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The End of One Journey is the Beginning of Another
So, I’ve finished cataloging my Steam library. What did I do to celebrate? I stared at a blank computer monitor for about 2 hours and then depressed, went to bed. I knew it would happen. It always does at the end of a big project. After working so long and so hard on something, you inevitably come to the conclusion at the end that it wasn’t the finished product that you were excited about, it was the journey there. It’s interesting to think that I’ve written reviews for over a hundred games at this point… but that’s all. It’s just interesting. Acquiring the knowledge of the game, experiencing them, figuring out how to record those experiences–while it was stressful–that was the fun part. I will never stop playing games, but I am happy to say that even though I have finished my cataloging, I have not yet purchased a new game to play and I probably won’t for quite some time. I think I will enjoy being free for a time and play the Tier 1 games that I have recorded.
That being said, there is a topic of conversation that Lepcis and I have been revisiting often as of late. It is the topic of game balance. Spurred largely by our love of the competitive card game Netrunner but also by my desire to balance a tabletop RPG that I am creating, we’ve went back and forth on game design ideas, methods of fairness, what makes a game fun, what should/could/shouldn’t be expected from a game and so forth. Of most recent frustration and intrigue for us has been the balancing act between the levels of power invested in the two playing sides of Netrunner–the Corp and the Runner.
I will not bore you with mechanical details on the nature of our struggle, but suffice to say it has gotten me thinking about conflict in games in general, which in turn spurred a series of definitions and explanations in my head that I felt might be valuable for expanding on and understanding just what a game should and can be from a design standpoint. After all, very few game designers set out with the task of making a poor game–but so many do! I myself am at the danger of releasing my tabletop game in a very poor state. I’m not even halfway through the design phase, and there are over 500 skills, which has got me asking myself, “Am I making a bad game?” The nature of my 500 skills and the skills of any game are conflict interaction. They are a set of rules designed to allow one person to gain advantage over another. So then the final question becomes, “What is good conflict in a game?”
Cain and Abel
Cain kills Abel with a rock while Abel is sleeping.
Abel then decides to sleep in a cave with a pit trap at the entrance. Cain falls into the pit trap, breaks his neck and dies.
Cain then builds a wooden plank that he brings with him to Abel’s cave. He uses the plank to cross the trap and then kills Abel with a rock.
Abel moves to a cave high up in a rocky crag, away from trees or wood, and too far away for Cain to be able to carry his plank before needing food and water. Cain can no longer safely reach Abel.
Cain invents the knapsack and waterskin so that he can take food and water with him while he travels with his plank. He travels for a few days, finds Abel’s cave, uses the blank to cross the pit trap, and then kills Abel with a rock.
Abel trains a wild dog to guard the entrance of his cave. When Cain arrives, the two of them overpower Cain and kill him.
Cain develops a sturdy spear to fight off the dog and Abel. He reaches the cave and kills both Abel and his dog.
Abel develops a shield….
Conflict has been a part of human life since the beginning of time. As each new way to gain an advantage over another person was invented, a new method was quickly discovered that either nullified the advantages of a rival or put the rivaled above the rival’s level of power. Early in life, this dance usually ended in death or slavery. Nowadays, it takes place on the battlefield of finances, corporations and politics. After all, why do I work so hard at my job? Well, it’s because I want to look better than the guy in front of me. Why do I want to look better than the guy in front of me? So that I can switch places with him. Why? So that the next time the company decides to prune the company lines, he gets let go instead of me. Why? Because if I don’t have my job, I can’t eat and I will die. In essence, I’m trying to “kill” the guy in front of me so that I can live. I’m just a lot nicer about it than Cain and Abel.
Such is the nature of life however, and I am not here to discuss the moral grounds of such actions. My point is simply that conflict is ingrained in human life. It’s inescapable. By the very nature of your possessing something, you deny it from someone else. As we live in a finite world, this creates conflict. What’s interesting is that deep down, we as humans love it. It drives us forward, it creates inventions and it spurs technology on. We love it so much in fact, that entire professions are based upon creating conflict so that others can have fun solving them. We know this profession as “game makers.”
So how does a game maker create satisfying conflict? It’s not easy at all. In the real world, there is no tangible “end” to the game or the wealth of new discoverable mechanics, tools, skills and abilities at our disposal and so the game is constantly rebalancing itself akin to our Cain and Abel scenario. The problem with a created game, is that at some point, the game “runs out.” If the developer only included up to “training wild dogs” in his game, then Abel inevitably would win every scenario. New players to the game of Cain and Abel would simply rush up to the point where you could train wild dogs because they knew they couldn’t lose if they did and the game would no longer be any fun.
When a person plays a game, they want to feel like they always had a chance to win, and they were allowed to use their wit and skill to create and seize that chance. Losing is tough but if we felt that both sides played a good game and the game was close, it can be just as rewarding as winning. Over the years, especially the last 30 years, finding the perfect formula to create this exact scenario has been the focus of many designers who wish to create a successful product. In the end, it’s an ever-going struggle for the designer to ask the question, “What comes after 100%?” Essentially, what happens when the player reaches the peak level of power in the game? Let’s take a look at some of the approaches.
A. PvE – Tabletop RPGs, video game story modes, corn mazes
These games pit players against a static non-human obstacle. Under normal circumstances, the first time they challenge one of these games they won’t know the optimal method of winning. The power they achieve in the game will be relative to their on-the-spot decisions and accomplishments will be the direct and immediate reward of present-time wit and skill. As players progress in a particular game or even a specific genre of particular games, certain aspects will become familiar to them–but this is okay. Take for instance Dark Souls. The first time someone plays Dark Souls, they are brutalized from start to finish. The entire game is a fun but stressful battle uphill into a world of unknown and each step forward is a victory. This is the primary experience the game developers wish to provide the players–this “first-time buzz.”
This is not to say that there aren’t plenty of enticements for a player to play again (try a different strategy, join a different covenant, get a different ending) but these things are secondary to the initial experience of “Dark Souls.” What this means, is that as players discover how to reach 100%, they are already fulfilling the purpose of the game. If they reach 100% and break the game, it doesn’t matter because the purpose of the game was not prevent a player from reaching this point. In fact, those passionate about a title will use this to their advantage. Once reaching a point of 100%, they will play again and again, adding new challenges to their method of play. Speed runs, no hit runs, level 1 runs–these are all ways for players who have reached the 100% level to drop themselves back down to the 30, 40, 50% level and try again–reliving the first-time buzz of getting to play Dark Souls.
Likewise, a corn maze is incredibly difficult the first time you try one–especially if you aren’t familiar with the story of Minos. You’ll wander around, taking random turns, getting lost, until by luck you find your way out. After gaining familiarity with a specific maze, you may memorize the exact turns required to reach its exit. Then, you may see how fast you can reach the exit, or perhaps do so blindfolded. If you are a maze enthusiast, you will know that many mazes can be eventually solved simply by taking a right turn at all forks. All of this knowledge is okay though, as the maze too was built for that first-time experience.
Tabletop RPGs are an interesting breed, since they cannot really be played again after completion. Players, however, can still discover skill setups or styles of play that give them an edge in combat, skill challenges, etc. While you still have to have “a good group” when you play to avoid a single player ruining the game for everyone, typically it is okay if a single player or even a group of players “power play.” Why? Because the game, much like the Cain and Abel scenario, is completely open. If the players are becoming more powerful, all the DM has to do is throw more powerful things their way. So what if the players can easily beat a monster 4 levels higher than them? Start throwing 3 of those monsters at them!
Overall, PvE is the scenario of gaming that you have to worry about balance the least. As long as your game can provide a challenge to a new player from start to finish, it’s okay if an experienced player knows how to break it. As long as it isn’t something so obvious that a first-time player will figure out in the middle of their first-time buzz, it’s usually okay. In a sense, this can actually add to the replayability factor. If every time I had to play Dark Souls, it took me 80 hours of running around, stressing out, dying a thousand times and grinding until I was overleveled to the point of oblivion, I probably wouldn’t play it more than once. Nowadays though, when I can plug-and-play and beat the game in a Dozen or so hours, it’s a much more realistic prospect.
In closing, going beyond 100% in a PvE scenario is directly correlative to the tools integrated into the PvE game itself. Manipulating AI quirks, knowing exactly where the secret chest is, knowing an incredibly powerful character build or knowing how to build your character with specific traits to overcome obstacles that you know are coming–this is how you drive yourself beyond 100% in a PvE game. The icing on the cake is that no one gets hurt in the process either–players always play against non-human entities, so the non-human entity’s feelings aren’t going to get hurt if have to fight an unfair opponent.
B. PvP Static, Non-Real-Time, No Luck, No Uncertainty – Chess, Checkers, Go, Tic-Tac-Toe, Mancalla
This category encompasses games in which every single game starts the exact same way, has every possible piece displayed on the board at once, all information in the game is visible to both players, and the players (in a non-timed setting) have as much time as they want to take their turn. These are typically the kinds of games we learn when we are kids. Why? Well, to start, anyone can learn them. Anyone can see what’s going on at all times. It’s easy for an opponent to teach a new player because they know where the new player’s pieces are and they have as much time as they want to explain something to them.
On their own, these games are harmless. The “first-time experience” with these games are bound to be fun. When you first start playing Tic-Tac-Toe, you’re probably like three years old and are just happy to be drawing O’s and X’s on paper with the grownups. The root problem with these games is that mathematically speaking, you should never be able to lose. You might not win, but if you were a super computer, you can’t lose. Tic-Tac-Toe is the easiest of the examples, and generally we’ve reached 100% with it by elementary school. Chess and Go on the other hand have entire enthusiast’s lives devoted to it but eventually they too reach 100%.
Ultimately, this creates an unsatisfying game experience for most players. True, it is an exercise of wit, memorization and planning things several steps ahead but in the end, it is binary. Victory is not brought about by making meaningful decisions in the moment but instead memorized mathematical ones. Most players don’t want to have a set of pre-planned, pre-determined moves to use against each and every opponent they meet. In fact, a good point to bring up is that in any of these games, your opponent will never matter. You might as well be playing against a computer. Your moves will remain the same regardless, as they will be guided in response to your opponent’s actions which are in turn guided by yours and so on. Typically, reaching 100% in these games is a sad experience, because the games become predetermined and lifeless.
The takeaway here is that while the PVP, Static, Non-Real-Time, No Luck, No Uncertainty is fun to play in a casual setting where both players are not even close to the 100% level, the game can be fun, as both players will rapidly grow and develop as they learn and discover aspects of the game. The problem is though, that 100% is eventually achievable and when it is, there is absolutely no way to press on beyond it. Once again, please don’t misunderstand–but think of it like Tic Tac Toe. Once both players know how to not lose, no player will ever win.
C. PvP Real-Time, No Luck, No Uncertainty – Street Fighter, Super Smash Brothers, Mortal Kombat, Puyo Puyo, Capcom vs. Marvel, Tetris
Largely encompassing the “Fighting Game” and some “Puzzle Game” genres, these are games in which all information is presented to both players at the same time but are played in real-time. Generally speaking, there is a very limited or non-existent amount of chance, with victory pertaining not only to game knowledge and mechanical skill but also to twitch reflexes and speed. Much like a real fight, once two players reach 100%, the game becomes much less about knowing the how to overpower your opponent, but instead figuring out how to move fast enough and unpredictably enough (while still protecting yourself) to find an opening in your player’s defenses. In a way, it’s like playing Rock Paper Scissors, except you know what your opponent is going to throw before-hand because you have a split second to see it. It’s up to you to be fast enough to know what to throw in response.
In theory, as long as there aren’t things like Wave-Dashing or infinite chain unblockable combos, reaching 100% is no big deal since two players will be able to use their own actions in real time to create their own windows of opportunity. The problem is, wave dashes, infinite combos etc. are almost impossible to completely blot out during the development phase. Eventually, someone will figure out some ridiculously broken combo or unintended manipulation of physics that grant a certain character an unfair advantage. This becomes disappointing because a game like Capcom vs. Marvel 2 with 56 characters, really only has 4 characters: Magneto, Storm, Cable and Sentinel. Add in that the game involves building teams of 3 characters to fight against your opponent at once, and it becomes apparent that the variance of play is extremely limited.
What makes things even harder, is that even if there are no game-breaking combos or infinite dodges or what have you, it is usually quickly discovered which characters are just innately “better.” While we love the evil possessor of the Tri-Force of Power, Ganon has always been at the near-bottom tier of every Smash Brothers game he’s made an appearance in. True, he’s potentially one of the most powerful characters in terms of 1 to 1 attack damage ratio and knockback power, but he’s so ridiculously slow with so little vertical or horizontal jump that he’s unplayable in higher levels of competition. Once you reach 100%, the amount of time he affords an opponent to react and punish an action is simply too great.
In an ideal world, anyone could choose any of the characters and stand a chance to win in a game like this. Realistically, there is a small handful of top tier characters that can actually be played at a competitive level. That being said, this genre of PvP can produce some very exciting battles that do come down to a test of real-time skill and wit with meaningful choices being made every quarter of a second. The dilemma of the designer is how on earth to make these characters distinct but viable.
Reaching 100% in these kinds of games is perfectly acceptable because one can easily go beyond 100% with real-world knowledge and quick mental agility. Over time, players become infamous for certain tendencies of playstyle. They’ll prefer one combo over another, or perhaps they block up more often than they block down. An opponent can go beyond 100% by using this information to try to get a read on what another player is going to do, even before they do it. Likewise, a player can “train” an opponent into feeling safe by initiating a similar attack pattern a few times, only chain midway through into something completely different–knowing that their opponent is going to expect their older combo. Of course, then again, maybe the player’s opponent knows that it is the tendency of the player to train them into a certain pattern tendency, and maybe the player knows that the opponent knows this and so they continue the same pattern over and over, as the predictable becomes the unpredictable and so on. In spite of seeming like games of brutish pulverization from one player to another, the phrase “mind game” is frequently thrown around in the PvP Real-Time, No Luck, No Uncertainty genre.
D. PvP Real-Time, No Luck, Uncertainty – StarCraft, League of Legends, FPS’s, MMORPGs
Games in this category are similar to the one above, except that a player does not have all of the game’s information presented to them at once. Whether it is because of a Fog of War or simply because their first-person viewpoint only grants them vision of a portion of the arena, these games possess a level of uncertainty that adds to the excitement. There’s still no real luck or chance involved. The allowable game pieces, weapons and abilities are openly available to both sides of the conflict at the start of (if not throughout) the game, meaning that a player knows what is possible to encounter. Similar to the previous genre, balance of individual classes and characters is still extremely important but because of the levels of uncertainty, the design space is a bit more open in terms of viability.
As we discussed earlier, a character like Ganon is simply too slow to use in combat–you can see what he’s doing a mile away and dodge around him. However, if he was in a game with Fog of War, he could hide in the bushes and wait for a passerby before he leaps out with his extremely slow but extremely powerful attacks. Likewise, in an FPS, he may wait at the side of an ingress for an unsuspecting fool to run by, before following and clobbering him from behind when he wasn’t looking. It’s the uncertainty and capitalization of opportunities based around that uncertainty that allow a wider variety of characters to be viable. In fact, due to abilities like stealth or long-range sniping, they depend on it.
Understanding what 100% is in a game of this genre is trickier than our previous ones. StarCraft and League of Legends are great examples, because they are on opposite ends of the same side of the coin. They both require intense knowledge of game design, the ability to guess what your opponent is doing in the Fog of War, and memorization of hundreds of skills, stats, cooldowns and how they interact–down to the most minuscule of nuances. League however, is “simple” to execute from a technical standpoint. You only control one character (or on very rare occasions, two for limited periods of time) and your character only has a maximum of 5 activatable skills (some characters with less) and one passive ability. Additionally, runes and mastery choices are chosen before the game begins leaving even less to do when actually playing. This means that reaching 100% is fairly easy in Leauge but to go beyond means being able to read your opponent’s and allies within a split second’s notice, being able to both communicate and receive communication in a quick and constructive manner and possessing a powerful read on the current meta of how all the characters in the game are likely to be played.
StarCraft on the other hand exclusively relies on a single player to make every single decision in the game, as the overwhelming majority of professional play consists of 1 on 1 matches. This means that absolutely no communication, teamwork or ability to read ally’s movements are needed at all. Instead, a master player in these scenarios requires micro (the ability to control each unit on the field individually at lightning speed), macro (the ability to efficiently and effectively prioritize the output of your production facilities and resource gathering units) and the steel to remain calm under incredible pressure while making critical decisions. Meta is somewhat less prevalent, as StarCraft doesn’t change as fast as League, with victory being contingent on a myriad of potentialities that have been ironed out countless times before the match even takes place. Even then, with a near-infinite number of possibilities within the game, it’s not uncommon for even the most professional of players to lose a StarCraft match within just a few minutes of play, taken off-guard by an off-the-cuff tactic.
The truth is, it is impossible to reach 100% in StarCraft. A single human being simply doesn’t have the physical or mental capability to ever reach something resembling 100%. This leads to a wealth of styles based on a player’s prioritization and preference. Some players are known for early-game micro, others for late-game macro and still others for bold and risky unorthodox strategies. The bottom line is, Star Craft works because every player is constantly trying to push themselves just a few centimeters closer to 100%–and victory is granted to the one who pushes the farthest. With this in mind, I’ve always wanted to know what a game of StarCraft would look like if God played. I’m amazed when a player is able to micro a group of 10 marines in 10 different directions in order to dodge lurker spines or baneling busts but God would be able to micro 100 marines all at the same time, while maintaining perfectly flawless production of units, constantly harassing with non-punishable damage and all the while doing a Sudoku puzzle on the side. Korean pros peak at around 300 APM whereas God would have no such limitation.
Reaching 100% in an FPS on the other hand, is a bit easier. Assuming that one is playing alone, it’s much like our fighting/puzzle game genre. After a while, players will master the available classes, weapons and arenas to the point where a match becomes a mind game with the twist of limited information. This can drive a feeling of excitement and adrenaline, as even the most seasoned player cannot 100% know everything that is going on all the time. It’s unlikely that someone would be hiding behind the box in the corner of the room. It would provide little cover, no escape and limit available movement making someone near it easier to shoot. It wouldn’t be a good strategy to be there at all. No one does it… which is exactly why it might be the best plan… Of course, if the FPS is team-based, then the strategy becomes a little bit like League’s, with teamwork being the factor that pushes players beyond 100% in addition to the normal mind games.
Last we have MMORPGs, or just MMO’s for short. Reaching a true 100% is usually unobtainable for all but those with an insane amount of time to kill and/or money to shell out for powerups in the game. Hungry from the ride of the power trip, the few players that actually do reach 100% quickly look for a way to press on beyond it. Some will begin raising up a new character and then trade with their higher level character for the symbiotic benefit of both. However, this is not a true surpassing of 100%, but merely a lateral extension of the 100% bar. You see, exceeding 100% requires something much more valuable. It requires bodies.
It’s no surprise that the most successful MMO’s sprout a whole hodgepodge of clans, all banding together to collectively push their united power in a single direction. I remember in the ye olde days of Runescape when clans first started popping up. Originally a rather solo experience, one could enter the Wilderness or “Wildy,” as we called it (a location where players were allowed to attack each other), and at most run into a pair of travelers. More often than not, you would meet a stray soul like yourself and if one or both of you didn’t immediately open up fire upon the other, you spent a bit of time traveling together, fighting monsters in a tense truce, nervously watching that you did not put yourself in a compromising situation where you could be taken advantage of–mostly in the case of drawing the attention of a powerful enemy that wipes out half of your health before you take him down.
Several years later though, this sort of gameplay vanished, as it was no longer possible to venture out into the Wildy without getting picked off by an entire swarm of banded together players. Individual wit and nervous singular apprehension no longer mattered in the face of being run down by a dozen ranged fighters, eager to pounce on your poor character like a pack of jackals. Previously, a 100% character could stand a chance against another, and if things went south they might be able to even escape. Heck, depending on the items they were carrying and what their loadout was, it could be possible for a 100% character to take on two 100% characters and live to tell the tale. But twelve? At this point, 100% no longer matters; a clan reaches well beyond the cap of 100% to the point where it was “join a clan, or die.” In truth, it was much more like gang turf wars than actual clans–this all caused by the natural interaction between stats in a fairly non-interactive combat system.
While some MMOs try to make strides against this, the vast majority of them possess PvP that remains as just as that–non-interactive. What matters is the actual building and shaping of the character, which is done through a host of grinding and time-wasting tasks. Once the optimal rotation of skills has been memorized, an actual “fight” in an MMO doesn’t really come down to player skill but comes down to one thing–numbers. Whether that be the numbers on your character’s stats or the number of people in your clan fighting over turf is dependent on the situation, but it is still just game of making sure your numbers are bigger than your opponent’s.
Overall, the “PvP Real-Time, No Luck, Uncertainty” genre is certainly the widest and the hardest to group together. They all require knowledge of the game and how to play but once that is achieved, going beyond requires something else. League requires teamwork. StarCraft requires technical skill. FPS’s require quick mind games. MMOs require people. It’s difficult to rate one game type as being the “most valuable.” MMOs, I think most would agree, is the least valuable though. Being a body in a sea of bodies has its place. Bodies elect presidents, win wars, and set records. They don’t, however, inherently create growth within an individual, nor do they necessarily provide a scenario for meaningful singular decisions to be made. League is an incredible tool for learning teamwork but not the best tool for teaching personal skill. StarCraft demands personal skill but does nothing to teach teamwork (I think it’s no coincidence that most professional StarCraft players are antisocial, emotionally awkward, and a little depressing-looking). FPS’s strengths and weaknesses are probably somewhere in the middle of the aforementioned three.
If anything can be said universally about this genre, I think it is that success comes and goes from the direct meaningful interactions between the players themselves–be they ally or enemy. In all scenarios minus Star Craft, if a single player can win a game without the aid of their team, then the game is probably no good. In all scenarios, if a player can win regardless of what their opponent is doing, likewise, the game is no good. This is often referred to as “counterplay.” It means that while a player doesn’t have all the information present to them at all times, there needs to be enough information present, or enough opportunity to gain that information present, that they have a fair chance of achieving victory. From there, it becomes a balancing act of adding variety mixed with viability.
E. PvP, Non-Real-Time, Luck, Uncertainty – Netrunner, Magic the Gathering, Poker, Most Board Games
This leads us to our last category–the one that encompasses the aforementioned Netrunner. Taking a look at the genre descriptors themselves, this would seem like the worst category to play. It’s player vs. player, which means two people’s time, emotional energy and commitments are on the line. It’s not real-time, which means twitch reflexes, real-time mind gaming and technical skill of control are no longer present. Luck plays a big role in the game, and it goes hand-in-hand with a great deal of uncertainty. Yet in spite of these traits, this is and remains to be one of the most addictive forms of gaming known to man. So addicting, in fact, that there are help-groups based around getting people away from them, such as in the case of poker. So what makes this genre so great?
First, let’s set the board, so to say. These games often involve a deck or decks of cards and/or dice. Certain pieces are laid out on the board, often in a manner that conceals their information from both players. Then, it is not uncommon for another set of pieces to be given to each player–the information contained within known only to that player. Through an interaction of all pieces, known and unknown, and random chance (whether through dice or other means) the players attempt to use their wit, logic and best guesses to win. After all that, now it sounds like we’re talking about something exciting. It puts both players on very even footing. Both players have an equal amount of concealed information that only they know about. Both players are presented with a (generally) equal amount of information they they don’t know about. Both players have an equal chance of getting lucky and winning. Both players can likewise get unlucky and lose.
Of course in practice, there’s much more to it than this. In CCGs, deck building, sways the win:loss ratio into one player or another’s favor. Ideally though, in a perfect world where two evenly matched decks face off against each other, both players should equally experience the same excitement from the luck of the draw. Both players can use their experience and knowledge of the game to try to eke out an advantage. Or, Lady Luck can frown on their pitiful soul and doom them to eternal non-interactable failure. I mean, it’s not likely that the Runner will top-deck 4 winning agendas on the first turn of every Corp-side Netrunner game you play. It’s not likely–but still possible. This uncertainty mixed with luck can create quite a rush. It dumps both players into a world of the unknown.
Helping this genre along is that at its core, anyone can perform the basic tasks required to play. Anyone can roll dice and get lucky. Anyone can flip a card over. Anyone can draw a great hand from a shuffled deck. Anyone can move pieces on a board. PvP, Non-Real-Time, Luck and Uncertainty-based games are generally open to anyone and everyone–the limiting factor only being one’s mental ability to shape the game to their purposes to the extent that is possible.
This means that the onus of the success of the game relies heavily upon the game’s mechanics themselves. Simplicity is often not the best approach in this genre; largely due to its lack of real-time nature. A simple game like Divekick or Nidhogg work really well because they are fast-paced and intense, requiring split-second meaningful reactions between the two players as they face off against each other. If either game took place in a take-turn style of gameplay, they would just be horrible because the simplicity of choices and an opponent’s ability to spend as much time as they wanted to have to react to them would rob them of any and all excitement. Card and Board games need fantastic mechanics to propel players forward because without real-time interaction, the mechanics are all they have. Candyland is a great game to teach children color recognition and simple counting, but the winner is determined the moment the game begins–players draw cards until one player reaches the end. However, if each card the player’s draw have a special set of rules that the players can interact with in a non-linear manner, games like Yu-Gi-Oh! or Magic the Gathering, suddenly they become complex and entertaining.
The journey to 100% games like these involve mastery of the rules, memorization of the pieces and an understanding of how they can fit together. Going beyond 100% involves being able to read the current state of the game and understanding potential win conditions, being able to guess likely outcomes or possible scenarios based upon incomplete or hidden information and lastly, being able to read your opponent’s mannerisms while hiding your own. All of these traits happen outside of mechanics of the game but are still crucial to success within it–and the more complicated the game, the harder they become.
What’s the Point?
We can use this data to come to one conclusion. Conflict and balance in games stops being healthy when players can no longer make meaningful decisions during the intended time and method in which the game is played. For a PvE game, this means during the “first-time buzz.” For every other type of game (being PvP in nature) this means every time two or more players sit down across from each other (so to say) and begin playing the game–and this creates the conundrum. Humans will always figure everything out about a game, given enough time. No matter how balanced your PvP, no matter how in-depth your combat system is, humans will eventually try, discover and map out all possible interactions. This may be the greatest strength of our race, or possibly our greatest curse.
Either way, if you put two players in a room and made them play the same game over and over again until the end of time, they would eventually grow to know how to react to every situation. They would know what the best counters were to a certain strategy. If they saw a certain number of “pieces” on their opponent’s side, they would know what similar strategies could branch off of it and what to prepare for. There would be no surprises and there would be little room to grow.
The only conclusion that I can come to, is that if a game wants to be healthy outside its initial release, it has to be constantly changing and growing. Whether that comes from the player base coming up with new strategies and discovering new techniques (like Star Craft) or because the designers are always updating the rules and forcing players to think in new ways (like League of Legends) or a continuation of the franchise to greater depths (like Dark Souls), the moment a game stands still, it dies.
This happens all the time, even with the world’s greatest games–Chrono Trigger, Final Fantasy VII, Silent Hill 2 are all nearly universally acclaimed as having fantastic stories and ingenious gameplay… but how many of us sit around and only play them? Sure, we may revisit them from time-to-time, or share them with a friend who hasn’t had that first-time-buzz, but even titans of the gaming canon like these will eventually die out, barring remakes or unsuspected sequels. Even then, the sequels will eventually depart from the starting point and grow into their creation, separate and apart from what we loved of the older titles. Old Yu-Gi-Oh! cards are banned, Netrunner Core 2.0 comes out, Overwatch is patched and Paladin’s in WoW are nerfed. Sure, player cry, whine and swear up and down that the game was “ruined” by the latest game update, but the truth is, they are the chaff among the wheat that must be threshed out in order for any semblance of the game to survive–for if no changes were made, the entire game would be dead. As I heard Sid Meier quoted from a movie Lepcis sent me, it is the responsibility of game designers to “protect the player from themselves.”
Admittedly, sometimes we do need to lay things to rest. After all, I would wager that the vast majority of games were never intended to be indefinitely playable. They were designed to be discovered, consumed for a year or so, and while it might retain some sort of cult fanbase after the initial release, it would then die out and become replaced by the next shiny thing released. I used to think that this was just a clever ploy crafted by the marketing teams of our race–a technique used to milk out the greatest profit possible (and in some ways it is)–but now I begin to wonder if it isn’t necessary or healthy for things to be as such. Imagine if we had remember every single great movie that has come out in the last hundred years! Or what if people were still playing every single console game today with the same fervor as when they were released? There would never be any time for progression! There would never be time for anything new! We would be caught in an endless cycle of ungrowth, for as I’ve concluded above, that which does not constantly change will eventually be assimilated by humanity.
That being said, if it is one’s design to make a game that can continue to be played throughout the ages, then the designer must be prepared to keep it constantly changing, growing and progressing. So, I’ll say it one last time–a game that isn’t moving is dead. The question then becomes, are you willing to devote your life to maintaining its motion?
That is what should truly be beyond 100%. Unless the game is intended to die, it shouldn’t be left up to the players to discover–it should be the next piece of the game waiting to be added by the creators.