Nalpha 2.1, the Learning Curve

This past week I had the privilege to test Nalpha in its current state with two folks who had not yet played it.  One (let's call him Terry) was familiar with DnD as well as MtG.  The other (let's call him Carl) had no experience with RPGs broadly, though he told me he had played MtG years back.

As I have intimated before, I believe Nalpha falls in the gap between traditional pen-and-dice tabletops and TCGs, which was borne out in comments from Terry.  So, it seems that both would have a general sense of game mechanics rather quickly.

What I observed was almost exactly what you'd expect, but I found it fascinating to witness it first hand in such a marked fashion...

Terry picked up the game very quickly.  He understood basic strategy almost right away, and throughout the couse of the campaign he made good choices for himself, as well as being able to counsel Carl well.

Carl, by contrast, had only a faint and distant recollection of TCGs and virtually no RPG experience at all.  His eyes darted from card to card rapidly on his turns, and you could almost feel his struggle to keep tabs on what was going on.  That is not to say that he was learning slowly.  I'd say he was learning at a somewhat typical pace.  It was just more pronounced when compared to someone closer to the target demographic.

All in all, the game went well, and both had a good time (though I dare say Terry had a great time), even though we lost.  I learned a few things about the campaign (it's farther behind in development than the Player Character core of the game) that will make the next edition a little better.

The biggest take away for me was that I think the game does what I want it to for the target audience.  It was more-or-less intuitive once some basic rules were established.   The bulk of game time was spent playing, not explaining.  To me, that marks an elegant system and ups the fun-factor significantly.

Nalpha: Emergence of a Subgenre

So, Nalpha is clipping along nicely.  I'm on the cusp of rolling out the next edition of beta.  Not nearly the huge core changes in this edition that we experienced in the last, but it's still pretty comprehensive.  Or to put it differently, I'm not quite to the point of fretting over the balance of each individual card yet, but those days are not so distant.

I was a bit dumbfounded to discover that, not counting the special "Character" cards, I had tasked myself with the creation of no less than 84 cards for the "Starter" version of the game.  Now, mind you, that is 84 discrete cards - no duplicates at all.

Which brings me to the topic I will be exploring: What do you do with a game that does not fit quite into an existing genre?


To understand my quandry directly, I'll talk a bit about what Nalpha is.

Nalpha (not the real name of the game, for you new readers), is sort of like a trading card game.  I have been clearly and heavily influenced by Magic: the Gathering as well as a few others in the genre.

On the other hand, Nalpha is, by virtue of its design, not a trading card game.  There really is no reason to trade anything.  The cards aren't collectable in any sense.  There is no such thing as a rare card.

For this reason, I have in mind a different idea of "expansion" and enduring marketability.  Forgive me if I don't disclose those to you (and the rest of the universe) here.

To me, the idea innovating a subgenre is exciting, and probably the only way a nobody-indie like me has a prayer and getting published but on the flipside, who do I approach about publication? 

Established TCG companies are a possibility, but they tend to be monolithic and chances of catching their attention seems remote.  Moreover, I don't know if they'd likely deviate from the established pattern of rare-card driven booster sales, since they have a formula that presumably works.  If I don't go that route, then who do I go to?  Table-top publishers?  I'm just not sure.

And that's the rub, isn't it?  As innovation increases so does unfamiliarity.  It's a bit of a double-edged sword.

Still, I have some time before I need to really look into the business end of things.  Maybe I'll have some answers by the time I'm ready to submit proposals.

Nalpha 2.0: First Look

A buddy and I gave the reworked Nalpha a shot and let me tell you: it was better.  Much better.

Now, the game was far from "all that I could have hoped for."  It still certainly has a way to go.  Moreover, what we did was a simple duel.  Dueling is an okay activity in the game, but I think it will never compare to any gamestyle with more than one member per team.

One one level, the metagame is about selecting the appropriate cards, but I think the larger metagame is about assembling a team.

On the whole, variation in gameplay is not as high as I would like.  Down the road I may increase the number of cards a player can use at once but, as I say, that is down the road.  For now, I'm simply pleased that the game is working at the most basic level.

Nalpha: Why it sucked.

So, my wife gracious tested "Nalpha" with me this weekend.

It was awful.  Simply dreadful.  It's not that the idea that it has grown from was bad, but the implementation was.  Gameplay was marked with tedium, and on any given turn (which should be the high point of "fun-having"), it felt as though the game played itself, rather than you played it.

My wife is honest with her words, but much more so with her posture, facial expression, and overall fidgetiness.  I was convinced that the game was bad.  And that is why I am so grateful to have had her try it out with me.

So where do we go from here?  Well, here's the process I went through:

First, I tried to be sure I understood what precisely wasn't working.  In this case I saw two major issues: tedious physical action (particularly when it wasn't my turn) and lack of options.

I try to look at troubleshooting and redesign in a medical kind of way: is the problem a symptom or is it the actual disease?  In this case, it seemed to me that the first issue was a symptom, and the second an actual disease.

A disease is usually easier to correct; you can address it head on.  Symptoms, by contrast, can be simply treated head on, but that may not really fix the problem.  So, you have to root out the actual cause.

I identified the root of problem #1 as being one of the core mechanics of the game.  That kind of sucked, but in a way I always knew I was unhappy with it; I just couldn't admit it to myself.  Altering it would mean losing a fair amount of the "class-diversity" I had intended for the game.  Nevertheless, a diverse game that's not fun is still not a good game.

So I wound up axing the old mechanic, but I did work out a new one that was simpler, faster, and less tedious.  A little tweak to the format of each turn helped save the class-diversity I was afraid of losing.

As for the lack of options, that was pretty easily addressed by simply lowering the cost of many cards so that more actions were available more often.  A rebalance of the potency of those cards was also necessary, but that wasn't terribly difficult.

So, I've printed a new Nalpha set.  Now, I just need to play a few games and see if the changes take.

Nalpha: Gimmick versus Optimization

I have been working on a few games concurrently, and one of them is a genre-mash-up somewhere between a TCG and a tabletop RPG.  For the sake of discretion, let's give this project a codename: Nalpha.

So, I've been working on this project for a couple weeks, and there was a bit of a gimmicky hook to the play action; the cards were used in a physical way as a game element that cards usually aren't.  Yes, I know I'm being guarded with my description, but bear with me.  I wouldn't probably be talking openly about this game at all, if not for the developmental crossroads I find myself at.


There are other things that make the game unique and - in my estimation - fun and interesting, but this is particular facet makes handling the cards feel different.

There are a couple downsides to the format, however.  For one, this implementation requires special play surfaces (a mat of sorts) that both takes up a fair amount of table-space, as well as mandates extra hardware (the mat itself) to play the game.  These in turn reduce the portability of the game; it is not very travel-friendly.

One of the things I love about TCGs is the ability to throw a deck in your backpack, purse, or pocket.  It's not a cheesy "travel-version" of the "real game;"  the real game is travel friendly.  You can take it to school, or the coffee shop, or a friend's house easily.  Pull out your deck and in under a minute you are playing the game.

I could redesign the game components (without changing game mechanics) to address all of these problems, and even give a few intuitive improvements to some cards.  But if I do so, then I eliminate the physical hook that gives you the "Whoa" impression when you first see the game.

Ultimately, I think either format will feel similar once you have learned the game (with a slight edge to the "redesigned" Nalpha), so it comes down to other factors.  The question I'm grappling with is simple, really:

Is having a strong (visual/physical, not mechanical) gimmick more or less valuable than designing components for optimum playability?

Marketing is a factor, but fidelity to the player (not merely the consumer) is important, too.  This question was posed in a different way by Arcade over at Learning Game Design, which I posited my two cents on.  But now that it's my crisis and not his, I'm finding it more difficult to sort out the issue.

The Learning Curve

This week I had the privilege of demo-ing my card game with a friend of mine I only see occassionally.  After the game I thanked him for testing for me and his response was this: "No problem.  I think I make a good tester because I am a slow learner."

I thought his comment was at once endearing (there was no hint of false modesty in his face or voice) and instructive to me.  He had fun playing... not merely because the game ran well but because, by his estimation, he understood the game well by the second or third turn.

I took this to be a good sign for a game that is meant to be light-weight and casual.  What I thought was even better was watching over the course of four games or so, he made consistently better plays.  His skill level increased as his experience increased.

There is, I think, a fairly low ceiling for how good you can get at the game.  It doesn't offer the strategic depth of something like Magic: the Gathering or interpersonal skills like Poker.  But there are choices and in most cases there are poor, fair, and good decisions that can be made.

I think that's the strength of my card game (I can't go into much by way of specifics if I hope to get published), but the gist is that the rules are minimal but comprehensive and the cards are fairly easily understood.  You can know everything there is to know in just a couple minutes.  But there is a "feel" to the game, a heirarchy of decision making that comes with experience.  Anyone who has played two games is unlikely to spend more than a minute on even the most labored turn, because cards are easily and situationally prioritized.

I've been told that my game lacks a "ground-breaking inventive mechanic."  I think that's true, but I'm going to continue to pursue publication for a while anyways because I believe it is worth it.  It's novel.  It's a joy to play.  It's a good product.

Hmm... I meant to spend more time talking about the role of "learning" a game than I actually did.  Perhaps I'll tie-in to this in a separate post later.

Just a brief update...

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.

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).