The Curse of Knowledge

In Made to Stick: Why Some Ideas Survive and Others Die by Chip and Dan Heath, the authors discuss the curse of knowledge. The curse is essentially this: the more you know about a subject, the less able you are to easily pass on that information. One place to find a real world example of this is in fiber crafts videos- knitting, crochet, etc. I ran up against the curse trying to learn needle tatting. (Tatting is the term for making lace.) In the video I watched, the tatter slowly set up the basics of making the first loop, which is already a lot tiny stitches (except they probably aren't called stitches, but you get the idea). Then when the first loop was finished she said "You just keep going until you're done." My friend and I had to advance the video frame by frame to figure out how to start the next loop or chain. The tatter's hands moved quickly with muscle memory. She likely didn't even realize she was leaving out steps- of course you have to flip the pattern before starting the next loop; that's how it lays flat. But she suffered from the curse of knowledge. 

In my experience, the curse of knowledge functions the same way that memory works: we remember a little of the beginning of a process, because the basic ideas get reinforced as we go. Then we remember the high points and the end- the most exciting parts. The middle bits, the connective tissue, don't stick in our minds. Players remember games this way. Professors who are talented practitioners but not good teachers teach this way. 

There is another way the curse can manifest. I'm experiencing it by writing this blog. This form the curse of knowledge takes is the inability to answer a broad question because the answer is 5k words long. When someone asks in a forum "what is a good theme?" I no longer know where to start. I can point to my posts on resonance or the anatomy of a theme. I could start talking about fluff or gimmicks. I could talk about the importance of thematic integration. I could start at the beginning and run through the principles of design, an important foundation that doesn't even address the question. Or I could scroll past the question. 

Becoming good at a craft is about learning all the nuance of the connective tissue that is so difficult to teach. Teaching a craft is about being able to pass on that information in a clear, concise way. Both beginners and experts have to have patience in the face of the curse of knowledge. 

I struggled through each step but eventually learned to make a lace doily. I didn't have a community of experienced tatters to reach out to. The board game design community is an amazing support structure. While it can be frustrating to answer the same beginner questions over and over (no one will steal your idea, we promise), the goal should be getting people to the middle steps and clearly teaching those steps. That is where the craft lies.  

Design Practicum: Among Us

Among Us was one of the hits of the pandemic. It brought social deduction from tabletop to video games. But more to the purpose, in doing so it solved a number of issues that social deduction games have. Let's take a look at common issues with the genre and how Among Us solves them.

(No) Player Elimination

A number of social deduction games have addressed player elimination, but many only mitigate it by delaying the elimination or limiting 'after death' roles to the first player or two that is eliminated. Additionally, dead players are usually at a disadvantage and have less interesting things to do than the living players. The task system in Among Us relies on all players, alive or dead, to complete their tasks in order for the crew to win. In fact, tasks are easier to complete as a ghost, because the map is easier to traverse. Ghosts do not participate in voting, and a ghost with no more tasks can just float aimlessly, but just exploring the map (or watching the imposters stalk the crew) is arguably still more fun than getting eliminated in a tabletop social deduction game. 

Another fun innovation to player elimination is in the debate and voting timers. If players cannot come to a majority decision on who to eject in time, the game automatically starts another round with no one eliminated. This keeps the game moving and adds a layer of strategy- sometimes your odds are better if no one is ejected because the game ends (and imposters win) if a round would start with an equal number of imposters and crew members which prevents a voting majority for the crew. 

(Alternate) Win Conditions

Most social deduction games rely on last player standing win conditions. As stated above, the task system in Among Us adds an interesting element to the typical social deduction formula. Players can win by completing tasks or by ejecting every imposter. I think the best innovation here, though, is the sabotage system. Imposters can win by surviving to the end of the game, killing every crew person individually, or by setting off a system failure that the crew fail to fix in time. The sabotage system can be used to win the game, but also to draw players to different parts of the map, interrupt the completion of tasks, and just generally ratchet up the tension. 

(Less) Limited Information

The 'night' phase of a typical Werewolf-style social deduction game is also the most boring: closed eyes and some pointing. Then in the 'day' phase players have very little information from which to deduce who is what role. In Among Us, players get to play out the night phase in real time on a map. The night phase takes on a cinematic quality that cannot be reproduced in tabletop. Because players cannot see each others' screens, this phase of the game takes on a hidden movement mechanic feel that is much smoother than anything that could be attempted in tabletop. Because players can follow, run away from, or sneak up on other players, various details from this phase become the basis of accusations during the voting phase. A skilled observer will have a competitive edge in trying to determine who is lying. 

(Fewer) Design Constraints

Among Us offers more options for players than most tabletop social deduction games. Imposters can commit crimes of opportunity, kill multiple people in a single round, report dead bodies to throw off suspicion, etc. Crew can choose to rush a task victory or try to spy on other players. Game groups can adjust settings to allow for more imposters, longer death cool downs, and so on. Among Us has the spatial freedom of a video game and the house-rule-friendly freedom of a tabletop game- to the degree that the player-base has invented entirely new game modes using just the existing settings, such as a hide-and-seek game where the imposter announces who they are at the start of the game. 

How does all of this apply to board game designers? Among Us solves existing problems and limitations in social deduction games by changing the medium. Digital hybrid board games are one way to introduce a new medium to old problems, but we can use similar problem-solving techniques using traditional components. Among Us excels at only having the bare minimum needed for the best possible player experience. Adding lots of mechanics and components that don't solve problems does not make for a well designed game. In some games, a modular board is a brilliant design choice, in others it is unnecessary. Other games solve problems in ways that improve the gameplay but don't add any excitement. If Among Us teaches us anything, it is that our solutions to design problems should be the solutions that produce the best possible player experience. 

Tough Love

It is perfectly ok to be a hobby designer who playtests one game for years and never seeks publication. But once you start talking about publishing your game (pitching to publishers or self-publishing), it's time to start asking some tough questions of your design. There are a lot of people who get frustrated when their designs are rejected or fail to fund. Some of that frustration comes out of playtesting with other designers who, in an effort to help create the best possible game in front of them, won't tell you that you need to go back to the drawing board. I love how supportive this community is, but if someone is going to invest several years and their own money to try to self-publish a game, that person needs to be told if they have a viable product or not. (Yes, there are plenty of overly critical playtests that occur. I'm not writing about those today, though.) Fortunately, you can be the one to critique your own design by asking tough questions. Or you can take these questions to a more experienced designer and ask them to evaluate your design. 

1. Did someone smarter than you already make this game? 

I'm actually serious here. If your design resembles another design, that's not a bad thing necessarily. But if your design evokes a Richard Garfield or Reiner Knizia game, you may not want to have that constant comparison (unless it was one of their less successful designs?). I've shelved a game because of this. This is especially true if you don't have any games published previously (aka haven't developed street cred with the public). 

2. Is your theme oversaturated right now?

Right now is not the best time for a new dinosaur game, most likely. Most of the ones coming out were signed last year or the year before or the year before that. So, that popular theme right now? You don't know how many are in development that have yet to be announced. Maybe shelve it for a few years until the time is right for a dino revival. 

3. Is your main mechanic oversaturated right now? Or is the trend dead?

Same idea as above, but with the words 'deck building' instead of dinosaurs. Additionally, certain mechanical trends may need longer between waves before they can be revived. Social deduction games are still in a pretty marked downturn after the craze of the previous decade. Micro games were dead, outside of Love Letter sequels, for a good half decade before their revival as a trend. Yes, your game can succeed even if you have a dinosaur social deduction game but it will be an uphill battle (Dinosaur Tea Party already exists and Rob Daviau was involved, see question 1). 

4. Is your game a product?

Is your component count sane? Will the box required fit on any shelf sold by Ikea? Does the cost of production fit the intended audience? Lighter games for families need to be cheaper than tactical miniatures games. The final price needs to fit the target audience. 

Current pitching advice acknowledges that better looking prototypes can help sway publishers to sign your game. However, you should be wary of making your game look too much like an art project. You want your prototype to catch the publisher's imagination for what product they could create from it. Components should be easily sourced not bespoke. 

5. Is your potential audience smaller than the publisher you are pitching to? 

If your game is too niche or experimental, self-publishing may be the best bet although there are always new start-up publishers you could pitch to. Established publishers are likely going to be risk averse. (If you know your audience is outside the hobby but exists in large numbers, include that on the sell sheet. Also, pitch to publishers who have reach into mass market spaces.) A really good product has a clear primary audience based on theme, price, and complexity. If your intended audience is backpacking bikers (bikepackers, technically) who also enjoy resource management, your audience may be too niche for a standard 1,500 unit print run. In that case, self-publishing may be for you.

6. Is ludonarrative dissonance limiting the size of your audience?

Fort, Root, and Wingspan all made 'cute themes with heavier gameplay' work in their favor. (But all of the people involved in those games are smarter than me.) My belief is that you can make almost any theme work if you pay attention to the details. What is abstracted and what isn't can affect how the rules are absorbed by players. Ask your playtesters, does this game play how you would expect based on the theme? Thematic details also affect resonance. In general, however, you want to be aware of how the overall theme sets expectation for gameplay. Gentle themes tend to pair better with light games and dark themes with heavier games. Subverting those expectations can work very well, but must be approached intentionally. 

7. Does this design have legs?

This is the ultimate question. Is this design worth the investment of your time? If your design has mechanics that clearly offer a different play experience, a theme that helps sell the game, and a proper price-to-heaviness ratio, then your design has legs. The next step is finding out how far it can run. 

Innovation vs. Refinement

Everyone wants to make the next big thing. As I have written before, there are multiple ways to stand out in our crowded market. However, today I want to focus on one aspect: innovation. 

The term innovation typically is reserved for new mechanics or sometimes a new expression of mechanics. Tweaks to existing mechanics are generally considered refinement. There are certainly other forms of innovation in games, but mechanical innovation is what gets the most air time in design discussions. 

There are a few obvious problems with creating new mechanics. For one, coming up with something original enough to feel new and innovative is hard. Game design is easier when you are plugging existing pieces into a game in a way that solves the questions you are posing to your design. Creating new mechanics involves answering those questions not from a list but from your imagination. To me it feels like creating your own philosophical theory. "How can I create the feeling of the bustle of a busy market place using only cards?" requires me to first envision a solution before I can test it at the table. I find that I am most innovative when existing mechanisms do not adequately answer the questions I have for my design. Which in turn means that in order to create an environment that encourages innovation, I have to ask interesting questions. If your goal is to create "the next popular [trendy mechanic] game," you aren't setting your self up for innovation unless you have identified a question posed by that mechanic that hasn't been solved yet. I frequently end up working with mechanisms I don't really like because I am seeking to solve the question, "How can I design a game with this mechanic in a way that would make ME want to play it?" That is an interesting question, because it means I have to look for solutions outside of already published games. 

Another problem with new mechanics is that innovation appears easier if you are willing to design non-standard components. Which is to say, the mechanical innovation of non-standard components becomes more obvious but the component design itself is more difficult, as is playtesting it. There's a reason the mass market game designers are called 'inventors.' These games are easier to market, because of 'table presence' or 'toy factor' but in the hobby industry may still disappear quickly if the gameplay isn't at the same quality as the components. In spite of all that, playing around with foam core or modeling clay is a good creative exercise that could lead to interesting design decisions. On the flip side, working with the constraints of cards, tiles, and cubes can also lead to unique design elements- providing you are asking interesting questions. 

The last major problem with new mechanics is that they will be by nature less tested than mechanics that exist in dozens of games. As a result, games with brand new mechanics tend to not be as good as their later cousins. Dominion is a rare exception in its enduring popularity. Most games that use an entirely new mechanic for the first time are not the games that stay popular in that genre. (7 Wonders is much more popular than the earlier Fairy Tale.) Many popular games become popular (outside of production reasons) because of refinement rather than innovation. 

Refinement seeks to answer the questions of a game's design by saying, "What is the best way of implementing this existing mechanic?" Existing mechanics have known problems or downsides that refinement seeks to eliminate. Refinement focuses on questions such as reducing turn length, increasing player interaction, streamlining rules, adding complementary mechanisms, etc. One way to approach mechanical design would be to look at games with unique mechanics that had promise but underperformed and see if any of those ideas could be cultivated into a new design. 

Innovation creates greater rules overhead by including unfamiliar mechanics. In contrast, refinement as an approach can create easier onboarding by dint of its familiarity. The drawback to refinement, however, is that familiarity. Designing a game that uses a trendy mechanic means having your design compared to every other instance of that mechanic. If your version does not solve known issues with that mechanic, your design will struggle to stand out against the already published competition. Again, this suggests that a focus on refining non-trendy mechanics is a path to designing a stand-out game. 

Which is better, innovation or refinement? That largely depends on what questions you are asking in your design. Many minor innovations will get classed as refinements if they do not result in a wholly new mechanic. And most games will contain a mixture of innovation and refinement. (One shortcut that's popular right now is to create a new style of gameplay by combining two existing mechanics.) 

Where in your design should you focus on either innovation or refinement? There is a great post about one formula you can use to think about the sections of a game: Aquire, Build, Score. Generally, I prefer to focus any innovation during the build phase (because of the theme possibilities) and avoid innovation during acquisition (because fiddliness) or scoring (because math). For me, the most interesting questions I can ask have to do with player actions and how they intersect with the theme. But that is not the only way to approach design. Plenty of games focus on the uniqueness of acquisition or scoring. Cat Lady is a light pool drafting game that puts greater design emphasis on acquisition, whereas Solar Draft is a light pool drafting game with a greater design emphasis on scoring. Where you choose to create interesting moments is up to you and your design strengths. 

The undercurrent in this post is this: what is your design vision? A solid design vision will interrogate your design choices and encourage you to ask interesting questions. Asking these questions is how you implement (and refine) your design vision. If the questions you ask are not interesting, you may need to interrogate your design vision itself. A good idea will lead to interesting questions which will lead to creative solutions which will create a good design. If you are struggling with your design, ask yourself where in the process does your design fall short? Do you need to revise your design vision? Ask better questions about how to implement that vision? Find more creative solutions? I think most designers believe design is about finding those creative solutions but I think good designs come out of interesting questions. Interesting questions can both better shape the design vision and point to more creative solutions. Truly interesting questions can even spur innovation. What questions are you asking?

Simulations as Mechanisms

The word 'simulation' is used to describe such very different things that I admit I find it distressing. What is worse, for me, is that the word isn't even being misused. According to Wikipedia, "a simulation is an approximate imitation of the operation of a process or system that represent its operation over time." In other words, what a simulation looks like depends on what you are simulating. 

Serious simulations are used for training and for making improvements to the system itself. Medical simulators have been used in training for such procedures as laparoscopic surgery. In addition to a realistic learning environment, such a simulation can help with dexterity and muscle memory for delicate procedures. Flight simulators are used in training as a way to master controls before ever leaving the ground. 

Virtual reality seeks to simulate the presence of the user in the virtual environment through haptic feedback and the ability of the user to interact with the environment in addition to the realistic visuals. 

War games are frequently called simulations. In this case, they are simulating the tactical and strategic decisions being made that result in troop movements and battles. 

Certain video games are considered "life simulation" games, such as SimCity. (I find this category somewhat troubling, as my friends who play these games tend to play them in ways that do not simulate real life but rather trend toward the ridiculous.) 

Wikipedia notes that "key issues in simulation include the acquisition of valid sources of information about the relevant selection of key characteristics and behaviors." Any entertainment game might fail scrutiny here: we don't really see WWII scholars designing war games or sociologists designing life sim games.  Non-serious simulations are designed to give an experience but cannot be relied upon too much for fidelity. 

However, I think there is an important design lesson here. Each example used above simulated something different: dexterity, machinery, environment, strategy, society. And each abstracts something else in order for the important element to be prioritized. 

I believe simulative actions can be a powerful tool in experience-driven game design. The most important question to ask when designing simulative actions is "What is this simulating?" I tend to lean towards embodiment when thinking about simulative actions- that by physically performing the action the player can be more emotionally drawn into the game. This is not the only way to add elements of simulation to games. Fog of Love is a relationship simulator, for instance. 

I would argue that simulations in entertainment games are best used to create emotional responses in players. War gamers would probably take issue with me, but I have never been interested in historical accuracy for the sake of historical accuracy. (There are other reasons for historical accuracy, such as telling stories that are less well known.) 

But to return to my point, simulations can tap into emotions. A game does not have to be a fully immersive experience to use micro-simulations, such as simulative actions, to create an emotional response. Use of simulative actions also will make a theme feel more integrated with the mechanics. And by modeling mechanics after something outside of games, we can create mechanisms that feel fresh and help our designs to stand out.