I got my first rejection letter! I know, I know. You're all very proud of me. Well, I'm proud of myself as well.
Truth is, I didn't expect my first submission would be a success, and the critique offered was justified. To be transparent, I identified the objections raised before I ever thought about sending my game off for publication.
But, the gentleman who I corresponded with could not have been more courteous and encouraging. My supervisor at my actual job described the letter as "The nicest kick in the nuts" he'd ever read. I'm heading to the next company with my game, so we'll see.
Again, in the interest of honesty (since this is my blog after all), I may never get this game published and that'd be okay with me. I'm learning about how the process works, how the industry works, and just trying to keep my head up. I've never tried to get published before, so this is a big step up from just playing with friends and then shelving the present game when I make a new one.
When I have more time, I will go a little deeper into what might be between me and publication.
9.30.2009
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.)
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