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Features

Improving Player Choices
Puzzles
Another format for structuring interesting choices in your games
is by incorporating puzzles. Puzzles are solvable systems. They
can contextualize the choices that players make by valuing them
as moving towards or away from the solution. Suddenly, the act of
rifling through a treasure chest takes on new meaning if you are
searching for the key to open the door to maze, rather than just
looting the castle.
Puzzles are also a key element in creating conflict in almost all
single-player games. There's an innate tension in solving a puzzle.
If you tie this into a system of rewards for solving the puzzle
and punishments for failure, the puzzle transforms into a dramatic
element. For example, take Myst, the best-selling adventure
game of all time. It's essentially comprised of puzzles. It incorporates
story and exploration as well, but at its core, it's really a glorified
collection of interlocking puzzles.
The popular genre of first-person shooters is also puzzle-based,
especially in single- player mode. Take Medal of Honor. You
have to plant bombs, unlock doors, find medical kits in a labyrinth
of rooms, and figure out how to use weapons and explosives in just
the right way. The game is one giant action puzzle. The same holds
true for many other single-player games.
You'll notice that we keep using the qualification "single-player."
This is because in multiplayer mode you don't need puzzles to provide
conflict. The conflict comes from the competition with other players,
whether they are human or computer-controlled. But in single-player
mode, especially when you are sent on a quest or mission, puzzles
play an increasingly important role. That's why every game designer
should also consider herself a puzzle designer. The better your
puzzle design skills, the better your game will be.
One consideration when designing puzzles in your games is to make
sure that the elements of the puzzle are woven into the fabric of
the game. By this we mean that it advances the player towards his
overall goal. If a puzzle doesn't enable progress, it's a mere distraction
and should be redone or removed. A puzzle may also advance the storyline.
You can use the puzzle to tell the player something about the unfolding
plot.
If you can integrate your puzzles into the gameplay and the story,
they won't feel at all like "puzzles," but rather like
integral, interesting choices a player must make to progress in
the game as a whole.
Rewards and punishments
The most direct consequences for player choices are rewards and
punishments. Obviously, players enjoy being rewarded and dread punishments.
Nothing is more natural. So when designing a game, a designer often
emphasizes the rewards, while limiting the punishments. This makes
sense; players aren't playing games to suffer the hardships of life.
And in reality, you don't want to punish players so much that they
stop playing your game. But often, the threat of punishment, if
not the actual punishment itself, carries a dramatic tension that
can add layers of meaning to even the most trivial choices a player
makes.
Think of a game that forces the player to be stealthy, like Thief
or Deus Ex. The tension, when you are trying to accomplish
a task without being caught is tremendous. Getting caught and attacked,
and let's face it, killed, is not fun. But that moment when you
oh, so quietly pick a lock and sneak past the security bots without
incurring any harm is made much more effective by the threat that
the anvil of punishment was hanging over your head all the time
(see Figure 5).
Coming up with a balanced system of rewards and punishments is
a way of making the choices in your games much more interesting
for players. The type of rewards you offer can vary, but the best
rewards are those that have utility or value in the game. When you
develop your rewards system, use the following guidelines:
- Rewards that are useful in obtaining victory carry greater weight
- Rewards that have a romantic association, like magic weapons
or gold, appear more valuable
- Rewards that are tied into the storyline of the game have an
added impact.
Make each reward count, and if it can both push the player closer
to victory and advance the storyline, that's even better.
The timing and quantity of rewards is also critical. If you give
a steady stream of small rewards, it can become meaningless. Players
know the rewards are coming, no matter what they do and they stop
caring.
Psychologist Nick Yee has studied the reward/punishment structure
of an extremely addictive game system--EverQuest--and believes
its addictive power lies in a behavior theory advanced by B.F. Skinner
called "operant conditioning." Operant conditioning claims
that the frequency of performing a given behavior is directly linked
to whether it is rewarded or punished. If a behavior is rewarded,
it is more likely to be repeated. If it is punished, it becomes
suppressed. It is usually explained by using the example of a "Skinner
Box," a glass cage equipped with levers, food pellets, and
drinking tubes. Rats are placed in the cage and rewarded with a
food pellet for pressing the lever, using reinforcement to shape
their behavior.
Yee writes, "There are several schedules of reinforcement
that can be used in Operant Conditioning. The most basic is a fixed
interval schedule, and the rat in the Skinner Box is rewarded every
five minutes regardless of whether it presses the lever. Unsurprisingly,
this method is not particularly effective. Another kind of reinforcement
schedule is the fixed ratio schedule, and the rat is rewarded every
time it presses the lever five times. This schedule is more effective
than the fixed interval schedule. The most effective method is a
random ratio schedule, and the rat is rewarded after it presses
the lever a random number of times. Because the rat cannot predict
precisely when it will be rewarded even though it knows it has to
press the lever to get food, the rat presses the lever more consistently
than in the other schedules. A random ratio is also the one that
EverQuest uses."2
While this might seem surprising, if you relate it to your own
actions in games and in the real world it begins to make more sense.
Have you ever sat down to play "five minutes" at a slot
machine and looked up to realize you'd been there, determinedly
pulling that lever for several hours? In many ways, Las Vegas is
simply a giant Skinner Box.
We may all be just rats in a cage, but there is one type of reward
that is very powerful and that can't be delivered like a pellet,
and that is peer recognition. Humans crave acknowledgement for their
achievements, and there's little that can motivate us more. Especially
in multiplayer games, if there's a way for you to make the players,
even the ones who aren't winning, feel recognized for their efforts
when they do achieve a goal, then you will have a much stronger
game.
Many games do this through the Internet, tracking scores or providing
tournaments and ladders. There are more immediate ways to provide
recognition, in the moment, as well. One is to track and broadcast
the players' achievements during the game, highlighting and dramatizing
each success for everyone to see. If it's an online strategy game
where one team is pitted against another, make it clear when a player
pulls off a brilliant maneuver. Let his comrades know exactly what
happened and how it impacts the victory conditions. If it's an online
RPG, allow the players to show off their conquests to the world,
either in the form of legends, artifacts, or admirers who follow
them about.
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Exercise: Rewards
Analyze the rewards system in your original game prototype.
Look at each reward and determine if it is useful, romantic,
and/or tied to the storyline. How are rewards timed? Does
the timing reinforce the player's desire to continue playing?
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Anticipation
The Skinner Box example works well for game mechanics that are
repetitive and apt to become rote. For larger, more complex choices,
however, the more clearly you allow players to see, and anticipate,
the consequences of their actions, the more meaningful their choices
will be.
In chess, and other games with open information structures, the
entire state of the game is visible to both players for evaluation.
There's nothing hidden. If players are experienced, they can calculate
out moves dozens of turns in advance and see exactly what will and
will not happen. The anticipation that players feel in a situation
like this is heightened by the knowledge of when they will be able
to capture a piece or get in a particular position.
Can games with closed or mixed information structures create anticipation?
Definitely. Real-time strategy games often use limited visibility
to offer the player a glimpse of the opposition, but only while
her units are posted in enemy territory. Since the game state is
always changing, the view quickly becomes outdated, and the player
winds up making decisions based on only partially accurate information
(see Figure 6).
In this example, players accept the lack of information as one
of the conditions of the game and understand that their job is to
maximize their position given the limited information they have
available. In fact, the lack of visibility can increase a player's
sense of tension. With the knowledge that the game state is in flux,
players feel compelled to act swiftly to counter anticipated enemy
moves. In many ways, the hiding of knowledge has added a new dramatic
twist that is lacking in the completely open strategy games.
Surprise
Surprise is one of the most electrifying tools at a designer's
disposal. People love to be surprised, especially when they feel
they should have anticipated the event. Too many surprises will
alienate players, however, so, how do you know when to use surprise
and when to telegraph an event?
A surprise outcome to a player's choice can re-invest them in the
game--perhaps they thought they were going to find 20 gold pieces
behind door number three, but it turns out to be a trusted friend
ready to join their journey instead--a much greater reward.
Surprises may feel random to players, but in a good way. The trick
is to find the right balance between the randomness of surprise
and the importance of making player choices meaningful. Take the
example of a real-time strategy game, where you might send a simple
foot soldier up against an ogre because he's all you've got. The
foot soldier has strength of one to five, while the ogre has strength
of one to 20. Odds are that the ogre will win. But there's always
that chance, no matter how small, that the foot soldier will prevail.
Randomness, and surprise, in this case adds a level of drama--the
tension of not knowing exactly how a highly probable event will
play out. Will this be a David and Goliath story or just another
dead foot soldier? In most well- designed games, the element of
choice remains dominant. If every choice a player makes results
in random effects, they will feel like their choices have no meaning.
But keep surprise in mind; used judiciously, it can create a wealth
of fun and excitement.
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Exercise 10.5: Surprise
Are there any surprises in your game? Try taking one type
of choice and adding an element of surprise to the outcome.
How does this affect the gameplay?
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