Post by btavorvick on Jan 29, 2014 18:27:50 GMT
Hi everyone. I wanted to ask a moment of your time to deliver an apology and an explanation.
I want to start off by saying that I’m sorry. The frustration that people are feeling about Beyond the Ӕther is based on decisions that I made or had a hand in. I have talked about the game in a way that built different expectations, and this has caused a lot of friction recently. The following explanation is not meant to absolve myself of responsibility, but to be a tool for a future of greater understanding.
When I first designed Beyond the Ӕther, it was a response to choices in American Boffer Larp that I disagreed with. It started from the same base as many games, and amounted to not much more than an attempt to streamline and refine the existing games I had played in. But during this phase of the design, I was learning more and more about Larp and what choices had which effects. As time went on, the game system drifted further and further from being a response into trying to become something of its own. Its roots were always in that original design, however.
When I decided that Beyond the Ӕther was a game involving tragedy, war, and extremism, I thought back to games I had played in the past that had surprised me with their message. In some of the best of them, the mechanics slowly led the player into the game’s message. By interacting with the mechanics without fully grasping their consequences, the player can be encouraged to perform actions that can serve to avoid railroading into the message. This was something I attempted to design into Beyond the Ӕther.
I did not speak about it as a game of war and extremism, because I wanted for that message to arise naturally in the game. I wanted to let the players discover the basic nature of the world and its rules. And I wanted for the players to take an active role in creating that shared story. I also didn’t talk about the theme because of my desire to make the game sound inviting. It is really hard to speak about something with tragic themes in a way that makes it sound like fun. So I spoke about the setting and the world, and trusted that the players would discover that message as the game progressed. This was one choice that I wish I could do differently. By not revealing the theme of the game, I failed to give the players tools to see where I had started from in the design. We weren’t coming from the same place, and so what we saw in the game was different.
Over time, I noticed that the actions people were taking started to drift away from the original course I had tried to set. I had designed this to be a game on the razor’s edge of war, where the characters were given the ability to decide the fates of nations based on the needs of their homeland. But so many of the characters came into the game promoting peace and understanding. My message of extremism began to collapse, as so many characters decided to work together.
This was complicated by the statement of intent I’d made for the crew: Yes, And. Unfortunately, that phrase meant different things to different people. I had thought of it as “Yes, you can do that, and here’s the consequences.” This could reinforce the theme of the game, while promoting player agency. But this was confusing, because there were some things that couldn’t be done while preserving the theme and message. I hadn’t told the players where those lines were, and the resulting confusion led to a lot of frustration and anxiety. That was a slip-up on my part, and it promoted miscommunication.
I tried to fix the problem of player agency and message by incorporating more elements that encouraged conflict; Land Deeds and War Cards didn’t do what I wanted, confusing people about the game without creating story. Then, last September, I had a conversation about consent and responsibility in Larp and it got me thinking. Why not start revealing some of how the game worked? By having that discussion openly, I could let the players in on the theme of the game and get their help on reworking the experience of Beyond the Ӕther.
I started this process by posting up the numbers that go into determining victory between the player factions. This had the effect of revealing that the game’s duration was not fixed to five years, but was set by the players. I had been saying for a long time that “the game is designed to last for five years,” working off of my numbers for how games like Munchkin progress. I didn’t say often enough that the game’s length was in the hands of the players, and I’m sorry for that.
It also scared some people that Beyond the Ӕther might change exactly into what no one wanted: a game where decisions were made based on numbers rather than story. If we had a community that was any less awesome, I would have been scared right along with them. I’ve seen over time that our players are much more interested in sharing a story and a world than in trying to crunch numbers.
These responses caused us as staff to open up questions to our players: what have you liked? What would you ask us to do differently? We started asking these questions so that we could find out how Beyond the Ӕther would need to change in order to better meet the needs of its community.
The sudden departure of three staff in the middle of this process changed the questions. I now had to know something even more basic: should we continue with Beyond the Ӕther? Many people answered with the strong opinion that Beyond the Ӕther could keep going. But with just two of us still on staff, I didn’t know whether we could continue. As of this writing, I still don’t.
In the meantime, while we work on the future path for Beyond the Ӕther, I wanted to write this note. It hopefully helps everyone to understand where things have gone with BtA, and where they might go in the future. As always, I really do want to hear ideas, thoughts, and questions about where we are going, as a community and as a game. Together, we can improve Beyond the Ӕther, creating a space for even better expression and shared art.
I hope you’ll work with me, as I learn from you how to do this job.
Paul Vorvick
I want to start off by saying that I’m sorry. The frustration that people are feeling about Beyond the Ӕther is based on decisions that I made or had a hand in. I have talked about the game in a way that built different expectations, and this has caused a lot of friction recently. The following explanation is not meant to absolve myself of responsibility, but to be a tool for a future of greater understanding.
When I first designed Beyond the Ӕther, it was a response to choices in American Boffer Larp that I disagreed with. It started from the same base as many games, and amounted to not much more than an attempt to streamline and refine the existing games I had played in. But during this phase of the design, I was learning more and more about Larp and what choices had which effects. As time went on, the game system drifted further and further from being a response into trying to become something of its own. Its roots were always in that original design, however.
When I decided that Beyond the Ӕther was a game involving tragedy, war, and extremism, I thought back to games I had played in the past that had surprised me with their message. In some of the best of them, the mechanics slowly led the player into the game’s message. By interacting with the mechanics without fully grasping their consequences, the player can be encouraged to perform actions that can serve to avoid railroading into the message. This was something I attempted to design into Beyond the Ӕther.
I did not speak about it as a game of war and extremism, because I wanted for that message to arise naturally in the game. I wanted to let the players discover the basic nature of the world and its rules. And I wanted for the players to take an active role in creating that shared story. I also didn’t talk about the theme because of my desire to make the game sound inviting. It is really hard to speak about something with tragic themes in a way that makes it sound like fun. So I spoke about the setting and the world, and trusted that the players would discover that message as the game progressed. This was one choice that I wish I could do differently. By not revealing the theme of the game, I failed to give the players tools to see where I had started from in the design. We weren’t coming from the same place, and so what we saw in the game was different.
Over time, I noticed that the actions people were taking started to drift away from the original course I had tried to set. I had designed this to be a game on the razor’s edge of war, where the characters were given the ability to decide the fates of nations based on the needs of their homeland. But so many of the characters came into the game promoting peace and understanding. My message of extremism began to collapse, as so many characters decided to work together.
This was complicated by the statement of intent I’d made for the crew: Yes, And. Unfortunately, that phrase meant different things to different people. I had thought of it as “Yes, you can do that, and here’s the consequences.” This could reinforce the theme of the game, while promoting player agency. But this was confusing, because there were some things that couldn’t be done while preserving the theme and message. I hadn’t told the players where those lines were, and the resulting confusion led to a lot of frustration and anxiety. That was a slip-up on my part, and it promoted miscommunication.
I tried to fix the problem of player agency and message by incorporating more elements that encouraged conflict; Land Deeds and War Cards didn’t do what I wanted, confusing people about the game without creating story. Then, last September, I had a conversation about consent and responsibility in Larp and it got me thinking. Why not start revealing some of how the game worked? By having that discussion openly, I could let the players in on the theme of the game and get their help on reworking the experience of Beyond the Ӕther.
I started this process by posting up the numbers that go into determining victory between the player factions. This had the effect of revealing that the game’s duration was not fixed to five years, but was set by the players. I had been saying for a long time that “the game is designed to last for five years,” working off of my numbers for how games like Munchkin progress. I didn’t say often enough that the game’s length was in the hands of the players, and I’m sorry for that.
It also scared some people that Beyond the Ӕther might change exactly into what no one wanted: a game where decisions were made based on numbers rather than story. If we had a community that was any less awesome, I would have been scared right along with them. I’ve seen over time that our players are much more interested in sharing a story and a world than in trying to crunch numbers.
These responses caused us as staff to open up questions to our players: what have you liked? What would you ask us to do differently? We started asking these questions so that we could find out how Beyond the Ӕther would need to change in order to better meet the needs of its community.
The sudden departure of three staff in the middle of this process changed the questions. I now had to know something even more basic: should we continue with Beyond the Ӕther? Many people answered with the strong opinion that Beyond the Ӕther could keep going. But with just two of us still on staff, I didn’t know whether we could continue. As of this writing, I still don’t.
In the meantime, while we work on the future path for Beyond the Ӕther, I wanted to write this note. It hopefully helps everyone to understand where things have gone with BtA, and where they might go in the future. As always, I really do want to hear ideas, thoughts, and questions about where we are going, as a community and as a game. Together, we can improve Beyond the Ӕther, creating a space for even better expression and shared art.
I hope you’ll work with me, as I learn from you how to do this job.
Paul Vorvick