Editor's Note: this article was originally published in 2007 on the now-defunct Boardgamenews.com website.
World War I was entering its first winter, as soldiers from both sides
huddled together in the muddy trenches that lined the western front through
Belgium and France. The “No Man’s Land” between them was already filled with
bodies of the fallen, soon to be frozen because it was too dangerous to
retrieve them for a proper burial. But that Christmas, something quite unexpected
happened: the soldiers who had been trained to kill each other suddenly laid
down their weapons…and played games.
I was unaware of this well-documented Christmas truce until a friend gave me
a copy of the 2005 film, ”Joyeux
Noël (Merry Christmas).” The Oscar-nominated cinematic version of the story
is depicted through the eyes of French, British and German soldiers, and is
appropriately presented in three languages. Although it is a romanticized version
of the actual events, its message made it a tradition in our household
alongside some of the better-known holiday film classics.
Thursday, December 18, 2014
Sunday, July 27, 2014
It's Alive!
In the architecture office, my colleagues would often use a curious phrase when making design decisions: "This is what the building wants to be."
Why the anthropomorphism? I suppose it's quicker than saying, "This seems to me to be the project's most natural direction, based on previous design decisions." And it sounds more emphatic, not to mention a tad romantic. After all, there is a mysteriousness to creative thought and the amount of influence our unconscious intuition has on that process.
There are so many different directions a design of any kind can take. It is a tree of possibilities, and each branch offers a number of new, unique choices. And like those "Choose Your Own Adventure" books I enjoyed as a child, if one of those branches leads to an undesirable conclusion, it's simple to back up and follow a different branch.
Game design is no different. There are so many options for a designer, and each one influences future decisions. At a certain point, I have an intuitive feel for "what the game wants to be," even if it has changed from my original vision.
And that may be the best answer yet for why I view my inanimate projects as if I had designed them to evolve on their own: it's an acknowledgement that, more often than not, the process takes me down paths that I could not see at the outset. I began with a goal and a vision on how to get there, but in the process of writing rules outlines and flowcharts, of prototyping, testing and tweaking, the journey revealed other interesting paths that I simply could not resist.
It's experiencing the unexpected that make me feel less like I'm in control and more like I'm playing a game--the game of game design.
But I am in control, of course--at least to the point of making the final decisions, of choosing the next branches of the decision tree to climb, and finally declaring when I reach the top, "This is what the game wants to be!"
Why the anthropomorphism? I suppose it's quicker than saying, "This seems to me to be the project's most natural direction, based on previous design decisions." And it sounds more emphatic, not to mention a tad romantic. After all, there is a mysteriousness to creative thought and the amount of influence our unconscious intuition has on that process.
There are so many different directions a design of any kind can take. It is a tree of possibilities, and each branch offers a number of new, unique choices. And like those "Choose Your Own Adventure" books I enjoyed as a child, if one of those branches leads to an undesirable conclusion, it's simple to back up and follow a different branch.
Game design is no different. There are so many options for a designer, and each one influences future decisions. At a certain point, I have an intuitive feel for "what the game wants to be," even if it has changed from my original vision.
And that may be the best answer yet for why I view my inanimate projects as if I had designed them to evolve on their own: it's an acknowledgement that, more often than not, the process takes me down paths that I could not see at the outset. I began with a goal and a vision on how to get there, but in the process of writing rules outlines and flowcharts, of prototyping, testing and tweaking, the journey revealed other interesting paths that I simply could not resist.
It's experiencing the unexpected that make me feel less like I'm in control and more like I'm playing a game--the game of game design.
But I am in control, of course--at least to the point of making the final decisions, of choosing the next branches of the decision tree to climb, and finally declaring when I reach the top, "This is what the game wants to be!"
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
POSTCARD FROM BERLIN: I Got Rhythm
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