Games that Just Aren't Fun

Some games aren't fun. At some point in gameplay, the game ceases to amuse and becomes a chore for the player. Since games are typically supposed to be fun, this is usually a bad thing. The game designer didn't do their job correctly and has produced a bad game.

Although it's very easy to label an un-fun game as a bad game, it goes deeper than that. As I see it, there are three kinds of not-fun games:

1. Games that were never fun because of bad design
2. Games that started fun but became soul-crushing over time
3. Games that were never fun, but that's the point

Games in Category 1 fit the label of bad design. The controls are sticky, the bosses are too hard, the characters are insufferable, the storyline meanders without point; for whatever reason, this game was supposed to be enjoyable but trips out of the starting gate.

Category 2 games have a solid core of gameplay. They are enjoyable and fun at the start but then typically have some sort of bar-filling Skinner's Box that keeps the player coming back for more. These games range from enormous MMO's like World of Warcraft to casual games like Cookie Clicker and 2048. What they all have in common is that sticky, addictive mechanic that keeps fans coming back for another hit of dopamine. In this case, the game designers have usually done their job correctly. These games are often designed with an obsessive personality in mind and are built to draw their players into just one more round before bed.

Category 3 games are a bit different. Their purpose was to be interactive, yes, informative, yes, but not fun. They exist to make a statement. The most recent example I can cite is Papers, Please. It's essentially Desk Job the Video Game in terms of its mechanics. At the end of the day, though, its point is to be critical and satirical, not fun. Every Day the Same Dream is similar; as a white-collar worker, the game content is mundane and soul crushing, but in doing so it is criticizing the monotony of an office job. Games like these are built to inform. They might have moments of entertainment, but at the end of the day they are not fun nor do they want to be.

Director: [QUARTERLY REPORT] Games with Judges

What happens when the winner of a game is chosen subjectively?

A few weeks ago I was having a conversation with my friend about our tastes in board games. He prefers Eurogames: Seven Wonders, Ticket to Ride, Power Grid, and other high-strategy point-based games. When I expressed my preference for games like Apples to Apples and Channel A, he raised an eyebrow and replied "but those aren't games."

Are they?

Games like Apples to Apples, Channel A, and Cards Against Humanity all have a similar ruleset. There are two sets of cards, what I will refer to as "cue" cards and "player" cards. At the beginning of a round, one player will take on the role as judge. They flip over one or more cue cards from the cue card deck to serve as an inspiration. The remaining players then sift through their hands of player cards to find a response to the cue cards. The stated goal is to find a player card that is the most interesting, creative, or funny in response to the cue cards.

But which card is the most interesting? The uncertain element in this kind of game is the judge. Which card they ultimately choose as the winner is entirely subjective; what could be funny or compelling to the rest of the players doesn't matter if the judge chooses a different card as the winner.

So is this a game?  There are points: whoever's card the judge chooses gets a point. There is a clear objective: come up with fun card combinations to win points, whoever has the most points wins. But a funny thing happens when a group of friends starts playing one of these games...

Let's take Channel A as our example. In this particular flavor of the game, the judge is the producer for a company that makes anime. They draw five possible cue cards that contain common anime tropes: Monster Hunters, Supernatural Battles, Kid Detective, Cyberpunk Dystopia, and Coming of Age are a few examples. They pick their two favorites, turn to the other players, and say something along the lines of, "Alright, team, we've had our marketing folks hold a few focus group sessions and we've determined that this season the kids are really into Monster Hunters and Coming of Age dramas. Show me an anime that has those two elements and we'll make a fortune!"

The players look at their hands of player cards. The cards have single words like Angel, Lucky, School, Robo, Rune, and Eternal. The player uses these cards to pick out a title that matches the cue cards. They pick between two and four cards and take turns pitching their anime ideas to the producer: "Picture this: there's another world hidden in the shadows of modern day New York City. An underground society of dark engineers have harnessed the power of an Old Magic and are weaving spells with machinery into an army of cyborg monsters. Of course, the world cannot know of the existence of magic. Thus, the ancient line of wizards safeguarding these arcane secrets have founded a new school to train worthy teenagers in the ways of mechanomagic. Our heroes must learn to work together and control their strange new powers in... ROBO RUNE SCHOOL!" The player reveals their title cards to the group.

The titles people come up with can be extraordinarily funny, clever, and witty. On the other hand, they can be hilariously bad. There's a ton of table talk; people laugh and joke about the best titles or rib the people with bad ideas. Occasionally the laughter will become so contagious that nobody at the table can catch their breath for several minutes. Sure, somebody's winning, but does anyone even care anymore? People keep playing until they get bored and then only briefly note who got the most points if at all. It isn't about the points anymore; nobody cares who won. It's become a social experience. Does this make it less of a game?

Some might argue that it isn't; it's a social experience and an icebreaker, not a game. I'd argue that this makes it more of a game. The focus becomes about the act of playing and less about who wins. I suppose it depends on what you want out of a game. If the point of a game for you is to win, then perhaps this particular style is not as good for you as a game as Seven Wonders or basketball. If the point of a game is to enjoy the experience and interact with other people, though, then these fit the description perfectly.

Director: [QUARTERLY REPORT] Friendly spite in games

Our recent success with Chopscotch brings up an interesting question: what place does spite have in games?

Our lengthly and in-depth observation of human psychology has confirmed the presence of spiteful behavior in humans, i.e. the occasional desire to deliberately cause annoyance or grief in another human. We have further observed that by and large this behavior is viewed as rather juvenile; those who act out of spite are looked down on in anger and annoyance by others.

And yet, a large portion of Earth's games include some form of competition. For any game that pits players against each other, we take it as a given that where there is a winner there must also be a loser. When a soccer goalie blocks a score they as much taking a point away from the opposing team as they are protecting their team's chances of winning. As the goal is blocked, a collective groan rises from the opposing team, the kicker scowls and swears under their breath. The goalie has deliberately caused annoyance from their successful block.

Humans have developed a special word for spite in the context of games: sportsmanship. It seems to be an agreement that a certain amount of spite is allowed to the players but only in the context of the game and its rules. A goalie may indeed block a goal but in doing so they are well aware that in return the opposing team will rush at them with renewed fervor at the next opportunity. Players may also expect that outside of the game, those that were previously their enemies are now entitled to peace from spiteful behavior until the next round.

Our question is this: given that the rules of sportsmanship allow for an acceptable amount of in-game anger, where is the limit? At what point does frustration caused by spite outweigh the fun?

Let us take, for another example, the board game Munchkin. Players take turns to try and level their in-game characters to 10. The closer a particular character gets to 10, the more likely that the remaining players will gang up on them to prevent them from reaching that level and winning. Spite runs rampant in Munchkin. For some, it is too much; they dislike the game. For others, the most satisfying part of the game is the opportunity to bring a successful player to their knees simply because they are doing a better job.

This is an intriguing area to explore. Get on it, R&D.