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Zen and the Art of Immersive Gameplay

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“The world is nothing but an illusion,” says the stoner mystic. “Reality is all in our own heads, man.” While his very words force me to start flicking his ears and ask, “Is this an illusion? How about this?” his straw-man argument does bring up a good point regarding games and immersion.

I know the world is real because it’s bigger than I am. Farmers are growing corn in Iowa, lawmakers are passing bills, and disasters are wrecking terrible havoc. I won’t see any of these things first-hand, but accept that they are part of the world. Why?

Because of the evidence.

My can of corn says, “Proudly grown by farmers in Iowa.” People are acting differently, in accordance with the new law. News reports are full of disaster stories and images.

It’s all evidence of a larger, more complicated world around me.

Immersion vs. Engagement: Fight!

(Warning: the following is all high-brow theoretical stuff, in which I throw terms into the air like clay pigeons, and shoot each of them with definitions of my own design.)

“Immersive” is one of those buzzword adjectives that folks love to stick onto their games, along with “compelling,” and “fat-free.” It suggestion a certain submerging of the player into the game, such that he is actually breathing the game play, and absorbing the game world through the very pores of his skin.

“Engaging” is another such buzzword. At first glance the two terms seem synonymous, but I’ll argue that they’re not.

When a game is engaging, the player is no longer concerned with its surface attributes (the graphics in a video game, the artwork on a card game, or the innumerable bits of a board game). Rather, he is engaged with the game as its own thing. He’s not thinking about how to play, but simply playing.

For example, once you’ve gotten into Minecraft, you stop seeing the game world as the series of simple bricks it is, but engage with it as an organic realm full of breathtaking terrain and hateful monsters lusting for your blood. On the tabletop, Arkham Horror is intimidating at first, with its forest-worth of cards and cardboard bits, but by the time the Great Old One awakens at the end, the players are so engaged, they’re grabbing the dice and flipping cards without a second thought.

Immersion is not the same as engagement. Rather, it facilitates engagement. Specifically, it helps the player engage with the game by encouraging him to suspend his disbelief.

A player is more likely to engage with a game if he is properly immersed.

The best way to immerse the player is convincing him that the game world is much bigger than it really is. And how do we do that?

We lie.

Falsifying the Evidence

We know the real world is bigger than we are because of all the evidence. Likewise, if we want to convince the player that the game world doesn’t begin and end with him, we need to supply the evidence. For example…

  • A newspaper tells of the stock market crashing (and there are homeless beggars with signs on the street).
  • NPCs are talking about the werewolves that attacked the village of Graven’s Mill.
  • A sign advertises homes for sale, detailing their three-stall garages and indoor anti-grav pools.
  • The radio DJ warns of heat stroke symptoms on this, the 12th day in a row of temps over 100.

Of course, all this is just evidence. In reality, there is no stock market, Graven’s Mill doesn’t exist, you can’t visit the homes for sale, and the radio DJ is just an MP3 in your headphones.

This is evidence of a larger world that does not exist. It’s all an illusion — an illusion that leads to immersion.

Lord of Illusions

The key to immersion — to use your false evidence to really sell the illusion of the larger world — is continuity. Because, as Stephen King points out in one of his 2000 books, disbelief is heavy, and it takes a lot to suspend it. It doesn’t take much to unbalance the player and make him drop his load of disbelief on his foot, thus disengaging him from the game.

I’ve broken this concept into three categories, listed here in order of importance:

  • Tangible continuity. This is what we mostly think of when discussing “continuity.” The immersive evidence should support and reinforce the world established through game play. If you have killed the evil warlord, the peasants should not still be complaining about how he beats them. If it’s a modern-day game, there shouldn’t be references to magical spells.
  • Tonal continuity. If it’s a serious game, the immersive elements should likewise be serious. If it’s a light-hearted game, the elements shouldn’t include bloody corpses or suicide cults.
  • Thematic continuity. The immersive elements should support the theme of the game play. If the game play doesn’t have a theme, the immersive elements can add one, creating a world where previously there were only mechanics.

The Master of Immersion

Immersion is great, but it is always subject to game play.

Great game play leads to engagement.

Immersion can facilitate that engagement by supporting the game play with elements that make the world seem larger and more complex than it really is.

The key words here are “facilitate” and “support.” Without game play, you’ve got nothing.

And Then?

Am I wrong? Did I overstate? Oversimplify? Misuse terms that other, brighter minds have already defined? Let me know in the comments and let’s discuss.

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