I play games, but can never again be a player
I love games, video games especially, and consider them a very important part of my life. They represent my career goals, my interests, and my hobbies. I am a designer, a programmer, a critic, and a fan, but there is one thing I don’t think I can be anymore: a player.
Now I don’t mean to imply that I am never going to play games again because that would be very out of character for me and I think my friends would be worried that someone stole my blog credentials. However, even though I play all types of games frequently, I am not a “player” in the design sense of the word. When designers make their games, everything they do, every choice they make, is for the sole purpose of giving the player a better experience while simultaneously hiding their work. In a well designed game, the player doesn’t notice all of the specific reasons why their experience is intuitive and fun, they just understand their reaction to the game and go from there. In this sense of what it means to be a player, I no longer fit the mold.
A perfect example of this can be found in my experience with playing, designing, and running Humans Vs Zombies (HvZ), a 10-day long game of tag played outside on campus where zombies attempt to tag humans, and humans attempt to fend off the zombie horde with Nerf blasters. HvZ is a very fun game in general and if you ever get the opportunity to play, I highly recommend it. At Case Western Reserve University, we had additional layers of gameplay on top of the standard goal of “survive all 10 days as a human without being tagged” or “tag more humans than any other zombie.” Every other day, the leaders of the game (known as Core), would hold an hour-long mission. The objective of these missions varied wildly, but they frequently played off of video game tropes. Some of our missions took the form of fetch quests, recon missions, tower defense games, and more. Every mission was unique, and Core would always wait a few years before repeating old mission ideas in order to keep things fresh for the veteran players.
Due to the biannual schedule of HvZ and the length of the game, Core designed at least 5 missions every semester, and I have personally had a hand in designing over 25 of them. What I’m trying to say is that I have had years of design experience with HvZ, while very little time as a true player of the game. My experience with Core started my first semester freshman year when I injured myself during the promotional event for the game and the members of Core took me under their wing to make it up to me. While I didn’t have a hand in planning any of the missions my freshman year, I helped Core run the game and went to their meetings. Even when my injury healed and I played my first proper game of HvZ I was never truly a player. Most of my friends thought I was a member of Core because of my past history with them. I joined Core at the end of my freshman year, spending my sophomore year as Treasurer, and my junior year as the President.
As the semesters went by and I gained more design experience, I came to realize that I had a fundamentally different way of looking at the games I played than the regular HvZ players did. While the players debated their next move or tried to figure out what the other team was thinking, I was always checking to make sure the game was balanced and fair. One of the struggles of designing a real world game is that the only way to enforce the rules is to have an admin witness and call out any infractions of those rules. With over 300 players and only 14 admins on a good day, rule enforcement was an uphill battle. In the eyes of the players, the rules were something to question, test the limits of, and analyze for any kind of weakness. Players would pore over the rules of every mission, searching for some technicality that might give them a leg up over their opponents. For them, winning was the highest priority.
On the designer side, this was sometimes a nightmare to work with. Our goal was always to make the game fun, challenging, and, most importantly, balanced. Seriously, the average Core member says the word “balanced” more often than any other word in the English language. When we actually got the chance to play our missions instead of acting as admins for them (an especially rare occurrence for me), we never stopped being designers. If something needed to be changed on the fly to make the game more fun for everyone, Core members would be pulled out of missions and reassigned to any area of the mission that needed the most help. Even when we did play a mission all the way through, it was an extreme faux pas to attempt to actually win. Now I’m not saying that we all purposely played like idiots, but if you were a Core member playing a mission, the understanding was that you were not to push the limits of the rules to your advantage, and if things looked to be too easy for your team because you were acting like a badass, you would dumb down your own skillset a little. As designers, we didn’t find our success in winning a mission, but in hearing positive feedback when the mission was over.
The key difference between being a player and a designer is what your definition of success is. As a player in a multiplayer game, success means winning and feeling empowered in that victory, but as a designer of a multiplayer game, success means creating the most exciting and interesting experience that you can. Now, due to this mindset, I can’t go back to being just a player. Even though I am no longer part of HvZ Core, I can’t bring myself to adopt the mindset that the rules should be pushed and questioned, and that any advantage you have over the other team should be exploited. I am certain that if I play HvZ this fall, I would still spend the entire game controlling my actions to make the game more balanced and fun for everyone. I won’t be seen as a badass, I won’t lead my team to victory, and under no circumstances will I win this way.
But you know what? I think that’s okay.












