This is guest post by Merry.

I bet you all have albums with photos. OK, at least folders with photos. Albums are no longer popular when we all use Instagram or Picassa, right? But you get my point. Photos. We have them, right?

We have depending on our life situation – photos of kids (first tooth, first step, first soup…) or photos of cats (first time in the box, first time next to the box, first time behind the box…) or photos of dogs (first tooth, first bitten item because of the first tooth…).

Yeah, that kind of stuff.

Our family has photos of games. I mean we have photos of kids, dogs, cats and even Ignacy. We do have some! But most of our photos is about games in our life. First drafts of prototype, first printed copy of the game, first game session, first bite… No, sorry, no bites. Games don’t bite. They don’t devour anything.

Anything, except time.

And always I was very happy about that loss of time!

*

We also have friends who have crazy photos in their albums too. Meet Arti i Zachi and their wedding photo…

photo credit: Länsmuseet Gävleborg via photopin cc

GUEST POST BY MICHAL ORACZ

If I occasionally doubted in the existence of telepathy, it was until yesterday.

Somewhere around midnight I stopped my struggles with the add-on for Theseus. I looked on all the cards, tokens, units and special rules I rejected during proof-gaming. I noticed that I threw away ALMOST EVERY idea that at first occurred to me as revolutionary.

I sat in front of the keyboard and wrote an article about it. To be more precise, it was about this wild passion we authors have to turn the game up side down with an expansion. About how this rabid dog must be kept on a short leash and why.

Next day Ignacy published the text. The disturbing thing was that I haven’t even sent it to him. He published his own article, because he wrote exactly the same thing at the same time 🙂

One of us should definitely use Magneto’s helmet.

Hmm, what now… Maybe this will help:

Highlight half of the text and… DELETE.

OK 🙂

At the end of the (deleted) arguments I’ll use the newest examples taken from my everyday work.

I have just finished working on two, developed simultaneously, expansion – Missisipi for Neuroshima Hex and Robots (working name, maybe somebody has a better idea for a name of the machines’ faction?) for Theseus. Of course we are still polishing the balance but that is a completely different pair of shoes.

Missisipi. When working on an expansion I always feel tempted to show what I can do with a game. The first approach to a new army is like creating a demo. Ideas for creating a completely different game with the help of just one additional faction and eventually some new rules are trying to escape my head as if they were a bunch of wild animals.

I feel drawn to pour a whole bucket of innovations on the game. New units appear, they run all over the board game like crazy. Some new tiles and tokens appear and then coal mining and economy (just you wait, we’ll publish it one day but until then not a word to anybody!), tiles of special locations, armies consisting of mainly instant tiles or terrain tiles… Same thing in, I’m even afraid to describe it all: a tile that automatically kills everything around it. Indestructible tiles. Terrible area damage effects, wiping out few units with one shot. Units that can heal the Headquarters…

Robots. Here the situation is quite similar, first draft of the faction is a real display of fireworks. Each of the three (or four) units is different. Both reverse and obverse of the unit are not just better and worse sides. They simply have different actions. Each unit can enter the other unit and they can join to became a one big unit only to divide to smaller, specialized ones later on. Units have special directions of acting through walls. A whole bunch of new ability markers to place on your units.

I could stir things up like this all the time. I always loved it, especially when we created RPG games. I striped the game’s structure down to basic elements I meditated on each one of them. Could we improve it somehow? Could we change it to something else? Do it the way it was never done before.

When you create a game all that is great, there’s no problem.

But an expansion?

That’s why most of those innovations found their way into the trash just like half of the text I prepared, which was telepathically nicked by Ignacy (I’ll skip the argument that was brilliantly described by Ignacy and provide a bit of my own thoughts).

The author has to be fair with the player. First of all we won’t encourage new people to reach for the game. It’s an illusion. Some people think they can increase the popularity of a game and lure new players because from now on, thanks to the expansion, we have implemented deck-building and economy. No. The expansion is for those who liked the core version. They trusted us and it’s to them that we owe a debt that can only be repaid with the best possible expansion we can make.

And so for example in Neuroshima Hex if we had too much mobility it would kill the very sense of the game. No place for theory here or 'I said so and that’s how we do it’. It ruins the game in the worst possible way. Hex is a game about positioning, its like very strategic puzzle making. If there is a faction with too much mobility on the game board, it starts to play a different game and then the worst thing happens – every now and then there is the proverbial „Cancel” or „Dispel”. Too much mobility in Hex turns off all the advantages of other armies. Others make their slow and strategic puzzle while the mobile ones are playing PacMan with them.

Same thing with instant tiles. It’s not a problem to design an army consisting only of these (I still have the draft of Parker Lots gang in my magic box, they are assassins who spit out instants as if they were mad). But Parker Lots play their own game on a board of NS Hex and the unfortunate army that goes against them plays a different one. It doesn’t matter that balance can be forced so that in the end it will be more or less equal. It’s about the fact that it feels unpleasant, unfair and frustrating.

All of the new markers got kicked out of Missisipi, same with the economy in Hex, instant armies and one hundred percent mobile ones.

Specialized units got kicked out of the Robots faction as well as piles of tokens and special movement rules – they might return in the future if they can defend themselves better in tests of a different faction. Until then they have the red card and will have to warm the bench.

An innovative expansion is a great thing as long as it deepens what we already love about a game, not simply denies everything we knew, in the name of innovation and game play variation.

That’s the end of demos, it’s high time to create some cool, complete new expansions for the fans of these two games.

It’s not about some sophisticated theory. It’s all very simple:

Each game has its own rhythm and characteristics of game play.

Let’s embrace it while creating expansions, we owe that to those who love it.

11 AM, according to the plan I’m having a short break for a cup of delicious coffee while working on a short text about the new edition of Witchcraft. A couple of completely new versions of the game lay in front of me on the table, next there are two secret projects for 2015, opposite them new add-ons for both Theseus and Hex.

I receive an email. I read it and all of a sudden the coffee is no longer delicious.

Today won’t be about Witchcraft.

Some time ago Ignacy wrote how you should always finish your game projects as soon as possible because even a small delay might cause it to be too late. Someone will do it before you. He or she will design an almost identical game and show it to the world first. All you can do then is throw your project into the trash.

It’s not hard to become paranoid in this business. We constantly have these threats hanging above our heads: “move it man or it will be too late!”.

Such was the email I got from Ignacy.

Subject: „”
Content: „I think someone already came up with your game.” And a link.

As you can imagine I felt my heart jumping somewhere around my throat.

Click. I start reading.

Suddenly the coffee was no longer delicious.

I followed the link that lead to a description of a co-operational sf horror, “Aliens” themed game that is being developed. Just what I’ve been working on for the last few months. Maybe it’s just a coincidence of theme and genre? Maybe Ignacy made a mistake? I read on…

The game begins in medias res, oops. Each player takes control of one of the crew members, has his hidden goal that is or isn’t the same as the ones possessed by others. The crew searches the ship, repairs the damage, avoids encounters with aliens. Instead of aliens there are markers indicating that something might be ‘over there!’– movement in the darkness, murmurs. The monsters have their own card and development and breeding mechanics. In the game we’ve got escape pods, self destruction systems, we can barricade the door, research alien remains, secure samples, use special ventilation shafts, negotiate with other players. And so on…

Oh well. I read till the end. EVERTHING is the same.

First thought: someone really did design my game. Not a very pleasant feeling.

Then a moment of clarity. Alright, let’s have another look at this description. Carefully, sentence after sentence, board game photos and then work-in-progress game components.

The longer I looked into it the more differences I spotted. But my feelings were still mixed.

Not long ago I wrote about how I design games that I would like to play myself. Only because nobody else designed them. So if somebody is designing my dream game why do I have this unpleasant feeling? Why do I keep looking for differences and similarities with a growing nervousness? And inside I pray that this other game would be totally different than mine?

Have I lied in the earlier entry?

Well, no. I didn’t. There is a difference when you find your dream game BEFORE you spend half a year of hard work and AFTER you do it, am I right? I sacrificed a huge amount of my time and energy on this game. I honestly pray that these two games will be totally different.

I know that maybe all those similar or identical elements are just a small part of both of these games and the thing that is most important might still be different. I am aware how small a part of my game all these similarities are those, that have turned my coffee into a mug of undrinkable mud. These are just a dozen or so pieces in a box that will contain more than a hundred.

Maybe there is additional work ahead of me to change my game in many places. Maybe I will have to throw out a bigger part of the mechanics as I will be the second in line. Tough luck, I’m ready. I still have some time for this and I plan to finish this project until 2015.

Finally I look at the pile of my game materials, on the board, the tokens, the notes and the cards. I look on the codex of the project, describing the most important assumptions to be put to life. This is the essence of the game. This codex is the quintessence of the character of the gameplay. If the games were to be identical they would also have to have identical foundations, identical proportions of adventure and tactics, simplicity and complexity, horror and heroism – and so on. The author would have to have the same expectations from his game as I have from mine. If this would be the case than I have a clone, I can relax and throw all my work to trash. From then on I would buy only this guy’s games.

One thing remains. Do I still remember why I started to make this game in the first place?

Why? Because I love this theme. Claustrophobic sf horror – my favorite genre since… forever. Instead of ripping through hordes of aliens – you sneak through dark corridors, check each spot of the spaceship with fear hanging in the air, listen to every screech of the metal floor. You check out the monitoring. You research samples. You don’t trust your fellow crewman. It’s a small territory with limited resources, unknown danger and no hope for escape.

On my list of all time favorite movies there are two hundred claustrophobic sf horrors.

So since someone else is designing a game in a similar mood – can I not see this person as a soulmate? He has similar taste and views on games. All I can do is to keep my fingers crossed for his game and as soon as it’s out, buy it because it seems that it’s what I’ve always wanted to play!

What is left for me alone is to make a completely different game – however I already know the games will share quite a few mechanisms – it has to be the best adventure, claustrophobic sf horror game that anyone can imagine.

Then all that I will have left to do is to finish Space Scream – role-playing game in an almost identical setting.

Half an hour passed. My morning coffee time is over and so are my doubts and temporary confusion. I’m going back to work because the goal is clear.

[I am happy to present you guest post by Michał Oracz, author of Neuroshima Hex, Witchcraft and Theseus. This is his first appereance and as far as I know, not the last one!] 

I’m a little bit ashamed of that but I must admit I like to play my own games. Whether it is Neuroshima Hex on my smartphone or with real life opponents. Theseus I can play alone or with another player, three players or even in teams.

Witchcraft is the only game I don’t like to play. Because Witchcraft is unforgiving, a slightest mistake you make may cost you the whole game. The bitter feeling that I get after loosing will not be satisfied merely by saying ‘I had no luck with the tokens’. Unless I play solo – than Witchcraft is as pleasurable game as any other.

The eagerness with which I set up Hex or Theseus is suspicious… even for myself. I sit in front of my PC and struggle with some work that has temporarily burned out my enthusiasm and a whole container of inspiration. Hmm, a short break wouldn’t hurt, right? Maybe, a little bit of java power and a short Theseus/Hex match? I wonder what combos I’d put together this time?

I go the other room, I set up the game playing for both sides and in less then a quarter I’m playing a short game sipping my coffee. I always regret that there is no ‘save’ option in board games, especially if I come up with something nasty, so nasty it won’t probably happen again.

Borgo’s mutants totally immobilized by Hegemony’s troops.

The Scientists who are able to found a complete Space Hospital by the end of the game and in one turn they come back to their initial health level.

A construction that has an overpowered automated defense system that takes down enemy troops with just one shot, blasting them from the surface of the Space Station.

A contraption capable of controlling enemy units so that they behave like puppets, barely alive after a short time while the rest of them slowly drift in the outer space.

That’s why I have these urges to stop what I’m currently doing and spend some quality time with Theseus or Hex.

Can no notice what’s wrong with that?

I do. It’s just that I like to play my own games.

It is very, very, very unprofessional. Extremely unprofessional.

A designer should hate his own games. After hundreds of tests and months of creating he should feel sick whenever he sees his game.

It’s not the case with me. And that’s bad.

I like to play my own games because of one simple thing: I created them for myself. To my own liking.

If I were a professional game designer, I would behave like a pro from the very beginning. I would choose a solid theme that would be to almost everybody’s liking. I’d check how popular are the tags connected with are in the game search engines (Lovecraft and Zombie, my forever beloved motifs that became beloved by everybody else and with their popularity they always come up on the top!). I’d read blogs, forums and keep track of the trends and currently discussed mechanics. I would cruise between the testers I know and ask each one of them for an honest opinion, provided I’d be able to pin them down to a board game, whether they would be complete board game noobs, experienced players, extremely experienced authors or publishers.

If I were a professional game designer… See that’s the problem, in the first place I’m player of my own games.

I don’t start a project by saying ‘Hmm I’d like to create a game in which…’. I start with ‘Damn, I’d really enjoy playing a game in which…’.

As you can see theses are often very egocentric impulses.

In my head I have a collection of my dream games, the problem is that some of them are still only in my head. Although I keep on looking through the thousands of existing games some of my dreamed ones haven’t been yet created. It’s the case with board games, computer games and role playing games and that’s a pity because I’d really like to play them!

This is the only reason for my designing. More often than not I delay my normal work and I struggle with yet another version of my dream games, one of my ideal ones. I remake, correct, switch elements, start everything from the beginning because I know what should wait for me at the end. I’m a player with a very abnormal taste and I look for the perfect game for myself. To be more precise a few specific games. I know exactly what is it that I’d like to play! But there is no simple road leading from this knowledge to a ready-made game, at least I haven’t found it.

Finally the magic moment is upon me: here it is, I did it! I’ve got it! I created a good game, I can put my name on it, I’m 100% sure! It’s good enough! Here Ignacy have a look at it!

What does this mean? Just one simple thing. I forgot myself. I started to think as a pro designer: I prepared a solid product, let’s start the tests, let’s talk with the publisher, everything will change but the first stage is complete. Now it’s time for the other stages. Oh I know how it works, I know all too well. For twelve years we’ve been publishing games from the initial idea to a ready-made box. I took this path many times, through the smallest details, tiniest step in the long process of professional game designing and product preparation.

No. Stop. Not this time. It’s just a moment of weakness. I forgot myself and stopped searching for my perfect game. It will be just another title among thousands being published worldwide without any progress to my one true goal.

And than I-the designer get spanked and go for a sick vacation and the I-gamer come out. Merciless, demanding with an atypical taste. A player looking for a game ideal for himself. The best possible game for himself in a given genre and specified theme. I love retro-fantasy, horror, postapocalypse and most of all the claustrophobic sf horror taking place somewhere in space.

Than I look upon the prototype I’ve created once more. Is it for me? Will I loose myself in it and play without even a short break? Will I never get bored by it? Is there a similar game I’d like to play more than this one?

I picture myself after buying a box with this game inside. I’m a consumer. Player. I open, I read the instructions, I start. With a token or a character. I’m trying to see what can be done. What challenges await me, what limits and possibilities. Is this the real thing? The one I’ve been searching for? Can I really do all that I wanted with it? In it? If not that it needs a remake. It needs to once again land on the designing desk.

Is this a good method?

Should everybody share my gusto it would be. But they don’t.

This is a very bad method for professional game designers.

If I was ever to become a professional game designer I’d change it immediately and threw it into the deepest reaches of some long forgotten void. I would instead close the first stage of the designing process as soon as possible and head on to the next ones because this is where the final product is born.

Meanwhile I create games for myself and I keep searching for those few ones about which I’m sure how they should work and look like.

When I will finally repair, correct and polish these few projects that are being grinded all the time I will than have my perfect games. And I will play them all the time.

 ***

Is that all?

Nope. There is one more thing. I’d like to apologize to you all, my good folks. I lied to you. I totally lied to you. A bloggers privilege, isn’t it?

I’m not an exception among game designers, as I’ve tried to persuade you a moment ago.

Each designer has his own code, own style. Often a very particular style, like the one that music bands sometimes have or like a painter, illustrator or a writer.

Each and every designer creates not for everybody but for the people who share his gusto and expectations as far as games are concerned. At least at the prototype stage.

We all try to make the perfect game, the best one that is in it’s genre. And we all do what we can to accomplish that.

Each one of us prays for the largest possible number of players with the same taste. To become the Family Feud master of this domain, it’s not important what you know, it’s important that you think like the rest. So that when somebody asks you on a street: ‘what does a cow drink?’ you will answer with all confidence: ‘milk!’. Just like the majority.

If by some miracle your taste will be similar to the taste of a large number of players, if the later stages of testing and the publishing compromise will only adjust the game to be even more suitable for the demands of an even greater number of players and the game will be a spectacular success, no designer will cry because of this.

Even thou I’m searching for my ideal games, I wouldn’t cry as well.