Why Games Are Like Sledges
Posted on | February 15, 2009 |
I’ve played games for over 30 years now and developed them for over 13, and yet there are times when I still struggle to explain parts of the games industry to non-developers. While flicking through some old pages in my OneNote notebook I spotted a set of notes that were going to form a presentation to a class of 14-year olds. One unanswered question I’d asked myself read, “How do you get kids to look at non-mainstream games??”
I often find myself resorting to analogies, and re-reading my notes, with the last of the snow quickly melting away outside, I realised what I had been trying to say back in summer, it was, “Videogames are like sledges.”.
Let me explain.
Many years ago - when snow seemed to fall without fail at least once every winter, and Britain used to carry on running like clockwork no matter how deep it laid - I worshipped every single flake.
Drawing the curtains back and seeing a blanket of snow was like winning the lottery. And if school was closed as well, then it was a rollover that I’d won.
Once I’d dug out my moonboots, and a pair of gloves (that were destined to keep my hands warm and dry for approximately thirty seconds), I’d head to the garage to collect my trusty sledge. It was a fairly simple thing; nothing more intricate than a slightly curved, bright orange, slab of plastic. But it used to go down a snowy slope quicker than a pint of Guinness down a rugby players throat. I could lay in it any direction, or any way up, that I cared to travel. And its design even let me ‘ride with my homies‘ - I think the record was six people stacked one on top of another - although I can never remember more than two people ever reaching the bottom of the hill. Anyway, it always seemed like more fun when there were a bunch of us trying to stay on there.
Then one year I messed up. Big style.
I was in the car with Dad, we pulled into a petrol station to fill up, and there on the forecourt, beside the bags of charcoal (yes, even in winter) was the Lamborghini of sledges. It was also bright orange and plastic, but this one had style. For a start it had a seat, and foot rests. AND, it had a racing car number decal on the side. Oh man! It looked like a cross between a sledge, and a jet-ski, and for that reason, I HAD to have it.
Once home, I ran to the nearest park, proudly holding my new, sleek, lump of plastic. As I reached the summit of my favourite hill I could see the other kids spying my ride with envious eyes. I positioned it, and assumed the riding position; feet forwards, elbows touching bent knees, chin stuck out. But nothing happened. My old ride had let me hold it up and run, and then dive into it for a blistering start. This more sophisticated piece of kit obviously required a more elegant method. I began thrusting my hips back and forth, like a worm-riddled dog trying to scratch its arse, but I still couldn’t get things moving. “Not to worry,” I thought, “merely teething troubles.”
One of the other kids gave me a push, and I started down the hill. Very slowly. The ’sleek’ curves caressed the snow in much the same way as a wire brush caresses a sheep.
By the time I reached the bottom of the hill, winter had become summer. That ’sledge’ never touched my arse again and probably ended up going to the charity shop a couple of years later.
Over time I still used my good old sledge, but I also realised that even simpler and cheaper things were equally good; tarpaulin, old bath tubs, roadwork signs, even bin liners could be a real hoot.
I learned something very valuable from that expensive but utterly rubbish sledge, and those lessons can (and should) be applied to videogames:
- Looks aren’t everything - it’s the experience that counts
- Things that let you enjoy them in a way that you choose will nearly always be better than things that try and make you enjoy them in a way that they prescribe
- Cheap can be very cheerful - price isn’t an indicator of the fun you’ll have
- Don’t be fooled by sleek looks - the world is full of over-engineered experiences that lack soul
- You should be able to dive into fun, not have to force your way to it
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