A Playful Production Process

1) "I understand this impulse to start to plan a game in detail from the very beginning. But doing so puts the cart before the horse. I know from my experience as a game designer that the correct path is to take one step at a time, and for me, when I'm digital prototyping, that often means starting by building a toy. A toy is an object that elicits play. It could be a store-bought toy like a doll or a ball, or it could, in the imaginative hands of a child, be a found object like a bucket or a bicycle tire. The important thing about the toy, for our present discussion, is that it's a system that either has some mechanical, interactive element, some narrative element, or both. For example, a ball will bounce when thrown at the floor, and we can try to catch it after the bounce—we could easily imagine it as a cartoon character that says 'ouch' on every bounce. A doll can be posed, will stand and fall, and has a certain narrative character that comes from its visual design: it might look like a nineteenth-century doctor or a thirtieth-century space pilot. A bucket can be used as a basket or worn like a helmet. An empty bicycle tire can be rolled down a hill or thrown like a frisbee. These interactions with a toy sound like the player activities we discussed in the last chapter, don't they? You might not be used to thinking about the things we do when we play with a toy as the fundamental building blocks of the digital games you play, but they have potential as the atomic verbs of gameplay. Posing a doll or throwing a ball is philosophically no different from the running, fighting, and collecting that we do in a commercial videogame."

2) "The 'I Like, I Wish, What If...?' technique is so simple that it barely needs any explanation. Having reviewed some creative work—maybe having playtested a game, or looked over a design document—we frame our feedback using the phrase, 'I Like, I Wish, What If...?' For example: 'I like the game feel that this character's jump has—it controls well in the air. I wish that they got up into the air a little more quickly when the jump button is pressed. What if you shortened or removed the beginning of the jump animation?' With 'I like,' we present something that we appreciated about the work. Just as in sandwiching, this opens the channels of communication and establishes a basis for respect and trust. As in sandwiching, we should choose something that we authentically like, and take the time to reflect on it, so that the person we're talking to understands that we genuinely respect them and appreciate their work. It's also useful for designers to hear what is working in their design. Then, with 'I wish,' we begin to open up a line of constructive criticism, by saying what we would like to be different about what we are reviewing. I think that 'I wish' is a clever formulation, because it accurately frames the comment as one person's opinion, and also expresses a desire rooted in an appreciation of the work. If we understand that an opinion is being given, perhaps we'll be less likely to get defensive. 'I wish' is a positivistic way of saying, 'I want this to be better,' and appeals to designers in their ongoing and iterative work. Finally, with 'What if...' we have an opportunity to be constructively critical by offering an idea that might fulfill our wish. We might propose a solution to a problem or suggest a different design direction. Saying 'What if...' and offering one of our own ideas to a designer is a generous act, and one that underlines the respect and appreciation that hopefully are present. Maybe the designer will choose to accept our idea and try it out in a future iteration. Maybe they won't accept it directly, but it will give them another idea that proves to be the right solution. Or maybe they'll reject it—it might be in conflict with another of their design goals or game mechanics. Whatever the outcome, 'What if...?' is a good way to conclude a particular piece of feedback; it opens up room for a conversation about the work, since it very naturally prompts a response from the designer receiving the feedback.""

3) "Whatever scheduling methods you adopt, I wish you luck."

4) "Take full advantage of the alpha milestone review meeting as perhaps the richest source of timely and actionable notes in the whole lifetime of the project. The game is not yet content complete, and we still have a great opportunity to shape it toward excellence, by acting on the design advice that we receive from our playtesters, peers, and mentors. [...] Some people judge beta as the milestone when you can tell if a game has come together, but I think that alpha gives us a very strong indication of how our game is going to turn out. Committing to hitting alpha well helps us to put in effort in the middle of the project, instead of stacking up the harder work at the end."

5) "I mentioned Amy Hennig's belief (which I share) that the player's experience of the game begins the moment that player first becomes aware of the game. Their experience is shaped by the information and emotion that they get from the promotional materials or press. So this kind of work is actually an aspect of game design—as much a part of the designed experience as the game itself. As such, it benefits from the touch of the passionate developers who are creating the game, working in close collaboration with their expert colleagues in marketing and PR."

6) "I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have become a game designer. Game design is a deeply rewarding practice and flows like the river of life itself. Every experience and relationship that we have, everything that we learn, and everything that we enjoy can become a part of the design of our games. Go back to the beginning refreshed and excited. Focus on respect, trust, and consent. Follow your interests, refine your craft, and over time you'll figure out how to make superb games in a healthy, efficient, playful style that is all your own."