BioWare’s closure raised a difficult industry question for me last week: what happens when we become better at counting production output than recognising design judgment? This is the question at a smaller, practical scale. When a proposed feature arrives, how do we tell whether it belongs in the game? I use a design filter. It asks what fantasy the feature supports, what decision it creates, how the game responds and whether the existing rules can support it. Those questions won’t make production easy. They will stop a team from mistaking an expanding feature list for a developing game...
Category: Analysis
Prototype With AI, Build With People: How To Test Game Ideas Without Letting Placeholders Become The Game
Every designer has had an idea that sounded excellent in a meeting. The mechanic is clever. The fantasy is clear. Somebody has already started describing the trailer. Then a player gets hold of the prototype, walks past the important object, misunderstands the rule and spends four minutes trying to climb a wall that was never meant to be climbable. That’s useful information. It’s also much better to discover it in a rough prototype than six months into production...
Why Persistent State Makes Player Actions Matter In Systemic Games
A lot of game worlds have the memory of somebody walking into a room and immediately forgetting why they’re there. The player breaks into a secure facility, empties every cupboard, knocks out twelve guards, destroys the security system and leaves through a window. Five minutes later, the guards have returned to their original positions, the building is operating normally and somebody has apparently restocked every cupboard during an active emergency. Games can’t remember everything the player does. Recording every moved chair, opened drawer and disappointed shopkeeper would become expensive, complicated and a wonderful way to make the save system begin quietly smoking. However, a world should remember the actions that matter to its fantasy. When behaviour changes the state of the simulation, decisions gain weight...
Coherence Is Expensive: Why Consistent Game Rules Require Disciplined Systemic Scope
Systemic games are often described as though the solution is simply to connect everything to everything else. Fire affects grass. Water conducts electricity. Sound attracts enemies. Objects have weight. Characters remember what happened. Weather changes visibility. Food spoils. Doors react to pressure. Somebody suggests adding wind, and suddenly the engineering team is explaining why every loose object in the game now needs an opinion about aerodynamics. These relationships can create remarkable depth. When rules remain consistent across different situations, players begin treating the world as something they can understand. They form expectations, test ideas and carry knowledge into new encounters. A mechanic stops being a button they press and becomes part of a larger model of how the world behaves...
The Fear Of Letting Go: Why Game Designers Need To Author Rules, Not Outcomes
Games are expensive, complicated and held together by an alarming combination of specialised technology, production planning and at least one tool that everybody is frightened to update. When a team spends months creating an encounter, cinematic, environment or narrative sequence, it naturally wants the player to experience that work correctly. The problem begins when protecting every authored moment prevents the player from meaningfully participating in the game. The player can move, aim, select dialogue and activate objects, but they can’t genuinely construct an outcome. Their role is to confirm a sequence that has already been decided. Systemic design asks designers to let go of some direct control. Instead of authoring every solution, we author rules, relationships, spaces and constraints that allow players to form solutions for themselves...
Identity Needs A Verb: Why Playable Characters Are Defined By Action, Not Backstory
Games spend a lot of time telling us who a character is. We get biographies, costumes, voice lines, tragic backstories, cinematic introductions, and enough lore to explain why somebody has been angrily wearing the same shoulder pad for three hundred years. That information can describe a character, but it can’t make the player feel like them. Playable identity comes from action. If the game says I’m a detective, I need to investigate. If it says I’m a survivor, I need to manage scarcity. If it says I’m a thief, I need to observe routines, identify weaknesses, and quietly panic whenever a guard changes direction for absolutely no reason...
The Avatar Isn’t The Character. Identity Comes From Action
Games spend enormous amounts of time establishing who the player character is. There are biographies, costumes, cinematic introductions, tragic childhoods, complicated family trees, heroic musical themes, and enough lore to explain why somebody has worn one particular shoulder pad for the last three hundred years. All of that can help define a character, but it can't make the player feel like that character. A detective doesn't become believable because they wear a trench coat. A survivor doesn't become vulnerable because their clothes are dirty...
Good Friction Makes The Fantasy Stronger
A lot of games are designed around removing friction. Movement becomes faster. Failure becomes softer. Resources become plentiful. Objectives become impossible to miss. Characters automatically grab ledges, recover health, identify important objects, and politely solve half the problem before the player has finished working out what the problem was. These decisions can improve accessibility, pacing, and usability. That doesn’t make them bad. The problem begins when removing friction also removes the behaviour that makes the fantasy meaningful...
Games Shouldn’t Aim For Realism. They Should Aim For Believability
A lot of games are trying very hard to look real. Skin stretches over simulated muscles. Rain collects on individually modelled surfaces. Characters have pores, eyelashes, fabric fibres, dental records, and enough facial detail to make you wonder whether the art team has accidentally created a second human being. None of that automatically makes the experience believable. A game can reproduce reality with extraordinary accuracy and still feel artificial the moment a character slides across the floor, an enormous creature changes direction without transferring its weight, or an object that appears physically important refuses to react to anything around it. The image looks real, but the behaviour underneath it breaks the illusion...
If Players Can’t Read The State, They Can’t Play The System
A game can track hundreds of meaningful states, but if players can’t see what changed or why, systemic depth feels random. Here’s how to make simulation readable without turning the screen into a spreadsheet...
