This week a special make a game of that, a blog post written for university. I thought that it might stimulate discussion around here, so enjoy!

Games design is one of the fastest growing fields of work in the entertainment industries, with videogames crashing their way into the number one spot as far as money is concerned and many different hobby games maintaining lively scenes despite strong competition. From old stalwarts like Dungeons and Dragons to the flashiest of the new consoles, there's always a spot for talent in games design. Yet the advances in game technology and prestige may prove a double-edged sword for the design cadre, particularly in the fast growing field of videogaming.

At their heart, all games are somewhat alike, though it is a heart so deeply buried that it rarely sees the light of discussion and analysis. The behaviours games encourage- experimentation, creative thinking and problem solving- are universal and rightly valued in almost all other serious fields of enterprise. Games have traditionally also taught patience and determination by presenting the player with challenges either provided by a thorny pre-constructed puzzle, or the ever-shifting opposition of a human competitor. In fact, without these qualities, we can say confidently that a game is not, in fact, a game. The provoking and developing of these abilities is what truly defines games at a primal level.

Not all games, however, are equal. The skills required differ, as do the levels of those skills. More importantly, the aesthetic wrapping in which the underlying challenge is clad varies wildly- even more so with the colourful and often larger than life worlds of today's video games. From virtual cities to fantastic worlds to the depths of space, today's games pique our interest with an effervescent variety of settings. Such settings are often as vividly rendered as any hollywood movie, sometimes more. By creating such engaging settings game designers give their players a handhold by which to pull themselves into the real meat of the game- the play activity itself, whether it be puzzle solving or pure hand-eye coordination challenges.

There are a segment of designers and players, however, who remember the days when video games were played on screens of a few hundred pixels instead of tens of thousands, and aliens weren't oozing, cackling monstrosities, but black and white dot outlines. Many of these players are adamant that such games were as good- perhaps better- than many of the games presented today. They say they were more fulfilling, one got more of a sense of achievement for overcoming the challenges provided. In this sentiment resides the designer's dilemma.

The pleasure in a game mostly resides in the challenge it provides. It is a classic example of the old truism that the journey is half the reward, only in this case, the journey is much more than half. Were the reward that games present to those who succeed at a challenge simply be presented to the player without the struggle, the game would lose its meaning as a game. Don't get me wrong, it might still be a highly enjoyable experience as a dive into one of the vivacious fictional worlds that are created to imbue games with the colour that makes them sell so well, but the 'gamey' essence would be lost.

Despite this, there is a roaring market for information, secrets and tricks surrounding each new videogame, colloquially known as spoilers. This would initially seem odd. If the enjoyment in games is in discovering and conquering for oneself, the average player should rabidly avoid such spoilers and, in fact, there are a lot who do, which is where the concept of the spoiler came from- to reveal the secret spoils the game for many. Still, many are content to play through a game with a how to guide at their arm. Sharp and bloody, the double-edge looms before us. Because of the fiction that has been wrapped around games in the industry, each game now has two pleasures- that of the narrative of the fictional world the game tells, and that of the game challenges themselves.


So lovingly crafted and detailed these fictions have become, that many people find the narrative more immediately engaging than the game itself. To a certain extent, that's the point- the narrative exists to draw the player in, to make them want to overcome the challenges, to give them a powerful, if illusory, meaning. The more powerful the narrative, the more the player will get hooked into your game

Yet the blade swings both ways- there is a certain point where the game begins to play second fiddle, the challenges that were once enthralling methods of adding suspense and tension simply become annoying things getting in the way of getting to the next part in the story. The player loses interest in the game, and simply wants to absorb the world you created to get them into it. Even those most supportive of the increasingly story-heavy aspect of games design would agree that this is not ideal.

The eight bit grandfathers of videogaming might find this concept most compelling. The simple games they remember had only hints at a story, suggestions to give puzzles and challenges the most basic handle for their minds. The hook, though small, was enough to reel them in to the often diabolically engaging puzzles. They might remember fondly the days when the blade they wielded as designers was small, delicate and simple to handle. Compared to the giant implement a modern designer must learn to handle, weighty with technological and artistic possibility, design a decade or two ago was blissfully simple. Today designers must learn a harder trade and, when learned, the control and intelligence to know when to swing the sword, which way and how hard.