering one's ability to play. And for the serious gamer, that is the what keeps the player playing.
Mind you, I don't mean to say there is no learning curve or skill in casual gaming. After all, some people are really good at Pictionary, but you aren't likely to see a ranked listing of the best Pictionary players in the world. Clearly it is a skill based game (drawing, symbolic encoding and interpretation). Playing it more means you will likely get better at it, but I don't know anyone who plays Pictionary to become a better player.
Take on the flip side a game like Chess. Avid chess players will study other player's games. They will purchase and read books, they may even pay a tutor. Millions of people know who Kasparov, Fisher, and even Deep Blue are.
I purposefully selected Chess because for whatever reason (and there are probably dozens), it is a game that garners a level of respect from people that don't "get" most serious gaming. But certainly, serious gaming expresses itself across many genres. Maybe we'll explore those later, but the question I really want to ponder is: What's the point?
Serious gaming entails effort and commitment. People work at this kind of play. The trouble is, play can become work. At some levels, this is entirely acceptable. Professional gamers, for instance, work at games - and are paid to do so. But it is no longer a past-time for them. It is not a means of relaxation.
But what of the man who works all day at a joe-job (or even a respectable career), but his downtime is spent on serious gaming? On the outside, one might look at him and ask, "What's the point? Don't you ever relax?"
If you are a serious gamer (as I consider myself to be), you may think that its a silly question. I don't. Serious gaming is very attractive. It can satisfy a desire for competition, it can offer a venue to feel a sense of accomplishment, and usually there is a society that is engaged in your game of choice and its genre.
Such societies give rise to sub-cultures; each with their own language, icons, proverbs, and inside jokes. It becomes a thing to talk about. It becomes a reason to get together, rather than a thing to do when you are together.
(Continued in next post.)
But there is a segment of gamers who are much more invested - personally as well as fiscally - in the games they play. They tend to gravitate to a different type of game. Strategy or mechanical skill seem to be the prime factors of interest, because they serve as a means of bettering one's ability to play. And for the serious gamer, that is the what keeps the player playing.
Mind you, I don't mean to say there is no learning curve or skill in casual gaming. After all, some people are really good at Pictionary, but you aren't likely to see a ranked listing of the best Pictionary players in the world. Clearly it is a skill based game (drawing, symbolic encoding and interpretation). Playing it more means you will likely get better at it, but I don't know anyone who plays Pictionary to become a better player.
Take on the flip side a game like Chess. Avid chess players will study other player's games. They will purchase and read books, they may even pay a tutor. Millions of people know who Kasparov, Fisher, and even Deep Blue are.
I purposefully selected Chess because for whatever reason (and there are probably dozens), it is a game that garners a level of respect from people that don't "get" most serious gaming. But certainly, serious gaming expresses itself across many genres. Maybe we'll explore those later, but the question I really want to ponder is: What's the point?
Serious gaming entails effort and commitment. People work at this kind of play. The trouble is, play can become work. At some levels, this is entirely acceptable. Professional gamers, for instance, work at games - and are paid to do so. But it is no longer a past-time for them. It is not a means of relaxation.
But what of the man who works all day at a joe-job (or even a respectable career), but his downtime is spent on serious gaming? On the outside, one might look at him and ask, "What's the point? Don't you ever relax?"
If you are a serious gamer (as I consider myself to be), you may think that its a silly question. I don't. Serious gaming is very attractive. It can satisfy a desire for competition, it can offer a venue to feel a sense of accomplishment, and usually there is a society that is engaged in your game of choice and its genre.
Such societies give rise to sub-cultures; each with their own language, icons, proverbs, and inside jokes. It becomes a thing to talk about. It becomes a reason to get together, rather than a thing to do when you are together.
(Continued in next post.)
8.25.2009
Questions for Testers: Designer Debriefing
In my previous post, I suggested a design philosophy that I try to incorporate in my games: Simplicity of Play and Depth of Strategy.
It should be noted that this is not the template for making "a good game." Lots of "good games" don't adhere to this philosophy at all. For instance, D&D does NOT aim for simplicity. You need several books, tons of peripherals (maps, multiple types of dice, miniatures, informational sheets, etc) and one expert (the DM) to basically mediate the entire experience. Is it a good game? Absolutely. In fact, not only is it testing well in longevity, but it has served as the template and inspiration of multiple genres. I don't think it is a far stretch to say that D&D did for gaming what The Lord of the Rings did for fictional literature.
But, I digress. The point is, the above philosophy is somewhat narrow and personal. If you're interested in making good games, you don't have to adhere to that standard. So, I thought I'd share some more "universal" tools for evaluating a game-in-process.
I think the best metric for the health of a game design is enjoyment. The only way to gauge enjoyment is to ask people who have played the game. The challenge here is that "enjoyment" is an effect, not a component of the game. So to really dig out what is working (or not working) in a game, it is good to see what elements are contributing or detracting from the enjoyment of the game. I find that a quick debrief with testers after the game can be vital to tuning a game from okay to good to "when can we play again?"
Caveat: No game appeals to everyone. Some people you may test with might not like the game because it's just not their kind of game. Figuring out what kinds of gamers will like your game is crucial in making good design choices.
Alright, so here is a list of some of the types of questions I ask of my testers to determine what is making the fun and what is killing the fun:
How was your overall experience? This may not always get the most honest answers if your testers are friends. They may try to be nice, and that's not always helpful. Still though, this is a good warm-up question, and once people are used to offering critique will in the long-run become more helpful.
Was anything in the game unclear? This is a technical question, and it's important that you listen to it as such. However, this is also a way of targeting frustration (which I consider the prime enemy of enjoyment in gaming).
What felt particularly good? What didn't feel quite right? These are not necessarily technical questions. But, over all, these are the most important ones because it really helps separate what works from what doesn't. Sometimes they are mathematical ("I think the barbarian is just hitting too hard"), sometimes they are aesthetic ("I really like the new counters. Much easier to read."). Sometimes, they will be maddeningly unhelpful ("I dunno... I just didn't like it that much").
How was the pacing? This question may need to be asked in different ways, but what you are secretly asking is "did I ever let you get bored?" In most cases, it is difficult to make a game too fast, but very easy to make a game too slow. Also, it is worth noting that in most games, pace increases as player familiarity increases. This may not be a helpful question in your first session, but it should always be on your mind.
Who do you think would like this game? More than anything, if someone is able to answer this question you've probably done something right: your game has a flavor. If the crowd they describe is different than the target you had in mind, you've hit a crossroads. Either you need to change course to hit your target, or you need to redefine your target. Whichever you choose, you'll probably be doing some revision before the next session.
Let me leave you with a few closing thoughts about this process:
It should be noted that this is not the template for making "a good game." Lots of "good games" don't adhere to this philosophy at all. For instance, D&D does NOT aim for simplicity. You need several books, tons of peripherals (maps, multiple types of dice, miniatures, informational sheets, etc) and one expert (the DM) to basically mediate the entire experience. Is it a good game? Absolutely. In fact, not only is it testing well in longevity, but it has served as the template and inspiration of multiple genres. I don't think it is a far stretch to say that D&D did for gaming what The Lord of the Rings did for fictional literature.
But, I digress. The point is, the above philosophy is somewhat narrow and personal. If you're interested in making good games, you don't have to adhere to that standard. So, I thought I'd share some more "universal" tools for evaluating a game-in-process.
I think the best metric for the health of a game design is enjoyment. The only way to gauge enjoyment is to ask people who have played the game. The challenge here is that "enjoyment" is an effect, not a component of the game. So to really dig out what is working (or not working) in a game, it is good to see what elements are contributing or detracting from the enjoyment of the game. I find that a quick debrief with testers after the game can be vital to tuning a game from okay to good to "when can we play again?"
Caveat: No game appeals to everyone. Some people you may test with might not like the game because it's just not their kind of game. Figuring out what kinds of gamers will like your game is crucial in making good design choices.
Alright, so here is a list of some of the types of questions I ask of my testers to determine what is making the fun and what is killing the fun:
How was your overall experience? This may not always get the most honest answers if your testers are friends. They may try to be nice, and that's not always helpful. Still though, this is a good warm-up question, and once people are used to offering critique will in the long-run become more helpful.
Was anything in the game unclear? This is a technical question, and it's important that you listen to it as such. However, this is also a way of targeting frustration (which I consider the prime enemy of enjoyment in gaming).
What felt particularly good? What didn't feel quite right? These are not necessarily technical questions. But, over all, these are the most important ones because it really helps separate what works from what doesn't. Sometimes they are mathematical ("I think the barbarian is just hitting too hard"), sometimes they are aesthetic ("I really like the new counters. Much easier to read."). Sometimes, they will be maddeningly unhelpful ("I dunno... I just didn't like it that much").
How was the pacing? This question may need to be asked in different ways, but what you are secretly asking is "did I ever let you get bored?" In most cases, it is difficult to make a game too fast, but very easy to make a game too slow. Also, it is worth noting that in most games, pace increases as player familiarity increases. This may not be a helpful question in your first session, but it should always be on your mind.
Who do you think would like this game? More than anything, if someone is able to answer this question you've probably done something right: your game has a flavor. If the crowd they describe is different than the target you had in mind, you've hit a crossroads. Either you need to change course to hit your target, or you need to redefine your target. Whichever you choose, you'll probably be doing some revision before the next session.
Let me leave you with a few closing thoughts about this process:
- Don't make "knee-jerk" changes. Sometimes players are unlucky or just don't grasp a concept immediately. Look for patterns of problems rather than isolated cases. Make small corrections rather than big ones until you hit the balance you're aiming for.
- The more specific the responses you receive, the better. It's okay to ask testers to go a little deeper in their responses, but be gentle and considerate and don't make them feel bad if they can't come up with more.
- Finally, never forget that testers are doing you a favor. In all things be gracious to them.
Dragons: Sample game
Here is a sample completed game of Dragons. We'll walk through this real briefly to cover scoring and connectivity.
|A|A|Y|A|B|B|
|A|A|A|A|B|B|
|Y|A|Z|Z|Z|B|
|Y|A|Z|Z|Z|B|
|Y|Y|Y|B|B|Z|
|Y|B|Y|Y|Z|Z|
The first thing to note is that there should be 9 of each symbol. if you get any other outcome, some body made a mistake on one of their turns. Remember, you must play exactly one of each of your symbols per turn.
So, what dragons do we see on the board? Well, "A" is a single dragon 9 links long - the very best possible. "B" is divided between 3 dragons: the first being 6 links (top right), the second is 2 links (bottom right), and the last only 1 link (bottom left). Note that the first and second touch diagonally, but that does not constitute "linkage."
Since we only count the Longest dragon of each symbol, Player One gets 9 points from his "A"s and 6 points from "B"s for a total of 15 points.
To simplify the scoring process, you can mark out any non-scoring (i.e. "not-longest") dragon.
|A|A| |A|B|B|
|A|A|A|A|B|B|
|Y|A|Z|Z|Z|B|
|Y|A|Z|Z|Z|B|
|Y|Y|Y| | | |
|Y| |Y|Y| | |
So, let's score Player Two. Y: 8 points, Z: 6 points for a total of 14 points. Note: Y and Z dragons do not link. Ever. Player two does NOT have a 14 link dragon. He has an 8 link and a 6 link.
Final score -
Player One: 15
Player Two: 14
I hope that sheds some light on how the game functions. Tie games are possible, and I have considered giving the second player a half-point handicap, but honestly ties don't bother me so bad at the moment. Maybe that will change over time.
Dragons, Go, and the new Tic Tac Toe
As a game designer, I strive in most of my efforts to adhere to this two part philosophy: Simplicity of Play and Depth of Strategy. This two-part maxim serves as a balancing force in my games. The easiest means of increasing Depth is to bloat the game: add more rules, more choices, more math, more... whatever. The easiest means of simplifying play is to make things arbitrary (either by lessing the consequences of choices, or by increasing Chance as a game mechanic).
Now, I try to pay due respect to those games that have lasted for a long time. I think longevity is one of the best benchmarks of how good a game is (regardless of how you define "good"). If people keep playing, you've done your job right.
Having said that, I have to say that I don't like Tic Tac Toe. Sure, it's been around for a very long time, but there is something unsatisfying about it. It certainly appeals to the principle of Simplicity, but it lacks any real Depth. The fact is, there is a means of mastering the game. When two "masters" play eachother, it is impossible for the one who plays first to lose. The fact of the matter is that the game is only satisfying for those who do not fully understand it.
For this reason, Tic Tac Toe is relegated to the realm of "children's games." There is nothing wrong with that, to be sure. But, the ease of play was very appealing to me. All you need to play is a paper, a pencil, and the most basic of fine motor skills. It's "a thing to do" when you're waiting, or bored. It's simple to pick up and the games are short.
So, I decided to craft a game that would maintain the positives of Tic Tac Toe, while attempting to address it's major short fall. Here's what I came up with:
DragonsPlayers: 2Objective: Make the biggest chains (dragons).Instructions:Draw a 6x6 grid (count boxes, not lines).Each player is assigned 2 symbols. (I prefer player 1 to have A and B, player 2 Y and Z)Players alternate turns. On each turn the player must fill one box with each of their symbols. Play ends when all boxes are filled. Like symbols that directly connect (i.e. NOT diagonally), are considered linked up (forming a dragon). A dragon can be any shape (you do not have to be able to make a circuit out of it. Touching means connection, period.)Scoring:Determine the longest dragon for each symbol; all other boxes are ignored for scoring. Players are awarded one point for each link in his/her longest dragons. The player with the most points wins.
So... The wording above is maybe more convoluted than I'd like. Unfortunately, it's the kind of thing that everyone seems to get after their first game. All the same, I'm pleased with how it plays. It was inspired in some part by Go, as it uses the same rules of connectivity, and the concept of "liberties" can be valuable in this game as well. In fact, "dragon" is a term for a very long group in Go, hence the name of the game.
Maybe I'll whip up a sample game in another post for illustrative purposes, but I am kind of disappointed that the instructions don't seem to quite stand on their own.
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