3. Games Design - some ruminations on design, rules and chance
The problem is that play is so
difficult to define. We intrinsically know when we see people playing, but when
we try to define the act of play we often revert to describing the rules of the
game. This becomes increasingly the case as the players get older. The closest
that we allow adult to come to playing is role-play. There is some level of rules, perhaps more correctly some
scaffolding to act as a jumping-off point, but from there we tell them to “Go!”
There is an unnerving element of chance that is introduced in role-play. The
players can take their role in any direction that they wish. It is this element
of chance—definable as both risk and opportunity—that has to be present in
educational game design. This stands in opposition to the rules-based
definitions of games like World of Warcraft. Such games are essays in
brute-force attacks, where a gamer tries a series of variations on a play in
order to kill an opponent or open a door. Some would argue that this represents
chance, but I question the learning associated with such ploys. If it is just a
question of solving a conundrum through brute-force attacks then where is the
sense of achievement, beyond the victory of brutality over wit; what has the
gamer learnt?
Educational games need element of
chance or luck to trigger imagination, but this should not be repetition
camouflaged as chance. The problem is inherent in the whole concept of a
rules-based game. The designer spends their time setting the bounds of the
“world” and the “character” but the bigger the game, the bigger the bonds that
are set on the gamer. Educational games must not set rules or bonds. They can,
indeed must, set challenges that are…well…challenging. As Reiber (1996)
comments, “…as adults we tend to engage in unusually challenging and difficult
activities when we play.” These activities he cites include sport and music.
One could argue that football is a game; it is not. Association Football is a
game, with, referees, assistants, and goal-line technology to ensure that
participants “play” within the rules. By contrast, football is played on the
beach at Copacabana where players practice to perform unique and original
tricks and feats of skill that are seldom seen on a league pitch. The beautiful
game is only beautiful when it is devoid of rules and alive with chance and
possibilities.
Barry Schwartz in his TED talk (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VO6XEQIsCoM)
describes the overpowering nature of choice. But choice is sometimes little
more than an overabundance of rules. We can choose from what is on offer to us,
which gives a semblance of variety but is just a way of restraining imagination
in a larger pen. This is supported by the, somewhat dated, research by Thomas
Malone on video games. While a goal (not a set of rules) was regarded as the
most important element of a game, randomness came next in the hierarchy of
design imperatives (Malone, 1981). Randomness or chance is a core requirement
of play, so that we can develop the ability to adapt our actions to deal with the
unexpected.
To engender play, the designer
must let the player extend the possibilities of the game. This freedom to truly
explore and take risks enables player to discover the intrinsic motivation and,
through this, flow. This does not mean that there is no structure. Structure is
driven by the tasks involved in the game, rather than defining how the player
should play.
This is a challenge for the
designer because rules are a source of control. The rules of the game mean that
we, as designers, can create a predetermined “correct” path for our players.
The alternative is unthinkable; players may start doing things we don’t want
them to do. They may learn things that we don’t want, or expect, them to learn.
Their lesson may not be our lesson. Bedlam or learning? You decide.
References
Malone, T. (1981) Toward a Theory of Intrinsically Instruction
Rieber, L. P. (1996) Educational Technology Research and
Development
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