Most people know the expression "can't see the forest for the trees," that is, you get lost in details and fail to see the big picture. In game (and level/adventure) design it's usually the big picture that counts, for players. Yet many designers, even experienced designers, sometimes get bogged down in details at the expense of the quality of the game as a whole.
The main objective in RPGs is a "forest" (an adventure) that players can enjoy, whether they like "trees" that involve combat, or story, or puzzles, or politics, or something else. To put it another way, the forest has to consist of the right kind of trees. But the rules themselves are also a matter of forest and trees, because the rules can require players (and GM) to focus on trees to the detriment of the quality of the forest.
Let's look at a general example, both from the player point of view and a designer point of view. Say you're making a game depicting the entire Pacific War in World War II. It doesn't make sense to ask players to manage minute details, such as determining the airplane loads on an aircraft carrier: whether they are armed with torpedoes or bombs, when they were gassed up, and so on. During an aircraft carrier battle such as Midway, yes, the Japanese decisions of this sort were very important, but can you ask players to keep track of such minute details at this entire-Pacific-war scale? It becomes a grind rather than a game.
Keeping track of details isn't always too much attention to minutiae. Some would argue that keeping careful track of inventory is, but I don't, because it's only an occasional thing, and it helps belief in what's happening. If players can carry "anything and everything," as they often do in computer RPGs, we lose suspension of disbelief (break immersion).
Let's take an example from the game Dystopia Rising. This very atmospheric post apocalyptic game, originally a LARP, is lumbered with a set of rules apparently designed by someone without experience. The setting cries out for simple rules to highlight the setting, but is lumbered with detailed combat rules (including determination of where you hit, and lots of dice rolls), and an awkward roll of several 10 sided dice that must be added up individually (a real no-no in game design these days) to resolve anything . The forest is obscured by those details. (I'll talk about this game in more detail another time.)
Game design is an invitation to get lost in details. It's easier to add things to a game to solve a problem than to remove things, even though games generally are better when all unnecessaries are removed. As a freelance game designer, I like to set aside designs for months and then come back to them because that helps me see the forest, and it helps me recognize when trees need work (or need to be excised).
Many modern board and card games are puzzles rather than games, where there are a few always-correct solutions ("paths to victory"), or only one. It might make sense to complicate a puzzle in order to make it harder to solve. Nonetheless, even when you're doing a puzzle you need to try to keep the forest in mind as you wander through the trees you're growing all over the place in your puzzle. Moreover, role-playing is the genre of games least amenable to being made into puzzles.
The designer always has to ask himself (or herself), "what am I trying to show in my game?" The question isn't as important for an adventure designer, but still worth asking. This not only applies to game design but also to many creative activities.
contributed by Lewis Pulsipher
The main objective in RPGs is a "forest" (an adventure) that players can enjoy, whether they like "trees" that involve combat, or story, or puzzles, or politics, or something else. To put it another way, the forest has to consist of the right kind of trees. But the rules themselves are also a matter of forest and trees, because the rules can require players (and GM) to focus on trees to the detriment of the quality of the forest.
Let's look at a general example, both from the player point of view and a designer point of view. Say you're making a game depicting the entire Pacific War in World War II. It doesn't make sense to ask players to manage minute details, such as determining the airplane loads on an aircraft carrier: whether they are armed with torpedoes or bombs, when they were gassed up, and so on. During an aircraft carrier battle such as Midway, yes, the Japanese decisions of this sort were very important, but can you ask players to keep track of such minute details at this entire-Pacific-war scale? It becomes a grind rather than a game.
Keeping track of details isn't always too much attention to minutiae. Some would argue that keeping careful track of inventory is, but I don't, because it's only an occasional thing, and it helps belief in what's happening. If players can carry "anything and everything," as they often do in computer RPGs, we lose suspension of disbelief (break immersion).
Let's take an example from the game Dystopia Rising. This very atmospheric post apocalyptic game, originally a LARP, is lumbered with a set of rules apparently designed by someone without experience. The setting cries out for simple rules to highlight the setting, but is lumbered with detailed combat rules (including determination of where you hit, and lots of dice rolls), and an awkward roll of several 10 sided dice that must be added up individually (a real no-no in game design these days) to resolve anything . The forest is obscured by those details. (I'll talk about this game in more detail another time.)
Game design is an invitation to get lost in details. It's easier to add things to a game to solve a problem than to remove things, even though games generally are better when all unnecessaries are removed. As a freelance game designer, I like to set aside designs for months and then come back to them because that helps me see the forest, and it helps me recognize when trees need work (or need to be excised).
Many modern board and card games are puzzles rather than games, where there are a few always-correct solutions ("paths to victory"), or only one. It might make sense to complicate a puzzle in order to make it harder to solve. Nonetheless, even when you're doing a puzzle you need to try to keep the forest in mind as you wander through the trees you're growing all over the place in your puzzle. Moreover, role-playing is the genre of games least amenable to being made into puzzles.
The designer always has to ask himself (or herself), "what am I trying to show in my game?" The question isn't as important for an adventure designer, but still worth asking. This not only applies to game design but also to many creative activities.
contributed by Lewis Pulsipher
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