What is Normal

It's springtime, and I'm looking out my window at a snowy ground on a cold, dreary day. I thought we were past snow by this point in the season, but apparently not. This whole spring has been very odd; we've been alternating between nice summer-like weather and this. My new job is largely dependant on the weather; when it's cold and unpleasant, my shift is usually cancelled. This, like our current weather, takes some getting used to, but like any new job it takes a bit of time to adjust to what is 'normal' for that business. Mostly, it's the little things that take the most time to learn; things are done in a certain way, and it isn't always explained to new employees. The basics, like running the till or how to request time off are covered, but the minor things that are just done a certain way, the minor specifics, need to be learned as you go. Working at a new business, especially when it's in an industry that you haven't worked in before, really helps to highlight those minor differences groups have.

It's the same when learning a new game, or when playing with a new gaming group. Learning the mechanics of a game is comparatively simple to learning what the common tactics and play styles (the 'metagame') is for that game and that group. That is to say, you can easily be taught what moves are legal, but learning what moves are good takes time and experience. The varied metagames for groups is particularly apparent in board games that use an auction mechanic. In most other games the metagame is confined to deciding on the best moves on a given turn and prioritizing resources. The importance of certain resources at different stages of a game can be explained to new players, as can the optimal moves, but providing new players with specific values for auctioned items can be difficult.

If it is an item that can be sold for a profit later in the game, you can gauge its worth by how much it will sell for (i.e. don't pay more than what you will sell it for), but you can't do that when the item being auctioned is more abstract, like turn order. How valuable is going first? It varies so much that pinning down a specific value is next to impossible. Mercante and Masterpiece auction off items that are then sold for a profit; the games provide values associated with the auctioned items, such as the 'true' value of a painting or the price of goods at the market, and these values can help new players estimate what a good bid would be. Meanwhile, Planet Steam has players bidding on turn order and platforms, the value of which is highly subjective.

This subjectivity is especially obvious when a new player joins the group; after playing a game a number of times, a group establishes its own 'market value' for abstract game elements, but a new player, who is unfamiliar with their metagame, can shake things up considerably by over-valuing and over-bidding compared to what the group is used to. When one or two players consistently bid higher than what was considered 'normal' it can completely change things; suddenly auctions become much more expensive, and even when a 'true' value is provided, if a player is willing to have smaller profit margins the entire table has to adjust to compensate. It is difficult for the values to go down, however; consistently underbidding might have players second guessing their high bids, or the low bidders will simply have to make their own adjustments if they want to collect anything.

Many game reviewers look down on auction mechanics, finding them tedious. I find them to be a useful tool, and many games have added interesting restrictions to keep the game flowing, such as minimum bids, or blind auctions. Mercante, for instance, has a once-around-the-table bidding system, which eliminates drawn out bidding wars; either you out-bid the last bid, or you pass, but you never get to up your bid. The auction mechanic is especially interesting when played with a variety of groups; is this group a bunch of penny-pinchers, or are they willing to break the bank to go first?

13/13

Meeting Expectations

This week I got to help play test Keet, my contribution to The Red Dragon Inn. (I wrote a bit about how I came up with his design here and here.) During testing, something came up that I hadn't considered before: the importance of players' expectations. There are a couple of cards for Keet that do things that haven't been done in the game before, and while the rules can be written to make it clear what they do, for them to make it to print they will have to work in a way that players will expect without having to look up the rules.

Every player, no matter their experience, has expectations of how a game will work. As soon as you start to describe a new game to someone you can see them wrapping their head around what you're saying. Experienced gamers will often start comparing mechanics to games they've already played. I know I'm particularly bad for this habit, and I also know I'm not the only one who does it.

When given new information, most people try to liken it to what is familiar to them. So, when learning a new game, it's a lot easier and faster to describe its mechanics as being similar to other titles: “You use your resources to build things, like in Settlers of Catan,” or “If you don't complete your goal you lose points, like in Ticket to Ride,” and so on. Games can frequently be described as a mash-up of existing mechanics; the industry builds on itself as it grows. Even when a game does something new it will often be described as being similar to something else. I've seen this with Five Tribes: its core game mechanic, dubbed 'worker displacement', has been described as a combination of the 'worker placement' mechanic seen in many titles, as well as the bowl-filling of Mancala. The mechanic is new, but it can be described easily by highlighting its similarities to what has been done in the past. Personally, when learning Five Tribes I compared it to the action circle in Trajan.

The problem is that when you are working on a game to be published, you can't always describe it in terms of other games. Reviewers and play groups can, but a publisher can't. Not only does it make a game look derivative, but it narrows its audience by requiring people to have played the games used in the comparisons. So how do you make something original, and still make it easy to understand? Expectations are there, even from people who have never played another game before, so how do you make the mechanics clear to everyone?

One option to meet player expectations with new mechanics without using comparisons to other games is by having a strong theme. By applying a clear theme to your mechanic to can make something that would otherwise be odd to players can seem familiar and far more intuitive. You want a value to decrease over time? Perhaps it is a falling object, and your value is its altitude. You want to hide information until players perform a specific task? The players must do research and 'learn' what is hidden. Keeping the theme in mind can make mechanics resonate much better with players.

Games that are designed around a theme allow oddball mechanics to be included, and if the theme is strong enough those strange mechanics can be what makes the game truly shine. A game that starts with solid rules can play very nicely, but without a suitable theme, even the cleanest mechanics can seem confusing; if a player cannot make connections to anything familiar, then a common avenue of comprehension will be blocked, making it difficult to understand what is going on and to remember what to do. New games that are too abstract have trouble finding an audience, and need a way to stand out to be successful. Games with loose mechanics but a strong theme, like Munchkin, find an audience quickly and thrive. Still, even a light theme, if it is especially fitting, can be enough to garner clarity.

13/13

Teaching the Game

I'm usually the person in my gaming group who teaches new games to everyone else. This is often because I own the game and have read through the rules already. I don't mind showing new players the rules of a game, but it does come with some unexpected challenges.

Most of the challenges with teaching a new game spring from the details: how in depth should I be when explaining a game? This obviously varies with the complexity of the game, but it also varies greatly based on the players. Some people I play with are happy to learn the structure of a turn and the victory conditions before diving into the game, learning the rest as we play the game. Some people, though, really don't feel comfortable playing a game unless they know how everything works.

The trouble is that games can get complicated, and explaining everything all at once can be both daunting and counterproductive. If I spend too long explaining every rule, players tune me out; they might not mean to, but they'll get bored with the long explanation and stop paying attention. Moreover, if I swamp players with information they may forget the basics and I run the risk of just confusing them. Of course, not giving enough information beforehand can also be problematic. Players get angry if you surprise them mid-game with a rule that hinders them, for instance. That said, I've often found that giving a brief overview of potential hazards that may come up is better than going into the specifics of what bad things will happen; a warning that certain actions carry risks is usually enough.

Oddly enough, the most difficult question I have to face when teaching a game to new players is not how specific I should be with my explanations, but whether or not I should try to win the game. I'll admit, I don't usually like losing, but more importantly, I don't want to feel like I've be patronizing to my friends; if I just let them win, their victory will be hollow. By contrast, they might not ever want to play again if I beat them. Usually I'm safe to try and win, but I it's always important not to be ruthless about it. Playing a new game should be fun regardless of who wins, which means that I can try to win, but I can't do so at the expense of another player's good time. This usually means I choose less optimal choices on my turn, which can be awkward for me, but I know it's worth it. Ultimately, a player's first game needs to be fun and memorable or they won't want to go back to it.

I've found that one of the hardest games to teach has been, surprisingly, one of the simplest to learn: Tsuro. Teaching the rules is very simple: Place a tile next to your piece and move your piece along the lines. If you fall off the board you are eliminated. The last piece on the board wins. Simple, right? The difficulty is not in teaching the rules, but rather in deciding whether or not to win. I've often found myself in a situation that would allow me to eliminate other players early on, but should I take them out? It's taken me several game nights to figure out a good balance with that game, choosing when to eliminate players. I found the best method to be to keep players in the game until right near the end of the game; at that late stage, if the opportunity presented itself I could eliminate another player, but only if the game was about to end anyway. This method gave new players a good taste for the game, and they almost always wanted to play a second round. Interestingly enough, keeping other players in the game longer is actually more fun for me than eliminating them early, which is a bonus.

Maybe I try too hard to win. And maybe I give too much information. I think I need to learn how to just have fun, and I know I need to learn to talk less. If I can learn to be more concise and to stick to the core rules, not only will it improve my ability to teach new games to people, but it will also improve my ability to write rulebooks for my own games in the future.

13/13