Play Must Be Safe

Every now and then I read some young whippersnapper designer suggesting some sort of feedback device that provides negative feedback to the player. Most often it takes the form of a device that provides an electrical shock if the player transgresses the expectations of the game. At other times people have suggested unpleasant noises or forcing the player to start all over.

All of these ideas violate one of the fundamental elements of play: It's safe. The whole idea of play is to give the player an experience without the danger that might normally accompany that experience.

A revealing manifestation of this problem lies in the matter of frequent game saving, especially in role-playing games. Most players take the precaution of saving their game before attempting anything risky. If something does go wrong, they simply restore the game to its previous state and avoid the mistake that led them into trouble. Some game designers, on the other hand, resent this ploy; they seem to believe that the elation of victory is made sweeter by the humiliation of defeat. Such designers fail to appreciate this fundamental law of play. Some games involve a considerable investment of time to play; players naturally want to feel that their investment is safe. Without the assurance of safety, players will resort to conservative, careful, plodding strategies which aren't much fun.

Good games permit the player to undo his last move, or play it over, instantly. The quicker and more easily the player can correct a mistake, the safer he will feel and the more exploratory and playful his play will be. Losing should be a rare event, just frequent enough to maintain the illusion of risk, but not frequent enough to intimidate the player.

The player must not merely be safe; he must feel safe. Some games foist myriad unpleasant surprises on the player. When such surprises provide nothing more than momentary excitement, they enhance the play of the game. But when they threaten to set the player back substantially, they harm the play of the game out of proportion to the setback actually inflicted. If the player fears mines lurking underneath every step he takes, he won't take many steps.

The fascinating paradox of play is that it provides the player with dangerous experiences that are absolutely safe. This is best exemplified by roller coasters. The rider is assured of the safety of the roller coaster before consigning his personal safety to it. He knows that it was built to careful standards and inspected by outsiders. More to the point, he knows that thousands of people have ridden the roller coaster before him, without any accidents. He is therefore assured of his safety. Yet the whole point of the roller coaster is to convince his senses that he is about to die. The wild gyrations, high speeds, and great heights all suggest imminent destruction. It is the perception of danger coupled with the certainty of safety that makes the experience so much fun. Roller coaster designers know that even one accident in a million rides would destroy the pleasure for all riders. They push the experience as far as possible in the direction of perceived danger while maintaining complete safety. A problem as simple as a squeaking wheel or a scraping sound can shatter the rider's perception of safety and ruin the experience, even if it does not actually compromise his safety.

LESSON 5

Keep the player on the razor edge of failure, but don't let him fall.

We see exactly the same phenomenon in many movies. Consider, for example, the old classic Raiders of the Lost Ark. In the first five minutes of this movie, the hero faces ten deadly threats and escapes every one. Each appears to offer little chance of survival, yet somehow Indiana Jones cheats death each time. The sense of underlying safety amid horrific dangers is an irresistible allure in a movie; we love it. Games should do the same.