In Defense of Inefficiency

It should be obvious that as designers, when we design efficiency games we are really designing the inefficiency that the players must grapple with. (Likewise, we don't design balance so much as imbalance.) Broadly speaking, we are always designing inefficiency into games, because games are made up of goals and obstacles, and the obstacles always introduce an element of inefficiency. That inefficiency is what makes a game interesting. However, there are more ways in which designing inefficiency can be a positive thing. 

The hobby has a large amount of "efficiency games" where the main focus of play is finding the most efficient (or really, the least inefficient) route to the endgame. But I am struck by how few truly inefficient games are in the hobby—games where the main focus is on the least efficient route. For example, if you play Telestrations as efficiently as possible, the game will fall flat. The disconnect in communication is the fun part of the game. I've not played a published version, but when I play the best players come up with concepts for a starting sentence that cannot be easily conveyed and is inherently silly. This ensures that communication will break down across the game, resulting in very funny reveals. 

Clearly, party games have an advantage when it comes to introducing inefficient play, because players take those games less seriously. However, I believe that we could develop other genres of board games to capture different aspects of inefficiency. In video games, we see lots of inefficient play: side quests, achievements, extraneous areas of the map, multiple dialogue choices. Players who "100%" a game are not playing with efficiency in mind. Another type of inefficiency in video games is walking simulators. In these games the goal is not to finish but to experience the environment. And let us not discount the sandbox titan that is Minecraft, where play can continue for years after reaching the end credits. 

I suspect that inefficient play in video games is most prevalent in and developed out of solo play. Solo play across all games tolerates more inefficiency than multiplayer. Solo RPGs have also been able to stretch the bounds of what a game can be through journaling and other media, like sewing and drawing. Sewing a map in the RPG A Mending is about as inefficient as you can get, but that is the main hook of the game. 

Where solo sensibilities in video games seems to have leaked into multiplayer games, the reverse seems to be true for board games. Solo board games seem by and large just as focused on efficiency as multiplayer games. This seems to be true because solo board games use the same central mechanics as multiplayer but modified for solo play. I don't think we can take styles of play associated with efficiency and try to encourage inefficient play. I think we need new genres of play.

Where should you start, then, in designing an inefficient game? I would start with choosing where I want the inefficiency to be. Competitive play (even in cooperation against the game AI) is inherently efficient in our current cultural context. So I would put the focus on aesthetic play, social play, or creative play. While I think narrative can be a tool for inefficiency, narrative play by itself in the context of board games won't move players far enough away from an efficiency mindset. The goal of play will need to be very clearly something other than winning, such as in Telestrations, where the goal is the funny reveal. 

I don't have more advice about how to design an inefficient game that isn't a party game, because if I knew how to create a new genre of play whole cloth, I would be pitching that to publishers. I would like to see board games break into unexpected territory. Inefficiency seems like one place to start.

ShippBoard Games is a board game design blog that updates most Mondays.

Dramatic Questions

I have mentioned before that your theme should be able to be stated as a question, but I have never linked that question to the literary concept of a dramatic question. This post fixes that.

A dramatic question, also called a major dramatic question, is the source of conflict in a narrative. Dramatic questions are used by authors to guide their work and make sure that their story feels as though it has a point. Actors and directors must consider the major dramatic question of a play in order for the spoken text and the action to feel cohesive. 

Determining the major dramatic question is central to thematic integration in board game design. If you don't know what is driving the events of the theme, they will feel unfocused and random. To determine the major dramatic question, locate the central conflict in your theme. Why do the characters take actions to overcome obstacles? Is it survival? Prestige? Vengeance? What are the stakes of their success or failure? For instance, it is clear in Everdell why you are building a town ahead of winter; what is not clear is why your town needs to be better than the other towns (or districts?). If players didn't interact at all you could say it was because they exist in different places. But players not only compete for resources, they can visit each other's towns. 

When you have determined what the central conflict and stakes of the theme are, double check that they are aligned with the mechanical objectives of the game. If the central conflict of the stated theme is to become the most powerful warlord, but the main action of the game is farming, then the dramatic question is probably the wrong question. If you aren't sure if you have the right question, ask your playtesters "What was this game about?" after they play it. If you really want to keep your original dramatic question, you may have to refocus your mechanics to more closely align with it. 

When the game objectives are aligned with the dramatic question, ask yourself at what point is the question answered. Most of the time, the question should be answered at the very end of the game. If the question of "Who is the strongest?" is answered halfway through the game, your game may be too long, or need catch-up mechanics, or you may need a second dramatic question to carry through to the end game. Ankh is a game that switches the dramatic question from "Which god will prevail?" to "Can the remaining gods together defeat the more powerful god?" We don't see a lot of games that switch dramatic questions partway through, and I think it would be interesting to see that more often. Even games with strong pivots usually have a single dramatic question, such as Clank!'s "Who can get the most treasure AND get out alive?" Here the question has two parts but it is a single driving question. (In my opinion; you might consider this two questions.) Whereas in Ankh you won't know what the second question looks like until you arrive at "the merge." 

If you have a dramatic question with clear stakes that is aligned with the player objectives, consider adding an inciting incident to your game! Read more about that here. This will take your dramatic question and establish it narratively for your players and can make the whole game feel more thematic as a result. Honestly, this is what elevates So, You've Been Eaten from other games of a similar weight and style. 

Dramatic questions don't have to be life or death. They are a guide post to game development by stating why the characters are engaged in the action of the game. They help focus the narrative of the theme. They help ground the game logic. They help craft the thematic hook. If you are interested in thematic integration, start by figuring out the major dramatic question. 

ShippBoard Games is a board game design blog that updates most Mondays.