The floor is lava
As children, we could intuitively turn anything into a game without any effort. It was no big deal to simply impose a game on every conceivable situation, even if it was just to claim that the floor was made of lava and couldn’t be touched directly. It was easy to reenact an episode of Star Trek right after it aired with a different outcome or completely different character behavior. At least Kirk never made out with anyone at my house. Even established games were not immune to change. Rules passed down through generations were altered as needed, adapting to the available time, space, or circumstances.
However, the ability to view ourselves as active participants in the game diminishes over time. As we age, we gradually accept the producers’ specifications and appreciate games for what they are, rather than seeing them as a platform for creativity or adapting game objectives to our own preferences.
A simple example of a deviation in the Sim City series illustrates this concept. The player can voluntarily create disasters such as volcanic eruptions, alien invasions, tornadoes, or, for purists, a simple inferno. This shift changes the game objective, allowing players to focus on restoring order. But does every possibility need to originate from the game itself? Must it be preprogrammed? Can’t we become the alien, the tornado, or the fire ourselves?
Emergent gameplay
I had wanted to try a complex flight simulator for quite some time, but I knew I would never have the time to complete even a few of the prepared missions. Additionally, I was only interested in the act of flying, not the scenarios or reenacted battlefields. Therefore, I had to create my own mission. I imagined myself stranded on an island with only a few hours left before the volcano erupted and engulfed everything. An old propeller plane, conveniently located at a nearby abandoned military base, would be my means of escape. The most important rule was that I could not read up on how to start the plane. I had to figure everything out through trial and error, just as one would if stranded on a volatile volcanic island.
The experience entertained me for several evenings. My initial attempts were challenging since I had only used arcade flight simulators before. A fully simulated aircraft, complete with all the switches and levers like in DCS World, was entirely new to me. I had no knowledge of the electronics in propeller aircraft or the specific requirements for the take-off procedure.
After three weeks and many failures, the moment had finally arrived: I had succeeded in escaping. Suck it, Volcano!
(YouTube Direktlink, German audio)
I played Fallout 3 for three years, using a realism modification (mod) that included hunger, thirst, and fatigue, and I disabled the “fast travel” function. This meant I walked everywhere to fully experience the time and landscape. After a few weeks, I could confidently navigate using various rock formations on the horizon, estimate distances, and pack provisions accordingly. With mods I programmed myself, I created small hiding places with sleeping facilities and eventually built my own hut, complete with a warm bed and a humming refrigerator.
Expanding the world through modding was a key aspect of my game, while the actual story felt secondary. The absence of a fast travel function meant that quests often took a back seat. I only continued missions when I happened to be nearby. In my mind, I asked every character who requested something from me, “It’s not urgent, is it?” Additionally, I didn’t allow myself to save before stealing, and I carried a maximum of two weapons, several handfuls of medicine, and five hand grenades in my backpack. For particularly long trips, I packed more supplies.
In Europa Universalis IV, I rolled (physical) dice to determine the disposition of the reigning ruler. As soon as the heir to the throne came to power, I redefined how harshly or leniently rebellions would be dealt with, much to the horror of my allies. My own explanation was that you cannot control how your children will manage their inheritance. The game itself assigns different characteristics to heirs to the throne, such as diplomacy or warfare. Therefore, when a ruler dies, there are slight changes. But I wanted to play in such a way that I had to take stubborn, irrational princes into account. This approach made the games more intense and scenarios involving countries like Austria or Castile much more exciting.
Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon presents a familiar tale of honor and betrayal in a kingdom. While I typically don’t focus on the story in tactical role-playing games, I knew from previous entries in the Fire Emblem series that the tactical battles are pleasantly challenging, especially at higher difficulty levels. Normally a battle is won by defeating the last enemy while ensuring the prince and key characters survive. The fallen remain behind, and new companions join the party as the story unfolds. However, I sought more: My personal goal was to ensure that no one in my regiment died, not even nameless spearmen. Protecting more than just the primary characters significantly alters the game. The maneuvers required to keep everyone alive demanded a high degree of caution, extensive trial and error, and careful planning for experience point distribution. Initially, I wasn’t sure if there would be situations where one or two redshirts would inevitably fall in the name of the story, but in the end, everyone made it to the finale: the castle courtyard was filled with heroes. The game itself didn’t acknowledge this effort. There were occasional dialogues with characters who should have died long ago, but that was about it.
Playing off-script may not seem like a compliment for a game designer, but it isn’t criticism either. Players want to engage with the game and will always seek freedom and advantages. While it’s impossible to control how players interact with the game, it’s essential to ensure that the boundaries are not too restrictive. For instance, Mario Kart allows players to choose their direction freely. If a player’s only path to personal satisfaction is to sabotage the npc in first place by intentionally falling behind, then so be it.
For me, the question of whether a game should be played as the designer intended has long ceased to be relevant. As an adult, I can no longer engage with computer games without altering the game objectives, primarily due to time constraints. What surprised me was how easy it is to transform many games into a sandbox experience. By reflecting on my childhood, I can identify where to place lava on the ground.
“Spielen gegen den Strich: Der Boden ist Lava” was originally published in German on videogametourism.at in November 2014.