Defining 'Themeless'

In the last post, I gave my definition of theme: a subject in a setting with an uncertain outcome. In this post, I want to dive deeper and look at what it means for a game to be themeless. 

Let's start with the easy element: the uncertain outcome. In order for theme to be present in a game, it must be tied to the game-state in some way, and games generally do not have scripted endings. Game illustrations can have a subject and a setting, but if they are totally divorced from the momentum of play then the illustrations function only as an aesthetic style. We see this in classic games that have IPs slapped on them in order to appeal to collectors. However, very few mechanics need to reflect the theme in order for theme to feel present. The more connection that theme has with mechanics, the more thematic a game will feel. Theme exists on a spectrum that requires at least one point of connectivity in order to exist. Azul exists on the lower end of this spectrum, but still has several points of connectivity between mechanics and theme: tiles can break, tiles are being placed in a decorative pattern, the best tile-layer is determined at the end of the game. What if the theme is not tied to the win condition? I'm using uncertain outcome to mean that the 'story' of the game does not progress in an identical way from game to game. Games often will start with the same state from play to play but rarely end with the same state. If a meeple took a different pattern of actions one game to the next, its character arc and its world changed. Since the pattern of play is not predetermined before starting a game, I maintain that a theme requires an uncertain outcome, which arises from connectivity to a game's mechanics. 

So, theme must connect to the dynamic nature of gameplay. But can theme exist without a setting? It is both difficult and rare for a subject to exist without a setting. It's arguably impossible on a philosophical level. However, setting is usually viewed as "what we can know about the game world" outside of the central characters and actions. From this angle, I believe that it is possible to have such barely-there settings as to be nonexistent. For example, Werewolf is arguably a subject without a setting. What we know about the world from playing the basic rules of Werewolf: there is a day/night cycle, werewolves exist, villagers exist. Maybe a seer (or similar role) also exists. I would argue that isn't enough context to count as a setting. Where does that leave my definition of theme? I would merely add the additional comment that sometimes, rarely the setting is unspecified. Since setting is largely provided by/fleshed out by illustration, unspecified settings will be most common in games that have a subject connected to the mechanics but no/little illustration or otherwise specified information about setting. Like I said, that's rather rare in hobby games, although classic games like chess could also fit in this category. 

Can theme exist without a subject? I would argue that if a setting connects to mechanics then a subject naturally arises around the actions and goals of the mechanics. So, a purely mechanical game will have no subject, but a game with a specified setting almost certainly has a subject. However, there may be subjects that fall outside of what is broadly considered to be theme. The main one is players acting as themselves. If a game has no setting, no NPCs, and the players act as themselves, I would argue the game has no theme. Many party games, quiz games, and judging games fall into this category. For example, in Dixit the only named role is a storyteller. The game has no specified setting. There is one connection point to the role of storyteller: the sentence you must make up on your turn. But because players are literally fulfilling the role as themselves, the connection point seems too tenuous to be able to confidently call it a theme. "Players are storytellers and then they vote" is, at best, half a theme. So, acting as yourself dilutes the subject because of the overlap with reality. Similarly, if the game actions mimic the real world actions of playing the game too closely, then theme becomes impossible to distinguish from the act of playing the game. For example, a game about two people sitting down to play chess that does not have some sort of thematic framing device is functionally a game of chess. While these games may have a theme, they present as functionally, experientially having no theme. 

So, what is a themeless game? Turns out there are several kinds.

1. Games with no setting or subject of any kind. (These are typically combinatorial abstracts or classic games.)

2. Games with a subject and/or setting that have zero connection to the mechanics. (Like the above games, but with art inserted.) 

3. Games where the subject and setting are so similar to the real world action of playing the game as to be indistinguishable as a theme. Most often seen when players play as themselves. 

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

Theme is a Term of Art

The way we use the word theme in the board game hobby is a term of art, meaning it has a specific definition to our field that does not exist outside of board games. The more hobby board games develop the more terms of art we will have. Terms of art are the reason we need board game literature, because we need a standardizing record of what these terms mean. And also because it is incredibly hard to google terms of art. This post will explore in more depth the current definition of theme as a term of art in hobby board games (as I see it). 

In Why We Say Theme, I looked at the standard dictionary definitions of theme and drew a line to how the hobby definition developed from theme-as-topic. In that post, I referenced back to my definition. However, astute readers of this blog will note I used my definition for thematic hook and not my definition for theme. That is because the formula "Noun + Verb + Win condition" is catchier, and I am all about terms and definitions that are easy to remember. Here is my actual, original definition for theme: theme encompasses the setting, story, and tone/mood of a game. Note that I never said "theme IS" in my original definition, because I wasn't entirely sure at the time of writing that post where that boundary lay. However, you can see that there is considerable overlap between the thematic hook definition and the theme definition. Both are attempts to describe the story elements required in order to be a theme. 

I had been meaning to revisit my definition of theme ever since I wrote Why We Say Theme. However, my thoughts didn't crystalize on this subject until I saw Isaac's post about vision. Borrowing his usage of the terms subject and setting, I am finally able to restate my original definition of theme as something both more accurate and hopefully easy to remember. 

To review Isaac's definitions: setting is the historical, geographical, political, and related contexts that the work exists within. Subject is the topic of the work. In thematic hook terms, subject is the noun and verb. Broadly speaking, subject includes narrative and characters, but narrative or characters are not required in subjects or themes. Games depicting real world systems may not have any characters (perhaps only a single machine and various procedures). While I would say that all games contain a story in some form, many game themes do not contain traditional narrative plot elements. I have reconsidered my use of the word setting, and I would now include tone, mood, and atmosphere in setting.

There is also another element that makes board game themes/subjects unique from other forms of art: uncertain outcomes. If a theme does not in any way interact with how the game progresses, such as a superhero-themed Bicycle deck of cards, then the game does not have a theme but an art style. That's why I spend so much time bringing up character goals and win conditions—the uncertainty of the outcome of a game is what makes the experience of themed games so unique as an art form. The stories found within the subject change from play to play, even in narrative-based games. That's how you can tell the difference between a narrative game and an interactive novel. Interactive novels generally have static endings. Board games aren't static and I feel it's important to reflect that in a good definition of theme.

When we combine all of these elements, we end up with a definition of theme that feels more definitive:

Theme in board games is a subject in a setting, with an uncertain outcome.

I have to admit, I prefer a definition that is narrower and elevates more narrative-style themes— for example, "characters in a place, doing things to accomplish a goal." But the above definition is broader because it needs to be in order to be both accurate and useful as a conceptual framework. Frameworks are important as practitioners build the theory of a craft, something that is currently happening in board games. 

Also, I just like defining things. 

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

Guest Post: A Game's Vision

This post is a repost of a repost of Isaac Shalev's twitter thread that was inspired by my blog, thus completing the circle. I'm grateful Isaac let me post it here so that I didn't have to plagiarize it excessively paraphrase it with proper attribution. 

"Theme" in boardgames and game reviews

Recently our community has been more critical of what games are about: the topics, stories, historical settings, and roles that players inhabit.

This is good.

I would like to add some vocabulary to this conversation.

In my 20s I hung out at a place called the Dive Bar. The bar's decor was deep-sea diving. The bar's ambience was dive bar, complete with bar nuts and cheap lagers. The way we use the word theme colloquially could express either of these ideas. In casual conversation, theme is used really broadly, and that's ok. In games, Sarah Shipp's definition that "Theme encompasses the setting, story, and tone/mood of a game" is very useful.

https://shippboardgames.blogspot.com/.../defining-theme.html

But as our conversations about games turns to cultural critique, we need better and more specific words to make clearer arguments and express what we mean better. In literature and other art-critical fields, we use the terms 'Setting', 'Subject', and 'Theme'. Let's go over them briefly

Setting is the historical, geographical, political, and related contexts that the work exists within. In The Old Man and the Sea, the setting is a fishing village near Havana in 1940s, with most of the action set in a boat in the adjacent sea.

Subject is the topic of the work. The subject of the The Old Man and the Sea is one man's fateful fishing trip and epic battle with the sea.

Theme is 'the messages and ideas explored in a work. Theme is what the work has to say about the subject. What point is the work arguing for? Theme starts from, but typically transcends the subject.

tOMatS's subject is fishing, but its themes are the nobility of the human struggle against the odds and the ideal of grace under pressure. It would be misguided to say that tOMatS reveals how Hemingway feels about fishing.

In games, when we say 'theme' we mean 'setting' and 'subject', and we're discussing how well the setting and subject are married to the game in terms of gameplay, components, experience, and simulation. When we want to discuss the game's theme in the sense of the ideas it puts forth, we don't have a word, and too often, we mistakenly turn this into a discussion of the designer's intent.

I propose that we use the word 'Vision' to mean in games what 'Theme' means in literary analysis. The Vision of Catan is of colonizers exploiting a welcoming land that is empty of history and is eager for subjugation. The vision of Wingspan is the harmony and beauty of a well-managed ecosystem. The vision of Pandemic is the horror, the heroism and the desperation of addressing a global crisis.

This would allow us to also discuss whether we experience the game's vision in the gameplay itself. Pandemic inoculates its players from and personal experience of risk or tragedy, so we don't experience the game's vision much at all. It's not important to Pandemic to make us feel this way, and indeed, players largely don't weigh the moral consequences of treating Miami vs Lima. They also don't fear entering a city ravaged by multiple plagues, or experience impacts of societal strain or collapse.

Dead of Winter, [on the other hand], makes players experiencing its vision really important. Players routinely experience the deaths of their own characters, and are exposed to the tragedy of a ravaged world.

When a game doesn't care much about its vision, we can critique it through the lens of culture, but we should see it as a cultural artifact, not an intentional argument for a particular idea or value. Many colonialist games fall into this category.

When a game is designed around a vision, is expressive, we ought to take it seriously, and consider what it has to say not only about games, but about humanity, culture, and values.

End/ Recap: Vision is a word we can use to describe what a game means, what ideas it is exploring, what arguments it makes. It will help our critical conversation to talk about to what a game's vision is, and to what extent it is trying to express it.

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

Guest Post: Knowing When a Design is Done

This week Joe Slack visits the blog to talk about knowing when a design is done and tips for self-publishing. Thanks, Joe! 

5 Ways to know when a design is done (and how to prep for self-publishing your game)

There’s a joke in the board game design world that says “No game is ever finished, they just get published.” That is to say that it’s difficult to know when a design is done, whether you are pitching this to publishers or self-publishing your game. Yet, they still end up on store shelves. Most will play really well, but sometimes issues are discovered after a game is published.

So, we’re going to look at 5 ways to tell that your design is done, or at least that you’ve taken it as far as you can yourself. This was from a previous post I wrote on Boardgamedesigncourse.com that has been adapted and expanded upon here.

#5 The feedback you’re receiving would make the game different but not better

When you playtest your game with other designers and players, you’ll often receive a lot of feedback. Quite often it will be necessary criticism that you need to hear in order to identify problems with your game and make it the best it can be.

Often, other designers will give you feedback that would change the game more into the game that they would have designed or would have liked to play, so you have to watch for this.

But when players only have suggestions on how to make small changes that would make the game slightly different, but not necessarily better, take note of this. If this is the only feedback you’re consistently receiving, no major problems are being identified, and you’re not getting any suggestions for improving your game, this is a great sign.

#4 Players want to immediately play your game again

“Can we play again?” 

This is like music to a game designer’s ears. 

While this won’t happen with every game, particularly longer games that you wouldn’t normally play multiple times in a row, with a shorter game, this is something you want to hear from your players. If one player has just tasted defeat, they may want a re-match. If it’s a co-op game and the players narrowly lost, they may want a chance at redemption. 

If your game is a bit on the longer side, what you might hear instead is players discussing strategy and what they would do the next time they play. They’ve found some depth to your game and have indicated they are interested in playing again in the future.

If you’re hearing any of these types of comments consistently, you can be confident that your game is getting close to the stage where you’ll be ready to pitch it to publishers.

#3 Publishers playing your game give you their card and ask you your plans

If you have the opportunity to play your game with one or more publishers, do it! They are a wealth of information and can often give you great feedback about the gameplay, rules, and how to look at your game as not just a game, but also as a product.

If you’re really fortunate and a publisher takes a liking to your game, they may want to pursue it further. If it complements their catalogue and they can see it being a potential addition to their line-up, they might give you their card and ask you what you plan to do with your game.

You may even end up getting your game signed as a result (just don’t expect this to happen on the spot!).

#2 Players ask when your game is coming out and how they can find out about this

If players finish playing your game and immediately ask when it will be available, this is a great sign. It’s even better if they say this while playing your game.

They’ve indicated they enjoyed your game and are interested in picking it up when it becomes available.

If your players are consistently asking when your game is coming out, it means there is some demand for it, which is always a great thing!

#1 People want to buy your game right now!

It’s an amazing feeling when someone is ready to pull out their credit card and buy your game right there on the spot. 

If players are asking to buy your game right now, they are putting their money where their mouth is. They’re not just saying they like your game, they are ready to put down their hard-earned cash to get a copy so that they can share this with their friends and family.

If this is happening consistently, there is definitely a demand for your game and there is something special about it. You’re now ready to pitch that game to a publisher (and you can even mention/share a list of people who want to buy it right now)!

Summarizing how to tell your game is ready

Please notice how frequently I have used the word “consistently” throughout this article. You might even say I used this word very consistently. 😊

There is a good reason.

One positive playtest does not indicate demand for your game. I’ve had plenty of one-off playtests where all the players absolutely loved the game, had no criticisms and would have been happy to buy it right then if it was available. However, quite often the next playtest brings me back to Earth. The players didn’t like the pacing, they felt something in the mechanics didn’t match the theme well, etc. 

This is natural and it happens all the time. That’s why you want to be hearing the above consistently. I can’t give you how an exact number of times in a row this should be happening, but you’ll have a good idea when you keep getting these positive reinforcements with different groups over and over.

You also want to be sure that players are saying these things without any prompting. If you are asking players if they want to play again, they may say “yes”, however, this may be out of courtesy. If they are asking to play again or buy your game themselves, you can be sure this is the real McCoy (who I recently learned through Steampunk Rally most likely refers to Black inventor Elijah McCoy – how cool is that?!?!). 

You can also continually ask yourself, “Can this game be improved or made more fun?” When you no longer feel you can add anything to make your game better, you may have done everything you can with your game.

Preparing to self-publish

Putting the final touches on your game before you launch a crowdfunding campaign (using Kickstarter, Gamefound, or another platform) requires some additional work. If you’re planning on pitching your game to publishers instead, you’ll want to read this article to understand how to do this successfully.

Before the campaign, you’ll want to prepare several other things in advance. These include the following steps:

• Put together a project plan and start promoting your game
• Find an artist and commission some art for your game
• Set up your landing page and email service provider
• Set up a Facebook group for your game (optional)
• Get manufacturing quotes
• Record your Kickstarter video or hire this out
• Contact reviewers and influencers
• Start putting together your Kickstarter page and launch your promo page
• Research and determine your fulfilment partners
• Finalize pledge levels, pricing, and stretch goals
• Get feedback on your Kickstarter page and make improvements
• Run ads leading up to your campaign (optional)

I give a more detailed breakdown of all of these items in my article entitled 12 things to plan for before you even think of launching a Kickstarter board game campaign.

All the while, you’ll want to build up as large (and excited) an audience as you can to increase your chances of funding quickly and to make your campaign as successful as it can be.

Preparing a campaign and building a sizable audience takes time and effort. So, make sure to give yourself plenty of time, at least 6-12 months to build your following. You’ll do this through identifying your audience, discovering where they hang out and becoming part of these communities, demoing your game, sharing art and other aspects of your game, getting input from potential backers, and creating some raving fans for your game.

You should also have a well-tested rulebook for your game that has been blind playtested (by players learning from the rules without any assistance from you) so that you can share this on your Kickstarter page with those who like to review the rules to determine if this game is for them.

What other indicators have told you that your game is ready?

Please leave a comment and share your thoughts.

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

Why We Say Theme

Previously, I have defined theme as "noun plus verb plus win condition" with an optional question mark at the end. I still stand by that definition. Today I want to briefly discuss why we use the word theme at all. 

Many times, when people hear the word theme they think of high school English class and writing essays about what a work of literature means. In this case, theme means the idea that pervades a work. That use of theme is still important to games, notably game criticism. However, it is the less common usage of the word across the English language. 

Board game themes use the more common definition of theme, a subject or topic. We see this usage in theme parks and themed parties. If you were invited to a costume party, you might ask, "What's the theme?" This definition and general usage meshes well with how themes were most commonly presented in board games until relatively recently: as window dressing. By this definition theme is a costume a game wears depending on what the publisher thinks will sell. We are now somewhat saddled with the term even as board games move on to more integrated themes. 

I'm not bothered by the evolution of our expectations for what theme should be. Art changes as our expectations change, but the terms don't always change with it. (For example, deus ex machina typically refers to a plot device in storytelling, whereas originally it referred to actual machines that made representations of the gods show up in Roman theatre.) Designers now distinguish between setting and theme. Setting is the window dressing, the background art. Theme is what is actually happening, the emergent narrative. We might also list a game's thematic genre, such as horror or western. This is different from setting in that setting is more specific to a particular game and thematic genre is a more broad generalization of a topic that usually includes other media such as movies. Thematic genre is also different from mechanic genre because a game can be both a worker placement game and a horror game at the same time. 

The way we use the term theme does, however, run afoul of any attempt at criticism. For one thing, we can't use theme in reference to ideas or meaning in the game. I usually default to 'subtext' or just 'meaning', but neither term is really a great substitute. On the whole though, games critics seem to be coping without being able to use a word that makes you sound like a literature teacher. Where I do think we start to see problems is with designers/gamers who still see theme as window dressing. Because if theme is only window dressing, what right does a game critic have to criticize it? From this perspective, window dressing does not have meaning; it is just an art style. (I suppose the idea that all art has inherent meaning does not enter into the equation because we are talking about art and not Art.) Fundamentally, the argument over whether you even should discuss a game's subtext is an argument over the definition of theme as it relates to board games. Is theme merely window dressing that can be changed out for any other style of window dressing? Or is theme important both to the narrative of gameplay and the value systems presented by the narrative? Does theme have meaning to game design and the game designer? 

In all likelihood, your design style is affected by which definition you use. For me, theme is an entire topic of study, an undiscovered country, that will elevate board game design in the decades to come to an indisputable genre of art, with its own museums and college 101 classes and high school interscholastic tournament competitions. Window dressing, even with excellent mechanics, doesn't have the emotional resonance necessary to move us into that future. Besides which, integrated theme sells. And the more it sells, the less patience gamers have for poorly integrated theme. 

Theme is important. How we use the term affects how we understand game design and game criticism. If you want to read more posts about designing  theme click here for a curated list. 

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

Why Themes Matter

With all the discussions about historical accuracy, representation, and diverse perspectives in games, we really need to have a discussion on why any of that matters. Why does it matter what theme a designer uses? Why does it matter how that theme is handled? 

There are a lot of reasons why theme matters in games. Better themes make for better games. Themes make games easier to learn and more immersive. Different themes draw different people in. Theme can be the thing that takes a game from a sequence of mechanisms and makes it art. (I'm pretty sure people wouldn't have talked nearly as much about Holding On or The Grizzled if not for their themes.) Themes make games pretty, comprehensible, and meaningful. 

But there is a larger discussion to be had about theme and why it matters. Theme matters because our primary way of making sense of the world is through art. Yes, really. Let me explain. Art, in the form of books, movies, games, and other media, is where we write our myths. A myth is just a story that attempts to explain why the world is the way it is. And here's the kicker: we believe our myths over our histories. 

History is large and somewhat incomprehensible. Sometimes in history things just happen randomly. In myths, everything has a reason. Our myths are simpler and easier to remember. Our concept of the American West is largely a product of books and movies; it is mythical. (Side note for illustrators: Utah has buttes, Texas does not. Be advised.)

Our reliance on myth is very human and I am not advocating we throw out stories in favor of empirical research. Myths are simply better at communicating truth than facts are. For instance, people are more likely to change their mind if they know someone affected by an issue than if you just show them studies saying they are wrong. Stories have an emotional power that facts and statistics don't have. 

No, what I am advocating for is that we become more conscious myth-makers. We need to understand both the actual history behind our themes and the implications of our stories. For example, we have inherited the desire to discover a terra nullius, a concept that historically has been used to justify taking land from indigenous peoples. What does our desire for stories and themes centered on terra nullius say about us? What other ideas might we be perpetuating? Certainly games set in the real world have had an overwhelming tendency to ignore the voice and often the existence of native peoples, which is terra nullius, explicitly. 

But what about games not set on Earth? In some ways fantasy (used here to mean "not reality") is a stronger conveyer of our values, because we are not tied to following 'what really happened.' We are able to explore what could have been and what could be. To then use fantasy to double down on the exploitation and extermination of 'the other' is troubling. Fantastical themes need to know how they are connected to the real world. A fantasy setting can be a powerful tool to make a sharp critique of our culture or our history because we are not bound by historical accuracy. Fantasy can also be used to celebrate ideas that we have yet to see truly flourish in reality. The benefit of conscious myth-crafting is that you're unlikely to be accused of being 'generic' fantasy. 

Art has meaning. Themes have meaning. Systems have meaning. The stories we tell are how we make sense of the world. Given that that is the case, we should treat our themes as more than window dressing. Our themes do not just convey our personal worldview; they shape the reality of our players in a small way. Of course, how you choose to shape your myths will depend on your values. 

One way we can be better myth-makers is by having a better understanding of actual history. Did you know that historians believe that one in four cowboys was black? You wouldn't know that from our myths.  Accuracy to historical record is probably the 'safest' route when myth-making, because if you make someone upset you can appeal to history. Fortunately for us, history is so vast that it contains plenty of interesting details to mine. All it takes is research. Remember that what you think is history may only be myth. Another route we can take is to present ahistorical themes— details not true to the historical record. However, we still need to know the real history and the implications of our story. I don't mean to say that we need to justify that our fantasy could happen, but rather that we need to know what message our story has about our world. 

Theme and mechanics both matter for solid game design but only theme has the power to affect our understanding of reality. This isn't something you can opt out of. Your themes will affect your players perspective whether you like it or not. If you don't want to be a myth-maker, stick to designing abstract games. 

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

Meeples and Gender

This post is a continuation of my last post where I wrote about how much I love the world building in A Fistful of Meeples. Before getting into today's topic, a few notes: First, I am mostly writing this to share an interesting (to me) insight into world building and psychology that happens to be about gender. Second, any criticism I have of A Fistful of Meeples does not detract from the fact that I love this game. 

Let me begin with an assertion I hope is not controversial: meeples are inherently genderless. Even in games where gender might make sense. Reproduction in Agricola works the same way it does in Minecraft: any two adults can make a baby. Of course, not all meeples present as genderless, in spite of  the fact that they are abstracted pieces of wood. And that's what I want to explore. 

I argued in the last post that the world of A Fistful of Meeples is a meeple world in the same way that The Lego Movie depicts a lego world. Because I view the world as an animated playset and because meeples are genderless, I see the main worker roles—deputy, robber, miner, and builder— as genderless, something any person could pretend to be. At least, I begin to, until the madame enters the world. (I don't want to sit here and argue that women could be robbers in the Old West. Meeple Old West can be egalitarian if it wants to.) The point is, I don't think those jobs are inherently gendered, even in the context of the genre setting, but the job of a madame is inherently gendered. The word indicates a woman and the job requires a woman. (I consider a madame and a pimp to be fundamentally different jobs.) So what happens when a female character enters a genderless cast?

All the other characters become male. This is a purely psychological effect that manifests from a culture that views male as default. Once any non-male gender is defined, the remaining characters shift from genderless to "default gender" unless specified otherwise. I think the case for this is strongest in A Fistful of Meeples because of the context of soiled doves and who they serviced. The publisher doubled down by making the madame sculpt the only unique sculpt in the game. (She's wearing a skirt.) However, we can also see this dynamic at play in The Table is Lava and its expansion: the meeples were genderless until the expansion added pink meeples that were specifically coded as women. (The expansion is called Coconuts Edition.) I should note that The Table is Lava is also set in a world where the characters are meeples. Both of these games mix actual meeples and gender in a way I find jarring. 

Why does this matter? It matters because as designers we have to be intentional about our world building. We need to understand what the ramifications of specifically gendering one character are. In A Fistful of Meeples, by calling the character a madame rather than a bartender we end up with a cast of thirty male characters and one female. (There are more female meeples in the box cover art than in the game.) I know I have argued for specificity in world building in the past, but this is tokenization. Yes, the madame action is thematic to that role, but it could work just as well as a bartender or a card sharp. By coding every other character as a man the game creates a world where the only other implied females are whores. ("Is it family friendly?" "Yes—well, except for the whores.") Not only are they whores, but they are offscreen whores with no power or voice in the game. The only woman character in the game profits from implied female characters that have no purpose other than to rationalize what the builders are paying for at the saloon. Regardless of what you think about sex work in real life, this isn't what I would call good representation. 

I don't think there is any way to know if the gender breakdown in A Fistful of Meeples was intentional without asking the designers. It seems like the designers just pulled from famous archetypes that meshed with the mechanisms. But that's my point. World building should be intentional. Not all board games need the same levels of world building. I'm fairly neutral on surface level representation. Yes, it can be valuable, but I also see arguments for abstraction, such as the argument I make here. I want the level of world building to be motivated by the theme and mechanics. I want representation to be motivated by the story told in the game. And in the case of A Fistful of Meeples, I find the representation to be unnecessary to the point of slightly detracting from my enjoyment of the game. 

This psychological effect of assuming a gender binary is cultural and may fade over time. But there will always be choices in world building that we make or don't make that will change how our game is perceived. Sometimes abstraction might feel like silencing character stories and sometimes it might feel like opening them up to many interpretations. We have to know what kind of stories we are trying to tell. 

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