Note: this Dev Take Tuesday post ended up a bit longer than
most. I apologize in advance for the lengthy introduction. If you are short on
time or despise superhero origin stories and their ilk, I’d suggest you skip to
the first bolded section for the actual lessons learned.
Rewind about two decades. My two greatest concerns at the
time were finding friends who own an N64 and how the Utah Jazz would fare
against Jordan’s Bulls in the NBA finals. I spent most of recess shooting
hoops, to relative success—being short didn’t matter as much when nearly
everyone is less than half the height of the rim. Whenever there was a break in
the action, I paid close attention to a small group of kids sitting in a circle.
They were all older than me, and strict playground politics prevented me from
approaching. So instead I watched. One kid in the circle would tell some kind
of story, and the other kids listened and occasionally offered their own input.
Everyone wielded pens and paper—notebook sheets filled with stats, skills, and
HP bars.
From that point on, I’d caught a contagion in my mind that
would never leave. With no firm knowledge of Dungeons & Dragons or other
roleplaying systems, I tested out my own homebrew RPGs with my younger siblings.
Later, a middle school friend named Tommy showed me his 3rd edition D&D
books. I admired the leather, brass, and gemstone design of the cover, and the
fantasy illustrations within. I designed a character—a highly charismatic, badass
half-elf bard (everything I wanted to be, but wasn’t)—and we played a couple short
one-off sessions, but never started a true campaign. Board games like Hero
Quest and Talengarde enthralled me, but in the end they only made me long for a
true D&D campaign with an experienced Dungeon Master.
In high school and college I let my desire to play D&D
fall dormant. I had nerdy friends. I had story-loving friends. I had gamer
friends. But it never seemed like I had the right group of friends for tabletop
RPGs. Consequently, I resigned myself to a lifetime without the connections I
thought I needed to start a D&D campaign.
Then, several months ago, a Critical Role stream showed up on
the front page of Twitch. After watching Matt Mercer and his fellow voice actors
play I was hooked once more. I quickly began to binge-watch episodes of the
online D&D campaign so I could catch up with the story (with
over 90 episodes available on YouTube I still haven’t quite caught up). Add to that the
numerous D&D references in many of the shows my wife and I love—Community,
Stranger Things, and Freaks & Geeks, to name a few—and the craving to play
returned tenfold. With a sparkly degree in creative writing and a current job
as a game designer, I decided the easiest way to play might be to adopt the
mantle of DM myself. So I did, after I found a few fabulous friends and a wife
who were all willing to play with a first-time DM.
We haven’t played long, but the experience has been
wonderful and exhausting, fun and frustrating, and above all: illuminating.
It’s obvious that D&D teaches good narrative design principles for game
development, but I was surprised by how much I learned about non-narrative game
design from D&D in a relatively short time. I want to briefly share some of
those insights here.
|
My first DM session (please ignore the hastily-prepared DM screen) |
1. Don’t be an evil designer.
As we started our first game, one of my players recounted a
previous campaign that was ended on the first night. Apparently, the DM
ambushed the team of first level players with an entire army of goblins. They
were, of course, summarily overrun. Unfortunately some DMs view the player/DM
relationship as inherently antagonistic. This is only partially true. The DM
might create antagonists to challenge the player, but the end goal for a good
DM is for his or her players to have fun and tell a great, collaborative story.
Likewise, good video game designers should take care not to view the player/designer
relationship as antagonistic or competitive. A correct mindset could be “how
can I help the player have fun or become a better player,” whereas a
problematic mindset might be “how can I show the player how clever my design
decisions are.”
Of course, as is often the case, exceptions to this rule
exist. As part of his ongoing informational YouTube series, Matt Colville spent
one video discussing
funhouse dungeons. These are dungeons deliberately
designed to beguile, vex, and stymie the players through ingenious traps and madcap
puzzles. As Colville outlines in the video, a funhouse dungeon disrupts the
“evil designer” rule because the players
expect to be beguiled, vexed,
stymied, and even killed. That is part of the fun. Some video games, such as the
Dark Souls series, rely on a nearly antagonistic relationship with their
playerbase. But even funhouse dungeons and brutally tough games should always keep
their players’ enjoyment in mind.
2. Balance tension and release.
For a long time, my understanding of D&D largely revolved
around combat encounters and skill checks. I saw the story opportunities, but
the plot seemed to exist only to prop up the dice rolls and tactical (or not
tactical) swashbuckling. Then I watched
an episode of Critical Role after the
party defeated a dragon, and my mindset from the previous two decades suddenly
reversed. DM Matt Mercer and the players spent around four hours collecting
loot and recovering in the bard Scanlan’s magical mansion. I saw how D&D,
along with other roleplaying games, could serve as a vehicle for storytelling
and character building. After a very tense battle—who wouldn’t be tense after
defeating an ancient dragon—the characters very naturally decided to recuperate
and blow off some steam.
I think watching Critical Role or DM-ing a campaign can help
a game designer get a feel for the balance between tension and release. As a
designer, look for chances to both ramp up the tension as well as opportunities
for your players to relax. Cutscenes are a common choice for emotional release,
but I think minigames, house building options, or even crafting loot can work
just as well or even better.
3. Give players the information they need.
As a DM you quickly (very
quickly) learn that your players will often either look past information you
intended to be important or hone in on details you never intended to be
important. I’ve learned that it’s good to include a few “failsafes” in the
campaign to give your players multiple chances to catch an essential plot
detail. As a DM or game designer it’s all too easy to fall into the trap of
thinking your players will act the way you would. You might think the solution
is obvious, but there’s a decent chance that’s not the case. Try and give your
players multiple chances to see or hear the information they need.
When we brought an early demo of Alkanaur to an exhibition,
I thought most people would win the little 3-on-3 tactical battle handily. I
was wrong. Nearly everyone who played lost to the 3 A.I. opponents in our demo. I failed to realize how my own personal
experiences, including a wealth of familiarity from playing similar tactics
games, were not part of some Jungian collective consciousness that all gamers
share. Of course you’ll have reasons to obscure some pieces of information in
your game. But whenever you make a conscious decision to hide information from
the player, make sure to pause and ask yourself “why?” Can’t find a good
reason? Perhaps you should consider including that info in the game.
4. Not all bands are Rush.
I’m shamelessly stealing this from Matt Colville’s excellent
video on
D&D player types—I highly suggest watching his video to get the
best understanding of the reference. But essentially, Mr. Colville meant that it’s
not easy to find a group of people who will all enjoy telling a collaborative
story together in the exact same way—just like it’s not easy to find a group of
musicians who will all enjoy playing the same type of music for decades. If you
find a group of players like that—awesome! But DMs shouldn’t feel like a
campaign’s shortcomings fall solely on their shoulders.
On the other hand, Matt points out in his video that it’s
not the players fault either—and this was the part of the video that really
clicked for me as a game designer. Players love games for a wide variety of
reasons. At the game exhibition I mentioned earlier, we had a few young children
try our Alkanaur demo. I was tempted to explain to them that they might not “get”
the game, but it turns out they probably had more fun than any of our other
playtesters—even if that fun simply came from moving around the game’s
battlefield and giggling as the enemies gave chase. As a game designer, you don’t
need to convert all gamers to your definition of fun. Realize that your game
might not appeal to everyone, and also recognize that players might find new
ways to enjoy your game, and that’s okay.
I look forward to more adventures run by Matt Mercer on
Critical Role, as well as more tips from Matt Colville and the other wonderful
D&D content creators on YouTube. And of course I’m especially excited to
continue my own campaign as a DM. If you, like me, are a game designer that was
always curious about D&D but never got the chance to experience it, give it
a try! Watch a D&D live stream or a YouTube video. Reach out to a local
game store about opportunities to play, or start your own game like me. I’ll
wager that you’ll learn a lot about your craft and have fun doing it.