Recently I’ve been thinking that a game design is a social contract.  I’m sure this isn’t a new idea, but it’s important to me and I feel like writing about it.

The basic “flow” of game design and play works like this:

• The game designer creates a game.
• The game designer makes that game available.
• The game is transferred to the player(s).
• The player(s) play the game and derive some sort of fulfillment from it.

Some Notes

The “game” includes rules, play materials like a game board, content, software, anything and everything that is provided to let someone play a game.  In this case, “game designer” is really shorthand for an entire game production company.

The game is “made available” by selling it, publishing it on the web, perhaps even providing a client-server arrangement so the player(s) may interact with the rule systems.

When I say the player(s) derive “fulfillment”, that could be “fun” or “enjoyment”…or it could be “interest” or “engagement”.  Like watching a film; take as an example a documentary about war.  It’s easy to imagine such a film that would be most definitely not “fun”, but also a valuable experience.  So there may be games that will provide an experience that is valuable without being “fun”.  (See Greg Costikyan’s analysis of Grey Ranks.)

There might be games that follow models other than this one, and it might be cool to explore them, but I think this model will serve for the purposes of this post.

The Social Contract

So far I’ve just made observations.  What I’ve described is how games work.  But now let’s think about this further.

When a game designer makes a game available, certain expectations come into play.  In essence, the designer is promising that their game will follow the model stated above.  In other words: The game designer promises that playing the game will provide the player(s) with a fulfilling experience. That’s the entire point of selling the game; this concept underlies every game transaction.  The player(s) play the game because they believe it will provide them with a fulfilling experience.  That’s why they follow the rules.

How can the contract break down?

Perhaps the player(s) follow the rules but the game just isn’t fun.  Well, it happens; a failure of skill on the designer’s part, perhaps.  Not every film is wonderful, nor every book, nor every game.

Another failure of the contract is when the designer wants the player(s) to do something within the game, but nothing in the game tells them this action is available.  In a trivial example, if you publish a game with no instructions, you’re breaking the social contract.  Sure, in certain contexts the controls might be “obvious”, but I think it’s unwise to rely so heavily upon cultural context like that.  If someone doesn’t have the requisite knowledge to play the game, they’ll just be frustrated.  It’s in a designer’s best interest to provide instructions.

(An interesting counterpoint to the previous bit is towlr.  Towlr games are intentionally obscure.  However, I don’t believe this is a violation of the social contract, because the towlr webpage says: “Contrary to conventional design wisdom, the towlr games come without instruction and without explanation. Your job is to discover their secret, and score deliciousness.”  In essence, the instructions tell you that if you attempt to solve the riddle posed by each game, you will enjoy the experience.  I think it’s clear that this fits into my social contract model.)

Some games actually attempt to engender behavior in the player(s) that is contrary to the game rules.  Well, I say “some” but I only have one example at hand; Vampires, by Victor Gijsbers.  You can read through the game’s rules, the author’s commentary, Greg Costikyan’s commentary and several posts on the subject (including a couple by myself and a few by the author).  I won’t say any more about the game here, except to say that I don’t think anyone would, or even should play the game “as written”.