Daedalus, Fall 2003

From the Editor
What I want to be when I grow up
By Matt Snyder

Feature - HeroQuest

Q&A with Greg Stafford
by Matt Snyder

Redeeming Thed, goddess of rape
by Ron Edwards

The power of myth
by Chris Chinn

Sneak peek!
Argonauts
By Jonathan Walton.

Articles

You do what for a living?
By T.S. Luikart.

World design, block by block
By Emily K. Dresner Thornber.

Improvisation techniques for gamers
By Pete Darby.

Columns & Editorials

This just in: Your favorite game sucks
By Jason Blair.

A role-playing game by any other name
By Eddy Webb.

Guilty pleasures
By Lisa Fleishman.

Comic

Trollbabe
By Ron Edwards and James V. West.

 

 

 

 

jeux ne sais quoi
This just in: Your favorite game sucks

By Jason L. Blair

If you've spent enough time online in gaming forums or chat rooms, you've probably heard that before. Of course no one game will suit everyone--but why does there appear to be so much open hostility toward some games? Especially, it would seem, your favorite game?

There are many reasons for this, and, in fact, I'm going to go over some of them below. Maybe at the end we'll find out which games actually do suck and which ones don't.

Fight or Flight Pattern

There's a school of thought that humans as a group will inherently draw into a pattern of comfort and familiarity. Anything that disrupts that comfort or obscures that familiarity will elicit a negative response. The greater the discomfort or alienation, the more negative the response.

Gamers, if no one else, seem to follow this pattern. To throw some completely anecdotal information at you, I know a guy who has been playing only Axis and Allies for at least a decade. He has no interest whatsoever in playing anything else. It's not that he hates the other games. (How can he? He's never played them.) He just happens to really like Axis and Allies.

There's nothing expressly wrong with this outlook. There exists no mandate that people must play a variety of games. As long as the person isn't spewing bile about games they've never played, it's a pretty harmless viewpoint.

But let's look at another camp: There are gamers who are miserable in their current groups because the other players only want to play Dungeons & Dragons. Those gamers recognize that Dungeons & Dragons is not a bad game--they're just tired of playing it. They crave something new, some different.

This is a classic example of group dysfunction. If you've played in the same group long enough, you (or someone else at the table) has probably experienced it. These people need to get out and find another group--if their current group can't be persuaded to try something different.

Then there's the third camp: The hateful, bitter camp. The ones who only play Axis and Allies because "every other game sucks." The ones who only play Dungeons & Dragons because "they can't be bothered to learn something new." They are a cowardly and superstitious lot, and it's best not to look directly at them.

This stance is really just ignorant hand-waving and doesn't amount to a whole lot. Frankly, there's no argument for or against it. It's just yabbering, and best left alone if the person cannot be educated otherwise. If you are a person from the second camp and are surrounded by people in the third camp: Get out. Get out now.

Dis Game ith Buh-woken

Gamers will often malign something they construe as being broken. But in terms of games, what does "broken" mean? As far as I'm concerned there are only two definitions that fit here: "The game doesn't do what it says it does!" and "This game doesn't do what I want it to do!"

Let's address the first one. It's a pretty basic concept that a game should do what the subtitle and adcopy say it does. "Yes, I do want to play demonic soldiers in a shoujo manga-inspired Rome while being able to use all these nifty Sword & Sorcery Studios sourcebooks I own. I think ApollyoNominataQuest d20 is the game for me!" If the person buys ANQ d20 and finds out it only has rules for creating the lesser-known members of the Getalong Gang, then the game is "broken" from a marketing perspective.

If the game promises "brand-new revolutionary magic rules" and is really just filled with bad photocopies of the spell lists from AD&D Second Edition, then it is "broken" from a whole different perspective.

Does a broken promise equal a broken game? No. The mechanics may function beautifully for the design they express--even if they're not supported by the rest of the book. Let's be honest, the "world" is just window dressing for the system. Like it or not, your favorite game is probably a generic system even if it's not sold as one. When you buy a game, you typically buy two things: the mechanics and the world. The former can be used for pretty much anything and the world just does the buyer's research and/or imagining (or at least the first steps) for them. But that's a different column.

The second type of "broken" isn't the matter of a broken promise but broken expectations. From what I've observed this is the number-one-with-a-bullet reason most people get pissed off at a game. In fact, it's pandemic across all media. "Man, 'The Sum of All Fears' is the worst romantic comedy ever." " 'The Matrix' really fails as a period piece about the trials of forbidden Victorian love." " 'Vivaldi's Four Seasons' is a terrible compilation of rock ballads." When something fails to meet your expectations, your reaction is usually very contrarian. So whose fault is that? Most of the time, yours.

I'm not talking about a game that doesn't match what all the adcopy says. That's the marketers' fault, as we discussed earlier. I'm talking about the public's expectations of what a game should be. As a designer, I'm interested in creating the game that interests me. If I'm not jazzed by the idea then the follow-through will be lackluster at best. As a consumer, you're interested in buying the game that interests you. If you're not jazzed by the idea then you feel your money is wasted.

Now, I'm a consumer also. When I buy something I want to be inspired; that's my primary pocketbook motivator. If I buy something and I am not inspired, I don't fault the purchase. We're just not a good match. Because of this, I don't get pissed off when someone likes Chuck Palahniuk's novel "Choke." I didn't like it, but I know others who did. Okay, so be it. I feel the same way about games. Despite some people's beliefs, it's okay to not like something. That does not however automate fault to the "thing."

All of that is a matter of receipt failing to match expectations. Just because something doesn't do what you want it to do doesn't mean it's broken. There are some of you out there that need to repeat the previous line as a mantra.

A matter of mechanics

Oh yes, this old chestnut. Many a debate and flamewar has erupted because of one's cry that Game X's mechanics are broken, broken, broken. See, this one is tricky. You have to get into some math that, frankly, I'm not too comfortable with. I have people who check my odds for me to make sure my designs match my goals, and I like it that way. Perhaps there are "broken" mechanics, but who's to say?

You can't tell me a mechanic is broken unless you know the designer's purpose. I have a suspicion that some of the people who point to a certain ruleset as broken are using that elusive yardstick called "reality." Woe are they. Reality is not a valid measurement, nor is it a suitable design goal (my opinion here, people). I'm not saying reality can not be great inspiration, however. The InterLock system from Cyberpunk 2.0.2.0. is a fine example of a nifty mechanic heavily inspired by reality and real-world principles.

Once you are certain of the designer's mechanic and emulative intent then I may concede a certain level of "breakage." After all, if a designer expressly states she wanted a game where players would succeed 75% of the time and then made it impossible for a player to succeed more than 10% of the time, the designer failed. But then it would be a matter of broken execution and not necessarily true that the game is broken. Instead, the designer just failed to meet her own goal.

The following line is true.
The previous line was false.

So when is a game broken? When it doesn't match its own logic. A game is an abstraction, not a treatise on the principles of existence. A game doesn't have to make sense in the "real world" but it should follow its own laws. If it doesn't, then it may very well be broken. Notice the lack of quotations. In the end, a game being able to abide by its own rules is what truly matters.

Controversial, my ass!

Some games are disliked not because they are "broken" and/or the gamer is xenophobic but because they tackle subjects that a certain audience would rather they not. Trust me, I know whence I speak. For some reason, in doing so, these games upset some gamers so much that those gamers think no one should deal with the subject and anyone who does is some twisted deviant pervert (*cough*cough*) but I digress.

Perhaps they have a point. Perhaps games that approach the subject of child abuse, brutal powermongering, and domineering sexuality have no place in the gaming market. However, the sole gauge of that is the buying audience. Last I checked, Little Fears, Unknown Armies, and Vampire: the Masquerade sold pretty damn well.

Right about here someone usually brings up that most fantasy gaming centers around wanton destruction, thievery, and genocide. This argument assumes that wanton destruction, thievery, and genocide are of the same quality, caliber, and level of appropriateness as abuse, powermongering, and sexuality. Are they? I have no idea.

Mores and morals are as much absolutes as beauty is a truth. That is to say, it's a perpetual and fruitless, in the terms of resolution, debate. Even if there were absolutes for each there arises the problem of, you guessed it, intent. To ignore intent is akin to stating a game sucks without being bothered to read it. Of course, to some folk, certain topics are out-of-bounds regardless of how they are handled.

In my opinion, no one can make any judgment call on anything without taking the time and expending the effort to familiarize themselves with it. That means no skimming reviews, no latching on to hearsay; that means picking up and reading the material.

This means finding out the author's intent, as well. (Am I the only one who hears that record skipping?) Yes, in a perfect world full of perfect authors, intent would be blatantly obvious in the material and comprehension on behalf of the audience would be immediate and without fault, but as long as we reside on this whirling blue and green rock doing some research into the author and the process are integral to fully understanding something. This is the same across all media. This understanding is not necessary for you to enjoy the game or dislike the game, but it is absolutely necessary if you plan on damning or condoning the effort made.

Another problem rears its head after both the intent and the execution have been deciphered and agreed upon: Appropriateness. And here is where the thorns stick out the farthest. The will of the buying public (as mentioned above) is actually pretty supportive of things the vocal moral minority decry. Make of that what you will. As long as dollars are spent, those products will get made, as profitability and sales are the fundament of any good publishing plan.

In the end, the question of morality is one without answer, or rather one with as many answers as witnesses.

In England, your game's called a 'Hoover'

So, does your favorite game suck? Of course. It's probably the worst game ever made. I know all my games suck, especially my favorite one. Which is fine by me if it motivates you to create a game that doesn't suck. Good luck on that, though. Trust me, you're going to need it. •

 

Column by Jason L. Blair