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Thinking like the audience…November 17th, 2005 |
Think Like a Player! provides us with this handy list derived from the not-dead-yet-dammit world of interactive fiction:
The Player Doesn’t Know What’s Important “…authors know what’s important in the text that’s mentioned and players don’t…”
- Don’t bury relevant messages
- Don’t make the player have to remember too much
The Player Doesn’t Think Your Game Is Special “…games are special and magical and beautiful to the authors. To the players, on the other hand, they’re exactly the same as the three dozen other games waiting for their attention…”)
- The game must have something cool about it
- This should be the most interesting story to be telling
- Don’t do stupid things out of habit
The Player Can’t Read Your Mind “Important things should be in the game, and things in the game should be important.”
- Puzzle solutions should be conceptually reversible
- The game shouldn’t tell the whole story, it should tell the right parts of the story
It’s hard not to look at lists like these, Ernest’s lists in his Gamasutra articles, the one I have in A Theory of Fun, and even Noah and Hal’s 400 Project… and then not feel oddly ambiguous about it all.
After all, there’s no such set of rules in writing music. There’s pretenses towards them in writing movies, but we all know how formulaic movies have gotten.
This observation, though, strikes me as having real insight into player psychology:
This is really easy and some people totally fail to grasp it. So here it is: when people talk about a game being ‘fun’, what they mean is the fun density, not the absolute amount of fun. Therefore, if two games have the same absolute amount of fun things, the longer one will be less fun. And that means that if you make your game really long, you had better put a lot of fun stuff in it, or it will suck.
This is all interesting to me because there have been some really interesting articles lately on measuring human responses to music, and identifying common patterns that make people like a piece of music or not. For example, there’s the music service Pandora, which classifies music based on patterns inherent in the songs, and lets you build a personalized playlist that has things like “folk rock qualities, a subtle use of vocal harmony, mild rhythmic syncopation, mixed acoustic and electric instrumentation, and major key tonality.” That would be what you get when you start by putting in Ellis Paul as a starting point, anyway.
Pandora originated with the Music Genome Project, which attempts to deconstruct core elements of music on the grounds that a reductionist approach will tell us what elements trigger specific responses. This is essentially the scientific principle of actions and reactions illustrated. And it does seem to provide results — not only does Pandora have a reasonable playlist after I give it enough inputs, but there have recently been a slew of news bits related to this sort of approach to human taste. I see on BoingBoing today an article about a project assessing the worst sound in the world, for example.
And then we have approaches such as that of HitPredictor, the widely reported MIT research project that can predict hits.
The goal is to pinpoint trends in pitch, rhythm and cadence that are driving consumer spending habits. However, the MIT researchers believe they’ve taken the science to another level.
“Some people really care about instrument sounds and complexity of the music,” Whitman said. “But the 14-year-old teenage girl could care less, as long as her friends are listening to it.”
So here we see a social approach to identifying tastes, one that sees currents in how tastes change. It’s undeniable that as time goes by, tastes become more sophisticated. For example, as sophisticated melodically as classical music can be, it’s still generally far less rhythmically complex than more contemporary music — even rock ‘n’ roll with a straight-ahead backbeat is often more diverse — and the public’s appreciation of exotic harmonies has grown tremendously. Even though the wilder experiments of modernist music haven’t been accepted by the record-buying public yet, it’s hard not to look at the sales of singles by Dave Matthews, with their 7/8 time signatures, and not realize that somehow, the public’s overall “ear” has grown more sophisticated.
And yet, one still has that reductionist impulse. After all, simply following the social trend is a good way to end up making pablum; we usually see the difference between a good hit song and a bad one, given enough time. Some songs just don’t have staying power, even if they captivate quickly.
In music, fortunately, an expert sound engineer went looking for common factors, and found them.
Make note of that ‘vertical bar’ look because you’ll be seeing it over and over in music that’s had the power to command sustained catalog sales. The sound is produced by high contrast between the transient attacks of instruments and the background space where the instruments are placed, and you’ll be seeing more charts and illustrations of how this is accomplished…
…These albums SELL in a way that completely outclasses what the industry does with the hit-record-of-the-week.
And the more strongly they sell, the more likely it is that they will have High Contrast characteristics- specific characteristics that are recognizable in charts and measurements. There is a common factor shared among even very dissimilar multiplatinum hit records, having to do with the distribution of peak amplitudes, and this is exactly what is destroyed by current high-level mastering practices.
Go read all the analyses — seriously, it’s worth it even if you aren’t a musician or recording engineer.
Now, something like that begs the question of whether it’s possible to think like the audience if the audience doesn’t actually think at all. Are we all just responding to set stimuli? To what degree does taste matter? How much of taste is merely conditioning (I suggest this in my book, actually), essentially training to like a given set of acoustic patterns?
And that sort of question makes us turn around and ask a whole new set of questions of something like the game design lists above. Learning to think like a player is incredibly difficult, and probably the biggest challenge for many designers. Putting yourself in the player’s shoes requires a trick of perspective that can be difficult precisely because it demands ignorance, and it’s hard to let go of what you know. Almost all of the rules that Dan Shiovitz gives us from the IF world in his article relate to the relative levels of knowledge that the developer and the player bring to bear on something.
If we found a set of rules that were less like that, that were actually reliable guides to “good controls” (like the stuff Ben Cousins found with jumping times, and as he is trying to do with his own atomic model of game design, which is very intertwined with mine described in A Grammar of Gameplay), or with level lengths, types of challenges, etc, what would that mean for the industry?
Would the music biz be better if every record were mastered the same way as “Stairway to Heaven” or “The Stranger”?
Or is the secret actually, as Shiovitz suggests, the density of fun?
Some nice questions to ponder.

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[...] Last, Raph points out “Think Like a Player”, a bunch of design tips for Interactive Fiction that are also illuminating for those making commercial endeavors. • • • [...]