Monday, January 18, 2021

How to tell when a 'thematic' element is, in fact, a gimmick.

First off, what is a gimmick? A gimmick is anything that brings a sense of novelty and appeal but not much else. I think gimmicks in board games tend to follow certain traits that I have outlined in this post. 

A gimmick looks cool, but isn't functional. For example, (according to the Dicetower review) the new version of Cleopatra and the Society of Architects is harder to set up than the original because of all the 3D pieces, which are also more fragile. And without the add-on magnets, the pieces don't stay in place well. Fancier production elements are usually added for increased curb appeal, but all elements should be functional and feel necessary to the game experience. Increased set up time, especially for a shorter game, reduces the functionality of a game as, for instance, an after-dinner-before-dessert diversion.  

A gimmick adds more cost than the value of what is received. Sometimes the cost isn't just the added price. Storage and organization can become a hassle for poorly thought out gimmicks. I am a fan of dimensional cardboard standees, but taking them apart and putting them back together wears them out and the hassle makes the game harder to get back to the table. Or I have to find a way to store the components fully assembled so that they won't get dusty and gross over time. Everdell is famous for this, but Wingspan and Photosynthesis also run into this issue. Photosynthesis is a special case where the trees are integrated into the game and necessary to gameplay, but storage is a hassle because the assembled trees don't quite fit into the box without the danger of warping or bending the cardboard. 

A gimmick makes a game less usable. The biggest offender is large central 3D components that players cannot see around and block the board or have information that requires viewing all sides of the component. Four Gardens' tower has the potential to slow down the game because each player needs time on their turn to figure out how best to turn the tower, which has various numbers of resources on each side of its four levels. However, the dimensionality of the tower lends itself to a clear understanding of how resources are gained—by physically rotating the tower then counting from either the top or the bottom. The question remains whether the increased usability of easily understood actions for variable resource output outweighs the decreased usability of not being able to plan before your turn and not being able to see every option at once. Not all cases are clear cut on whether something is a gimmick. 

A gimmick trades on its uniqueness. Thus, many gimmicky games are said to be "more of a toy than a game." Mousetrap is perhaps the most famous gimmick in board game history. A note here: gimmicks can be fun, like assembling and running the mousetrap, but are not fun for the reason that the game is supposed to be fun. The problem with the "more of a toy" critique is that consumers may feel like victims of false advertising if the game they bought is less interested in being a game than they were led to believe. I think that Funkoverse did a great job subverting this trend: all the characters are toys, but the game is clearly a game first and foremost. 

Ultimately, gimmicks will be called out when they lack integration into gameplay. So, what does integration look like?

Integrated elements are both cool-looking and functional. 

Integrated elements add more perceived value than cost (in either price or frustration). 

Integrated elements make a game more usable. 

Integrated elements reinforce the idea that the product is a game first. 

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