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A couple of months ago, the IGDA Game Design SIG Mailing List had a mini-debate where someone off-handedly proposed the formation of a committee to focus on the establishment of a vocabulary for words key to the practice and discussion of game design. This is a topic that has been approached a few times before and it often seems that those for it are outnumbered by people who have an irrational hatred of the concept of a group of professionals defining terms that describe the field they work in.
Instead, designers continue to latch on to terms from other professions to describe the work that we do every day. When we look at a gameplay space, we talk about architectural concepts of space and flow. We do this because our games are constantly incorporating knowledge learned from the field of architecture in order to create a player-relatable space to play our game in.
When we think about how our games make us and others feel through terms taken from literary and film criticism to talk to each other about the effectiveness of the experiences we create or wish to convey. Even within a given game development team there are groups that throw terms unique to game development around. Engineers throw around technical lingo to each other regarding the capabilities of processors, graphics cards, and algorithms. Artists combine technical jargon with traditional concepts of art history and criticism.
One of my favorite works in the field of game design is Doug Church's Formal Abstract Design Tools. The fundamental goal of the piece is an attempt to add structure to the discourse of game design by answering one fundamental question: how do we talk about games? Church goes on to pose the importance of a design vocabulary along with examples about how establishing some fundamental terms for how we talk about games can enrich the way we work, think, and talk about gameplay.
Church takes the example of Mario 64's gameplay as the basis for the creation of two terms which help to define discourse surrounding Mario 64: intention and perceivable consequence. Church describes intention as: "Making an implementable plan of one's own creation in response to the current situation in the game world and one's understanding of the game play options." He defines perceivable consequence as: "A clear reaction from the game world to the action of the player."
Why do designers feel some strange avoidance for terms that are unique to game design? As someone whose college education revolved around English, creative writing, and teaching, the usefulness of a vocabulary for game design is a topic which is, admittedly, close to my heart. Working in and talking about video games every day makes some of us immune to the true complexity that our discussions on gameplay can reach. Despite all of that, a number of our discussions about gameplay get back to one painfully nebulous, subjective word that all of use more often than we ever really should: "fun."
Both of Church's definitions possess an undeniable utilitarian quality and, as such, its difficult to deny the applicability of both terms to our every day work as designers. We don't come up with and agree on terms for our work because we want to exclude others or complicate our discussions, we coin terms for the ease of which we can introduce others to our discussions and so that we can all share common definitions for recurring concepts.
If I were to mention ludonarrative dissonance in a conversation with another designer -- one who made somewhat of an effort to actually read the works of our industry's prominent designers -- he would know what I am referring to. But the term ludonarrative dissonance is one of the handful of terms (if that) which have caught on in the industry and, as such, it's difficult to not sound pretentious or heavy-handed whenever applying the term to an actual discussion.
How and why did ludonarrative dissonance ever actually catch on within the field of game design and game criticism? The term originated in an entry by Ubisoft Montreal Creative Director Clint Hocking when he applied to the term to his discussion of Bioshock. The success of this definition isn't simply that Hocking is a remarkably talented and immensely respected design in the game industry, but that his approach to the definitiong and application of the term to his own piece was handled in a very instructive manner.
One of the reasons that Clint Hocking is so well-respected (even outside of the scope of his immensely impressive body of work) is that he works hard and successfully to define the boundaries of his own discourse. He explains a term critical to his discussion to his audience and immediately employs that term in a practical, useful way. Regarding the Bioshock criticism, Hocking discusses at length the fundamental basis of the game and how it forms its ludic contract with a player through the gameplay acts that a player partakes in.
All the while, Bioshock is simultaneously establishing its narrative contract. And at a key point in the game the two contracts that the game has established with the player collide in a moment of ludonarrative dissonance. It's Hocking's expert establishment of the boundaries of his own discourse alongside the core of his argument which work so well to establish a cohesive work that conveys a fundamental point and yields a relevant, useful term.
The uncharacteristic popularity of a term like ludonarrative dissonance is an outlier in the game industry. Its use in a number of design texts and discussions seems to indicate a design-focused audience willing to embrace the establishment of a shared vocabulary, but the adoption rate of any well-defined terms is minimal at best.
Maybe a committee of game designers is not the ideal situation for kick-starting a common design vocabulary, but if not a group of willing professionals, then who? Are we forced to rely on the hit-and-miss adoption rate of very well-defined terms by individual designers writing on their personal sites? As brilliant as some of our industry's luminaries are, the adoption of terms shouldn't solely fall from a single person's well-written texts to a network of that designer's body of readers.
At some point, we have to get proactive about the creation and propagation of terms that a group of designers feel represent concepts critical to the practice of our work and the teaching of our work to others. Why not now?
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A term like "ludonarrative dissonance" expresses something that is particular to cases where traditional storytelling methods are deeply intertwined with fast-paced, heavily interactive systems. This is an concept that is heavily dependent on player expectations. It holds no meaning for Chess, no meaning for Choose Your Own Adventure. To think that it is worthy of codifying into a gigantic "Document of Standardized Game Design Terminology" is bordering on arrogance, and it's really my main problem with a lot of the approaches to design writing I've seen; rather than starting from the deepest subset with which a concept might apply and gradually expanding it(the approach used by mathematics) there is some desire to create all-encompassing Holy Grails of design terminology, descriptive and practical at once. In my own writings, communicating some new idea often leads me to a formulation based around one or two new words. But I don't care about using new words after the essay is over because I only needed to express them in that one instance - the word itself was never the point at all!
Every designer colors their particular vocabulary by their personal preferences and turns to metaphorical use to express themselves. In other art fields, the endgame result of this is "schools of thought" and stylistic movements. If you want to codify more vocabulary, I would look towards those high-level characterizations first, because the down-and-dirty details shift at every turn.
No. No, we don't. For one thing, being "proactive about the creation" of terms in the field of game design is simply embracing neologism for its own sake. The terminology that is useful organically emerges; it does not need to be manufactured, and being proactive about adding to the lexicon is simply going to produce false starts and jargon. For every "ludonarrative dissonance" there are dozens of terms that spark briefly and die, and adding to that number creates more noise not a better signal.
For another, designers need to design. Leave it to the critics and teachers to worry about the vocabulary for how to describe what we do. Novel writers don't need or generally write literary criticism, and I doubt that using the vocabulary of the abject and subjectification would help anyone to write a story as compelling as Lovecraft. Trying to force the propagation of terms describing game design over-rides the utility value of that very language and makes it less, not more, efficient.
The problem with all of these calls for a formal language of game design is that they posit a future in which language will be a more transparent vessel for truth. This idealist notion of truth is both a red herring and a siren song, and the sooner we discard it the better. My hatred of the concept is anything but irrational; to attempt to create an ideal taxonomy of game design is as futile as Bertrand Russell's attempt to encapsulate the possibility space of mathematics, and likely for similar reasons. Doug Church's project failed and so has every other attempt at this, and they will all continue to fail. We need to stop wasting time chasing this will-o-wisp and focus on what we do, which is design.
The language to describe that already exists, and like all languages, it is always evolving. Formalizing it will not in any way speed or improve the process.
I'm not sure I really understand this argument. Artists and writers have an abundance of terms that they commonly use to describe the work that they do and those are, and those are the go-to crafts when people think about creative work.
"For another, designers need to design."
And do nothing else? When designers speak to one another about design, terms are flung about haphazardly and, as was said, most don't catch on. There is always the framing of discourse whenever designers talk to one another and, as a result of having no real common vocabulary, people end up talking about the exact same event using different terms. It's not like I'm working on a level at work, but my productivity is compromised by me adding words to some self-appointed designer lexicon to rule the world. That would be arrogant. The more likely path would be that someone is giving a speech at GDC or writing an article that properly and intelligently frames a technique/methodology and presents the vocabulary they used to talk about it.
As designers we do fling about a wide variety of terms that suit the purpose of the moment and, no many of them don't catch on. Some will though, the great ones. Eventually when we've been making games for as long as painters have painted then yes, we probably will have a more established way of conveying a concept, but it has to come about naturally.
So I don't think we need to standardize anything, it'll eventually normalize itself given time.
So wrong. You're suggesting design is something intuitive and cannot be understood, and therefore will never be understood. Only a poor designer would suggest that. I would agree that a rigorous standardization process is not needed, but for different reasons. The development of a vocabulary requires analysis by various people. Over time, vocabulary becomes standardized since certain words accurately describe particular concepts and people *like* using those words.
Throw out important ideas like plot, and a story quickly becomes horrible. A plot is common to all stories. Now imagine trying to write a story without knowing stories need a plot. Plot didn't come before story. Plot was "discovered" through analysis of good stories. People tried to figure out "WHY are these stories good?" Imagine if vocabulary/concepts like "plot" was never developed. It would be that much more difficult for writers to write. You and I both know what "plot" is, it seems obvious now. But it hasn't always been that way.
"Within the bounds of a specific interpretation, a considerable amount of detail can be expressed, but they all rest on certain underlying assumptions."
What are those assumptions besides a vocabulary of design?
However, a random person writing a random article or giving a presentation is such a loose association of information that there's no real location to go to to read up on things.
-I don't suggest that it's purely intuitive, only that it's non-technical. When you go to write a novel, you can pour all your life's knowledge into making a great narrative, but in the end, you don't calculate it like a physics formula. You can write without studying "how to write" books, you can draw without taking an art class. The "book knowledge" exists on top of the intuition in those fields, and it helps to bring out stronger creativity without being *necessary* in the way that knowing the postulates of geometry is necessary to do geometric computations. Likewise, you don't compute a game's optimal gameplay. You can use technical methods to inform your design, but the design itself can draw from a far broader tapestry.
-"Only a poor designer would suggest that" is begging the question - and character assassination as well. We aren't writing propaganda here!
-"What are those assumptions besides a vocabulary of design?"
How old is my player? Is the player male or female? Can the player see and hear well? Will this game be a video game? What platform will it be on? How will the player learn that the game exists? How will the player access the game, if they want to play? Will the game be played at home? During a party, or alone? In the morning, or the evening? etc.
Starting from those extremely basic assumptions is the only way that you can capture the entire player experience. The design vocabulary builds on those assumptions, and whether or not you intentionally made them, they guide your later decisions about what is important to describe in the game. This is why I believe that vocabulary is not the fundamental piece of the puzzle.
Trent:
-There is nothing design-specific about your complaint. It's true of all research anywhere. The best thing we can do at this point is communicate more.
In regards to this:
"To think that it is worthy of codifying into a gigantic 'Document of Standardized Game Design Terminology' is bordering on arrogance, and it's really my main problem with a lot of the approaches to design writing I've seen; rather than starting from the deepest subset with which a concept might apply and gradually expanding it(the approach used by mathematics) there is some desire to create all-encompassing Holy Grails of design terminology, descriptive and practical at once."
To think that one hundred faulty implementations of an idea negate the idea is also a form of arrogance -- particularly if you come at every problem with your own global view of How Things Are. The idea here is not complex: it's better if people share a common language. Even in the arts, it's better when people share a common language.
Doug Church wasn't interested in a grand over-arching grammar because he wanted to stare at it on his shelf. He was interested because the set of techniques which defines the interactive craft was not codified, meaning people were throwing around terms and ideas at cross purposes to each other. Do we need an exhuastive and complete theory of vocabulary for design? No, we don't, and anybody who thinks we do is interested in talking about games instead of making them.
Regarding this:
"When you go to write a novel, you can pour all your life's knowledge into making a great narrative, but in the end, you don't calculate it like a physics formula. You can write without studying "how to write" books, you can draw without taking an art class."
It would seem to me that discounting the need for a common language by identifying solitary pursuits would not be a particularly convincing argument. I don't need a common language or a technical language to do most anything by myself. It's when I need to collaborate and cooperate that a common language becomes useful. Like, say, in the making of computer games.
Even as an animator these terms are relatively familiar to me in my experience as a developer. There is already an entire lexicon developers and designers use daily across many companies and that, perhaps, is what could be standardized.
Not like a physics formula, no. There is a certain definitive process though, and that's the point.
"You can write without studying "how to write" books, you can draw without taking an art class."
I addressed this point in my first comment. You can write before knowing anything about writing technique. To become better, you learn about it. Sometimes one learns through trial and error until they discover important principles. These principles can be given names, thus creating a vocabulary. But this is like starting everything from scratch. Imagine if you had to rediscover geometry because no one told you. I reject any sort of notion of intuition. It all can be understood, it all has a process, so it all has a particular vocabulary. The assumptions you listed are a design vocabulary. "Audience", "Communication", "Medium". They aren't really assumptions either, just goals. So if anything, your assumptions are even more technical. (It's all technical to an extent, though)
At it's very core, game design is about creation. Do we really want to standardize creation? The more we define game design the more we inhibit creativity and "outside the box" thinking. Sometimes trying to figure out how to explain and communicate our ideas will lead to new ones. People might interpret someone's work differently and create something completely different and amazing.
I respect this article and see where it is coming from, but I think it will ultimately do more harm than good.
To go with a metaphor, do you think writers consider themselves completely cramped and creatively bankrupt because they have words like foreshadowing or ideas like Chekhov's gun? Or that writers are, typically, instructed to "show don't tell?" These are all common writing techniques and terms and simply give writers a way to talk to other writers about technique. You're not forcing a writer to write someway, but you're giving them ways to improve their writing and analyze and discuss their writing.
A game designer shouldn't be forced into a set terminology that could ultimately not serve as an appropriate medium to describe their game. Clint Hocking creates his own terms to describe his method to best suit his needs. What happens when Clint wants to write about an idea that someone has already created a term for? Should Clint be forced to use that other game designer's term?
It may be similar to the idea that many entrepreneurs are not MBAs and, likewise, MBAs do not necessarily make good entrepreneurs. Game designers are good at what they do, regardless of whether they understand what they do systematically. Game design is not a formula, pattern or recipe. It is a toolbox full of methodologies that carve away at the 'marble' of interaction until the designer finds the shape of FUN in the game.
My background as entrepreneur, game designer, software engineer and project manager provides me with a unique view of all the disciplines - they do not function the same and as is noticed by the difficulty in those disciplines to work together, they do not think or communicate the same.
I used the term "Miyamoto Box" to describe the level built to test game design ideas in a talk years ago at GDC - I've now been referenced in footnotes of other peoples papers on game design (http://www.vs.inf.ethz.ch/publ/papers/hinske2008dis.pdf - a pretty good paper by the way). The term "Done-diddy-done-done" means it isn't only finished, but it actually works in the game and, barring revisions to some other system, never has to be revisited again. Use them if you want - but I don't expect them to make it into a logophilia of game design.
So what are your favorite terms?
That's the very problem. You're suggesting a vocabulary that you use prevents creativity. It does not. You're also suggesting analyzing other games does not make you a better designer. That is not true. No part of good design is chaotic thinking. It is logical and straightforward. But it takes a particularly unique mind to do it well. That's why so many games are like other games. The greatest games are so "outside the box" that it is hard to imagine a *process* was used to design them. It's too bad the people who care about design fundamentals and why they work are academics. I intend to change that anyway...
Conventions are needed if we want to defy them. That's just common sense. If you guys really want to see some "outside of the box" thinking, you need to define the boxes first.
I still haven't seen many more proposals for terminology, but maybe this isn't the place for that kind of comment. I used SHMUP the other day to describe the genre a recent proposal. One of the executives involved accused me of using jargon - so we have a ways to go before any vocabulary is accepted by our development partners. Oh, and for those that don't know - SHMUPs is any of a variety of games sometimes called Shoot'em Ups, that primarily focus on destroying everything that moves with ever escalating weaponry. SHMUPs are one of the longest running and successful genres in video games. They continue to innovate year after year.
In the category of generating more controversy - Should Casual and Hardcore be followed closely by Indie? They are all are terms that have begun to lose their meaning the more they are used. Thanks Luis. Now, did I just side track this discussion? I'm sorry if I did.
I believe if we can establish a foundation of literal terms (someone pointed out math as an example), then more abstract notions can be built upon them.