Making Bad Games
In developing immersive and engaging games for school classrooms, it has often occurred to me that I might basically be building ‘bad games’.
Consider a teacher and class of students playing a game as part of their lesson time, and then consider a group of friends sitting down to play a game recreationally. These two very different contexts produce very different aims and constraints, which mean that very different types of games will be ‘good’ in the classroom compared to typical recreational games. Consequently, I often find myself creating play experiences that I wouldn’t design as recreational games.
It’s worth pointing out that there are different types of games you can play in the classroom, for different purposes. I’ve explored that idea previously, and suggested a tentative taxonomy. For the purposes of this discussion, I’m focusing on the kinds of games that usually excite me most – engaging, immersive play experiences like Terra Fabula and Ararat.
As games in an educational context, the most obvious consideration is that they need to meet some educational objective. To ‘teach’ something. However, that doesn’t mean they have to be that different from recreational games. Most of us can point to games we’ve played with friends for pleasure that have taught us one thing or another. For instance, playing Monopoly taught me that I don’t want to play any more Monopoly.
Rich, immersive play experiences tend to be expensive in terms of time. We usually run Terra Fabula in about six hours spread over the course of a week. The pilot of Ararat took over eight hours. In a packed curriculum it’s hard to justify allocating that kind of time to novel pedagogy. Consequently, we generally have to work with a single playthrough. So perhaps the most significant constraint, then, is that experiential classroom games will only be played once by any individual player.
The need to cater to the interests and abilities of a diverse group of students introduces two further constraints. I find myself trying to make sure that my games have ‘something for everyone’ and have essentially zero teach time.
Having something for everyone means not leaning to heavily into any particular genre, play style or mechanic. In any given class you might have a handful of students who would love a crunchy Eurogame, and another half a dozen who would hate that – but would love a rules-light, story-driven role-playing game. Some might enjoy high interaction, others would choose a solo experience if they could. And of course there will always be a few who are turned off by the very idea of a ‘board game’. Creating an experience that has elements to engage each group, while not overwhelming them with aspects of play that they don’t enjoy is an interesting challenge.
Zero teach time is an equally tricky ask, but given the limited time available in most school schedules and the difficulty of maintaining focus with a group of students who aren’t there by choice means that getting the time required for ‘learning to play’ down as low as possible is crucial. Three ways I have found this achievable are:
- having the teacher deliver a ‘rolling teach’ that gradually introduces any rules as they are needed;
- creating a complex overarching experience constructed from many simple moments of play; and
- embedding the rules in the material components – making boards, cards and other player resources do more of the hard work.
There are also practical realities of school that classroom games need to work around. Over multiple sessions with a class of thirty, it is inevitable that some students will be away for one of the sessions. The game needs to be resilient enough to let those players ‘catch up’ easily on their return. Conventional wisdom also holds that there is a range of about seven years of ability within a typical class, as well as increasing recognition of significant levels of neurodiversity, so games need to cater to quite a wide range of strengths and abilities.
In summary, I have found a game that fits well in the classroom context tends to have;
- a rolling teach, with very small blocks of learning time required;
- a mix of different experiences that draw on different play styles and genres;
- multiple small playable elements that are part of a larger whole;
- flexibility that caters to the abilities of different students, and allows individuals to drop in and out; and
- an impact achieved in a single play through.
Contrast that with recreational games, where players actively choose games situated deep in the genres they enjoy, where once can oftern assume a degree of momogeneity of ability with adult groups, where they are willing to invest at least some time in learning the game, and where they play multiples times to build their understanding and appreciation of a game. Given all this, it is unsurprising that they should look different – it would actually be concerning if they looked the same.
Distinctions like this are important to keep in mind when designing for the classroom, or when repurposing recreational games for the classroom. The aim is to design games that are fit for purpose. Often this means that something I create for the classroom might not work in a casual gaming environment – and converselty, most of the amazing games I love recreationally would struggle in a classroom.
