Games, video games in particular, are inherently educative. In order to win the game, you have to learn how to play it. Good game design starts with introductory levels that familiarize the player with the basics of the user interface, then moves on to simple challenges, gradually increases the complexity, and finishes with a final ordeal that requires mastery of all the skills learned along the way. Such games require sustained concentration from their players and reward those efforts while constantly pushing them to strive harder. Sounds a lot like school—or at least the way school ought to be.
But there’s a problem. Namely, the lessons taught in video games are often unrelated to the skills needed in the real world. In addition, not all of the appeal of video games comes from complex challenge; some of the most popular games have relied on reinforcements such as visual stimulation, virtual empowerment, the desire to accumulate, and social status to the point where they could get by with almost no challenges at all. Yes, there may be some hand-eye coordination and critical thinking skills mixed in, but this is usually only incidental to the overall gameplay experience. So while school teaches useful lessons in a sometimes unengaging way, games teach useless lessons in a mesmerizing way. The goal of the educational game designer should be to bridge this gap. Painting a fantasy veneer on a worksheet is not enough. Neither is including numbers in a first person shooter. The designer must have a deep understanding both of how to teach real-world skills, and how to entertain, and find a way to integrate both of these (often contrary) objectives into a single cohesive work.
How best to educate is beyond the scope of this post. Instead I would like to focus on what makes a game fun. I’ve managed to identify seven general principles, but this is certainly not an exhaustive list:
Not every principle will apply to every game, but if you are leaving one out then you should have a good reason for doing so. And if you are leaving several out...well, your game won’t necessarily be dull, but it will be worth at least taking another critical look at your premise.
Of the seven sources of fun listed above, the only one that relates directly to education is moderate challenge. One of the many difficult tasks in teaching is to structure lessons such that a diverse group of students are all challenged enough to be engaged, but not overwhelmed to the point where they give up. To make an educational game, however, one must also add in fantasy, exploration, excitement, power, and accumulation. Challenging, but still not too bad given enough creativity. Where things really get difficult is when one is trying to meet specific educational objectives while also maintaining natural challenge. For example, you are trying to teach addition so you are going to ask the player to add two numbers together. Fine, but you need to have a good reason for them to add those numbers in their head rather than simply making the calculation for them. How does this act of addition enhance gameplay experience? Does it increase the player’s freedom? Does it provide them a strategic advantage? Is the game set up such that it simply wouldn’t make sense to have it any other way? If your answer to these questions is “no”, and you have no other reason that the educative task is necessary to improve gameplay, then it is an artificial challenge—a nuisance the player puts up with in order to experience the fun bits...and if there are too many nuisances or not enough fun bits then they won’t bother.
But there’s a problem. Namely, the lessons taught in video games are often unrelated to the skills needed in the real world. In addition, not all of the appeal of video games comes from complex challenge; some of the most popular games have relied on reinforcements such as visual stimulation, virtual empowerment, the desire to accumulate, and social status to the point where they could get by with almost no challenges at all. Yes, there may be some hand-eye coordination and critical thinking skills mixed in, but this is usually only incidental to the overall gameplay experience. So while school teaches useful lessons in a sometimes unengaging way, games teach useless lessons in a mesmerizing way. The goal of the educational game designer should be to bridge this gap. Painting a fantasy veneer on a worksheet is not enough. Neither is including numbers in a first person shooter. The designer must have a deep understanding both of how to teach real-world skills, and how to entertain, and find a way to integrate both of these (often contrary) objectives into a single cohesive work.
How best to educate is beyond the scope of this post. Instead I would like to focus on what makes a game fun. I’ve managed to identify seven general principles, but this is certainly not an exhaustive list:
- Fantasy. Why is it that game developers go to the trouble of creating an intricate medieval castle or a vast starscape when a few colored rectangles could provide the same gameplay mechanic? Because part of the fun of playing a game is imagining you are somewhere else—somewhere exotic, breathtaking, and above all different.
- Exploration. To be and remain fun, a game must provide novel experiences. RPG’s are the best at this, as they literally give you entire worlds to explore. Other games have an element of exploration too: the lure to find out what the last level of Flappy Birds looks like, the satisfaction of discovering a new tactic in Street Fighter, and the intrigue of playing a game for the first time that is nothing like anything you have seen before.
- Excitement/Anticipation. High speeds, pulse-pounding action, narrow escapes, are all staples of the game world. Not all excitement, however, is fast paced. Slower moving games like the Civilization series derive their excitement from the anticipation of watching the outcome of one’s decisions gradually unfold over the course of the game.
- Power. Game balancing and level progression would be so much easier if nothing changed. Allowing progression, however, gives players the satisfaction of becoming more powerful. This is also why so many games involve the absurdly unrealistic scenario of a single hero destroying multitudes of enemies. And speaking of destruction, Fulfilling the desire for power is also the reason why so many games are set in the context of warfare—nothing makes you feel more powerful than blowing something up—the only thing that comes close is creation...and construction just so happens to be the second most popular theme...
- Accumulation. Similar to power, but operates on a different impulse. Why is it that one tries to find all of the pieces of heart in Legend of Zelda when they could beat Gannon just fine with the 75% that are easy to find? Why is it that people play the same World of Warcraft dungeon countless times in the hopes of getting that incredibly rare armor drop—does gameplay really improve that much from a 2% overall stat increase? People like getting things, even if those “things” aren’t actually real. This is especially convenient for game designers, because they can give away all the shiny baubles in the universe and it doesn’t cost them anything (other than artists’ time).
- Moderate Challenge. I once asked a professional video game designer what made a game fun. His response: “A good fight, and then you win.” This answer speaks yet again to power, but also to the appropriate level of challenge in a game. Too easy and players get bored; too hard and they get frustrated.
- Natural Challenge: I saved the most important (and least familiar) one for last. A natural challenge is the one that the player signed up for, the one they expect, the one that is an inherent part of the game, the one that is fun. In contrast, an artificial challenge is a difficulty that just gets in the way. For example, timing a jump so that your character makes it to the next ledge is a natural challenge; finding which key on the keyboard causes your character to jump because it is set to ‘m’ by default and the game buries its key-bindings list under a mountain of options sub-menus is an artificial challenge.
Not every principle will apply to every game, but if you are leaving one out then you should have a good reason for doing so. And if you are leaving several out...well, your game won’t necessarily be dull, but it will be worth at least taking another critical look at your premise.
Of the seven sources of fun listed above, the only one that relates directly to education is moderate challenge. One of the many difficult tasks in teaching is to structure lessons such that a diverse group of students are all challenged enough to be engaged, but not overwhelmed to the point where they give up. To make an educational game, however, one must also add in fantasy, exploration, excitement, power, and accumulation. Challenging, but still not too bad given enough creativity. Where things really get difficult is when one is trying to meet specific educational objectives while also maintaining natural challenge. For example, you are trying to teach addition so you are going to ask the player to add two numbers together. Fine, but you need to have a good reason for them to add those numbers in their head rather than simply making the calculation for them. How does this act of addition enhance gameplay experience? Does it increase the player’s freedom? Does it provide them a strategic advantage? Is the game set up such that it simply wouldn’t make sense to have it any other way? If your answer to these questions is “no”, and you have no other reason that the educative task is necessary to improve gameplay, then it is an artificial challenge—a nuisance the player puts up with in order to experience the fun bits...and if there are too many nuisances or not enough fun bits then they won’t bother.