This is a collection of notes/thoughts on Reality Check: Game Design and Empathy by Mark Venturelli, a writer and game designer on Gamasutra. Feel free to study alongside me as I try to figure out game design one article at a time.
Notes/Quotes
This concept of empathy (and psychology, for that matter), is one that I've been thinking about a lot lately. I think too often in video games we work to create cool stories but not timeless ones. We seek to create interesting characters but not ones that have real life to them: none to whom people can really relate. We create grand narratives without thinking about the player's narrative--where he/she has been and what things he/she has encountered--and so we miss out on some of the greatest opportunities to access the minds and hearts of our players. I think any artist has to come to understand humanity (and for that matter, joy and sorrow) in some small but significant way before he can really make anything that will resound with people on a deep level, and until we approach that level of understanding and empathy, we are just churning out simulations. We've gone around understanding human psychology and instead relied on intense music or stunning graphics to invite serenity or terror or awe. We've neglected to study character and instead have created simulacra--emulations of a breed of mankind that never existed in the first place. I think if we are to ever get into the hearts of our players, we have to first show them that we've already been there, in thought, in comparison, in memory. We have to let them know, through the game, that we're human, too, that we've suffered the same doubts and discouragement, felt the same joys, as they have. We have to learn to truly each other--game designer and player--despite the processors, monitors, and controls that stand between our interaction. I see game design as as much an art form as writing or painting, and we have to get the medium out of the way before we'll really be able to talk to players in a meaningful way.
Notes/Quotes
If you don’t know how people work, you can’t make stuff for people to interact with.
The most talented and technical designer that lacks empathy will make something that only he/she can enjoy
Satisfaction is fulfillment of expectation; following through on promises
Everything we do in our game can be viewed as either expectation-setting or expectation-fulfillment.
I don’t think we’re in the business of giving people what they want. We’re f***ing artists. What we really want is to cross that chasm. To build something truly awe-inspiring. We must take our understanding of what people want, and then surprise them.
Entertainment is satisfaction and surprise
Real greatness comes from understanding people better than they do themselves.
This concept of empathy (and psychology, for that matter), is one that I've been thinking about a lot lately. I think too often in video games we work to create cool stories but not timeless ones. We seek to create interesting characters but not ones that have real life to them: none to whom people can really relate. We create grand narratives without thinking about the player's narrative--where he/she has been and what things he/she has encountered--and so we miss out on some of the greatest opportunities to access the minds and hearts of our players. I think any artist has to come to understand humanity (and for that matter, joy and sorrow) in some small but significant way before he can really make anything that will resound with people on a deep level, and until we approach that level of understanding and empathy, we are just churning out simulations. We've gone around understanding human psychology and instead relied on intense music or stunning graphics to invite serenity or terror or awe. We've neglected to study character and instead have created simulacra--emulations of a breed of mankind that never existed in the first place. I think if we are to ever get into the hearts of our players, we have to first show them that we've already been there, in thought, in comparison, in memory. We have to let them know, through the game, that we're human, too, that we've suffered the same doubts and discouragement, felt the same joys, as they have. We have to learn to truly each other--game designer and player--despite the processors, monitors, and controls that stand between our interaction. I see game design as as much an art form as writing or painting, and we have to get the medium out of the way before we'll really be able to talk to players in a meaningful way.