Archive for the ‘design’ Category

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Designing Random Event Tables

June 20, 2019

I’m hacking a fix to a game I play – one of the tools is a random event table that is helpful about 2/3rds of the time.  It’s enough it does add value, but the bad points stop play and make things harder – which is not what you want to have happen in play.  Between this, and thinking about a couple of other games I’ve played in the past with these things, I wanted to draw out some basic design principles, which I’ve seen a lot of games fail on.

The Bullseye of design

When you make a random event table, the first large field of ideas is “CAN this happen in the game?”  You’ll write down a lot of possibilities.   But maybe you’ve already jumped to the second step, the smaller subset within that – “SHOULD this happen in the game?”  Within that, “What makes this fun, and is it likely to occur in play?” etc.   It narrows down like a target board, with smaller and smaller areas of ideas, better suited for the game you are designing/playing.

Anyone can throw together a giant list and put it on a table – you can go on forum boards and see these lists, check out blogs, and even pay a few bucks from publishers who do nothing but make lists.   And – yes, these lists will often have some neat ideas in there.  But do all the neat ideas fit together in the game you want to run?  Are they disruptive to the scale of game you want to play?  Do they fit the theme and color of the game?  That’s where it gets harder.

You’ll note in old school D&D, people often joked about how often the magic item The Deck of Many Things could disrupt a whole campaign, because it’s been known to drop disasters, curses, super monsters as much as a mild, silly effect.  It’s the same sort of issue, and also why later editions keep curtailing how far it can go.

So whatever list you make, go back and look hard at whether the ideas fit together, whether they push the game too hard in a direction or if they rely on too many specific conditions to be fun.  (Fun doesn’t necessarily mean good for the player characters, challenge and conflict is also fun, but in both cases, it has to fit the game.)

Communication and Ease of Use

How well does the table immediately translate into use in play?  If you have to stop the game and think for 5 minutes and have a discussion about what it means or how it might work, the table didn’t actually make things easier.  (This is what is going on in the mechanic I’m hacking).

This can also happen because the entry is too vague or broad.  You don’t want to spend too much time trying to puzzle out what it actually means, and, it also means the real work of making it interesting is falling upon the GM or the players and instead of being a thing that helps play speed ahead, it’s a thing you drag along.

So make sure the chart entries are easy to grasp, don’t require too much explanation, and if they require secondary steps or actions, that it’s not too deep or involved.

Lock-in vs. Flexibility

One of the better design features in recent years has been making random tables either with multiple choices within them, or giving a mechanic to bounce the result a bit, to find something more fitting.

The former, we see a lot in the Apocalypse World family of design – “You rolled a 7, pick 2 things from this list of 5” “You can have X, Y, or Z.” etc.  This doesn’t always have to be a thing for an advantage or challenge – it can also be picking things that are just appropriate for the game situation.

The latter, we see in say, Tenra Bansho Zero’s Emotion Matrix – you roll an entry, but everyone can choose to spend some Aiki to bounce around the result to something that is more appropriate or exciting for everyone.

Flexibility gives you wiggle room in the design and helps mitigate the possibility of weird results or things not fitting in.  It is still best to have thought deeply about the entries, however.

When to use?

When should a random event table be used?  Sometimes this is a strictly mechanical thing – “X numbers of turns pass in the dungeon, roll for wandering monsters”, “If a character’s stat goes above X, roll for Corruption Effects”, “At the beginning of each session, roll to see what problems beset the Town”.   Sometimes it is a fictional trigger – “When an NPC is angry enough to take action, roll on this chart”, “When your character loses hope, roll to see what Scar affects them.” – which means it’s a judgment call from someone playing.

Either way, it’s good to be clear when and how often you expect a given random event chart to be used.

The Actual Odds

First, consider how often a chart is getting used.  Then consider how often something interesting should be happening from that chart roll.

If a chart is rarely used, you don’t want entries where minor or inconsequential things happen, because it basically is doing extra steps for little content.  If a chart is being used a lot, there’s a point after which you might see the same things happen a lot, in which case – would it be interesting if it happens repeatedly, or will it get old?  Will it be hard to rationalize why it happens repeatedly?

So just keep these things in mind, as I’ve seen both ways happen in charts that have turned them from a play aid into a detriment.  It’s not hard to make a chart, it’s hard to make a chart that aids play.

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The rules that do nothing

May 14, 2019

I ended up coming across The Law of the Conservation of Complexity which basically says, for a given situation, there’s a fundamental baseline level of complexity that you can’t simplify any further.  The interesting part is a second note:

One interesting element to this law is the suggestion that even by simplifying the entire system, the intrinsic complexity is not reduced, it is moved to the user, who must behave in a more complex way.

This points to an issue that is longstanding in tabletop RPGs – what the rules don’t cover by procedure, the play group must do.

In some cases, this is trivial (“name your character”) or well covered by established genre expectations and group expectations.

But in many cases, you can find a number of games which were designed with rules minimalism only because the designers couldn’t figure out what TO push and promote, which then ends up either giving very bland play and/or a lot of creative fatigue on the play group to make up the difference.

While the design maxim is true “emphasize everything and you emphasize nothing”, we seem to have a lot of people who also need to hear “emphasize nothing and you emphasize nothing” as a point as well.

I noted years ago that “the easiest system is ‘I say a thing and it happens'” however, rules should provide you something more interesting as an outcome than that to have a reason to exist.

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Commitment Design

January 17, 2019

When you create a game, you’re creating an experience.  Like any kind of art, it need not always be fun or enjoyable in the immediate sense of the word, but it should be something people are generally glad they experienced.

It’s also true that sometimes, unexpected experiences* are part of what you are crafting.

That said, the more time, energy, effort, cost, someone has to commit for the experience?  The more you should be giving them in the way of information about expected experience so they can decide if they want to put the commitment in, or not.

This is critically true of games, if only because games usually require more investment for someone to play them (learning rules, possibly mastering some level of skill) and, unlike most other media – there’s no standard for how long a game is (especially when we talk about games played over multiple sessions).

This is why, media that keys off an unexpected experience, usually works best if it is short.  If I play a fun little puzzle videogame, that turns out in the end to be really dark and heavy, but it was only maybe 30 minutes long – if I didn’t like the experience, I also didn’t invest too much time and effort into it.   If I play a game that demands 90 hours of my time, then turns around and changes the expectations drastically, I might be actively pissed, since I put a lot of energy into getting whatever I was getting from the majority of the game.

(Longtime readers might remember my analogy of people wanting to play Hearts and getting Poker suddenly thrust into their face – this same logic applies to a game design as well, especially where the game dictates specific experiences.)

A well designed game makes the experience of playing it part of the reward – it’s fun to play.  And, of course, if you pull that out from people to something they don’t enjoy, you have effectively “punished” them for the effort of playing your game.

*Obviously, I mean the overall experience – such as a genre or type of story or gameplay, not, say, “Wow everyone should know the entire plot of a story before experiencing it”.  If I watch a comedy, I don’t expect heavy tragedy.

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Game design: Siloing Resources

February 24, 2018

It’s a generally understood that you should design your game to reward the players to do the thing you want to see happen in play.  The important, but sometimes missed part, is that is that what you should want to see in play is the thing the players would also find fun, but maybe not realize on their own.

So part of that is “siloing” – some resources or rewards, are isolated in terms of how you can get them.  When you fail to silo things correctly, there may be glaring loopholes that make it easy, and even encouraging, for players to completely avoid the fun things that should be core to the game.

Monster Hunter World

I’ve been playing a lot of the Monster Hunter World videogame, and I’ve been a fan of the series for a long time.  Like many games, it has potions which you need to heal.  However, there’s no way to buy potions.   You have to go into the field and collect the materials.

This sets up a particular cycle: you need to heal, so you need to get materials.  If you want to gather a bunch at one go, you have to run to several points on a given map – which means you have to explore and know the map.  While you’re doing this, other monsters might attack you, so it’s a bit of turnaround from you hunting the monsters.  Bonus: knowing an area, gives you an advantage in the core gameplay loop of hunting, so that feeds right back in.

D&D and magic items for sale

Compare this to an often recurring issue for D&D games – the breakdown of magic item economy.   The core gameplay loop for D&D is dungeon crawling – either for treasure heists or as a tactical combat.   In both cases, however, the fastest way a single character gains ability is acquiring a magic item, which makes it a powerful resource in terms of game design.

In some forms of play, the only way to get magic items is to go on dungeon crawls and find them – so this means this feeds into the core game loop.  In others, though, you start ending up with options for magic items to be bought – in which case, it is far easier to find ways to get gold to buy the items, rather than try to deal fully with a dungeon crawl or have to figure out how to best use a random item you gained instead of buying 3 things that perfectly match your character’s role.  Once that happens, the reward no longer is tied to the core play activity.

Siloing – one path or a choice?

When you design a requirement for a resource or a reward, you can basically go about it in two ways.

First, give only one option to get the resource/reward.  This is a good choice for making core gameplay elements a requirement and unavoidable in play.  How much/how long/how often are parts to balance out to make sure it’s fun and not annoying, a chore, or so easy as to be meaningless.

Second, give two or more options to get the resource/reward.  Each one lays out a separate path, and, done correctly, might allow for a very meaningful choice, or at least, an expression of play.

In many games that use Flag mechanics, like Burning Wheel, you can choose which of your Beliefs you pursue, you don’t have to do all 3 equally, or even at all.  As long as you’re pursuing at least one of them, you get rewards.  In contrast, the earlier Riddle of Steel makes it so that early one, you can pursue just one or two of your flags, but if you want to improve high level abilities, you need to have nearly maxed out all of them.  Notice, however, that what this is, is that it’s several choices within the same category – “pursue this Flag” is still the underlying mechanic.

The danger in this second approach, however, is that many games have done things where the potential paths to reward/resources create contradictory styles of game.  If these contradictory things don’t fit well together, and different players in the group are playing along these paths, you get problems.   In this case, it’s important for the game designer to make clear that these things are exclusive options the group or the GM will have to pick BEFORE the game begins, and not find out after you start.

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Pandemic Legacy Design

March 25, 2017

 

Aside from the Pandemic games being pretty awesome, it’s really fascinating to watch folks develop campaign play from a very different mindset.  It also highlights some really useful things we can backport to tabletop rpg design as well.

Campaign Commitment Time

This was one of the major concerns in the design discussions and a focus for a lot of the indie rpgs that came out of the Forge – that the longer the campaign commitment, by nature, the smaller your target audience is who can/will commit that time in.  I think it’s really interesting that they talk about 12-15 play sessions being their top expected amount of content in a Legacy game, and the value of having a specific number laid out to players from the beginning.  (This was one of the big points I’ve written about for years, as simply making games more functional).

Linear Story for a Linear Metric

One of the biggest differences in a boardgame and tabletop RPG is the fact that while you can drench the boardgame with fictional elements to encourage roleplaying and enjoyment of the theme, the fiction doesn’t feed back into changing the outcomes of play as it does with a roleplaying game.  No one is under the illusion that they can “do anything the character can do” as a viable option in a boardgame, so it also means the directions a story can go is highly limited, and makes things like the linear story set up they’ve created work.

It’s funny that they mention Robin’s Laws, since Robin Laws’ version of HeroQuest 2 attempts to create the up and down beats, except without the additional considerations of players gaming the system (“incentivizing failure”) or engaging the mechanical aspects beyond turning a difficulty dial up and down.  I suspect Jason Morningstar’s Juggernaut might be a better parallel, but having not played it yet, and not trying to spoil myself before doing so, I could be wrong.

The Power of Unlockables and Physical Artifacts

Although sometimes people have given their players a document or a puzzle box to open, it’s not the same as fully integrating unlockable, physical cues/objects as a key part of play.  In the video, they mention that people KNOWING there would be a box to open incentivized action to either open it or avoid opening it, depending on whether the assumption was that it was good or bad.

In tabletop RPGs, either mechanical rewards are well known ahead of time (“If I get X number of points, I can buy Y power”) or exist solely as a verbal description (“The sword glows with magic power…”) but not as a physical object to taunt, tease, threaten you.  Adding uncertainty into advancement hits Pavlov’s intermittent reward cycle, but also because these rewards are thematic/plot based, and not just “get +X to ability Y”, they tend to be more interesting and emotionally fulfilling to the group.

Playtesting

I think this is some of the best information on tabletop playtesting out there.  They’re looking for: a) when the group has confusion, questions or forgets rules, b) emotional responses to play, c) why a group is making certain choices in the game.  (Notably, this was effectively what the Forge folks pushed for from actual play accounts in regards to playtesting).

You’ll also note that they’re talking about hundreds of hours of playtesting from several groups, including strangers.  While the indie RPGs pioneered the idea, it was Paizo’s Pathfinder playtest that really made it popular for tabletop games – however, having video or recordings where you can see the actual play rather than depend on memory, filters, or bias in self reporting is vastly superior.

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Loops vs. Grind

February 24, 2015

I try not to do too many “pure theory” posts, but recent gaming and some conversations with Quinn Murphy, has given me some thoughts I think are key mostly to design, though given the way a lot of RPGs work, that also influences how you run a campaign in the long term.

Moment to Moment Fun

Bungie, the developers of the Halo videogames, are often quoted as pointing out their design method is to try to make a few seconds of fun, then keep doing that, over and over, until you have a full game.   This is emphasizing the moment-to-moment kind of fun, and videogames are quite good at it.  Tabletop roleplaying games have this too, even if the moments are more “minute to minute” rather than seconds.

The trick in this, is identifying what is supposed to be fun in this experience.  Videogames will have stuff like, “Running and jumping on things is fun!” “Making things explode is fun!” while tabletop RPGs have a different focus such as, “Being Spiderman is fun!”, “Smart tactics in battle is fun!”, “Showing courage in the face of adversity is fun!” and so on.

The problem is, of course, while videogames can focus on the literal moment to moment – where what you have your character do constantly is the “kick off” of the fun, in tabletop, it’s a structured conversation – you say things, the other players say things, and this mediates back and forth to create the actual experience.

And that experience isn’t coded into a computer that will reliably do the same things over and over, so you have to design procedures that allow groups to consistently get to the thing that is fun for this game.

What is the moment to moment fun supposed to be for your game?

What do you have in the rules to support that?  What choices are players required to make?  What input are they supposed to give?  What does the system/rules do to create that?

Play Loops

Beyond the momentary fun, you talk about larger loops of decisions, rewards, and experience.  This is actually the place RPGs have had the biggest effect in game design – the idea of leveling up, gaining resources, and long term play in this manner is pretty much a big thing which has ported over to many other games.

Play loops are on larger scales than moment to moment – we can talk scene to scene, over several scenes, over several sessions.  You can have several loops working inside each other or parallel.  Figuring out how fast a loop should complete and what decisions or actions it encourages is critical.

When it’s done right – you’re rewarded for doing the thing that is fun, so it’s doubly reinforced.  When it’s done wrong, too slow, or against the grain of the point of the game, then it’s a grind (see below).

Focusing play or nothing at all?

A key consideration RPGs have to take into account is managing the fiction – how do you keep the group contributing and pushing the imaginary events and conflicts into the ways that make for the goal of that you want with your game?

This is the baseline issue of whether your RPG is well designed or not.  Unfortunately, many games simply lack this and it becomes “style” or “experience” to find ways to make up the difference, which is why a lot of games have problems and fall down a lot – if you can’t consistently meet and create at the same fun spot – the fun is sporadic or absent.  If you are working to get to different kinds of fun, you can be fighting against each other and again – sporadic or absent.

A clear loop of procedures allows people to more consistently hit the expected fun zone, which is why a lot of narrowly designed games, or even boardgames or videogames have eaten up a lot of the RPG crowd as time goes on.  The more reliable fun, wins.

Grind

The difference between a loop and a grind is fun vs. boredom.  When a loop is kicking off fast enough, and in the right way, you have a great reward loop. When a loop is taking too long, or is about doing something that isn’t fun or the point of the game, you have a grind.

The easy example might be to point to videogames.  In Final Fantasy games,  you mostly fight and explore.  That’s pretty much the core fun of those games.  But they started including mini-games, which, instead of being side extras, became things you HAD to do as part of play.   Now you have to learn a different game, that is different than the core experience… and often put in lots of time.  If it happens to be a game you like – great.  But for many, it turned into a grind.

This is true also of loops that take too long.  Fighting the monsters might be fun, but fighting the SAME monsters, over and over, for hours on end, without any changes to the situation, isn’t.   Videogames fall into this pitfall because they often use it to artificially extend playtime without having to add real content.   RPGs usually fall into this category by designing for campaign length play that people aren’t able to fit into their lives.  The loop has to close sooner, and change the variables (difficulty, give you new options via powers, etc.) or it becomes boring.

This is actually a massive pitfall for RPGs.  You have a slow moment-to-moment play, commitment times are usually 3-4 hours of play, weeks on end, months on end, and you can’t really play alone.   Having a grind is killer to sustaining play.  If you don’t have a reliable loop of what play is supposed to be, effectively all play becomes a grind, because the struggle is just in coordinating to play in the first place.

A useful question to ask about loops for any game you design, or play is: “Will I ever see this happen?  Under what conditions?  Is this reasonable to ever expect?”

If you can’t keep a group together for more than a month or two, do you need to buy tons and tons of supplement books for high level play?  Do you need a mega dungeon?  Do you need to prep for months of campaign?

What is the expected rate of this loop turning over?  What actions does the group have to take to make this happen, and how likely are they to do so?  Is this fun enough to make it worth it?

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Morality Mechanics

September 25, 2014

Morality mechanics are rules and systems designed to have play deal with morality in some way.   There’s quite a few ways to do it and with some interesting results.

Direct Morality

Direct Morality in a game is where the system explicitly lays out what is good vs. bad and enforces it along those lines.  These are actually pretty hard to do – since all of humanity’s history we’ve been still working out ethics and morality, so having a set system usually means working in a very narrow clear-cut range of ideas or something where genre tropes are simple and well established with regards to morality.

The old Marvel Superheroes RPG is an example of one that works pretty well.  It’s somewhat of a narrow path to walk to get it right.  If the game is too defined in producing a code, you can end up with situations like Legend of the Five Rings’ Honor system where you run into places where the honorable action costs you points or the dishonorable action gains you points.   If the game is too vague about the scale or actions of morality, you get the endless discussions of D&D’s alignment system.

Divergent Morality

Divergent Morality is where the game is designed such that the mechanically coded systems of value and morality are clearly not the real issue of morality – the point is to explore where they meet, and more often, where they diverge.   These work much better because nearly always we’re talking about a system where the mechanically coded “morals” are actually just pressures to constantly set up a choice between following it, breaking it, or finding ways to work around/with it towards real morality.

Polaris and Thou Art But a Warrior both use their particular codes of honor to trigger the character’s advancement along their tragic future, which, often enough, real moral choices are often strongly at odds with the code itself.  Dog Eat Dog is pretty much a game built on the scathing criticism of colonialism and it’s form of cultural genocide set up as morality code.  Poison’d has Sins, which include some things that are clearly wrong, some things which are situational, and other things like Paganism or homosexuality which simply aren’t.

Emergent Morality

Emergent Morality are games where the moral code isn’t directly given mechanics, but rather the mechanics as a whole are set up to pressure you to finding yourself having to make moral choices all the time.  These are often subtle from a read through, but brutally powerful when you play them.

Steal Away Jordan uses it’s Worth mechanic, which, naturally puts white slave owners at the top and everyone else progressively further down the scale, and when you’re closer to the bottom you are forced to make alliances, to seek help, to even align with the oppressor just to survive.  The Drifter’s Escape sets up the Drifter in a situation of horrible choices and morality emerges from that.  Trollbabe explicitly sets up where your character’s effectiveness is based in risking allies to injury or death.  Lacuna and 3:16 Carnage Among the Stars has advancement mechanics that explicitly set player goals against each other even as they’re supposed to be working together, which creates an extra level of friction.

Consequences

Procedural Consequences

Procedural consequences list out a series of actions or activities which fill or fail the moral code.  “If X then Y” which makes these often inflexible and somewhat tricky to use well.  This is most often what people think of when they think of morality mechanics – Vampire’s Humanity lists, Legend of the Five Rings’ Honor codes, etc.

Directive Based Consequences

Directive consequences involve points added/lost when an action is taken that fulfills the spirit of the value/morality code as determined primarily on the basis of a player making that judgment.  Instead of listing out a code, it primarily sits on a player (the GM, a chosen player, the group) to decide when you’ve fulfilled or violated a moral position or code.  Notice that for this to work well, the thing being judged and the basis of doing so needs some kind of guidance or clarity – or you end up with the same problem that sends people spiralling around D&D alignment arguments.

Sorcerer’s Humanity mechanic fulfills this, though Bliss Stage uses it to an even stronger degree with it’s intermission scenes.

Randomized Consequences

Randomized consequences are pretty interesting.  These can be things like rolling a die to see if you gain or lose points despite having done actions towards that effect, or it can be a roll at the end of your character’s arc to see what the effects are.

1001 Nights uses it’s Safety/Ambition/Escape tracks as gambles you take between scenes, which sometimes results in the most bastard player characters living happily despite their behavior.  Poison’d uses the Salvation roll after your character dies to see if they make it to Heaven, or fall to the depths of Hell for their deeds.

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