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| RSS content published from: http://jbdgames.blogspot.com/ | | Essen 2008 Unwrapped: Part 3 - Cavum  Cavum
by Wolfgang Kramer and Michael Kiesling
In Kramer and Kiesling's new "Cavum ", the designers offer a new "gamer's game" that reflects the unique sensibilities which have given us games from "Torres" to "Maharaja". As is typical of this team, they present us with a wide ranging menu of choices each turn and enormous freedom to manage our strategies. For some, this freedom lets players fully manage complex strategies, while for others, the freedom only means confusion and headaches. What is especially interesting is how the designers' style is expressed in a new way - disguised but still unmistakably Kramer and Kiesling.
 Wolfgang Kramer and Michael Kiesling have been working together as co-designers since 1995, but they came to the attention of many gamers with the release of Tikal and Torres in 1999. In both of these games, players had free form turns in which they could choose from a menu of actions - moving, building, exploring, creating new pawns - each of which required the expenditure of some number of "Action Points" which were limited every turn. Tikal was followed by Java in 2000 and Mexica in 2002, and these games are regarded as a trilogy - for their obvious use of this shared system, for the use of masks on their box cover art, and also for the graphic design used in the games by artist Franz Vohwinkel. Depending on how you felt about these games, the "AP" trilogy either referred to "Action Points" or "Analysis Paralysis" because such freedom could lead players to get stuck managing the details of each game turn.
With some subsequent games such as "Maharaja", "Australia", "Bison", and even "Sunken City", this system got stretched in different directions, but what remained constant was the use of a menu of potential choices confronting players that allows them to manage their turns with great flexibility.
Cavum is a relatively complex tile laying, track building game in which the designers place their stamp in a new way.  At the beginning of the "phase", players fill their player mats with the 12 assets shown above. Each represents an action he'll be able to take once. Four of them are ordinary tiles to lay, although each one has a different amount of track (or in this case, "tunnel") One has a piece of track with a big ol' piece of dynamite on it.  The three cubes are stations - and these are the only pieces that a player truly owns. They will serve as starting and ending points for paths the player will trace in an effort to claim gems, and they will also block other players' paths. The gray tile with stones on it represents a "vein" which the player may place and "discover" - and will be a source from which all players claim gems. Then there are two wild tiles which may substitute for any of the above, and finally the symbol for prospecting. This will always be the player's last action in the turn, when he traces a path between any two of his stations, crossing through any quantity of tunnels, in an attempt to pass through previously placed veins, and pick up as many gems as possible.
Here is where I think the designers really show their true colors. During a phase, a player is going to engage in all twelve of his actions. However, the phase is broken up into any number of turns. During a player turn, he must select between one and four of his actions to perform before passing his turn. So these twelve actions might be distributed among as many as twelve and as few as three player turns per phase. Each phase always culminates in the prospecting action. So one player might choose to rush with his actions, to ensure that gems are still on the board when it's time to prospect. Another might proceed very slowly, forcing all players to take their actions so that he may use all the resources out there when he finally prospects.
With such flexibility, it is easy to see why this is very much a gamer's game - and one which can succumb to Analysis Paralysis in the wrong hands.
I wonder to what degree Kramer and Kiesling were inspired by Martin Wallace's "Age of Steam", as they seem to have created a sort of negative image of the Wallace classic. In Age of Steam, players are tracing paths with cities as the end points, running through as many towns as possible. In this case, players own the tracks and the cities are public. In Cavum, things are reversed. The paths are public but the end points - the stations - are what is owned by the players. In Age of Steam, goods begin on cities and get removed as they are used. In Cavum, the goods that are removed appear on the veins - which are the equivalent of Age of Steam's "towns".
 Age of Steam paths colored for clarity
There is an important consequence of having players share all the "track" in Cavum. They need to be interconnected with lots of junctions so that one player can trace from his stations, through various veins, and back to another of his stations, while another player can use much of the same track, use many of the same veins, but return to his own station. In Age of Steam, where players own each piece of track exclusively, the paths don't interconnect as much and tend to be simpler.
 Can you connect a path between any two blue stations (cubes) that pass through as many gems as possible without passing through any red or yellow stations? Can you do it before other players get impatient?
This tangled web is what can make Cavum more than a little brain-burning.
What about that dynamite? Each turn a player must place at least one tile with dynamite on it. It is possible to cover up those pieces with normal tunnels in order to delay their destruction, but at the end of the turn, all exposed dynamite tiles get removed - and also take out all top tiles in the six adjacent spaces. In a four player game, it's possible for 28 tiles to go to heaven! Some have characterized this aspect of the game as very nasty. Incredible as it sounds,  I don't think this rule is there especially to add a "take that" element to the game, and in my playing it didn't come off as mean. Rather, the board can get so dense and locked in, I think that the designers put in the dynamite in order to insure that the board continues to change after each phase. The game is not that nasty because once a player has created a path, it is difficult to obstruct that path until after he has collected his gems. The dynamite doesn't blow until the very end of the phase. Additionally, although stations block other players' paths, they can't be played on existing track. Even if someone places a track tile in your way, you may be able to promote it by placing another tile on it - as long as the new tile has more connections. The only way I know of to to mess with an existing path is to promote it with a new tile that changes its connections. Note that unlike Age of Steam, all existing connections do not need to be preserved.
The way that the designers stray from their Action Point menu and instead specify the particular actions a player must allocate during each phase is a very clever way of directing game play. If this game were from the AP trilogy, it is possible that each action would have had its own cost. A simple tile might cost 2 AP, one with all connections might cost 6 AP, tiles with dynamite could have their own cost, as would stations. The game would have been even more free form, perhaps more strategic, and certainly more maddening. Instead, each player gets a series of 2/3/4/6 branch tiles and they all must be used. Any tile may promote any other tile with fewer branches. There becomes a natural flow and strategy to the phase. Try to start out with the simplest tile possible, and as opponents mess with you, hold back the more complex tiles to play on top and rescue yourself. Or else, use your six early on, secure a complex path - but leave yourself vulnerable if another tile you were relying on gets rerouted. I think that with this method, Kramer and Kiesling have struck a nice balance between freedom and structure in their use of an action menu.
Where things seemed to spin out of control was in the paths themselves, which need to be twisty and often difficult to visualize. Indeed, all players tend to be creating paths which all cross over the same terrain, and it seemed difficult to create a master plan that brilliantly snatched lots of gems. Rather, you're more likely to feel like an idiot if you don't get lots of gems. I suspect that experienced players will learn to visualize the board better, make more strategic use of stations, and reduce the apparent chaos. But in my playing, understanding the board was a little like tracking a single strand of spaghetti as it winds its way around the meatballs.
 If the game were just about laying tunnels and grabbing gems, it wouldn't be a Kramer / Kiesling game. On top of all this, there is a modest economic system to value the gems that you do get. At the beginning of each phase, you can take order tiles. It's exactly what you think. Taking the one pictured is a commitment to acquire and trade a light blue, a dark blue, a green and a red for 26 points. Fail to do so, and you lose 2 points. The risks aren't great, but neither are the rewards because you can still sell gems back to the market - potentially doing even better.  In the example here, eight of the yellow gems are either still on the board or in people's hands. A reverse auction is held starting at "8" and going down, and the lowest bidding player could sell as many yellow gems as he owns at his bid price. So there are two ways to collect points for your gems, and which is better will depend on how many players own a given color and how aggressive the bidding gets.
The ability to sell gems either to the market or by completing orders struck some of us in our session as a little odd.  It watered down the tension. If players must complete orders, then a player has pressure to get the right combination, knowing that not getting the last gem is a big loss of potential points. Such high stakes would provide a natural bomb in the game as it does in Alan Moon's Ticket to Ride. Alternately, forcing players into the market would have created a more economically oriented games in which players must monitor which gems are valuable, jockey for those, and close opponents out of them. By providing both alternatives, players are most likely to go for orders - but relax knowing that the market provides something of a safety net if plans go awry. Perhaps the "all or nothing" game created too much chaos, but this is so obviously a gamer's game, it is surprising to see it made a little more family friendly. I'd love to speak with the designers to learn what they were thinking.
 I enjoy path laying games and I especially enjoy the complexity that Kramer and Kiesling bring to their best gamer's games. Given the history of such games, I am not convinced that paths laid by Cavum make the most satisfying use of the choices the genre has to offer. The use of actions in the menu in which players may order and group their 12 actions in any way they like - seems to have enormous potential and I hope to see it in a future game. The actual tile and path creation seemed overly involved and counterintuitive. I look forward to future playings to see if I'm able to wrap my brain around this game, or whether the game proves to be the stronger and wraps itself around me. | | Essen 2008 Unwrapped: Part 2 - Dominion  DOMINION
by Donald X. Vaccarino
If Sylla was a blend of old wines in a new bottle, Dominion is a tasty young wine which seems unlikely to mature greatly.
Dominion has become an overnight hit, and so many readers have already played it to death since its recent release. I've played it only once, but what stands out about it is its originality despite its simplicity.
 The goal is to collect the most and best victory point cards into your deck. Each player has his own deck of ten cards - seven with (1) gold and three with (1) VP. He draws five cards from his deck and can use the gold cards to buy either more gold, more VP's or any one of ten special power cards ("kingdom cards") which are arranged in a display. Cards so purchased are placed into his deck for future draws. After the player has used a power from one of his special cards and purchased a card using his gold, then both used and unused cards from his hand are placed in his discard pile - to be recycled when his draw deck has been used up. In this way, players are consistently drawing five cards, taking actions, buying new cards, and then drawing more. Cards used - or not - are continually being recycled, but at a slower pace as his deck grows in size. When sufficient cards have been purchased, the game ends and the player with the most points in VP cards wins.
 This feature of continually drawing and renewing one's own deck, and building that deck on the fly is very original and the game plays like no other Eurogame. Because a player must, as a default, draw exactly five cards a turn and work with only those cards at any given time, the game requires a player not to maximize his assets with the most extensive display of powers possible. Instead, the game is about concentration. How can a player build a deck such that a random assortment of any five cards at a time be most powerful most consistently? What we see is that the cost of adding gold cards to his hand is disproportionately high with higher values of gold. Gold ca rds valued at (1) have no cost; those valued at (2) cost three, and those valued at (3) cost six. This seems counterintuitive until you realize that normally a deck consisting of all (1) value gold cards could never buy anything costing more than five (and then only rarely), while a deck of (3) value gold cards can much more easily accumulate brawny values used to purchase big VP cards or strong powers.
 In any given game, there are ten different kingdom cards to choose from, but the game comes with 25 unique decks, so that the smorgasboard of choices may be different with each game. Examples of powers in the set I used were ones that gave players extra actions and/or extra opportunities to buy cards. There were powers which allowed a player to add three cards into his hand (remember, they all recycle, so this is an alternative way of concentrating your hand), and ones which permitted gold cards to be upgraded to the next higher level.
Player interaction is very limited and from what I saw came in two forms. One is that there are a few cards which enable a player to "attack" others, for example by forcing them to discard down to three cards, and other cards which enabled players to defend against such attacks. In my game, these were used sparingly because they don't really help you advance your agenda, and even a defensive card needs to "just happen to be" in your hand at the time of an attack for it to do any good. The other form of player interaction concerns the pace of the game. A strategy which relies on gradually building up a killer hand and then collecting VP's can be counteracted by a strategy which attempts to buy lots of cheap cards and end the game quickly. In practice, I don't believe that players gain from building up large decks because their powers are not cumulative. You're still drawing only five cards at a time. The value of a large powerful deck is that it is less diluted by VP cards. But an opponent cannot surprise you by ending the game. If other players switch into "collecting VP cards" mode, you can shift gears quickly.
Certainly, the dynamic deck building of Dominion is original. Adding to the freshness of the game is the way that 25 distinct decks of kingdom cards can be mixed and matched to create unique situations for the players. However, many players have compared this game with Tom Lehmann's "Race for the Galaxy"- with many fans stating their preference for the latter. If Dominion is unique - is the comparison reasonable? Looking at the ways that each game works sheds some light on what makes each game special - and also how very different mechanisms can be brothers under the skin.
Like "Race for the Galaxy" and its predecessor "San Juan" by Andreas Seyfarth, Dominion is an economic game based entirely in cards. Each player collects cards which enable him to buy yet other cards, which add to a player's collection, giving him new powers and more victory points.  One glaring difference which drives different approaches in each game is that in Race for the Galaxy, players are purchasing cards for a permanent display in front of them, while in Dominion, purchased cards simply enter a player's deck. The Race for the Galaxy player has assets which are continually growing, as each purchased card accumulates powers on top of those already present. Every new asset is a good thing. In Dominion, only a few cards are operating at any one time, and then they are quickly recycled and the player moves on to another set. It's good to have lots of kingdom cards because a hand dominated by VP's can't purchase anything new. It is also possible to select a variety of cards which are likely to interact in productive ways when they show up together. But the effectiveness of any deck is going to max out quickly as the best you can do is to get a handful of productive interactions and then move on to the next draw. Dominion requires a new kind of thinking - one in which more isn't always better.
In Dominion, players begin the game by selecting ten different decks of power cards and those become the fixed choices throughout the game. In Race for the Galaxy, there is a single deck used in all games, but players must make choices from the cards they randomly draw throughout the game. The argument for replayability in Dominion is that with ten out of twenty five possible cards being used in a game, there are 3.3 million different possible combination. In Race for the Galaxy, there's only one. Yet Dominion has a hidden weakness. It lacks sufficient ability to surprise the players and force them to react to unanticipated challenges and opportunities. When a game forces a player to keep on his toes and potentially change his strategy substantially, I call it a Nervous System. In Dominion, the experienced player can survey the available cards, map out his strategy, and execute it. The degree to which cards interact in his hand will force tactical decisions, but not generally a rethinking of the plan. In comparison, Race for the Galaxy has only about 100 cards, but they are all (or nearly all) different, and their appearance at any time is entirely unpredictable. A player can set off down a particular path... and discover opportunities in his cards which tickle him into straying down a new path. Furthermore, because the player's actions depend both on his own choices and those of his opponents, he may find himself with unexpected opportunities to exploit.
Dominion is a sufficiently short game that it isn't crippled by the lack of surprise. You can lay out a set of ten cards to start with - and for the next thirty minutes, maybe that's all the surprise you need. But it is a limitation that's in the game's structure. Like a mechanical dog which has dozens of interchangable parts, there is lots of potential variety, but after a while I suspect that players may find that underneath it all, it still always barks to the same cues. Time will tell.
| | Essen 2008 Unwrapped: Part 1 - Introduction and Sylla It's been a long time since I've contributed to this Journal; the last article appeared over six months ago. That's just wrong. I have been working on an article - about the "Frustration Factor" in games. However, work and writer's anxiety have been pushing it out and out and... It's a tricky thing to create an article about types of game mechanisms because the subject is so vague. Worse, any given topic seems to be so broad that I keep writing when I ought to just wrap it up. So in an effort to get the train moving again, I'm offering a sort of article that I've specifically avoided in the past. Game reviews. OK - This is not your father's game review. It's not even Schloesser or Vasel's game review. It's a game review JBD style.
1) The focus is on the game mechanics. Expect little or no discussion about the theme or components.
2) Game mechanics are described in their most essential form. There will be no rehash of all the rules, but instead a focus on the handful of mechanisms that drive the game and the decisions they offer.
3) I may provide only a passing mention of whether I think the game is good. Don't expect a buyer's guide. More emphasis will be placed on what mechanics are innovative or effective and why. In most cases I only had a chance to play the game once.
 One reason I've avoided writing reviews in the past is that there are so many of them out there already. Tossing another one onto the net seems redundant. However, I had the good fortune to attend BoardGameGeek.con and had a chance to play many new games which I know there's lots of curiosity about. I'm going to limit each post to a single review. This will hopefully make it easier for people searching for information about a given game to find it, and will also keep each post to a manageable length. My hope is to publish a new review every three or four days. Here goes....
 SYLLA by Dominque Ehrhard
Ehrhard used to be a considerable force in Eurogame design, but he hasnâ??t been on the gamerâ??s game radar for a while. When they came out, I had great enthusiasm for both Condottiere and Serenissima, but those are over ten years old. Sylla is released by Ystari, and it has their fingerprints all over it. It appeals to gamers, and has oodles of features that feel familiar â?? competing auctions, income generating tokens, food shortages- and it offers situations where scarce resources must be carefully allocated among competing needs.
 The driving mechanism is that players each start with several character cards, and will get to add another to their hand in each game turn. Each character has one to three colored symbols (red/blue/yellow) and potentially an additional special power. After adding a new character at the beginning of each game turn, players may use these in any of several auctions for tiles which grant benefits. Each auction is color coded, so a character with a red symbol may only be used in a â??redâ?? auction, while a character with all three may be used in any of them (but may only be â??spentâ?? once) â?? the three colors make him three times more flexible but not three times more valuable.
 Among the other assets that players take â?? each turn and also potentially from winning auctions â?? are disks in any of three colors. These disks will have varying values at the end of the game. Players also earn money every game turn and also take income from certain tiles and from one of the characters.
 The most original phase comes in the election to suppress bad events. Four events are dealt out, and two of them will occur each turn. Now, unspent cards with the appropriate special power (the soldier in the upper left, and the rather matriarchal looking "vestal virgin" in the upper right) may contribute to influence these events. (The first event card, on the right, may receive votes from both soldiers and Virgins, the one below it only accepts votes from Virgins.
The two events receiving the fewest suppressing votes are the ones that occur, and these may cause the values of certain chips to drop, or may cause a certain type of character card to become out of play for several turns. Finally, players may convert money into VPâ??s. Sometimes this is through an auction and sometimes at a fixed price.
From the description youâ??ll see that there is nothing glaringly innovative here. There are auctions in multiple â??currenciesâ??. The auction to control events is similar to that found in Rieneck and Stadler's "Cuba". In Cuba though, a single player selects the â??lawsâ?? while in Sylla the votes are aggregated among players. The varying values of the colored chips is similarly a commonly found market mechanism. In spite of this, I found Sylla to be greater than the sum of its parts. There are A LOT of mechanisms in play each game turn, but all are reasonably familiar so the game is easy to learn. One aspect of the game I appreciated is the fact that a given character typically can either be spent in the auction for tiles OR provide income OR be applied to a subsequent voting process. So many different sorts of needs are competing for the attention of your very limited resources. Since the special powers differ from card to card, the selection of characters becomes a strategic consideration. It is not the same as having a bunch of money and many places tospend it. Every card has only select places where it can be used. An urgent need to come up with another red dot may force you to spend a card you were hoping to hold back â?? for yet another urgent need. 
Example of six tiles up for auction in a given turn. Note that the first two only accept "red" cards, the next two only "yellow" and the last only "blue". The winner of each auction chooses the tile to auction next.
 Sylla's variety of character types and colors, its pricing mechanisms for colored discs, and its multiple distinct phases create plenty of opportunities to let players try out different strategies. Does one concentrate in order to maintain strength, or diversify in order to have flexibility? If you focus on earning lots of tiles, you may earn many discs - but if you ignore the events, then other players may drive the value of your discs way down. Another strategic decision lies in how many of your characters should be "Christian" as symbolized by the fish symbol. At the end game, all Christian cards gain bonus VP's. The down side is that certain events can cause your Christians to remain out of play for one or more game turns. An over reliance on such cards can cripple your play indefinitely.
There are also good situational issues that arise. You might expect to win a valuable tile by committing two cards. If forced to bid three, do you commit a card that you wanted to use in the event phase?
 Every game turn has seven phases with perhaps ten individual auctions, but the game doesn't come off as a repetitive auction fest. For one, the types of things being auctioned tend to vary throughout the turn, and so do the methods used. The auction for tiles is a traditional sequential auction, while the bid to control events is more of a majority control type of play. Additionally, the various "currencies" are in short supply, so auctions don't overstay their welcome. Players might have at most four red cards to compete in a red tile auction, and all assets are public. The auction plays out tactically. Do I want to commit everything to guarantee getting what I want - or do I hold back a smidgen to at least drive the price up and maybe get a bargain? Each auction is over quickly and there is little downtime.
I enjoyed my one play of Sylla. The play was certainly very familiar, but while the game may have lacked focus, the variety of arenas to compete in kept the game changing and engaging. Players who have appreciated the rock solid reliability and Euro-ishness of other Ystari games such as Amyitis and Caylus are likely to welcome another recognizable member of the family.
| | What is this board game about? Printer friendly
"So what is this game about?" is the natural first question you might ask when someone brings out a new board game for you to try. That question can have one of two answers, depending on the angle you look at the game from: theme or mechanics.
 "The game spans 1500 years of Egyptian history. You goal is to influence Pharoahs, build monuments, farm on the Nile, and advance the culture of the people in an attempt to appease the god of the Sun."
"Okay, but what is the game about?"
 "It is a set collecting and auction game. There is a wide variety of tiles that you'll collect, which combine in myriad ways to score points. On your turn, you'll decide whether to add one more tile to the pool, or to auction off the ones already there. Your goal is to collect those tiles which will be most valuable to you, prevent your opponents from getting too many tiles valuable to them."
Either of the above is a reasonable description of Reiner Knizia's "Ra". Since this is the Journal of Boardgame Design, I'm interested almost 100% in the latter. Either description could reasonably be called the game's "theme", but in practice "theme" has come to mean the historical context in which the game supposedly takes place. The designer drapes a bunch of mechanisms around the theme, and he has a game. Maybe the mechanisms are closely tied to the theme and often, in Eurogames, they aren't.
A game, at its best, is more than a bunch of mechanisms. It is a coherent system of mechanisms with a theme of its own. Let's call this theme that summarizes the system of mechanisms the game concept. There is nothing to prevent a game built from a bunch of connected mechanisms from being lots of fun, but I think that having a strong game concept takes the game up a level. It helps to focus the players' goals. It adds meaning to the game apart from the theme. It defines the game.
 "Players choose among a series of actions which help them to score points, gain resources, or avoid catastrophes. The more you are able to take the same action during the game, the more valuable it becomes. The trick is that in each turn, a player is presented with three possible actions, and he must decide which one to play, and which ones to make available to the players to his left."
-Notre Dame
I enjoy explaining game rules, and I always introduce the game by first describing the game concept. Every rule has a role in supporting the game concept. If players can wrap the whole idea of the game around their heads, then all the individual rules ought make sense. Players can sit down and get to work at trying to win. If they can't get the game concept, then most likely you'll see the "deer in the headlights" look. "Okay, you explained the game to me but... what am I supposed to do?"
 The issue of game concept surfaced when I recently first played "Amyitis" by Cyril Demaegd. On any given turn, a player will take one of five different actions. The Merchant and Peasant each give you distinct types of resources. The Engineer gives you immediate points and a shot at a majority battle, for more points, on the main part of the board. The Priest lets you take part in a different majority battle in a small part of the board, which help you win more points or resources depending on where you choose to play. Finally you may move the caravan - in which you spend the resources you earned elsewhere to earn: points from cards, income, faster caravan movement, or the ability to earn points on the main board, which in turn is limited by choices made by players who chose the Engineer earlier in the game.
Deep breath.
So the game Amyitis is about... I'm not sure.
Cyril Demaegd has a defense of the structure of Amyitis which is worth reading. He described it as having a "star structure" rather than a "line structure". I think I understand his point. Some games, ones with a linear structure, have their elements lined up like dominoes. The first one effects the next one, and so on down, until the last mechanism which affects the victory conditions. "Power Grid" by Friedmann Friese is an example of this. You buy power plants, which give you capacity to use fuel. You buy fuel that fills your plants, and together they can power your cities. You extend your network of cities, which when powered give you victory points, as well as income that feeds the entire cycle for the next game turn.
What I think is meant by a "star structure" might correspond to what Americans call a "wagon wheel" or "hub and spoke" structure. There is a core mechanism and several secondary mechanisms. The secondary mechanisms may be independent, but they all affect the core mechanism.
The problem is that there is no core mechanism in Amyitis. The garden, which does take up the most physical space on the game board, really turns out to be just another way of scoring points that is not obviously more important than any other. Here's my picture of the Amyitis structure, which looks more like the floor plan from a spy movie than a wagon wheel.
 From all this, it may come as a surprise when I say that I think Amyitis is a hell of a lot of fun. There are some very clever mechanisms in the game, and notwithstanding the nightmare diagram above, the interrelationships play well. However, playing Amyitis is a little like playing with sand. It can be lots of fun, but there is nothing to hold on to. A strong game concept doesn't make a game good. It makes a good game more substantial and more satisfying, and it serves a similar role that a good theme does. Sometimes having one strong central mechanism that ties the others together can provide a game concept. The hub and spoke diagram above shows a game with many mechanisms which all affect a central one, which in turn provides the victory conditions.  "Caylus", by William Attia, does this, but works the other way as well. The central mechanism is the road, which players build upon and which provides the actions players must choose from. The road is also where the "provost" moves, and he can wipe out some players' actions depending on where they lie on the road. "Players take actions on the road which gives them commodities, and then they use those commodities to create more buildings on the road (as well as the castle) to earn victory points." That's the whole game summed up in 32 words. Unless you're writing copy for the game box, being able to sum up a game in 32 words or less is no particular virtue. However, it shows that the game is well focused, with a strong game concept that ultimately ties together many mechanisms into a cohesive game. Players sit down to a game of Caylus with a strong sense of what they are doing, purely in terms of the game's mechanics.  A game can seem more complicated than it is when its game concept is weak. Many people regard Reiner Knizia's " Stephensons Rocket" as a complex game in spite of the fact that its rules are remarkably compact. Its rail building theme is pretty good - but what exactly are you trying to do with those railroads? You want to control them of course. But that only pays off at the end. Meanwhile, you want to run them in to cities, but only after you build stations that you ran the railroads into first. You also want to control the cities that you run the railroads into, and you want to control the commodities that each city produces. Finally, you want to merge the railroads in a way that insures you control the really big railroads at the end of the game. Whew. In a public appearance, Reiner Knizia once said that scoring and victory conditions are good things to manipulate to get the players to do what you want. In the case of Stephensons Rocket, he took his own advice too well. He made the game work by tinkering with the scoring mechanisms at the cost of maintaining a strong game concept. The final product is a good game, but at times it seems to be a runaway train that is in constant danger of running off its rails. Conversely, even a complex game can be held together with a combination of strong game concept and theme. Karl Heinz Schmiel's " Die Macher" holds together remarkably well despite being one of the most baroque of all German games. It takes about 45 minutes to teach the rules for Die Macher, and each turn has 13 phases. I don't think too many players would tolerate that sort of complexity if its mechanisms didn't tie so well to its election theme. When a theme is strong, the theme merges with the game  concept. "Players represent political parties, each trying to get as many votes in regional elections as possible, which earns you points. You'll attempt to manipulate your party's policies and public opinion in order to get votes in those regional elections. Success in those elections in turn enables you to control the national agenda, which scores you more points." Along with Die Macher's strong theme, and the way it successfully bonds its mechanics to its theme, Die Macher has a strong central mechanism which gives it a strong game concept. Everything flows in and out of the regional elections. You manipulate policies, you buy media, you place party markers, and you manipulate your local popularity all in an effort to gain influence in the local elections. After you've scored your points there, the regional elections affect the national board which gives you money and points for the endgame scoring. Die Macher holds rather well to the spoke and hub model, with somes spokes pointing in to the hub, and others pointing out from it. Die Macher benefits from both a strong theme and a reasonably central mechanism to maintain some conceptual unity. As games move along the spectrum from "Eurogame" to to "Simulation", the mechanics tend to blossom around the need to recreate reality rather than to maintain any conceptual unity. When a game is primarily a simulation, then the theme becomes the game concept.  Imagine " Squad Leader" or " War of the Ring" as an abstract game and the rules would make no sense. Why create all these special exceptions and unique units? How can anyone possibly understand what is supposed to be going on? Once you realize that you are simulating small unit fighting or the battle for Middle Earth, everything comes together. The games remain complicated, but every mechanic serves the basic concept of the real world (or fantasy world) simulation. As long as the players understand what is being simulated, the mechanics hang together conceptually. Games most often build their game concept around a central dominating mechanism which all others relate to. Are the other mechanisms truly secondary, or do they take on a life of their own? If those secondary mechanisms become significantly complex, the game can lose its focus. Compare Caylus with Age of Empires III by Glenn Drover. Both use a similar action selection mechanism, but Caylus is a more straightforward, focused game, while Age of Empires III adds a lot of extra stuff behind each possible selection and is a more baroque design. In Caylus, actions taken on the road generally give a player resources or allow him to spend resources on a building. The entire game is about acquiring and spending resources effectively. There are other choices in the beginning of the road - and these create a little metagame around the use of the road: they control items such as turn order, the cost of an action, and which actions on the road will actually occur this turn.  In Age of Empires III one feels as though he is playing four games at once There is the entire colonization battle for majority control off on the side - but one need not participate in that game wholeheartedly. There is a separate module dealing with collecting trade goods. There is the "discovery" game which sets the stage for the colonization game, but has its own set of goals and victory points. Then there is the action selection game which determines how many resources you bring to bear in the other three games. These games-in-a-game all intersect and collide but without truly building upon each other. The theme of colonization just barely stitches this patchwork together. " Puerto Rico" by Andreas Seyfarth may be the great enigma when it comes to the notion of game concept. There are many facets to the mechanics. Each one is essential and none seems to dominate. Is the game about the role selection? The selection of roles is a central and original concept, but I think it dominates the game much less than does the road and the selection of actions in Caylus. The specifics of the actions - which building to buy, where to put your colonists, your choice of plantations, trading and shipping - are all critical, balanced, and tightly woven. What is the game about? Well, it's an engine building game, of course, but it's about the whole package. To the new player, Puerto Rico is sort of a fascinating mess. To the experienced player, the game is its own concept. Puerto Rico is relatively complex for a Eurogame, and it cannot be summarized by a simple game concept. Still, its structure is not especially convoluted as the diagram below shows. While all of its mechanics may be harder to describe than for Amyitis, the entire system is conceptually more compact. Compare the diagram for Puerto Rico, below, with the one above for Amyitis.  This diagram does simplify some things. There are ways of getting doubloons besides trading goods, and the various buildings can affect all of the game functions. However the basic engine is all there, and it makes for a pretty neat package. Puerto Rico's game concept may not be easily broken into its parts, but taken as a whole it is manageable. This seems to be the nature of most "engine" based games. Games such as Puerto Rico, Power Grid, Goa, and Settlers of Catan cannot readily be understood in terms of their component mechanisms nor summarized by a central mechanism that drives all others. The cogs of each mechanism are too tightly meshed. The game concept is the total effect. The challenge is to create a structure that is complex enough to satisfy the designer's ambitions, but simple enough to be comprehensible. Anyone who has taught Puerto Rico to a newbie knows that even the simple structure pictured above starts to push the limits of comprehensibility for most people. I think that this is the sort of structure that Cyril Damaegd had in mind when he spoke of a "line structure". Neither Power Grid nor Puerto Rico have structures which are simple lines, but both have a chain of causes and effects which takes place over several steps to yield victory points. Understanding the game requires understanding the chain. When people ask "what is this game about?" they are most frequently asking about the theme. Unless the theme is well integrated with the mechanics - not a hallmark of many Eurogames - then knowing the theme doesn't really answer the question. For many of the best games - including ones with strong themes - a game is about its game concept. The game concept may be a strong central mechanism that the others all relate to, like the road in Caylus. It may be a dominant mechanism which virtually defines the entire game, like varied set collection rules of Ra. It may be the historical theme, as in a simulation game. It may be a tightly interwoven set of causal relationships as in Puerto Rico. Whatever it is, it brings the entire system together so that the player knows just what... the game is about. Without a game concept, what's inside the box can still be fun, but it may just be six mechanics in search of a game. | | Look me in the eyes before you do that to me! Printer friendly
How do board game designers make gaming more social?
The author avoiding paparazzi while enjoying "Wildlife".
I greatly prefer playing games live to playing them over the internet. This is despite the fact that I'm not an especially extroverted guy. Some who speak to the advantages of board games over electronic games speak to the benefits of just being with people and having the opportunity to socialize. When I play game, I tend to focus on the game and not the social interaction. So why do I prefer gaming in a social setting?
An important aspect of playing a game is the feeling that you are playing with and against people. Some games bring that spirit out and some games bury it. To some degree, I can understand when players complain of a game having little interaction, even when, objectively, players absolutely can affect each other. The question begins to become - how much of the game is personal and how much of it is purely about the game mechanics? Sometimes the interactions in a game are like the interactions of a pinball against the bumpers - lively but impersonal. The greatest gaming interaction brings out the players' personalities and lets you feel that you are playing with and against the people at your table, and not just managing a bunch of battling wooden cubes.
In the question of interaction, one of the more controversial games is Seyfarth's "Puerto Rico", which some people feel has little interaction and which others say has plenty of interaction. I find there to be plenty of interaction in the game, but the naysayers have a good point. The interaction in Puerto Rico tends to be impersonal. Players must, for example, consider when to produce and when to ship, and these choices can have substantial impact upon opponents. Players will often strategize in a way to avoid producing the same key commodity as their right hand neighbor in order to avoid getting shut out in a trading round. But look at how that is couched: avoid mirroring your right hand neighbor as opposed to, say, avoid mirroring a very aggressive player. When making tactical decisions in Puerto Rico, the consideration is overwhelmingly based on the way that decision affects the complicated interactions of player positions - who is a strong producer, who is vulnerable to having goods thrown overboard, etc. These decisions generally play out in a clear and predictable manner once you understand the game. The interactions in Puerto Rico are important but generally impersonal. Players keep their eyes on the playing mats as they ponder the next best move. A game with greater interaction gets players to also look not only at their opponents positions, but into their eyes as well.
 Compare Puerto Rico with a game like "Louis XIV" by Rudiger Dorn. Louis XIV is a majority-control game in which many contested areas have a "do-or-die" element. "I really-really-really need a helmet to insure that I can complete one of my missions this turn. I think I can take it by putting two units on the Dauphin - but what is Bryan going to do? It looks as though he'd be better off spreading his units across several nearby characters, but Bryan is the sort of guy who likes to play defensively and smack people down when they look like a threat. But I'd really like to place my third unit on Louvois, where I think I can pick up an easy influence card..."
In both Louis XIV and Puerto Rico players can have an important effect on their opponents. In Louis, though, there is a much greater degree to which a player naturally considers the motivations and alternatives of his opponents. I'll call the player interaction in Louis XIV "warm" and the interaction in Puerto Rico "cold". It is warm interaction in which you have a great awareness not only of your opponent's positions, but of your opponents as people and are likely to interact with them as such. Play styles differ - and a game of Louis XIV might take place without any table talk, but a player of Louis XIV is much more likely to want to look into the eyes of his opponents when playing.
There are lots of different mechanics that generate player interaction. I'll break them into two large categories: interference and trade. Hurting and helping.
Interference is the more common. It involves any way that an opponent interferes with your effort to achieve your goals. The most obvious is attacking: In a military game, I use my assets to destroy yours. In Eurogames, interference most commonly takes the form of a challenge for control of a resource, or challenge for dominance.
 Challenges for control of a resource take place in games ranging from Power Grid to Caylus to Age of Steam. In Power Grid, only one of us is going to get into that nearby city, and if I can get there before you, I force you to expand into a more expensive city - or none at all. In Caylus, all players are competing for the benefits on the tiles, and with the use of the provost, I can even insure that nobody gets the use of certain tiles. There is also the competition for the extra favor provided by building the castle, which only one player can get each turn. In Age of Steam, I am challenging you for control of key routes, and also threatening to deliver goods and deprive you of them.
Every auction is a challenge for control of a resource. I'm going to be the high bidder or else you are. Someone is going to deprive someone else.
A challenge for dominance typically takes place in the form of a majority fight. I want to put more units on a personality in Louis XIV than you have, so that I can reap the benefits. In Samurai, I try to put more points around the Buddha so that I can snatch it away. A challenge for dominance is really just a challenge for control of a resource. The distinction is just that it is more strategic than tactical: it might take place over the course of several turns, it would typically involve investment of other scarce resources like tiles, cubes, or game turn actions, and winning the challenge is often an end in itself (victory conditions) rather than a means to securing some future benefit.
Games with trading naturally have warm player interaction because they require communication and subjective valuation. In Settlers of Catan, when I offer wood for sheep, my potential trading partner can "just say no", even if on the surface the trade might benefit him. He must consider whether it disproportionately benefits me. He must consider whether he might be able to extract another card out of me. He might hold off, hoping to get the card on the next roll of the dice, or from another player. Once we open our mouths and negotiate we are dealing with each other as people and not just impartial players.
Apart from games that involve direct trade or other negotiation, how do designers create games that make player interaction warmer? A key element is that a player is given choices over whether or not to interact and with whom. If an opponent has a meaningful decision over whether or not to mess with you, you take on an active stake in his game.
Two good examples of games which provide warm interaction over common resources are "Ticket  to Ride" and "Through the Desert". In each case, players are expanding their reach over the map knowing that, at any given time, only one person can stake a claim to certain assets - whether it is a route or a water hole. What makes it especially warm is the degree of uncertainty in your opponent's move. How long can I continue to draw cards before Albert would take one of my key routes away from me? I'd like to make a move toward that oasis - but will Kelly take the two point watering hole I wanted, or will she leave me alone and take the one near Jason?
What makes it tense is that I have to make a critical choice whose outcome depends on what other players might want to do. Our motivations and our fates are intertwined. Can I see into Kelly's mind? When she does take my water hole away, I take it a little personally. She knew that it was me she cut off. She could have hit Jason. I see Kelly as a person and not just a machine-player.
 There is some debate over how much Andreas Seyfarth's "Thurn & Taxis" is too much of a solitaire game. One element of player interaction in the game is the fact that players are racing to pick up scoring bonuses. The sooner you fill up the green area (for example), the more points you score for it. Your decision to fill up the green area is very dependent on what cards are coming up - and the same holds true for your opponent. Most of the time, either of you are going to create a route that fills in an area whenever it works best for you given other considerations. How many stations can I play if I extend the route? What cards came up? Rarely is a player going to try to anticipate the motivations of his opponent to make competing choices. Opponents seem like impartial movers who make the best tactical decisions based on circumstance.
Let's look at some ways that designers make the interaction in their games hotter.
As discussed earlier, the element of player choice is key. How much can a player control whether to directly challenge an opponent and choose the opponent? In many games there is the "Why me?" effect. "Why did you have to go against ME when you could have gone against Peter?!" This pops up consistently in Reiner Knizia's "Through the Desert". In the earlier example, my best choice of move depends on whether Kelly is going to challenge me or Jason for the scoring opportunities that are close within reach. When Kelly decides to move against me, she's not just playing against the game. She perceives me as the stronger threat - whether because I'm leading or because my position threatens her more, or just because she knows I'm the sort of S.O.B. who is more likely to hit her next turn. Either way, I take it personally.
 The "Why me?" effect is what can make multiplayer war games so much more contentious than two player war games. You can't exactly get ticked-off when your Memoir '44 opponent takes out one of your tanks. That's his job! But when he kicks you out of a region in Shogun/Wallenstein - well that's NOT his job! His job is to pick on the other guy, and leave you alone, right? When you're in that position, the choice to attack Aaron versus Erin isn't totally strategic. You're also going to consider what their reactions will be - both emotionally and strategically. Aaron tends to blow up and immediately counterattack, but he's better off going south and hitting Ryan. Erin is cooler, but she's in a corner and has no one to hit except for you. How do you choose? Your answer depends on the players, not just the game.
Bruno Faidutti had some very amusing things to say on this subject when interviewed here about his design for Silk Road. He talked about specifically introducing features that caused players to "snivel". "Don't use the thief against me! Use it on Sean! He' doesn't look like he's winning, but he's got the stronger long range position!" Faidutti loves putting in "take that" elements into his games, and by giving his players a reason to snivel, he is introducing more human interaction.
 The "why me?" effect isn't for everyone because it can create bad feelings in a game. I think that those bad feelings are strongest when the choice of who gets picked-on is most capricious, and it is weaker when there is some tactical excuse behind the decision. The perfect balance is a matter of taste. At one end of the spectrum is a game like Stefan Dorra's "Intrigue". In this game, players are doling out financially advantageous favors to selected players - based partly on bribes but ultimately selected out of whim. You just offered me $4,000, Mike just offered me $2,000; I keep both of your bribes and I give the position to... Mike. Somewhere toward the other end of the spectrum is a game like Kramer and Ulrich's "El Grande". In this game of majority controlled regions, I might have the opportunity to either take control of Valencia away from you or to take control of Old Castle away from Richard. The choice is entirely mine, but when I choose to attack you, it may be because I can better defend Valencia, and not just that I chose to pick on you.
Hidden information has the ability to enhance player interaction. When a player's assets are entirely public, the game becomes more purely strategic. I know exactly what the effects of my actions are going to be, and I know what Alan can do in response on his next turn. If, on the other hand, Alan is hiding something from me - the difference between what I know and what I don't know is hidden in Alan's brain. How can I read his mind? 
We are playing Euphrates and Tigris, and the black leader on my monument is vulnerable. Alan chooses not to try taking control of it. Why? Is he lacking the red tiles that are needed to boot a leader? Is it because he doesn't see the move? Is it because he doesn't need more black points? If I think Alan is a conservative player, he'll probably only attack if he has lots of red tiles. But if he tends to take risks and still doesn't attack my juicy monument - maybe he's really low on red tiles, and I ought to try attacking his blue leader. The element of uncertainty forces me to go beyond what is purely on the board and begin to enter my opponent's mind. I'm playing the player.
The extreme case is in a game such as Liar's Dice, where psyching out your opponents is the main appeal of the game. Not only does the intrigue of the game come from trying to bluff your opponents and to decipher their own bluffs, but the moment when dice are revealed is very satisfying because it pits the challenger and the challengee up against each other in such a personal way. Paul jumped bid to nine "6's". Do I really think he has more than one or two? I challenge. Everyone at the table has their eyes on Paul, and when he reveals his dice... he's got five 6's! Paul suckered me in! The groans and laughter at the table make it clear that this game is about Paul and me - not about dice.
 There is an important case where hidden information destroys warm player interaction. It is when you don't know which player controls which pieces. This is a mechanic I strongly dislike. It is seen in games such as "Clans", "Top Secret Spies", and "Drunter & Druber". In these games, players are dealt a card, face down, indicating which color pieces they control. During the game, they may make moves which might benefit any color - with the purpose of advancing their own position, but not in so obvious a way that would tip off other players as to which color they control. At the end of the game, when "red" wins, players reveal their cards to see who was playing red.
By its nature, this mechanic hinders the personal relationship between players. I try hurting "blue". But who is "blue"? My relationship focuses on the innocent little pieces of wood. Even the moment of victory is anti-climactic as it requires another step to reveal which player won. To some degree, the player interaction takes the form of trying to guess who is behind each color based on the players' actions. Even so, the fact that you can't reveal what you think you know means that players play in a very sheltered manner hidden behind poker faces.
The components of a game can even contribute to making the interaction in a game warmer. To the degree that players are all competing in the same physical space, and to the degree that these conflicts are graphically evident, players tend to feel the competition more directly.
 This is a shortcoming of Thurn & Taxis. A part of the competition in this game involves taking cards away from opponents who might otherwise need them. However, it's a pretty abstract and indirect process to visualize this. I need to look at the route of area cards that my left-hand opponent is collecting, check the board to see what areas are adjacent to his route, then check the card display to see if any of those areas are currently available, and finally check my own card display to see if I can use the card that I'd like to take away from my opponent.
Usually, I'm too lazy to do this on a regular basis. For me, the physical layout of the components encourages a more solitaire play.
 Imagine how differently the game would feel if the six available areas on the board had a black pawn on them. As a player takes a pawn (instead of a card), he puts down a marker to indicate that it is part of the chain he is building. (Note that this would not conform to the actual rules of Thurn & Taxis because in the game, players do not immediately add cards taken to their route but instead take them into their hand for later play.) In this scenario, players are all engaged together in the same space. I can see exactly where you need to go and I can see exactly where you can go. By playing in the same space, players have a greater awareness of their relationships with one another and will naturally play more actively against each other. This sort of scenario is closer in spirit to "Ticket to Ride", where everyone's position, and their potential to block, is right out there. It's one reason that I prefer "Ticket to Ride" over "Thurn & Taxis".
Mike Doyle, the artist who has contributed new designs to games such as Caylus and the upcoming El Capitan, recognized the value of having players share the same space when he created an alternative version of Puerto Rico, which uses a central board rather than individual player mats. Doyle talks at greater length about what he wanted to achieve with this design on his site,
and also created a mini-site in which he provides detailed graphics and instructions for the player who might want to try creating his own map and playing Puerto Rico this way.
As we've seen, player interaction in a game is more than just the ability to affect your opponents. The interaction becomes hotter when the game is designed to force people to come out from behind their wooden cubes and relate to the people at the table. The most significant way that designers do this is by giving players choice in whether and when to interact, and with whom. Similarly, when a player's strategy is dependent on the whims of others, it forces him to look away from the board and into the minds of his opponents. All these things bring out the social nature of gaming and help to insure that each session we play is as unique as the people playing. | | A Gamer's Journal: Board Game Designers Are Alive and Well and Living In Utah Printer friendly version
 Being raised in New York and currently living in Los Angeles, I tend to think that the nexus of all civilized activity occurs in the big cities on the coasts. There is nothing better than actually getting away from the supposed center of things to open your eyes up to what the rest of the world is really capable of.
I recently had the occasion to travel to Salt Lake City (pop. 182,000, 5% of Los Angeles) on business and, being a gamer, part of my travel plans included locating a local games group. Some SLC expatriates directed me to the Friendly Local Game Store "Game Night Games".
I googled them and was immediately impressed with the website. Not only did they have the expected game search feature, plus an obvious focus on Eurogames, but also a detailed calendar of events, and even a forum for local gamers to communicate with each other. I knew I'd probably be free on the 15th. When I checked the calendar I saw the night was reserved for... the Board Game Designers Club of Utah.
Double take.
How many Board Game Designers can there possibly be in Utah?
When I arrived in town I called the store, and the man at the desk told me that, yes, I was welcome to just show up as long as I understood that I'd be playing prototypes but that "some of these games are actually pretty good." I was a little dubious, but the guy behind the desk seemed genuine. Any way, who cares. I was out in a new place and I HAD TO PLAY GAMES.
I arrived a teensy bit after the eight o' clock start. The front door said "closed" but the place was lit up and filled with about a dozen board game designers of Utah, and the door proved to be unlocked. Inside I was immediately impressed. The store was small enough to be cozy, but fastidiously organized, and entirely inviting. Shelves of games were carefully lined up and obviously dominated by Euros. The selection, it turned out ran really deep. There were of course the expected Settlers games and Tickets to Ride, and Puerto Ricos. This being Salt Lake City, I took a look over by the Settlers section and sure enough saw a sizable stack of the Mormon-themed "Settlers of Zarahelma". But in addition to the obvious choices, the catalog ran deep - into the old catalog of games like "Doge", a lone copy of "Himalaya", SEVERAL copies of "Canal Mania", and way on the top, a proudly displayed copy of "Roads & Boats"!
 The store being cozy, I was quickly in the middle of the meeting being held. The dozen people were seated around on some nice, sturdy wooden tables in a section of the store clearly reserved for playing. From the warmth of the wood and the comfortable poses of the guests, any visitor might easily think he'd just walked into a coffee house - not a Starbucks, but rather one that encourages you to relax, sip leisurely, and stay a while. One club member was laying down the law - literally - to the other members, telling them about how they could go about submitting games to publishers. He talked about trust, legal copyrights, "poor man's copyrights", costs, and even the option of patenting. He also made a discouraging assertion to the effect that one reason not to worry about having your brilliantly original idea get ripped off is that it probably isn't all that original. Publishers get so many submissions that the chances are they've seen something pretty close to it already. He further warned his audience to expect waiting a long time, like six months, before hearing anything from a publisher.
The audience listened, asked questions, and offered their own perspectives. There seemed to me to be a fair amount of realism in the room. Everyone of course wanted that golden opportunity to be published, but there was no one there (I think!) with fantasies of getting rich, selling their home, quitting their jobs, and pursuing their game design dreams for the next twenty years (for that story, try seeing the story of Marc Griffin and "Bulletball", and bring your hanky.)
Then another individual opened his laptop and discussed a new website he'd designed for prospective game developers. Actually, he'd developed it for himself - as a way to present his own works - but he was presenting the site as something that could be shared by anyone else who was willing to help with the expenses. He was open to many ideas - one might post rules, or rules summaries, descriptions, pictures of components - whatever. It would be a way to give possible publishers a taste of your prototype and a way to introduce yourself. People seemed interested, but no one said "sign me up", at least not yet. It happened that this idea was remarkably similar to something I had been cooking up in my mind, and I said so. It seemed to me that maybe a site like this can be used as a way to find a large network of playtesters - people with a taste for new games who could download the rules and some basic components, try out the games, and share their comments with the designers and with other playtesters. A sort of Proto-geek. This was one of many ideas shared by the group, and the designer took note of the ideas as he considered where next to take his new web site.
All this time, I'm seated at a table with one other person who has got his prototype nicely boxed up and ready to go. While everyone is talking, I'm eying the first page of the rules book, which is formatted exactly like a typical rule book for a Eurogame. The components are all described and illustrated. There is an introductory paragraph about the setting and theme. It seems to take place in Africa, with elephants transporting different types of fruit, each of varying values, to sundry places. Players have "baskets" and there even seem to be some sort of baskets that the "chief" controls.
Of course, just glancing at the cover page of the rules, there is no way of telling whether the game is any good - but I'm immediately impressed. The thing seems to look, eat, and breathe just like a "real" Eurogame. The components stir up Eurogame feelings in me. Most telling - I want to play this game. I'm waiting for the group to end their administrative and educational schmoozing so that we can finally break into groups, and I can say: "I'm playing this."
The group doesn't seem in a hurry to get on with the playtesting. I'm getting nervous. Did I come all this way just to attend an administrative meeting? How much time have we burned? In time though, someone says exactly what I was waiting to hear. "Hey, why don't we get started playing soon?" A few more friendly grumbles get voiced. "Yeah, let's play." The people who have been running the meeting up to this point realize that their time is through. Bring on the games.
"Well, I'd be happy to try this game here", I quickly volunteer. Of course, since everyone knows that the evening is all about playing prototypes, everyone is shopping around for a game to play. To my surprise, there seems to be a good balance between people who have brought their own games, and people who just want to play something. I had expected twelve people, each with their own game, fighting it out to see whose games get played, but there seems to be no such problem. Several people swing over to my table and comment on how this is a good game and they'd like to try it again. Another player unfurls an impressive game that seems to be a wargame-Euro-chess hybrid. It has oversized hexes with no terrain detail and gorgeous illustrations of special powers - knights and dukes and other stuff - and everyone who sees the board and its illustrations "oohs" over the slick presentation.
The creator of the African-themed game that I've volunteered for introduces himself as "Alf", and he seems surprised that people want to play the game tonight. He was fully prepared to play something new, but as long as I've publicly volunteered, others soon come to join us, and we have four ready players available in a matter of seconds. The name of the game is "Tembo", which I'm told means "elephant" in Swahili. I've got high expectations, but also high doubts. From a glance at the rules and the overall presentation, everything looks authentically Euro. So it talks the talk, but can the game walk the walk?
The game has a lot of walking - most of it done by elephants. Tembo uses three hefty little elephant figurines, each of which has a colored platform on its back. All of the components are the sort of things Eurogamers love - squat, colored wooden cylinders signify different types of fruit that players are trying to collect; they are placing larger wooden disks of their color both to control the movement of the elephants and to claim the little fruit nuggets. My opponents and I are all trying to both control the direction and timing of the elephants in order to get the best fruit most quickly. A characteristic feature is that players may place their wooden disks either on the board, to direct the elephants, or onto the elephants, in order to capture fruit - and a series of rules make these alternatives nicely balanced and suitably "agonizing".
I think I'm doing pretty well right off the bat, being the first to snag a valuable coconut, but the guy opposite me seems to be getting lots of everything. A majority battle which I thought I had sewn up is getting threatened, and finally trumped when he makes one of those killer moves that ends the game. We can all see that this guy is king of the jungle. When we add up our scores, I come in third. Alf, the game's inventor, pulled ahead of me by focusing on a long term strategy of securing the most valuable majority fight. The player to my right came in last, a victim of more than his share of screwage - he picked up too much spoiled fruit.
Once the post-mortem begins, everyone offers some very specific criticism to Alf. Not too surprisingly, the fourth place player is not too keen on that spoiled fruit rule. Although I also was a victim of that rule, I want it to stay. It gives players that "do or die" moment when they know that they must control the game situation so as to avoid getting the dud.
What is apparent to all of us, though, is that the game absolutely works. All of our recommendations are intended to tweak and jazz up the game, not to fix it. My own opinion is that the game is in its "Geek Rating 6.5" stage, and the goal is to bump it into the "Geek Rating 7.5" stage that makes people not just want to play it, but to want to buy it - and play it a lot.
So how unusual is it to find such a solidly designed game coming from an unknown, unpublished board game designer, in a town that is barely on the map in terms of Eurogames? It turns out that Alf is not your typical unpublished game designer. While talking with him, I learn that he has had as many as three games appear as finalist entries in the international Hippodice games competition. In 2005, Alf Seegert had two games on the recommended list: "Ziggurat" and "Troll Bridge". In 2004, his game "The Vapors of Delphi" took second place, right behind "Harem" (later published as "Emira"). One prominent German game company had expressed serious interest in publishing it, but eventually balked due to internal problems, and perhaps also because "Vapors" was a two player game.
In 2007 - well, Alf tells me that the winners of the 2007 contest will be announced in just a few days, so anything can happen with his new entry "Mont Saint Michel". How often does lightning strike twice - much less four times - in the same place? It seems to me that one can always look back and find someone who has had a strong showing in any given contest, including Hippodice. The interesting question, to borrow a phrase from the world of mutual funds, is whether past performance is an indicator of future results.
Meanwhile, I have time to kill, and so I circulate around the store a little. The player to my right, Mike, has brought a prototype this evening that didn't get played, and so I ask him about it. He's not at all shy about pulling it out of the box and giving me a very full and enthusiastic explanation. He's playtested it something like a hundred times - many of them solitaire, but perhaps twenty five times with a full group. Another gamer walks over to hear the latter half of the explanation and he's hooked. They agree to try to pull in a couple of more players this evening to try it, but it's past ten o' clock, and I can't stay too much longer.
 Before leaving, I get into a conversation with Gregory, a manager at Game Night Games. What is the secret of their success? Gregory tells me that the owners have full time jobs, including one who runs an advertising agency. The sharp look of the store, the appealing logo, and many other aesthetic touches are made possible because of the owner's own design talents. The store has been open for two and a half years, and its survival is possible because the owners do not rely on it as a source of income. During this time, the store has maintained ties with its customers, remarketing to them with discounts and special events throughout the year. The advertising agency knowledge helps the owners identify good advertising opportunities as they arise. Somehow it seems to be working, but it will take more time to determine whether this is just a beautiful avocation or a profitable business.
It turns out that, besides Alf and myself, the two other players at my table are both employees of the store. Their enthusiasm for games is evident, and so it is just as evident that any prospective customer coming off the street into this particular FLGS will benefit from the one service that such stores ought to be able to provide: helpful, knowledgeable (and cheerful) advice. I doubt that any of the "employees" were being paid for their overtime this evening. They were just game lovers like the rest of us.
Looking around the room, I see several boxes of prototypes. Some have been
played this evening; some will have to wait their turn. Some have very impressive art; some were just put together functionally. On one table, I see a stack of "parts" boxes - the sort used to hold hardware, only these are loaded with wooden bits for sale. There is a box chock full of meeples for 30 cents each, another box has settlers houses and roads in a variety of colors, elsewhere are the ubiquitous wooden cubes, as well as cylinders, and other familiar wooden shapes. The owner of Game Night Games obviously has enough interest in encouraging local designers that he has made available all manner of wooden pieces to support the development of quality prototypes.
This is what strikes me so forcefully about my evening spent with the Board Game Designers Club of Utah and Game Night Games. There is such a wonderful infrastructure in place to support their efforts. While many new board game designers fly around the country to meet once a year at Protospiel, or google the internet in search of a source of purple meeples, or set up websites and blogs to display their developments, here is a group of a dozen people in a city of 182,000, who all have the opportunity to get together every month to play each others' games, swap ideas, create and share websites, buy meeples and barrels and cubes, and to do it all in a comfortable and supportive setting. The best prototype of all the ones on display in Salt Lake City may be the club and game store itself - an encouraging prototype for future communities of new board game designers which may some day be replicated in cities from Boston to Los Angeles, and which could benefit everyone involved.
Post script: On Friday night I return to Los Angeles and on Monday I'm back at my desk at work. I do a routine check of Boardgamenews and see that the top story is an announcement of the 2007 Hippodice contest winners. Hey! I know someone with an entry! I click through to see if Alf's name is on the list and it turns out that his game Mont Saint Michel did not make it to the finalists, but did make it onto the Recommended List. So out of maybe 150 - 200 entries, Alf's game was in the top 15. Not neccessarily what anyone wants - but still impressive, especially considering his ability to so consistently place in the top tier.
I write to Alf and he tells me that he's still pretty happy with the results, and knew that the game needed more revisions - which he's begun. He's also developing the game that took second place a few years ago into something that can support four players, for wider appeal.
So for now, all we can do is keep our eyes open and wait. | The Designer's Mind: Silk Road THE DESIGNERâ??S MIND: SILK ROAD
The development of Ted Cheatham and Bruno Faiduttiâ??s â??Silk Roadâ?? from conception to publication. Printer friendly I love to pick apart a game and see what makes it tick. Behind every finished product is a story of how that game came to be.
This month Iâ??m delighted to be able to bring the story of the complete development of Silk Road in the words of its designers, Ted Cheatham and Bruno Faidutti, as well as its publisher Zev Shlasinger of Z-Man Games.
Silk Road started out as an abstract game, and I got to play a very early version of it in 1999, when Ted was its sole designer and the game was known as â??Valenciaâ??. In the intervening years, Ted developed it, shelved it, then got Bruno Faidutti involved, and in late 2006 a very different but still recognizable game, â??Silk Roadâ?? was published by Z-Man Games. Along the way, the game evolved from an abstract, to a fantasy theme, up into a science fiction game, and ultimately to its current historical setting in Southern Asia.
It is my hope that â??The Designerâ??s Mindâ?? will be the first of a series of articles to profile the development of a single game in great depth.
Silk Road is a â??pick up and deliverâ?? game â?? in which all players share the same caravan, which moves each turn further west from its starting point in Changan, China. With each move, players must bid for the right to control which direction the caravan will move. Once it arrives at its new city, the high bidder gets to choose which of the actions available in that city he will take for himself. Then it is he who decides which player gets second choice of action, and so on, until the last player who getsâ?¦ no action.
In the first half of the game, players are investing in goods, and in the last half they are selling off the goods they collected previously. However, if a player cannot direct the caravan in a way to sell off what he has collected, he will receive little or nothing for it at the end of the game.
JBD: Well, letâ??s get started learning about Silk Road by asking about the very first idea that started it. Iâ??ll gladly fall the into cliché trap and ask â??which came first â?? the theme or the mechanisms?â??
Ted Cheatham: Silk Road definitely came from mechanisms first. I decided it was time to try my hand at a game when I was in Mississippi (around) 1997.
Auction games always have a trade off of bidding for what you need at the cost of letting another player get the thing that he needs most. The initial premise I had was, let's make an auction more important as things leave the board since people will have less to choose from and in many cases not get anything at all. What if there were circumstances where only one or two people would benefit by winning an auction and the other players got screwed over? So, with 4 players, if the first player moved and made a play that only lets one other player have an action, it is critical to be second or first. Anyway, that was what drove the idea of the game initially.
Commentary: This basic idea does make it into the final product â?? but with a twist. The winner of the auction gets control of the pawn and gets first choice of the spoils. However, instead of the second choice going to the next highest bidder, the high bidder gets to choose who goes next, and so on.
Ted: The first cut was a grid with no real theme at this point. The base part was a set collecting game.
A player would bid to place a leader pawn on a spot on the grid. (He) could then take that tile or any tiles around the spot where the leader pawn was placed. It was a true auction where you auctioned 1st, 2nd , 3rd and 4th place player (one auction with most money first, second money second, etc).
So after the first turn, the board may look like this after 4 players played. The shaded spaces represent tiles taken.
The â??1â?? shows where the pawn is. For the next round after bidding, if a player who won the bid moved the leader pawn to â??2â??, only that player would get a tile since there are no longer tiles adjacent to it. This was the value of the bid and the screwage factor as I like to think of it. And, remember other players paid money for the follow on places...more screwage.
As the game develops and tiles are taken, the bid winner forces the tiles that are available for other players to take. And, with the right play, (he) can keep follow on players from getting any tiles at all.
Anyway, that was my goal and this game seemed to accomplish it. The game played four bidding rounds as a turn. By that time, enough tiles were gone and the scoring occurred.
Here was another point I was after. I wanted players to have a challenge in choosing which items to hold for the best score and which items to sell in order to raise needed cash. Starting capital was limited to only get you through a round or so. I thought that the pain of going last at auction was so bad that people needed to manage their money well and insure they could get into at least a couple of auctions. This was carried over to the next version of the game as well.
Commentary: Ted Cheatham is making the game really hard on players! Heâ??s setting players up to get shorted out of winning any goods if they bid too low, AND heâ??s adding tight money management. I can easily imagine a player getting shut out of the game early. In Silk Road, there is a further complication. Not only do you want money to bid for control, but then you need money to buy goods in the first part of the game. You canâ??t sell your goods until the later half of the game. However, there is enough money so that players arenâ??t likely to get shut out of the action.
As is the case with the next version of the game, sets were valuable, and players needed to win auctions to insure they could complete sets.
JBD: How did playtesting go?
Ted: Reaction was favorable. My game groups have been pretty good about play testing for me and letting me know their comments. In recent cases one guy in our group has made both of these comments after playing prototypes several times:
"Ted, this one is ready, just send it off to someone" and "Ted, I have played it three times and it doesn't work...put it away".
JBD: Did you have a written version of the rules at that point, or did you just teach it verbally? Did that present any problems?
Ted: I probably didnâ??t have written rules at this point. I jot down the essential items on a piece of paper to make sure I remember the basic rules and any special items. At my first play tests I assume something will have to change. Only after a "solid" play test to I try to upgrade components and add rules.
The next logical step for me was an external play test. Fortunately, I had the venue. In those days, Greg Schloesser and few other friends would meet at least once per quarter. We used to call it the "Gathering in the Woods". I decided to take the game there and ask them to try it out. They were willing.
Responses were that it was a good game that fell in the "7" rating category. Well, I found this encouraging since I have seen many games published that rate well below a "7". I don't recall any recommended changes so I decided a few more play tests would be in order.
JBD: I would have been afraid that I was getting biased comments because they came from people I knew. That a "5" to anyone else would have been a "7" to friends. What made you feel that you were getting the unvarnished truth?
Ted: You never know here. I try not to wear my heart on my sleeve. A part of this again is that I do play a lot of games and I have a feel for what I like and don't like, and a little feel for what other gamers may like. If I cannot get one of my games to work, I stop forcing it on people until I can make it better. There is some bias at work with friends, I am sure, but even today I can tell by comments what is working and not working in my prototypes. Today, BTW, I do what I call "blind play testing". My blind testers won't let me play with them and they won't let me answer any questions about the game unless something is very, very confusing.
At this point, I asked a group to try it without me and give me comments. The real change came from Frank Branham. Frank is a fine designer in his own right and has vast experience in game play.
Frank Branham is the original and offbeat designer of "Warhamster Rally" and "Dia de los Muertos". Ted: Frank was concerned it was just too abstract and plain and needed a theme and a feel. He recommended and suggested that I could accomplish the same goals by perhaps putting the game onto an island with limited areas. This was the major take away I got from this play test session.
I worked to adopt the island idea. I spent a bit of time pondering how the island should lay out and what the sections should be. There were important parts of the earlier game that I wanted to keep. The bidding had to be important and would be motivated by the fact that tiles are leaving the board, causing some players to lose actions. To me this was a major goal of the game.
So, I laid out what I thought was a good mix on the island sections to force some tough decisions. I put in harbors to let people move to other areas of the board so the game would not get locked into a corner. The island of Valencia was born.
Now I felt I needed a theme. So far, the game was purely about its mechanisms and I was like Reiner Knizia in search of a theme. My theme was clearly pasted on.
Ironically, Knizia has said that he often starts with theme. However, the way Knizia approaches theme and spins it into a set of mechanisms is sufficiently abstract that many people feel that the theme is pasted on.
Ted: I thought about it for quite a bit and took the easy road of sci fi and fantasy to invent a world and why in the heck people would want to collect things.
Full rules and fantasy story of Valencia
JBD: It's a pretty thorough backstory - one that seems more like it came with an American-style, simulation-heavy fantasy game than a modern Euro. Even though it was "pasted on", did it direct your design in any way?
Ted: Not really.
Now, I had an island lay out and I felt to get the game to the next level, I needed some nice art and a board, etc. By sheer fluke in discussing this with Greg one day, it turn out that his wife, Gail, was a nice artist and like drawing. She agreed to take a crack at the board and pieces. I think she did a wonderful job and just what I asked for. If you look at the board, you will see some areas where I cut and pasted some grass over some paths. This is where later play testing showed my original map needed to be changed.
 As for the tiles, Gail sent these to me in black and white. I went into MS Paint and added color to make four sets of different colored tiles. That is what you see today. But, the art is just what I asked for!
 With a game that has been well received by its playtesters and a set of attractive components, Ted submits it to the experts at the international Hippodice competition. Hippodice regularly receives over a hundred new game submissions. Some are from new designers like Ted Cheatham, and many are from seasoned professionals such as Michael Schacht. Judges include board game enthusiasts from the Hippodice club as well as professionals from game publishing. Games to have emerged from the Hippodice competition include Spiel des Jarhres winner â??Mississippi Queenâ?? and â??Chinatownâ??.
Ted: 2001. I decide to send my creation to the Hippodice competition. This will tell me how good the game is.
Well, the game made it to round two...which was promising but never what you hope for.
The notice from Hippodice Authors Competition telling Ted Cheatham that Valencia advanced to round two, but not the final round. It includes comments from playtesters criticising the game for being too "dry", lacking tension during rounds, and being too long for what it is. They are definitely encouraging, though - are they also encouraging with games that did not make it into round two?
Ted: I always listen to comments...even if I don't necessarily believe. But, I took these to heart.
Getting an honorable mention may not be what Ted Cheatham hoped for, but the competition at Hippodice is pretty stiff! Buoyed by this encouragement, Ted continues to develop the gameâ?¦ but suffers a big setback in morale.
Ted: OK, more play testing. The next big play test with changes was at the Gathering. I asked Alan Moon (who I greatly respect as a designer) to take a look. We got in a 4 player game in which I did not play. Alan's comments were that the theme was really pasted on and the game was too dry. Ok, here is a guy who knows success and knows what sells, Spiel des Jahres winner. My walk away, this game does not stand a chance, it is time to put it on the shelf.
JBD: Did he really come across as flat-out discouraging? Was it that you weren't sure how to take the criticism and turn it into an improvement? Or were you just at a point where you needed something positive to keep going?
Ted: I think Alan was being fair and honest in his opinion. I think he understands the game industry and he understands what sells. I think I was discouraged because at this point, I really did not know what to do. Maybe I had just invested too much in the game and saw the things I liked in it and saw as working. The bottom line is that I was out of ideas. I really did not know how to fix this problem and liven the game up without taking out the key ideas that I originally wanted in the game.
JBD: I can see that being a tough crossroads. As you say, the game does what was intended. Finished. But on the other hand, it is not really successful. But does this mean you're at a dead end? Was your goal then to try to make it into something OTHER than what was intended?
Ted: At this point, I think I resigned myself to give up. Let's face it, I had a career at the time, family, etc. I play a lot of games and enjoy them and that is what gaming is about. I am not a designer. I gave it a good college try. At this point, I felt that the game did what I intended it to do. I think I decided to just give up the game design thing and spend my gaming time playing good games. It is a lot of work to put together prototypes, rules and then continue to play test and tweak little things.
Life is just too short to push an issue that is a losing point and of no real significance.
Ted â??officiallyâ?? gave up on his game at this point, but we know that the story has a happy ending! It shows how game development, like fairy tales, can take unexpected turns â?? if the hero is willing to fight!
Ted: After a few months I decided that there really is a decent game in there. And, there are some ideas that I really have not seen in any other game. Maybe I just need some help to get this to the next level and bring some excitement into this pasted on theme, dry game.
JBD: OK, so how did Bruno Faidutti get involved?
Ted: Well, I was true to my word. I put Valencia on the shelf. And, there it stayed for a couple of years. Although I had game ideas pop up now and again, I did not act on them.
Some time later, my friend Ty Douds had his first game, "Victory and Honor", published. This is of significance as both Ty and I were play testing our games at Gulf Games II. At the time, we all thought â??Victory and Honorâ?? was a great game idea, but that it was too long and complex. Over time, Ty did a wonderful job of streamlining an excellent idea into the game that was eventually published.
Right after Victory and Honor came out, Greg Schloesser asked me how Valencia was coming. I mentioned it was dead.... on the shelf. Greg was ever encouraging and said, it takes time and ideas...there are some nice ideas there and you should not let it die.
Now my thoughts changed. I thought, "you know, Valencia is not a bad game. At its heart, it does work and has some unique ideas. It just needs help." I still did not know how to fix it. It was time to turn to someone else and ask for help. And, at this point, the idea was to get it published and I felt, selfishly, I should get the help from a published designer because that would add some credibility to the game. My thought process here was this was like book publishing. An unknown author has a heck of a time getting a break. I was a nobody and needed help from a professional. The real question was, who?
To me the choice was obvious. My first choice was Bruno Faidutti. He had worked with a lot of people and had so many different style games.
I had never met Bruno. I went to his web site to find his email address and sent him an email. Basically, I told him I had a game that had done well in Hippodice and it was just dry and not that fun, but...it worked. Would he be interested in working with me to spice it up. Thankfully, he said yes. I sent him the files and we were on our way!
JBD: Wow! I would never have guessed that you didn't know Bruno Faidutti when you invited him to contribute to the game. That's an awful lot of guts - to just contact a well-known designer on that basis.
So, what were the first issues you addressed with Bruno?
Ted: I sent the email and waited patiently. Bruno responded with something like â??let me see what you have and I will let you knowâ??. An objective person would say that he is hedging his bets. Be nice, take a look and one can easily get out of this saying they are busy with other projects. Not me! I am thinking and telling my wife, â?? Bruno is going to look at my game!â??
In hindsight, you wonder why Bruno would be interested at all. Since I did not know him and he had probably never heard of me, he was taking a big chance. Maybe it was the fact that I mentioned Hippodice to him that made a difference. Maybe he was just interested in looking at something new. As he says to this day, the timing was just right. I am very glad it was and that he took the time to look at a game from an â??unknownâ??.
JBD: Well, Bruno, what was your reaction when you got the invitation from Ted to contribute to the development of Valencia? Had you gotten "cold" invitations like that before?
 Bruno Faidutti: I regularly receive proposals from game designers, usually wannabees but sometimes also well known designers, asking me to help them on a design and make it a collaboration. I get three or four such requests every month, and necessarily decline most of them.
From time to time, there's one where I feel both that there is something interesting and that I could add something else which is also interesting. And even when I accept, it doesn't necessarily mean that we will succeed. I think I went on with Valencia because I had heard a bit about Ted on gaming mailing lists and he seemed to be a nice guy, and because the core collecting and trading system sounded interesting. Also, from his email, it seemed he was really open to dramatic changes to the game, which is necessary. My few bad experiences with such requests were usually when we tried to keep too close to the original idea of the original designer, so I always ask "are you ready to change almost everything and end up with something that may look completely different?" It seemed this was clearly the case with Ted, so I decided to try it.
JBD: At what point did you decide to commit to the project?
 Bruno: I told Ted I was ready to try, and he sent me the files for Valencia. I made a copy, playtested it with some friends, and discussed it with them. We all felt there was great potential in the game. I emailed back to Ted, probably with already a few ideas concerning the mechanics and the theme based on our first play of the game.
JBD: Did you feel that it was close to completion, or that this was really just the beginning?
Bruno: I was sure it was the beginning, since Valencia worked as a game, but had a theme problem, and my experience is that when you change the theme of a game, it leads to many more changes in the systems. My first take on Valencia was to try to find a setting that would make more sense, and see what implications it has for the game.
JBD: Ted, I recall you saying earlier that the one core distinct mechanism in the game was the bidding in which one player gets left out. Ted, were you ready to change this mechanism if Bruno suggested it? Because then, I could imagine you feeling that the game may become a good game - but is no longer the one you had a passion to develop.
Ted: This idea of passing the start player was the one change that I had come up with when I went to Bruno, as was the fact that someone got left out of an action. I think these were two core ideas that were unique in the game, at least to me. But, I really was open to ideas and I think if the ideas are good enough you can convince the other designer of the merit. This process took on a give and take and exchange of ideas. It was like â??letâ??s try thisâ?? and we would. We would then get back together to discuss what we liked and didnâ??t. Over time I think we both kept the two main ideas of the game that I wanted.
JBD: Bruno, apart from a general sense that "there is a game here", what did you see as being the essential mechanism that you wanted to build your changes around?
Bruno: I don't remember exactly now how Valencia played, and exactly what I liked in it, but [the mechanism in which players bid to avoid getting shut out of a turn] is probably one of the ideas I really liked and didn't want to change. And I also felt it did fit very well in a commodity trading game, which was a kind of game I liked and had never designed so far.
JBD: I'll add that I can see the similarities - but also the distinct differences between Valencia and Silk Road. In Silk Road, there is a bid for control - and one player does get left out. But in Silk Road, the player left out is not the lowest bidder. The high bidder passes the turn to any player of his choice, who then does the same, and so on - until there is one player left who gets no action. Thatâ??s very different. Also, in Silk Road, being left out is not so bad because you get the proceeds of the following auction. This mechanism I see as the key similarity â?? and also the key difference - between Valencia and Silk Road. As you mention, Bruno, another key difference is that the game has now a track, and goes from a starting place to an end, which was not the case in Valencia.
Bruno: Yes - Valencia was kind of free form, like a normal map. The high bidder has control of the movement pawn, gets the first choice of adjacent spaces and it goes anywhere adjacent from there.
JBD: I thought that the track was the single freshest idea that was added to the original design. It definitely gives the game a story line as players begin accumulating goods and then hustle to try to sell them off at the most advantageous price. Bruno, what were some of the very first things you changed?
Bruno: The first version we made together with Ted was called Nebula's Hoard, and had a science fiction setting. The game worked well, well enough to present it to some publishers, and we still have some hope to have it published, since it feels quite different from Silk Road, with different actions and a very different scoring system. The game was about getting ore from different planets, with all the players taking part of the same expedition in the same big spaceship. I think that the idea of having everything visible from the beginning on a track gave the idea for the Silk Road theme, and then it went quite fast. There have been, if I remember well, fewer versions of Silk Road than of Nebula's Hoard, and this probably means the game was better. Also, the theme feels much stronger.
Ted: Bruno did manage to keep the original feel of Valencia. He now used Suns and the system of planets around it similar to the sections of the board in Valencia and he kept the trading and set collecting idea. Also, with limited cubes or planets around the solar system, he kept the "somebody does not get an action" that we both really liked. Additionally, he added some event cards. This game went through three or four variations and lots of play testing with various cube selections, planet powers, and planet mixes.
Why did we stop with Nebula's Hoard? My push back was that in this version it was a little too random for my tastes, space games don't sell, and there were some rather large scoring swings. I have heard a similar complaint from Silk Road that the scores can be very out of line. And, I have seen it happen. However, if people are paying attention and involved, the game will be very close. When you play a game and everyone at the table says to a player, "How could you let him have a turn now???!!!! You know what action he will take!" You know that you have a player that is not paying attention.
The next step was Bruno suggesting tiles much like you find today in Silk Road, and a setting in the desert with a caravan type theme.
First the tiles - we played with a mix of characters that eventually became the final ones in the game...Grand Vizier, Thief, etc. But, the original cube tile mix remained fairly constant throughout the design from this point.
Bruno suggested a board that looked somewhat like an Elfenland board where you would move from city to city collecting goods and selling goods. I suggested we take the board to a linear model much like you see in Silk Road. This proved to be the design we kept. Also, this is where it went into two colors of tile mix, the Orange and Purple. Basically, you are acquiring as you move along first and then selling in the second half.
Next, Bruno who is extremely quick, put together the final tile set and board layout in a nice graphic and we were off to play testing. BTW, Bruno's prototypes were far superior to mine....you can tell he is a professional.
 Now comes the cool part! Shortly after all this occurred, I met Bruno for the first time at the Gathering of Friends and we played the prototype together !!! My guess is this was April 2004. At this point, we decided it was ready and decided to look for a publisher. We got our contract on February 9, 2005.
Ted, Bruno and Rick Thornquist playing Silk Road together for the first time
JBD: It seems that the game transitioned from being more of a set collecting game - where players score based on what they've collected - to a trading game - where you try to buy low and sell high. Selling in Silk Road is key, and being able to sell is one of the critical goals you work toward. How did that change come about?
Ted: This one, to me, just evolved naturally. When Bruno suggested the desert theme and the tiles, it just happened and seemed to work very well. I will give Bruno all the credit for this one.
JBD: The idea of having each player choose the next player to take an action is, as far as I can tell, unique to Silk Road. Why did you move to that, and away from the more obvious choice of high bid goes first, then next high, etc. Were there distinct playtesting problems there that you had to work out?
Bruno: This is an idea I had long time ago, and thought it could be used some day in some game, but never found the right occasion. Then someday when thinking on Nebula's Hoard / Silk Road it came back to me and I thought that it might well fit there - and it did.
Ted: I am glad Bruno was supportive and it stayed in the final version and in my opinion it is key to making the game work.
JBD: Do you remember any particular ideas from playtesters that made it into the game?
Ted: Actually, at this point, people played and there were not a lot of suggestions from my playtest groups. This is really why I thought we had hit the mark.
Bruno: I'm sure the idea of dividing the tiles into two series, for the first and second half of the game, came during playtesting. At one time I even thought of three different parts. but it was not necessary. JBD: By the time you were submitting the game, what was your opinion of the game? What were you going through during this time? Ted: Once the game was ready, my frustrations were the same as my early frustrations with Valencia. I felt we had a solid game that really should be printed and fit into the family/gamer market as a strong 45-60 minute game. I felt (and still do) the rating for the game should have been 6 - 9 out of 10. We found in pitching the game that this game was not for everyone. Some people really will not like the passing of the start player mechanism which is a core part of the game. Some people will not like the fact that someone will not get and action every turn. Early on, I felt the game could be very mean if you pick on one player. As a matter of fact, this is one of the few games that my wife never played in play testing because she is not a fan of "in your face" type games. Realistically, the game is nicely balanced to compensate players for not getting an action. The other thing we encountered was a company or two said the scores were too wild. Again, if you play this and pay attention it will be a very close game all the way around.
The real bonus was finding Zev. I had taken a prototype with me to GenCon to show around. He volunteered to look at it and had enough interest to take a copy with him. To Zev's credit, he likes new ideas. Silk Road was right up that alley because it had some unique ideas that worked very well together. And, after playtesting, he knew he liked it and he had several ideas to spiff it up. JBD: One key criticism of Valencia that Ted mentioned was that it was too "dry". This is a criticism I see levelled at many games, and it seems to be the most vague and most difficult to address. If someone said of a game, "it is too chaotic" or "there are not enough decisions", or "there is too much down time", I can imagine specific ways to address that. But how do you make a game less dry?
Bruno: Well, you could say that dryness can be thematic in desert games, but yes, I did feel this. I even think the game still is a bit dry, with few rules and a rather pedestrian basic system of just swap and sell. However, a more plausible setting, a story arc, and some fun tiles with effects that are a bit out of the main system, such as the thief and the great vizier, are all ways to reduce this "dryness". I also have troubles defining exactly what dryness is in a game, though I have no problems feeling it in a game.
JBD: When you playtested, did you encourage negotiation, discourage it, or say nothing? Do you know what people did in practice? I can see this being a game that plays very differently depending on how players interact.
Bruno: I think this is less about real negotiation than about sniveling, and I always felt that games where you could snivel and try to explain your opponents were fun - as long as it didn't become the heart of the game, which it doesn't in Silk Road. I've never seen players play Silk Road really seriously, remembering every cube taken by every opponent, but I've always seen it played seriously enough so that you can try to explain other players why you were losing. And, of course, there can be some petty vengeance, the thief being very useful for this.
JBD: Zev, generally, what do you recall your subjective reactions were once you read the rules?
 Zev Shlasinger: I liked the simplicity of the rules, knowing that the actions were where the complexity lies. The rules also seemed pretty clear.
JBD: Did playing the game tend to confirm your initial opinions, or open up a very different set of opinions?
Zev: Pretty much the game confirmed my initial opinions. The most surprising thing was the short length of play.
JBD: What immediate changes did you propose and why?
Zev: I believe the main change was disallowing some of the tiles in the last cities because they were useless there. We also added permanent tiles to some cities, solidified the rule to play the game from West to East, etc.
JBD: There is, I'm sure, a very big line between "really liking" a game and seeing something that makes you want to put your money on the line and publish it. Where is that line generally, and how did it apply to Silk Road?
Zev: It's hard to draw a line - it's subjective and differs with each game. I might have a business reason for doing a game or vanity one or a prestige one. Of course I always look for good, but of course my "good" can be different from other's value of "good". In Silk Road, I really like the mechanic of choosing who goes next. I thought that was unique and really had me take notice. I confess I also wanted to do a game with Bruno's name: he has a fan base, is known in the industry, and thought this would be a good opportunity to form a relationship. Bruno: And it worked â?? now we know that we are in the same hotel in Essen, and Zev had a few other prototypes of mine in test. Ted: The addition of Zev to the process was very helpful. Zev came up with the idea to add permanent tokens to the board.
JBD: These are bonus actions that the high bidding player gets to take in addition to getting first pick of the regular actions.
Ted: I thought this made very good sense especially to put them into the choke points where the caravan was forced to move there anyway. This was a very nice incentive to keep the bids up.
The next discussion from Zev was the strength and the powers of the various character tokens. Oddly enough, the one that had the most discussion was the â??thiefâ?? token. We all had ideas and we play tested a few to include things like, take money instead of cubes, look at cubes and pick one of your choice, etc. Of all of the items that we talked about, this one got the most traffic. In the end, we kept the original power of the thief!
Also, the end game scoring was initiated by Zev. (This gives points for having majorities in each color of unsold cubes that you have at the end.) After various point allocations in play testing we settled on the rules as they are today. This was a nice addition to give some additional points to players who could not get their cubes sold earlier. JBD: Tell us about the finishing touches - adding the historical material and the design of the game board art.
Ted: This part became a research project. Zev said, ok Silk Road what period? What are the cities? We need artwork to match the time frame. Well, I just had a game board with lines and circlesâ?¦.now I had to figure this out.
One of the maps I got looked very much like our board. So, I took that year as the general time frame. Next, I worked very hard combining several Silk Road maps to put actual city names in about the same area as the circles on the board. Some cities on the maps had to be omitted, but generally, you have actual cities on the Silk Road in about the right location on the game board.
Early board art for Silk Road The board design graphics were next. What came from Zev was a board background without the roads and cities that looked great. However, when the roads and cities got added, it just did not work for us. Although it was functional, Bruno and I both did not care for it. I scanned a section of the Elfenland board and sent it to Zev as an example of how we thought it might look better and more functional. Thanks to Zev who took the time to start over and give us the great looking board we have today.
Bruno: I'm also impressed by the graphic work - it's light, discreet, but looks wonderful and fits the game perfectly. Ted: Then Zev commissioned the cover art that has remained the same and it is wonderful.
Next we wrote a blurb for the back of the box, and with the help of Patrick Korner and Henning Kroepke, we got some German rules.
JBD: Please offer some thoughts on the final product. I'm especially interested in not just hearing that you like it, but any thoughts on how it compares with your vision of the game - and what it might become - when you first got involved. If it's better, missing something, or just different - in what ways is that the case?
Bruno: My main surprise when receiving my set was how similar the functional design was with my prototype - but after all, it probably means that my prototype was well made. I really liked the added printed tiles as chief of the caravan bonus, which bring some more variety in the game; but unfortunately I didn't playtest enough the other last minute addition, the two points bonus for color majority. If I had, I would have noticed that it didn't add anything to the game. JBD: Also - I've seen that some players have complained about the turn-passing mechanism. Some seem to feel that it can be too arbitrary, that it can freeze a player out. So please feel encouraged to talk about that mechanism and what in your opinion makes it "just right".
Bruno: I think it's exactly the opposite - it's a balancing mechanism, since you are usually given your turn at the best times when you are behind - or perceived as being behind, which brings back the sniveling issue...
Ted: Silk Road definitely would not have happened without Bruno who is just incredible to work with. I hope that we can do another project together one day. And, it would not have happened without Zev who was also wonderful to work with. He showed us everything at every step, he involved us in all decisions. I just want to say thanks to Zev, Bruno and the West Virginia Appalachian Gamers who put up with all of the playtesting and gave me encouragement.
JBD: I've played Silk Road several times and what always strikes me is how such an effective game comes out of so simple a set of rules. The reaction to the rules is invariably "That's it?" It soon becomes apparent that these few mechanisms - bidding for control, picking an action, and choosing the next player - deliver exactly what is needed.
With such a simple rule set, it might even seem as though the entire game was created in a day. As is the case when playing Silk Road, getting it right is a matter of choosing the winning path from many alternatives, of selecting the one action that pays off best, and of knowing whom to trust with the next decision.
| | Are Game Designers Auteurs? Printable version
When I created The Journal of Boardgame Design, one of my goals was to pull the nature of board game writing up a notch, beyond game reviews that were intended to be buyer's recommendations and into the level of critical analysis. Treat games as an artform that could be analyzed in the same ways that music, painting, literature and film are treated. If this seems to raise game design to a level that isn't warranted, we should remember that there were times when dance and film were regarded as merely recreation and entertainment. As game design has become more ambitious, so should its criticism.
 In the 1950's, Francois Truffaut advocated looking at film in a new way which became known as "Auteur Theory". According to Wikipedia:
"The auteur theory holds that a film, or an entire body of work, by a director (or, less commonly, a producer) reflects the personal vision and preoccupations of that director, as if she or he were the work's primary "author" (auteur).
"Truffaut's theory maintains that all good directors (and many bad ones) have such a distinctive style or consistent theme that their influence is unmistakable in the body of their work."
For a time, auteur theory was of interest only to academics and intellectuals, while ordinary filmgoers could care less about who the director of a film was. Your grandparents probably never talked about seeing the latest Billy Wilder movie (though they might have been aware of the latest Alfred Hitchcock movie.) Still, public awareness of the role of directors became widespread through movie critics who promoted the latest foreign film directors (including Truffaut), and in the 1980's the earth cracked open when names like Stephen Spielberg and Martin Scorcese became part of our daily vocabulary.
 It seems as though we are coming in to a time when game designers are beginning to have the same visibility that film directors began to have thirty years ago. As in the 1970's, the talk is mostly among devotees, and mostly about Europeans. As once film had it's Truffaut, Bergman and Fassbinder, today boardgaming has its Teuber, Kramer and Knizia. Once there was a reawakened appreciation of Howard Hawks and today we rediscover the groundbreaking work of Sid Sackson.
Before we elevate game designers from being artisans to being auteurs we ought to ask: does this comparison really make sense? Is there really a basis in comparing games to films, music or literature? Can one really look at the body of work of a game designer and make out a distinctive style or consistent theme? To the extent that it is possible - is it of any consequence?
I didn't initially set out to write an article that questioned the value of examining the collected works of game designers. I set out to find a game designer whose body of work I could analyze, hoping to create a series around this. I soon hit a wall. It is difficult to identify a meaningfully consistent style in most designers. Even Reiner Knizia, who tended to create perfect efficient miniatures early in his career with games such as "Medici", "Modern Art", and "Tutankamen", soon moved on to create sprawling (by Eurogame standards) games such as "Euphrates & Tigris" and "Stephensons Rocket", which seem to have sprung out of an entirely different mind.
 Then there is the question of what merit there is in the exercise. Take Rudiger Dorn. We could look at his three best games and indeed see a pattern. In "Traders of Genoa", "Goa", and "Louis XIV", Dorn uses a common mechanism to limit the choices that a player has. In each case, choices are laid out on an orthogonal board and players place markers on locations along a path (Call it the "poop dropping" mechanism). It's a nifty way to structure player choices, and best of all, it's a pattern! We've successfully applied auteur theory to game design!
Okay, so let's compare that observation with one that film critic Peter Rainer makes about director Brian De Palma in a recent Los Angeles Times essay.
"Despite the super-sophistication of his technique, in essence De Palma's movies express, at least for men in the audience, how sex was experienced as an adolescent. ... They capture the rage and mortification, the guilt, the tingle of voyeurism.
"One of the most unnerving things about De Palma's films, even more than their eruptive, gargoyle terror, is the suggestion that these adolescent anxieties are naggingly ever-present. The tyranny of sexual desire, woman as the Other â?? for most men, these fears still fly."
In contrast with Rainer's observations about Brian De Palma as an auteur, our own observations about Rudiger Dorn seem pretty lame.
The comparison, you might say, is unfair. A movie has a story; it has characters. It is meant to express something - whether it is the wonders of childhood, the anxieties of adolescence, or the alienation of adulthood. A game can't be expected to do all that or any of that. After all, it's just... a game. It's just a bunch of mechanisms.
Perhaps a game designer may not be able to express anything of consequence through his mechanisms, but what about his choice of theme?
The importance of theme no doubt varies across designers. Generally, being a game designer is a poor choice of occupation if theme is your intended means of expression.
 Martin Wallace has chosen to maintain a high level of control in his games. He publishes mostly through companies such as Winsome and Warfrog, which he has close relations with, and which have either published his games directly or through licenses with companies that do not change his games. His game mechanisms tend to be closely related to the themes in his games. In a game such as Struggle of Empires, Wallace has chosen to express his thoughts on the drivers behind imperialism, and these thoughts are very clear in the game play.
 Most designers, however, find their themes to be controlled at the whim of publishers. Alan Moon and Richard Borg created a game which aimed to capture the spirit of combat in feudal Japan. By the time it was presented by Goldsieber as Wongar, the game was changed by its publisher to be about aboriginal Australian rituals!
In an interview in The Game Table, Reiner Knizia spoke of the relative lack of importance that theme has for for German publishers.
"In America, the theme is seen as the game where as in the European the game mechanics and the game system are seen as the game." Knizia tells a story about when he took a game prototype to America. It had an Egyptian theme and when an American publisher saw the theme they said, "We are not interested in this game, we have a game about Egypt and we don't need another." ... A few weeks later he ... showed the same game to a German publisher. "Oh, we are just in preparation of an Egyptian-themed game, so the Egyptian theme wouldn't work for us. But let's see the game first and then we can see what we'll do about the theme."
 Imagine Mark Twain's editor reviewing "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" and telling him: "We loved the book and we'd like to publish it. We've kept the basic story about a trip down a river on a raft, only now we've set it in China, and it's about a spice trader who leaves his company to join a local man on a search for a ruby studded statue of Buddha that can make them both rich."
Twain would probably have taken up another profession - something more honest and less prone to meddling, like accounting. Game designers carry on, unfazed.
So if a game's mechanisms don't express anything meaningful, and a game designer can't even control the theme of his game, what is left?
Reiner Knizia does believe that a game designer expresses his personal vision through his work. In his interview for The Game Table, he says:
"I think that every designer has his own handwriting. I am a scientist and that influences my character and how I see the world. So maybe my games have more of the analytical side stressed, not because I am doing this in awareness but more because that's who I am and that's how my world looks like. My approach is that the game should have very simple rules and depth of play comes out of these simple and unified rules. "
Knizia describes here not just a sort of mechanism, or a technique, but rather a guiding philosophy that indeed does reflect his personal vision. I emphasize the word "personal". Why should the rules be simple and unified? Do they make for a better game? Knizia offers no explanation, nor need he offer one. These principles are simply an expression of his personality.
A game with many rules designed to encourage players to explore the nooks and crannies in its mechanisms can be an excellent game - but it would not likely be a Knizia game. Reiner Knizia would of course never have invented a game like "Age of Renaissance", but I think that even "Power Grid" would have looked very different if designed by Knizia. Power Grid has relatively involved rules concerning the changes that occur every time the game enters a new "Phase"as the power plant market gets manipulated and supplies of commodities change. Specific rules create handicaps for leading players. Power Grid has been approached like a work of engineering in which a mechanism may be added to solve a specific problem. Knizia describes himself as a scientist - which along with his stated approach to game design implies that he believes function is more of a consequence of natural laws than an active attempt to manipulate them.
Game designers become auteurs when their style reflects not just a frequently used mechanism but rather an entire approach to gaming, and implies what they believe a game ought to be. In the case of Knizia the scientist, games manifest the complex possibilities that emerge from relatively simple natural laws. If Reiner Knizia - the game designer - is indeed a scientist, he is probably a physicist.
 The games of Bruno Faidutti have sometimes been criticized for having too many chance and chaotic elements in them. I imagine his response would be: "guilty, proud of it." Faidutti seems to revel in unpredictibility, and wants his players to share in the fun. He pretty much declared his attitude to the world in one of his earliest published designs: "Knightmare Chess". That game starts with the great Western classic game, but gives players cards which allow them to muck around with the rules in unpredictible ways.
To add unpredictibility to chess is a little like painting a mustache on the Mona Lisa. It takes a certain kind of person to do that. More than anything, it tells you a little about what his idea of "fun" is.
 In "Citadels", Faidutti's most successful and celebrated game, players target each other with their special powers but in a highly unpredictible way. For example, a player who has taken the role of the "thief" can choose a character whom he plans to rob - but can only make a hunch as to which player he is actually robbing because players choose their characters secretly. This can lead to a lot of grumbling both from the thief, who may have targeted a player who has nothing to steal, and especially from a player who was trailing and became the unintended target (and especially when I'm that player!).
Faidutti's games are often described as being "chaotic" and it's rarely intended as a compliment. The pattern in his games are however so unmistakable that it is clear that Bruno Faidutti revels in the chaos, builds it into the games intentionally, and regards unpredictibility as an essential part of the fun in gaming. I think that the only way to properly appreciate many of his games is to play them in the spirit intended - partly as a battle of wits, but equally as a wild ride. Climb onto the bull and hold on!
This attitude toward finding the fun in a game can manifest itself even into the simplest things - like whether a card game should have a player draw his card before or after his turn. On his website, Faidutti describes the difference:
"The 'draw a card, then play a card' rule ... strengthens the surprise and fun aspect of the game, to the detriment of deep thought and strategy. During opponentsâ?? turns, one will try to think of what one will do next, but will also day-dream of the card one could draw when oneâ??s turn comes. This card, when drawn, may cause some impulsive reaction, and may be sometimes a bad move â?? but thatâ??s an important part of the game fun. The 'play a card, then draw a card' rule emphasizes on strategic planning. It means one can think of all the possible moves, and check their possible effects, before oneâ??s turn comes. "
From everything we've seen about Bruno Faidutti so far, his preference should be no surprise:
"(Play a card, draw a card) sure makes the game deeper and more challenging, but it also makes it feel less fun and less natural."
Reiner Knizia and Bruno Faidutti are two of the most stylistically assertive auteurs in the game world. You may or may not like their games, but the reasoning behind your opinion is likely to be closely related to the difference between what you find to be fun and what each designer believes to be so. This strong design philosophy is what separates game auteurs from journeymen whose designs lack personal style.
It is really a strong design philosophy and not particular mechanics that define the auteur. When evaluating a designer, the interesting question is: "What effect does he want to achieve?" and not "What technique does he tend to rely on?"
 Compare Alan Moon and the team of Wolfgang Kramer and Michael Kiesling. In many of Alan Moon's games, players draw cards from a face-up selection (Elfenland, Union Pacific, Ticket to Ride). Often players are given from one to three actions in a turn (draw cards or use cards in both Union Pacific and Ticket to Ride, the limited actions in Reibach/Get the Goods or Andromeda). On the other hand, Kramer & Kiesling have frequently used action point mechanisms where players get from 6-10 AP in a turn with myriad possibilities on how to spend them (Torres, Tikal, Java, Mexica, Bison). The obvious reason that each designer tends to reuse his mechanisms is that the mechanism works, is reliable, and is flexible enough to solve certain design problems in many games.
Apart from that, each technique reflects a different philosophy. By presenting users with three or four card choices, Alan Moon is pushing some unpredictibility into the lap of his players and forcing them to choose between some very limited options. The chance and unpredictibility of the choices forces the user to adapt to the unexpected, and those key basic alternatives ("play a card or draw a card?" are the essence of the "Agonizing Decision". In contrast, Kramer & Kiesling prefer to be far more open ended. Their gamers' games challenge a player by dumping a large quantity of resources into his lap, presenting him with decision trees that have an intricate network of branches, and demand that the player builds a strategy which uses these resources most effectively.
Alan Moon seems to see the greatest joy in gaming as confronting hard decisions. Kramer and Kiesling see the joy come from the challenge of managing resources and exploiting opportunities.
That pattern has more meaning if it can be applied to other games which don't use the same mechanisms as card drafts or action points. For example, in San Marco, Alan Moon gives players limited hard decisions - but with an entirely different mechanism. He gives one player a series of selected action cards and challenges him to divide them into stacks which his opponents may choose from. Then he gives the remaining players the very limited - but no less agonizing - responsibility to choose the one stack with the most useful actions and least painful penalties.
 When Wolfgang Kramer created "Hacienda", he used a card drafting mechanism similar to that found in games such as "Union Pacific" and Ticket to Ride, but he puts these cards to a much more open ended use than is typically seen in Alan Moon's games. In Moon's "Union Pacific" the cards a player draws are fairly passive assets. You draw them, you play them in front of you, and hopefully you score with them. Even in "Ticket to Ride", players have very specific paths that they are trying to take, and they draw cards they need in order to complete those paths. The tension comes from deciding when to draw, when to play, and from dealing with the need to make detours. It is usually self evident where a particular set of cards needs to be placed for a player to achieve his goals. On the other hand, the cards in Hacienda are open ended resources which can often be placed in many different places. Having a set of any cards is just the beginning of the challenge to the player who needs to construct a plan on how to use them most effectively.
Two designers take a similar mechanism - a multiple choice card draft - but treat the use of the cards in entirely different ways. Each use reflects what its respective designer regards to be the interesting challenge in a game.
How, then, are we to interpret games such as Kramer's "That's Life", a family game which offers players very limited choices? How does such a simple game fit in as a part of the designer's stylistic signature? I think that the most honest answer is: "it doesn't." Game designers, especially professionals, need to develop a large number of games every year to be economically viable. All of them will to some degree reflect the designer's values, but many will still be journeymen games that are principally created just to meet the needs of publishers and the public.
Another reason a designer may venture outside his style is just to experiment and mix it up a little. So from Reiner Knizia we'll see a game like "Blue Moon", which has lots of different cards with different powers, and seems a little elaborate for a Knizia game (although its rules are, true to form, very simple.) It seemed very out-of-character when Bruno Faidutti worked on the redevelopment of "Warrior Knights", a long and relatively complex war game, but there it is. Of course, sometimes experimentation is also a way of moving on to something new permanently. We may never again see Reiner Knizia offer up more minimalist masterpieces in the mold of "Modern Art" and "Medici" again (I swear - that run of "M's" was NOT intentional!).
Finally, sometimes an auteur's fingerprints may be a little hidden. The task of decoding and understanding the art of game designers is in its infancy, and in time, as the hobby grows and more people become fascinated with this issue, new minds will discover patterns that are overlooked today. "Stephensons' Rocket" is often regarded as uncharacteristically involved for a Reiner Knizia game. Yet it has only four pages of rules and takes about thirty paragraphs to explain. Compare that with Kramer and Kiesling's "Mexica", which was described as "family friendly" when it came out, and yet has ten pages of rules and about ninety paragraphs. Knizia really does stick to his word when he talks of creating games with "simple and unified rules" even when he slips to the complex side of the spectrum. Switching to film again, there may have been a time when it seemed only coincidental that movies such as "Sunset Boulevard", "Some Like It Hot" and "The Apartment" sprung from the same mind, that of Billy Wilder, but in time admirers have come to see the sexual cynicism that unites them all.
Indeed there is a Catch-22 that impedes our ability to comfortably see the auteur behind the game designer. In order for a designer to really establish his stylistic handwriting, he needs to design and publish many games. But any designer who does so must increasingly design some of his games for purely economic reasons, to satisfy the tastes of a large public audience. Those tastes may or may not coincide with what especially interests the designer.
 Some of the most highly rated games to have been published in recent years are not from the great well-established auteurs we've mentioned above, but instead are games from new designers with little or no track record which we can examine for trends. What will the fifth, sixth or tenth game by William Attia, designer of Caylus, be like? Future games will hold new secrets to unlock. Some designers will develop strong styles in their games, while others may produce excellent games but without developing a strong personal style. For many of us players, the joy comes not only from the playing but also from the appreciation of the person behind the game. | | The Well Constructed Game - Reader's Comments There were two people who responded publicly to "The Well Constructed Game", along with a few private emails.
One theme that came up a few times questioned my experience with Oasis. In my playing, I've never found the threat of being closed out on the game board to be very consequential. That's not to say it never happened at all, but it was infrequent and tended to have a marginal effect on the players. People who wrote in had different experiences with the game, finding that the board had a very significant effect.
I mention this just to hedge my own opinions. I've only played the game a few times (because, after all, my experience wasn't favorable). However, I don't feel that uncomfortable with my criticism because:
1) The game has lots of other problems (most especially, the auction mechanism in which you neither know what you're bidding with nor what you're bidding for.)
2) The point was just to illustrate how if a game board isn't constructed well, and doesn't sufficiently threaten to close off a player's options, the effect is to create a boring superfluous mechanism.
3) Hey, even a "review" is typically based on just a few playings and is similarly limited.
I always feel a great responsibility to be fair to a game I criticize, though.
Richard Abrams questioned whether my (modest) complaint with Caylus, that it has inferior privelege tracks, can't be mitigated by players tweaking the rules.
"...what's stopping us from re-doing the favor track to make each of the tracks approx. equal in value? ... Tweaking the favor track should be easy, and would allow players to choose the track that best fit into the strategy they were pursuing."
It's not easy. It requires playtesting (in a 3 hour game) to properly balance. And that's the job of the designers. Yes, any game's problem can theoretically be solved by the players, but then it's a different game. I think it's fair to say that a Well Constructed Game doesn't need to be stamped "Assembly Required".
Markmist agrees that the hard work comes in playtesting:
"To design a "well constructed game" is an exhaustive process - one in which you need to constantly be analyzing playtests (looking for what works and what doesn't work)."
Markmist writes as though he himself is a designer. Are you?
He also agrees that Caylus makes much better use of the different commodity types (cube colors) than does Keythedral:
"I played Caylus first and then played Keythedral and I felt that Keythedral was the vastly inferior game based on the points you mentioned. The color of the cubes in Keythedral seemed inconsequential and arbitary compared to Caylus."
Perhaps I'm too cautious, but I feel more comfortable praising a well rated game (on the Boardgamegeek) and criticizing one with a mediocre rating. But Keythedral, with its 7.5 rating, is a game in which I feel that the Emperor has no clothes. I can see the appeal: the whole way of building cottages and claiming resources is really fascinating. However, every time I played it, I found that there seemed to be little cause and effect going on in that system. You can bid for control and get totally screwed. You can hang back and see things just fall into your lap.
I also agree with Markmist that Through the Desert is an exceptionally Well Constructed Game, and one of my favorites. See my article on Story Arc for more details.
Coming attractions:
My next article will examine how possible it is to identify a specific style in the works of any given game designer. I am trying (foolishly!) to get it out within a reasonable time - hopefully within about a month of my last article. | | The Well Constructed Game Printable Version
Some board games seem constructed like a Mercedes and some seem contructed like a Yugo. Some games respond actively to every touch of the pedal and hug the road on every twist of the wheel, while some have trouble shifting and then bang around noisily from all the loose connections.
In game terms I mean that some games have all of their mechanisms tightly tuned, where every rule presents an agonizing decision, and every decision affects your game, while some games are thrown together, with rules that hardly matter and frequent decisions that are barely relevant.
Even if the latter game "basically works" it lacks the thrill of the feeling you get when a game has been trimmed and tuned. That's what The Well Constructed Game is: one which is not only fun, but which has all of its mechanisms tied together, effective, and purposeful. In this sense, The Well Constructed Game truly is a work of art - it has an aesthetic thrill that goes beyond its basic function of entertainment and competition. This artistry is very difficult to pull off and is the mark of a great designer.
I want to talk here about compactness and elegance in a game design - deliberately avoiding what neccessarily makes it "fun". In admiring The Well Constructed Game, I don't want to imply that this characteristic is either neccessary nor sufficient for a game to be good. But we can certainly admire it when we see it.
 For much of his early career, Reiner Knizia was especially admired for how much good game he got out of some incredibly simple designs. Modern Art is a terrific example of a very simple and Well Constructed Game from this era. The basic structure of the game requires players to maximize their income both when they sell works of art (cards) to other players, and then later when they sell the art back to the bank. What drives the game so wonderfully is the scoring mechanism which creates a spectrum of implications for the players. Basically, the cards auctioned off come in one of five suits ("artists"), and the artist whose works have been most auctioned in that round pays the most. Players therefore have motivations to promote the auction of artists whose cards they hold in their hands - knowing that this will make them fetch a higher price - and they have motivation to auction off cards by artists they've already bought in the round - thereby bolstering their value at pay off time. Additionally, Knizia incorporates an excellent scoring bomb by having the values of paintings accumulate each turn - but still paying zero if that artist isn't in one of the top three positions. With just an auction and a well designed scoring mechanism, Knizia creates a very tense and engaging game. Every element in the scoring mechanism has a way of working to create strategic decisions for the players.
Actually, one could fairly argue that there is a supefluous mechanism in the game. There are 4 different ways that a card may be auctioned, and each card specifies how that card is auctioned. It might be through an open outcry, or a closed bid auction for example. These alternatives definitely add color to the game, but are they neccessary? I think that they're a little fiddly, and they detract from the game's basic elegance - but I love 'em anyway. I suppose that this shows that being Well Constructed is a nice thing - but it's not everything.
 The Well Constructed Game is efficient but it need not be simple. It is not important that there are very few rules - only that every rule contributes significantly to the game play. Wolfgang Kramer and Richard Ulrich created a miraculous design in "El Grande". In El Grande, players place wooden cubes from their "court" supply onto any of nine regions on the board, in an attempt to get first, second or third place leadership positions during the game's three scoring rounds. Essentially, three mechanisms drive the game, and each one is a doozy. The first is that players must bid for turn order in each turn- which is key because early players have their choice of "Action Cards" which can give great advantages. Gnashing against this, is the fact that the higher your bid to go first in the round, the fewer "caballeros" (wood cubes) you'll have in your supply to place on the board. Finally - Kramer and Ulrich create an extremely effective tool to govern where players may place their cubes at any moment - they must be into a region adjacent to the "king", but not in the same region as the king itself. Moreover, the king is moved each turn - with the right to control his placement governed by the player who earlier bid for that right. As anyone who has played El Grande knows, this simple rule governing the king and his placement creates a spectrum of tactical decisions for the players.
Notice also how these three mechanisms mesh with each other. You want to control the king to place your caballeros in the best position. To do that, you need to bid high for that right. But the higher you bid, the fewer caballeros you make available to yourself. The interaction of its mechanisms, the dramatic effect each mechanism has on game play, and the agonizing decisions they place on players all combine to make El Grande a supremely Well Constructed Game.
 I first noticed the value of a Well Constructed Game when I was playing a game I found to be poorly constructed: the self-published Garden Competition by Ken Stevens. Garden Competition is by no means a bad game, but what struck me was just how many different rules and mechanisms seemed to not achieve their intended effect. For example, a key aspect of the game is the fact that players must decide which flowers to plant. Of the dozen or so different types, only certain ones are worth points at the end of the game. There is an elaborate system in which each player has slightly different information on which flowers - or colors of flowers - will score. Players are expected to deduce which flowers are valuable by observing their opponent's behavior. The problem is that deduction is either trivial or unneeded. If an opponent plants a rose, it means either "red" or "rose" is worth points. If you can get a rose - plant it. If not... well then there are so many *other* flowers to focus on, you may as well just ignore it.
This looseness and clutteredness in design shows up in the work of seasoned designers as well. If a Well Constructed Game is one with no excess baggage, then it's easier to appreciate tight design by looking at games by otherwise excellent and respected designers that seem burdened by superfluous mechanisms and inconsequential game play. Oasis by Alan Moon and Aaron Weisblum and Keythedral by Richard Breese are examples of designs with rules and mechanisms that have a disproportionately low consequence on game play and strategy.
 Oasis is an unfortunate example of a boardgame where nothing that happens on the board is all that interesting. Players collect tiles in 3 different land types, trying to gain large clusters of adjacent tiles. But unlike a similar mechanism in Merchants of Amsterdam by Reiner Knizia, it is rare to find oneself threatened with being cut off or enclosed. Oasis tends tco have fairly large areas to play one's tiles, and there are no tactical objectives besides getting a lot of them all together. In contrast, Merchants of Amsterdam requires players to lay adjacent clusters of tiles in the sections of the city, but the grid is narrow (2xn), and littered with strategic points (bridges) which encourage players to play tiles where they otherwise wouldn't want to.  The effect in Oasis is a feeling of pointlessness and disappointment. Here is this evocative board with placement rules and the promise of interesting strategy. Eventually players find that their choices aren't all that important, that it is unlikely that they will be cramped in, and that the feeling of tension was false.
In no way does this break the game. It remains entirely playable. But by having its board not finely tuned, the game ends up feeling a little limp and disappointing. Players have a sense of putting tiles on the board for little purpose.
Keythedral suffers from the problem of having needless distinctions for its commodities. Keythedral is a little like Settlers of Catan in the way that players collect five different types of resources by having cottages and workers on tiles which produce goods each turn. Collecting certain combinations are important at the beginning of the game in order your upgrade cottage or to build fences which help you defensively. However, soon into the game the primary use of resources is to spend them in particular combinations in order to buy tiles which are worth victory points. As the game progresses, larger quantities of resources are needed to buy bigger tiles worth even more VP's.
 Pretty cool until you start to realize that this entire mechanism barely matters. There are so many tiles that will come available in so many different combinations that any player has no urgency to take any particular resource type. Nor is there much need to rush to take that perfect tile when it comes up. If you just hold on, you'll find the tile you need for whatever resource cubes you have. (A limit on the number of cubes you can hold would have been effective.) Furthermore, the amount of VP's you get per cube doesn't really change throughout the game. Early on you get few VP's for few cubes, and later you get lots of VP's for lots of cubes - but the value is pretty much proportional. There is neither much incentive to spend your cubes early nor to save them for later. What seems to be a series of tactical choices for the players aren't really choices at all because they hardly make any difference. Only in the last game turn or two, when future VP tiles become limited, does the urgency to manage your purchases become tense - and suddenly the game picks up a little.
 Compare this to the William Attia game Caylus, which also uses different types of commodity cubes, but far more effectively. In Caylus, players have many different uses for their commodities - to buy tiles, to help construct the castle, or for special features such as the "joust". In fact, commodity cubes used in the castle have great flexibility as well: the only restriction is that of three cubes, one is "food" and that all three cubes are different colors. With such flexibility, you would expect that players would be unconcerned about which particular color of cube they pick up. In fact, the distinction among colors works extremely well. For one thing, although castles tend to need food, jousts need cloth, and tiles are hungry for wood and stone, each choice has different strategic implications. So while a player may almost always be able to find a use for his cubes, he needs to manage his production in order to achieve the particular strategic goals he has set for himself. Furthermore, any of these uses - tiles, castle, or joust - can't be chosen at will. The ability to joust or to build tiles is in short supply for each turn, and there are tactical reasons that a player may want to contribute to the castle ALOT on this turn, but not at all on the next turn. Finally, while a player who gets shut out of his choices can always accumulate cubes for another day, timing is much more important in Caylus than it is in Keythedral. A tile built this turn has greater opportunity to earn VP's. The need to delay a castle contribution can mean missing out on getting a bonus or stealing the majority favor from another player. In practice, players find that they need to plan carefully to take and spend the right combinations of cubes - and they need to desperately create alternative plans when their original plan doesn't go as expected.
The one thing that holds me back from calling Caylus a Well Constructed Game is that annoying matter of the unbalanced favor table. In Caylus, a player will occasionally earn "favors" and he has a choice of four different types to take. Of these, one type (commodity cubes) seems so weak that players hardly ever pick it, and one (money) is sufficiently underpowered that players typically use it only as a fall back or occasional choice. How much tighter and more satisfying the game would have been had each favor created its own strategic path! Fortunately, this doesn't hurt the game that much. You can always ignore those paths and they are not a major part of the game. This is very different from the case with Oasis where players must use the board constantly only to feel that they are spinning their wheels whenever they do so.
I am not a board game designer, but my belief is that playtesting is the most important contribution to a Well Constructed Game. Designers need to brainstorm. They need to come up with lots of creative ideas, and in many cases, there is little way to distinguish between what is working and what is superfluous without seeing the mechanism in action. Is the board too big to force players into Agonizing Decisions? How often are people using all the options presented to them (and how often do they win with the less popular ones?) When I wrote my series of Game Theory 101 articles for The Games Journal, all of the ideas I had were addititve in nature. What do designers put in a game that cause its complexion to change and create a Story Arc? Where are the bombs that place players in do-or-die situations? What conditions can be imposed to force players to constantly reevaluate their positions? The Well Constructed Game is the product of a reductive process. What stuff was added to the game that isn't making a difference? What decisions aren't agonizing - and can they simply be eliminated?
I've spoken here about the value of a game having no superfluous elements. Of course, a game succeeds on the basis of what it does have and not what it doesn't have. So appreciating a Well Constructed Game is mostly a matter of aesthetics. It is an opportunity for us game-lovers to simply admire the perfection in a board game design above and beyond the hours we spend immersed playing it.
This is what I am hoping to achieve in this journal with every article. A greater pleasure in the love of The Game. | | Taking Care of Business Games - Readers' Comments The comments on â??Taking Care of Business Gamesâ?? mostly focused on games I had omitted from the discussion. My goal was to look at a certain kind of business game and examine the mechanisms found in it. I wanted to see how different games in the genre deal with some of the problems that are specific to that genre. I also wanted to show the breadth of games, themes, and mechanisms that I believe still share common links. Unlike my series on scoring mechanisms, I decided to identify four games and stick with them for the entire article. The idea was to show just how games can share common mechanisms, face common design issues, and still be very different. I didnâ??t want to just look at a bunch of mechanisms â?? I wanted to look at the whole game. For every angle, I wanted to compare *every* game in my list, if possible. That meant keeping the list down. If I had six games instead of four, the article would have been 50% longer, and it was quite long enough. The need to limit the games I examined and the desire to look at the whole game meant that some excellent and relevant games wouldnâ??t make the cut. The most significant of these were the 18xx series and Age of Steam. In both cases, I felt that these games had so much more going on than just â??productionâ??. The rail-building aspect of the games, and the stock aspect of 18xx dominate a playerâ??s decisions. So while it is true that in Age of Steam, players invest in rail lines, reap income from them, and reinvest the proceeds in more lines, I couldnâ??t fairly examine that game without getting into the specific issues that occur on the game board - which were outside the scope of my article. Martin Sz said: â??... what about Acquire? An all- time classic, and possibly the best pure business game ever. Lord knows I love both Power Grid and Settlers, but to focus on these to the exclusion of Acquire in an article centerd on business and eco-dev games is perhaps a serious oversight, in my opinion at least. To a lesser extent, Puerto Rico merits a mention as well.â?? Regarding the omission of Acquire, adiamant nailed it when he responded: I don't think Acquire actually fits the mold here... Jonathan is talking about production oriented business games, while Acquire isn't that. Puerto Rico certainly fits and is indeed mentioned in the article, even if not analyzed thoroughly. Yes! I wanted to focus specifically on games where players build up some sort of production mechanism that grows and pays off ever more as the game develops. Acquire is more a game of stock speculation. Players owning shares in an Acquire hotel arenâ??t getting income from it. They might get a big payoff if it gets acquired, but that creates entirely different strategies than the ones found in the four games I focused on. Adiamant also said: Civilization games are probably more similar to the production business games. AH Civilization was what came to mind as an example of producing a variety of goods then using them to buy future production capability, but the way it's used is more circuitous, less direct. I agree with this. In games like Civilization or Antike your â??factoriesâ?? take the form of population or cities on the board. But like Age of Steam, whatâ??s happening on the board dominates the game in a way that would have taken the discussion in a different direction. Puerto Rico also takes its inspiration from Civilization. I excluded it similarly because it has so many mechanisms outside the basic invest-produce-reinvest structure. Also in Puerto Rico players donâ??t invest in plantations, they just get them as a result of certain actions. Anonymous took us beyond the realm of games and into the dismal science: You seem to come from the bigger is better school of economics, but bigger is not always better. Economies of scale apply only to a point, depending on business; and after that, the top of the organizational pyramid is just an extra cost. So, bringing this back to gaming, the diminishing returns of Power Grid may be quite appropriate. Yes, it is true that I advocate increasing returns to scale â?? but this is from a game perspective; it has nothing to do with reality. I point out in my article on The Art of Scoring, that games often use and benefit from a scoring system that escalates progressively â?? such as 1,3,6,10,15â?¦ Power Gridâ??s payoff does the opposite. In this sort of game, it is appropriate and needed to help slow down a runaway leader. I think that this regressive payoff scale is a good, integral way of slowing down a runaway leader, whereas I think that all the other benefits given to trailing players are pasted on. [What follows may cause those of you who havenâ??t taken Econ 101 to glaze over.] In terms of economic reality, Power Gridâ??s payoff scale does follow the â??law of diminishing returnsâ?? and in this sense is entirely consistent with classical economic theory. Now the law of diminishing returns mostly applies in the short run. The idea is that if you try to produce more with your existing factory you have to pay your workers overtime, you use methods which arenâ??t the best, and so on. Power Grid arguably simulates more of a long run environment, where the standard assumption is that you can always at least reproduce your production abilities, and possibly improve on them. Anonymous argues that this isnâ??t always the case â?? that as you get bigger, you end up with more bureaucracy and can run less efficiently. One could also make the case that what Power Grid simulates in its use of a declining payoff is running down the demand curve. The more you produce, the lower your price needs to be in order for you to sell of all of your inventory. Now in Power Grid, it doesnâ??t matter if youâ??re the only person selling into a given city, or whether you share it with two other competitors. Try Medieval Merchant if youâ??d like a game where that mechanism is used. Maybe Power Grid uses the declining payoff to simulate this effect in the easiest way possible. Or maybeâ?¦ itâ??s just a game. More business analysis from Anonymous: (To comment on Acquire, what drives anyone with business knowledge crazy about the game is that you want to be the loser, the acquired company, not the big company in the game. A good game, but far from a simulation!) Now here I disagree. All of us who have been through the dotcom wars know that itâ??s often best to be the acquired company. The larger company will pay a premium over the market share price to get a controlling interest, and the shareholders of the acquired company benefit. In fact, there have been academic papers showing that when a merger is announced, the acquired companyâ??s share price typically rises, while the acquiring companyâ??s share price will, on average, stay the same. Thanks to everyone who read and appreciated Taking Care of Business Games. Iâ??m busy at work on my next piece which I promise will be SHORTER THAN AVERAGE! Weâ??re going to be looking at â??The Well Constructed Gameâ??. I also invite comments on the format and nature of the blog as well. My articles tend to be a lot longer than most of whatâ??s out there. Some have commented that they are â??really longâ??, while others have said that itâ??s nice to read material thatâ??s so different in scope from most of what else is out there. My articles also tend to be pretty technical. Do you feel that youâ??re getting something that really increases your appreciation of the hobby? Thatâ??s my goal â?? I want to elevate writing in this hobby to look at games almost like an art form. But man, sometimes I think it would be easier, and probably better appreciated, to write about how to choose what game to play, and which Settlers expansion is best, andâ?¦ REVIEWS! People love reviews, and Iâ??d get some freebies!
While Iâ??m on the subject of game writing that is out of the norm â?? Iâ??ll put in a plug for a guy who I regard to be a sort of soulmate on the other side of the country. Mike Doyle is a graphic designer with a special interest in the physical design of games. He frequently will completely redesign a game and present it on his website: http://mdoyle.blogspot.com/ It is very refreshing to see someone examine games from a genuinely original angle â?? with such creativity and talent! | |
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Age of Steam paths colored for clarity
Can you connect a path between any two blue stations (cubes) that pass through as many gems as possible without passing through any red or yellow stations? Can you do it before other players get impatient?
I don't think this rule is there especially to add a "take that" element to the game, and in my playing it didn't come off as mean. Rather, the board can get so dense and locked in, I think that the designers put in the dynamite in order to insure that the board continues to change after each phase. The game is not that nasty because once a player has created a path, it is difficult to obstruct that path until after he has collected his gems. The dynamite doesn't blow until the very end of the phase. Additionally, although stations block other players' paths, they can't be played on existing track. Even if someone places a track tile in your way, you may be able to promote it by placing another tile on it - as long as the new tile has more connections. The only way I know of to to mess with an existing path is to promote it with a new tile that changes its connections. Note that unlike Age of Steam, all existing connections do not need to be preserved.
If the game were just about laying tunnels and grabbing gems, it wouldn't be a Kramer / Kiesling game. On top of all this, there is a modest economic system to value the gems that you do get. At the beginning of each phase, you can take order tiles. It's exactly what you think. Taking the one pictured is a commitment to acquire and trade a light blue, a dark blue, a green and a red for 26 points. Fail to do so, and you lose 2 points. The risks aren't great, but neither are the rewards because you can still sell gems back to the market - potentially doing even better. 
In the example here, eight of the yellow gems are either still on the board or in people's hands. A reverse auction is held starting at "8" and going down, and the lowest bidding player could sell as many yellow gems as he owns at his bid price. So there are two ways to collect points for your gems, and which is better will depend on how many players own a given color and how aggressive the bidding gets.
It watered down the tension. If players must complete orders, then a player has pressure to get the right combination, knowing that not getting the last gem is a big loss of potential points. Such high stakes would provide a natural bomb in the game as it does in Alan Moon's Ticket to Ride. Alternately, forcing players into the market would have created a more economically oriented games in which players must monitor which gems are valuable, jockey for those, and close opponents out of them. By providing both alternatives, players are most likely to go for orders - but relax knowing that the market provides something of a safety net if plans go awry. Perhaps the "all or nothing" game created too much chaos, but this is so obviously a gamer's game, it is surprising to see it made a little more family friendly. I'd love to speak with the designers to learn what they were thinking.
I enjoy path laying games and I especially enjoy the complexity that Kramer and Kiesling bring to their best gamer's games. Given the history of such games, I am not convinced that paths laid by Cavum make the most satisfying use of the choices the genre has to offer. The use of actions in the menu in which players may order and group their 12 actions in any way they like - seems to have enormous potential and I hope to see it in a future game. The actual tile and path creation seemed overly involved and counterintuitive. I look forward to future playings to see if I'm able to wrap my brain around this game, or whether the game proves to be the stronger and wraps itself around me.
Sylla's variety of character types and colors, its pricing mechanisms for colored discs, and its multiple distinct phases create plenty of opportunities to let players try out different strategies. Does one concentrate in order to maintain strength, or diversify in order to have flexibility? If you focus on earning lots of tiles, you may earn many discs - but if you ignore the events, then other players may drive the value of your discs way down. Another strategic decision lies in how many of your characters should be "Christian" as symbolized by the fish symbol. At the end game, all Christian cards gain bonus VP's. The down side is that certain events can cause your Christians to remain out of play for one or more game turns. An over reliance on such cards can cripple your play indefinitely.
Every game turn has seven phases with perhaps ten individual auctions, but the game doesn't come off as a repetitive auction fest. For one, the types of things being auctioned tend to vary throughout the turn, and so do the methods used. The auction for tiles is a traditional sequential auction, while the bid to control events is more of a majority control type of play. Additionally, the various "currencies" are in short supply, so auctions don't overstay their welcome. Players might have at most four red cards to compete in a red tile auction, and all assets are public. The auction plays out tactically. Do I want to commit everything to guarantee getting what I want - or do I hold back a smidgen to at least drive the price up and maybe get a bargain? Each auction is over quickly and there is little downtime.
"Caylus", by William Attia, does this, but works the other way as well. The central mechanism is the road, which players build upon and which provides the actions players must choose from. The road is also where the "provost" moves, and he can wipe out some players' actions depending on where they lie on the road.
A game can seem more complicated than it is when its game concept is weak. Many people regard Reiner Knizia's "Stephensons Rocket" as a complex game in spite of the fact that its rules are remarkably compact. Its rail building theme is pretty good - but what exactly are you trying to do with those railroads? You want to control them of course. But that only pays off at the end. Meanwhile, you want to run them in to cities, but only after you build stations that you ran the railroads into first. You also want to control the cities that you run the railroads into, and you want to control the commodities that each city produces. Finally, you want to merge the railroads in a way that insures you control the really big railroads at the end of the game. Whew.
concept. "Players represent political parties, each trying to get as many votes in regional elections as possible, which earns you points. You'll attempt to manipulate your party's policies and public opinion in order to get votes in those regional elections. Success in those elections in turn enables you to control the national agenda, which scores you more points." Along with Die Macher's strong theme, and the way it successfully bonds its mechanics to its theme, Die Macher has a strong central mechanism which gives it a strong game concept. Everything flows in and out of the regional elections. You manipulate policies, you buy media, you place party markers, and you manipulate your local popularity all in an effort to gain influence in the local elections. After you've scored your points there, the regional elections affect the national board which gives you money and points for the endgame scoring. Die Macher holds rather well to the spoke and hub model, with somes spokes pointing in to the hub, and others pointing out from it.
Imagine "Squad Leader" or "War of the Ring" as an abstract game and the rules would make no sense. Why create all these special exceptions and unique units? How can anyone possibly understand what is supposed to be going on? Once you realize that you are simulating small unit fighting or the battle for Middle Earth, everything comes together. The games remain complicated, but every mechanic serves the basic concept of the real world (or fantasy world) simulation. As long as the players understand what is being simulated, the mechanics hang together conceptually.
In Age of Empires III one feels as though he is playing four games at once There is the entire colonization battle for majority control off on the side - but one need not participate in that game wholeheartedly. There is a separate module dealing with collecting trade goods. There is the "discovery" game which sets the stage for the colonization game, but has its own set of goals and victory points. Then there is the action selection game which determines how many resources you bring to bear in the other three games. These games-in-a-game all intersect and collide but without truly building upon each other. The theme of colonization just barely stitches this patchwork together.
This diagram does simplify some things. There are ways of getting doubloons besides trading goods, and the various buildings can affect all of the game functions. However the basic engine is all there, and it makes for a pretty neat package. Puerto Rico's game concept may not be easily broken into its parts, but taken as a whole it is manageable.
THE DESIGNERâ??S MIND: SILK ROAD
As for the tiles, Gail sent these to me in black and white. I went into MS Paint and added color to make four sets of different colored tiles. That is what you see today. But, the art is just what I asked for!
