Dec

17

Expect Awesome

Promotion

So, at some point in the next 5 months, I’m going to be done selling Ribbon Drive as a deluxe game&cd set. I’m going to be publishing it as a simple, sexy book. The text is going to be updated and expanded somewhat, to address some questions and concerns that people have brought up since the game was first published.

The exciting bit is that there’s going to be several hacks of Ribbon Drive included in the back of the book, in the B SIDES section. One is Radion-Accelerator Drive, my homage to Firefly.

This is one of the pieces of art that Andy Henderson is doing for that B SIDE. I think it’s titled, “Wishing I Was Offworld.” So good!

Andy first inspired that Firefly hack, at Gencon ’09. Something to this effect: “Joe, you gotta know – I love Ribbon Drive, I love its quiet moments, its understated elegance… but the moment I get my hands on it, me and my friends are going to use it to tell stories about rocket ships and dinosaurs and cowboys.” And, that boyish sincerity… it was kinda exciting. And now he’s illustrating the game borne of his inspiration. How awesome.

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Nov

25

Pay What You Want To

Design Diary / Promotion

So, maybe I’m a big hippie. Let’s see: I live in a log cabin in the mountains, in the forest. Half of the contents of my fridge were retrieved by a recent dumpster dive. I’m unemployed, and spend all my time doing art. My girlfriend and I practice free love. Being a minimalist consumer matters deeply to me. I am working every day to rewild my heart and soul. Yep, big hippie.

So, these are the words of a big hippie. Take them with a grain of salt (or a dash of nutritional yeast, if you’re also a big hippie).

I started selling Ribbon Drive on a sliding-scale/pay-what-you-want model a few months ago. It’s led to more happiness. Also, more money.

When I had the game set at a fixed retail price ($30 originally, $24 after sales had declined), people would often complain that it was priced too steeply. It’s a gorgeous product, but it’s also a really minimal design and a short book. People were forced to interact with it as a $30 (or $24) product, and some people felt bummed out about that. In turn, I felt bummed out about that.

Buying the game was a yes/no switch. You either forked over the specified amount, or you didn’t. And so, if you felt like the game was innovative and you liked it, but felt uncomfortable paying $30 for it, you had two losing situations to choose between: buy it and feel bummed out; don’t buy it and still feel bummed out.

Now, here’s how it works: I tell you how much it costs. I need at least that much money, because I’m running a business and that’s serious stuff. Beyond that, though, you pay what you want to pay. And so, if you feel like the game is innovative and you like it, and you feel comfortable paying like $22 for it, then you do that. I’m delighted to sell you something at a comfortable price. You’re delighted to get it at a comfortable price. Everyone feels good.

Now, here’s the other cool thing that’s going on here: since making this switch, I’ve sold more copies and made more money. Lots of people, given the choice, decided that the game was worth $30 to them.

I’ve sold a single copy at $18, a handful of copies at $20, lots between $22 and $28, and then a handful of copies at $30.

When I set a fixed price at $30, people were uncomfortable with that exchange. It was a troubling decision that I was asking them to make. When I freely explain my costs, and invite them into a dialogue about what they want to pay, suddenly lots of people are happy to pay that same $30.

I think that:

1.) People are generous and beautiful when you give them a chance to be and trust that they will be.

2.) People are happiest when they’re given the power to define their own experiences, even in simple and small ways. For most people, this applies to consumer experiences, too. Choice adds value to the experience, which might account for some of the reason that people are happy to pay more when given the option to.

Now, my friend Ben Lehman is doing something similar. He’s selling eBooks of two of his games (Polaris and Bliss Stage) at whatever price you want to pay. Excluding a few vocal detractors on the Story Games forums, people have been really excited about this. He’s sold over $400 worth of eBooks in a scant 5 days. These aren’t new products, either – they’ve been steadily available for a long time, now.

He’s received donations that well exceeded his previous fixed price. He’s received a huge amount of traffic and generosity. If you haven’t bought those games yet, now’s a great time to do so. Ben’s at the top of the game design craft. Polaris is one of the most beautiful games ever, one that I still return to regularly, 4.5 years after buying it.

But, I digress. I want to bring this back to the lesson I’m taking from this experiment:

People crave simple dialogue, and the ability to shape their own experiences in little ways. Bringing this dialogue to a retail experience not only makes everybody happy, it also makes you more money. People are generous and beautiful when you give them the opportunity to prove it.

Thus spoke a hippie, from his writing studio way up in the mountains.

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Jul

03

Ribbon Drive, on sale

Promotion

I’m putting Ribbon Drive on sale, while I work to sell through the last of the current print run. It’s an interesting sale model: pay cost, plus what you want to.

The physical product is really pretty. It’s sold as a booklet + compilation CD, in a DVD case. The entire book is full colour, featuring the photography and layout of Kevin Allen Jr. Whilst pretty, the cost of the game has been a deterrent for some (as its retailed for $30CDN). And I hate the idea that the price tag would turn people off. So I’m doing two things to combat that:

1.) In the future, I’m doing away with the boxed set, and just releasing a book. I’m in the process of laying that out right now.

2.) For the rest of the current print run (of which I have perhaps 50 copies), I’m offering a super cool sale. It’s a sale where you pay [cost + what you want to].

[Cost + What You Want To Pay]
Here’s how this works: it costs me about $9 to ship the game anywhere in the world. And producing it costs me $8 per copy. So, the cost portion is $16.
Figure out how much you want to pay me on top of that. A buck? Five? Ten? Combine [cost + what you want to pay]. Enter that amount, and the game is on its way!

Click on the RIBBON DRIVE page for more info, and for the button you click to pay me.

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Sep

11

How To Resolve Intense, Interpersonal Situations in Ribbon Drive

Promotion / Telling Stories Together

Graham Walmsley recently hosted a game of Ribbon Drive and his group encountered an interesting situation – two characters were locked in intense struggle, and the players didn’t know how to resolve this tense situation. To really zoom in on the issue, although either of them could have just decided what happened, they wanted the game to support them by providing some kind of structure (whether concrete resolution, flags, choices or else). A game should indeed do this for its players. Ribbon Drive gives you those tools, but they aren’t very obvious. This how to post will explain what those tools are and how to use them, in the context of resolving intense, interpersonal situations between characters.

Specifically, Steve posted the following situation:
I played Rashid. My character’s futures were “I hope I find someone” and “I’m never going back”. Rashid was on the run from the gang from whom he’d stolen drugs. Basically he was an asshole, causing Jenni to clip a jackknifed lorry.

In the scene with the crash, Rashid pinned Jenni’s foot on the gas pedal. It was a good moment of tension but it didn’t have any clear method of resolution.

I think part of the problem might have been that there wasn’t any clear way of resolving issues between the travellers. They didn’t seem like obstacles. I mean, could I have made Jenni not leave the band by using my drugs trait to keep her happy? That didn’t seem right either.

The first thing to keep in mind is that Ribbon Drive differs from many games that you’ve played, in that it is not a game that cares very much about what happens. That sounds like a big statement, and indeed it is. What do I mean by it? Well, this: the system doesn’t offer “conflict resolution” tools, because even in the midst of the conflict, it has different priorities. Two of those priorities are music and Futures, and I’m going to unpack how to turn to them in such a situation:

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Aug

20

How To Be Quiet Together

Promotion / Telling Stories Together

So, in the middle of July, I published Ribbon Drive. It’s a game wherein you create stories about road movies.  If you didn’t already know that, click on the “Ribbon Drive” page of this site.

This is the first of a few very specific “how to” posts I’m going to make to support the game. The game is complete as written – these aren’t errata or updates, they’re just further exploration that I invite you to share with me. They’re the fireside conversations with the designer.

Ribbon Drive opens with a difficult task: as a group, listen to a song in silence, while thinking about it. To the uninitiated, that might sound really easy. It’s actually not. I’ve talked about the first reason why in earlier posts: being silent together is a difficult and sometimes uncomfortable thing to do. Many of us aren’t as accustomed to it as we say we are. The second reason why this task is hard is because we’re asked to pull something concrete (an image, a story, a premise for a road trip) out of something abstract. This kind of open-ended interpretation is common in therapy, and poetry, and some literature… but in general we demand concrete and immediately knowable media (simple movies, linear narratives, three-act structure, background information, etc). To ask a group of players to start in the abstract and move to the concrete is actually a big step away from the norm. Finally, it’s difficult because we don’t know if we’re doing it right. The idea is to share and discuss after the song, but to do all of your interpretting and immersing during. There’s a legitimate fear that you’ll misunderstand the song, or that you’ll fail to share what others understood from it.

If I know this is a difficult task, why does the game open with it? First of all,  because it seems like an easy task, and it doesn’t require any immediate sharing or creative production. The buy-in is easy, though the task itself is as big as you can handle it being. Second of all, it sets up some pretty clear expectations of what the game looks for: listening to music, being thoughtful, adapting to the flow. Finally, because it’s interesting to see what we do with already beloved art, and I want to put that at the forefront of the game.

So, how do you make the most of this tricky task? First, keep in mind:

1.) We’re intentionally de-contextualizing something. We’re not going to have Chris Clavin on the road trip with us, so the context that he wrote the song in doesn’t need to matter to us. We can let it matter, but only if we want to. In other words, we have no obligation to interpret what the song was trying to tell us. We can go our own direction with it.

2.) Difference in interpretation is good. If three of us envision a trip through murky Ohio backroads, but one of us sees showgirls livin’ the high life… Suddenly we have a range to choose from. We can play either of those points, or an intermediary. We can combine those things, too: what about a bunch of showgirls, booked for “the tour of their lives”, only to find that it runs through murky backroad Ohio? Or, what about a bunch of rural Ohio girls, deciding to move to Vegas and become showgirls?

3.) Difference in depth is good. Some players are going to read deeper into a song than others – they’ll unpack the imagery, get what it’s really about, tap into the creative gusto behind it. Some won’t. This difference in depth of opinion is good! The deeper interpretations might provide a strong thematic or contextual element, while the simpler interpretations will give us tangible facts about the trip. If someone says, “It’s clearly a song about child abuse and working through your issues”, you shouldn’t be disheartened that all you got was “I think it’s set in Canada,” or “they mention green in the song, so maybe our van is green!” Different depths of interpretation give us different things that  compliment each other.

4.) Every answer is right. As a culmination of the other three: every answer is correct. Simple answers, deep answers… incomplete answers and comprehensive ones. If you hear a song and envision lemon orchards, voice that. If you hear a song and all you come up with is the word “musky”, voice that. In the absolute worst case (ie, your idea gets shot down), it’ll still provide definition through contrast.

So, what are some techniques for sharing this focused silence?

1.) Find a comfortable space. There’s nothing to stop you from laying on the floor, closing your eyes, nodding along, standing up and leaning against the wall… If you aren’t at your utmost comfort in your chair, step out of it. It’ll put you in a deeper state of relaxation and leave you better prepared to take in the song.

2.) Explore images. If a particular line grabs you, try to envision that line in your head. Invent both a narrative and a visual track for the song as it plays out. Don’t force imagery if it’s not coming (be quick to move on), but definitely invite the opportunity.

3.) Use the printed lyrics as a grounding point, but nothing more. If you’re following the rule that says “bring printed lyrics for the first two songs,” then you’ve got a page in front of you which can be helpful in decoding the meaning of the song. Don’t focus on it to the detriment of focusing on the actual song. When first playing this game, I kept my eyes glued to the lyrics, and as a result missed the main activity: open visioning and engaged listening. Use the lyrics to clarify a line, find out where you are in the general structure of the song, or follow along for a few seconds in order to feel “grounded”. Don’t rely on them beyond that. They’ll always be there when the song ends, if need be.

4.) Use everything at your disposal. While this exercise is focused on the song playing, there’s no reason that you can’t look around you for additional inspiration. Watch people’s faces and note their reactions to the song. Look at how the sunlight streams through the blinds, and think about how this image interacts with the song. Note how the song fills the space you’re in – do they clash? do the compliment one another? does it feel like a natural pairing? Feel free to look around you and think about what’s going on in the space you’re in, especially if you’re thinking about how these things interact with the song.

5.) Ground the song in something you know. What does this song remind you of? If this song were to soundtrack a moment of your life, or a larger experience, what would it be? Ground the song in memory and situation, because this will give both the song and your game of Ribbon Drive more traction.

Ribbon Drive opens with a simple yet difficult task. It asks you to open up your mind, work with the abstract, work with already existing art that at least someone at the table loves, and create something meaningful as a result. And, it asks you to start this process in silence. Hopefully this post gives you a bit of an idea what to do with that silence, if you were stuck.

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Jul

15

Soft Play.

Telling Stories Together

I’m back!

Summer has been going well. Ribbon Drive is nearing publication. My garden is doing fairly well. And I got back from Go Play alright. Go Play helped me realize something about my play preferences – a shift I’ve made in the past two years.

We sometimes talk about this mode of play that is goal-focused, situation-driven, poweful, assertive, emotionally aggressive, testing and meaningful. It’s a subset of Story Now play, and I’ve heard it described as “playing passionately,” “story by the throat,” and the less flattering “face stabby play.” And I used to be all about this. Yeah! Let’s play close to home, and let’s be really INTENSE about it! So there’s this spectrum that runs from easy/safe/light play to demanding/vulnerable/intense play. Basically, “light-hearted play” vs “intense play”.

There’s a second axis that I find doesn’t get much attention. It’s that of quiet/subtle/downbeat play to loud/obvious/gonzo play. Basically, “soft play” versus “thunderous play”.

Most of the time, when “intense play” gets discussed, it’s assumed we’re also talking about “thunderous play.” A lot of newer games support emotional violence, pushing really hard on character/player goals, centralizing conflicts (the phrase “push to conflict” being a common one) and rewarding powerful and tense moments. Stabbing your mother to protect your forbidden love = awesome.

The shift in my play preferences is that I no longer like this combination. I’m cool with combining “light-hearted play” and “thunderous play”. In this combination, there’s a focus on getting the most fun out of a moment of play, of having actions sound cool, and of building upon any and all suggestions (ie, not filtering). This kind of play works well with Dungeons and Dragons or Danger Patrol or Inspectres. Firing your rocket gun while jumping out of a flaming zepplin = awesome.

I’m fine with “light-hearted play” and “soft play”. This kind of play focuses on appreciating little character quirks, working together, figuring out what you want, and having fun.  Breaking the Ice does this really well; the endgame mechanics are: look at the relationship you’ve created. Decide whether or not you want it to last. A thoughtful end to a feelgood game about trying to make something nice work out. Playing out the simple dialogue of two quirky people in a supermarket = awesome. Maybe. Perhaps this cross-section is a straw man – I don’t really know this type of play well at all.

I’m most interested in mixing intense play and soft play.  This is the kind of play where things hit home, but they do so slowly. There’s room for subtlety. There”s also room for abrupt, sudden violence. The difference between this abrupt violence and that of “thunderous play” is that when play is soft, we watch the violence shake itself out. We see repercussions, we follow the downbeats after the action. Play utlizes pregnant pauses, focuses on difficult decisions and transitional moments, and makes us think about what our characters really want.

I’m working on two games right now. Ribbon Drive and Perfect. Ribbon Drive is  a game about everyday people on road trips, learning to let go (and sometimes giving up on their dreams). Perfect is a game about committing crimes in a Victorian Dystopia, and facing the punishment and brainwashing that follows if you get caught. I started working on them both in earnest months ago. Ribbon Drive is ready to print, whereas Perfect has a lot of writing left. Part of the reason is that Ribbon Drive is a simpler game. A bigger part is that Perfect is intense/thunderous, whereas Ribbon Drive is intense/soft; my interests have shifted and its hard to bring them back.

I don’t see a lot of support for intense/soft games. The techniques are less explored – utilizing pauses and silence; mechanically codifying ambiguity or indecision (how would this work?), or even signalling it for that matter; delaying important decisions without escalating them; using character avoidance without it being a form of player blocking; asking hard questions; reincorporation over time; downbeats; de-escalation; backing down (this is explored in some games, like Dogs in the Vineyard, but still fairly virgin territory for most); and compromise.

I’ve seen some games that do this – Breaking the Ice can do intense/soft as well as light-hearted/soft. Roleplaying poems and stuff written by Jackson Tegu are often really meaningful and powerful but also really quiet and introspective. But there’s something of a void still existing. I’m excited to be nearing completion on Ribbon Drive – I think I’ve done a really good job of exploring some techniques for play that’s both intense and quiet. But I’m still searching for other games that do this well.

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May

19

Hunting Rabbits (Shh…)

Promotion / Telling Stories Together

I’m currently working on a story game called Ribbon Drive. It’s taken my heart by storm, and I’m really excited about its upcoming release. Ribbon Drive is a game where you tell a story about a road trip, and all the meaning and contemplation that pours out of it. It’s a game about letting go on the open road. The game uses mix CDs as a driving force to shape play.

One of the most successful parts of play, I’ve found, is the opening. We shuffle the mix CDs. We draw one at random, put it in the machine, and press play. We listen to to the first song in silence. Afterwards, we pause the CD and interpret how that first song lends to a road trip premise. We use it as a foundation point for our story. Why has this stage been successful? Well, all we’re asking is that you listen to a song (which had an equal opportunity of being your song, and might well be) and think about it. Participation seems to require very little.

But here’s what I’ve noticed: being both present and silent is very hard for some people, myself included. There’ve been games of Ribbon Drive where I’ve put down the lyrics to the song while it played; people who felt most comfortable tracking the words would do so. In games where I didn’t offer this thing to do, where your options were to either close your eyes or look around the room, the vibe I got was significantly different. It was a bit anxious, in that people seemed a little less comfortable in their own skin. There was reservation about sharing their opinions afterwards.

Being both present and silent is hard. Experiment: try to meet and hold someone’s gaze for fifteen seconds, without either of you saying anything. You can repeat this experiment as many times a day as you like. See how many people break this gaze. See how often you break this gaze. Does it feel comfortable and natural? My answers are, pretty invariably: almost everyone; almost every time someone else doesn’t; no.

Silence, as a form of communication, is underexplored, because it is difficult and often misread. I’m not talking about shutting up, nor am I talking about the silent treatment(ie, using silence to communicate how you are unengaged), but rather silence as a tool for active, engaged participation. Before I get farther into why this might be difficult for us, let’s look at how silence could be used as a tool.

Silence Can Demonstrate Agreement. Silence can demonstrate the absence of objections, the support of the speaker. It can demonstrate your belief that their argument is without necessary additions or revisions. Danger: this silence can also be a sign that a communicator lacks confidence that they and their concerns will be met fairly.

Silence Can Demonstrate Engaged Listening. Silence can demonstrate that one is focused on listening and appreciating. If the speaker has paused or stopped, and the listener is still silent, this could be seen as a signal that the listener is interested in hearing more. Danger: this silence could also be seen as non-participatory listening, and might be used when the listener is incapable of meaningful engagement.

Silence Can Demonstrate Ongoing Consideration. Silence can demonstrate that one is taking time to mull over the idea and consider its applications before challenging it or moving on. Silence could signify that one is interested in this idea to the extent that they would prefer to stay with it, rather than keep advancing the conversation. Danger: this silence could also mean that the ideas aren’t worth engaging, or that the silent party is unsure how to engage a response.

Silence Can Demonstrate Your Priorities. Silence can carry the very powerful message that you care more about hearing another’s ideas than sharing your own. This is a form of permission-granting similar to Silence Can Demonstrate Agreement, but coupled with a statement of preference. Danger: this silence can also demonstrate that you feel your priorities are invalid, or that you won’t be given due spotlight (and so are resigned to another’s communicative priorities).

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