Game Design Requires Humility
Growing up, my mom liked to quote the proverb, "pride comes before a fall." I must have been pretty full of myself as a kid because I seem to remember her mentioning it to me a lot. The lesson must have eventually stuck because I can still hear her saying it all these years later.
Throughout the Bible, you see the problem with pride pop up repeatedly, but it is most evident in the Old Testament kings' lives. A pattern starts to emerge where a new king takes the throne, and the future seems bright for God's people. As long a the king humbly follows the Lord, things tend to go well. Then, in a moment of pride where they take credit for what God has done or start making decisions without Him, everything falls apart.
When I think about my life, pride has never done me any favors either. It seems to always get in the way, like a little yappy dog jumping at your feet. It trips you up and hinders your progress. Worst of all, it prevents you from doing your best work.
If you hope to be a great game designer, you will need to watch out for your pride. It will be tempting to create games as a platform to showcase your design skills and make the game about you. However, Sid Meier, one of the most accomplished game designers of all time, has this wisdom to share.
"The game isn't supposed to be about us [game designers]. The player must be the star, and the designer as close to invisible as possible."
It turns out that the fundamental posture of a game designer is that of a servant. We are in service to the player. They are the hero, and our job is to create an experience that challenges them and then celebrates their accomplishments.
It's hard not to want to steal a bit of the limelight for ourselves, but fortunately for us, the whole game design process seems to be a series of steps designed to teach us humility along the way.
I don't know if you know this, but game designers fail an awful lot. I'm not sure why; it may be because we are trying to combine so many mediums into a cohesive experience. A painter, for instance, can focus all of their attention on communicating through one medium the paint. On the other hand, a game designer is trying to pull off a juggling act with visuals, audio, storytelling, and interaction. These disparate elements often don't come together until late into production, leaving the designer to pick up dropped balls and learn from their mistakes.
I can't tell you how many times I've had a fantastic idea for a new mechanic, which I was confident would blow people away, only to find out that my prototype wasn't fun. It's even worse when you know you've "found the fun," and yet the playtester can't figure out what to do. What was beautiful and straightforward in your head was somehow lost in translation to the player's experience. This confusion inevitably leads to the words no game designer desires to hear, "what do I do?"
Those aren't the only ways you will be humbled, though. Players have this fantastic ability to break your work in unique and hilarious ways. By nature, players are curious, resourceful, and creative. They like to test the boundaries of what is possible and try things that you could never have imagined or accounted for ahead of time. On good days, their antics can lead to a good laugh. But, on the bad days, they can quickly leave you deflated.
Designing a game is challenging, and releasing one out into the world is even harder. It’s almost as difficult as trying to conquer your pride. Pride is a daily battle for me—one that doesn’t appear to have an ending on this side of heaven. But I'm thankful for all the little opportunities game development offers me to grow in humility, and I pray that they help keep me from a significant fall in life.
