Fukio Mitsuji – What Makes an Interesting Game? (1989)

In our previous column, I touched upon methods for generating game ideas. This time, I would like to explore what lies at the very foundation of games, as well as the essence that makes them truly engaging.

When we think about gameplay, the idea of pitting your wits against a computer is actually a very recent phenomenon. Before then, play was fundamentally oriented toward human interaction, filled with a deeply human element of tactical back-and-forth: what we call "kakehiki."1 This was true whether you were playing shogi, poker, or even a simple game of kick-the-can.

Think back to when video games first emerged. Why, exactly, did players go crazy for games like Breakout and Space Invaders back then? While many factors are at play that cannot be fully explained in a single word, if I had to choose just one to discuss here, it would be this: the novel appeal of a tactical back-and-forth against an artificial intelligence.

However, even when facing a computer, games with a shallow degree of tactical engagement feel incredibly dry to play. In those cases, you end up feeling that pitting your wits against another human would be far more interesting. We must realize that video games are not interesting simply because they are "computer games", but rather, they are interesting precisely because they contain this tactical back-and-forth.

Of the computer games that I discussed in my previous essays, the stellar ones all possessed a unique tactical appeal that differed from competing against a fellow human. It could be described as a challenge directed at a singular "intelligence"--the computer itself. Unlike human opponents, computers never feel burdened; they are always ready to play, and they hold the potential to match their playstyle to the intelligence of the individual player.

Moreover, as you overcome each challenge the computer presents, it raises the bar to test you on an even higher intellectual level. By creating scenarios impossible in the physical world, the rise of video games has granted us a flavor of tactical depth never felt before. When we set out to create games, we must constantly grapple with the question of how to generate even deeper tactical engagement for players.

If a game features enemy characters, one approach is to instill them with a deeper sense of intelligent life. Conversely, in a puzzle game that features enemies, making their movements as simple as possible might actually deepen the tactical back-and-forth in a different sense. Giving enemies human-like intelligence will not automatically make every game interesting, but our primary consideration should always be how to increase this tactical depth. Now, let us look back at the "games of old" once more to explore the various forms this interaction can take.

Take shogi as an example. In shogi, you think deeply, read several moves ahead, and place your piece only when fully satisfied that your move is perfect. Yet an unexpected development can suddenly arise from an unforeseen angle, making it crystal clear that your supposedly foolproof reasoning contained an error. The fact that this interaction occurs through a turn-based system, rather than the real-time action seen in shooting games, makes us realize just how fascinating this style of tactical engagement can be.

This turn-by-turn system makes the dynamic of victory and defeat highly transparent, and it is naturally tied to high-level strategic depth. When a single move proves fatal, everything is entirely your own fault, not the opponent's. In other words, viewed purely as a game, it boasts incredibly high gameplay value. It provides immense satisfaction and achieves immense depth with very few structural elements. If we were to connect the essence of such a game system to video games, what form would it take? I invite you to think about other games in a similar light.

Re-examining historic game systems from all eras and locations to conceive new video games perfectly embodies the proverb "learning from the past to discover the new." I believe that a wealth of raw game ideas can be unearthed through this very mindset.

Tactical Engagement or Conflict?

Earlier, I brought up "tactical back-and-forth" as a key phrase regarding what lies at the foundation of games. Here, some of you might argue, "No, what flows at the root of games is the competitive instinct for conflict!" I do not think that view is necessarily wrong. However, there is a reason I deliberately chose the term "tactical back-and-forth" over "conflict".

First, imagine an action game where the protagonist fights monsters with a sword. Let us assume a limited rule set where the protagonist can attack with the sword, but cannot dodge enemy attacks. To be sure, this might still tap into a basic instinct for combat. But if you can strike your enemies yet have no satisfying way to dodge, is that actually fun to play? The answer would likely be a resounding NO. Why? Because there is almost no tactical back-and-forth to speak of.

When you closely examine what makes a game inherently interesting, the nuance of a "tactical back-and-forth" ultimately carries far more weight than an easy catchphrase like "conflict". A well-defined tactical system is the very essence of gameplay. Without that, a game has no reason to exist at all. Conceiving and presenting new tactical systems and rules is the true mission of a game designer, and I believe it is the driving force that will ultimately take the game industry to new heights.

The Depth, Breadth, and Variation of Tactical Engagement

Now, let us analyze and study various types of video games from the perspective of tactical depth.

First, let us look at cartoonish, stage-clearing arcade games as an example. These can be categorized into two types: games like Pac-Man, where every stage basically shares the same structure, and Bubble Bobble-style games, which feature a rich variety of structural layouts for each stage.

The former offers the advantage that because the stages are identical, players can immerse themselves deeply into the tactical back-and-forth. While few games of this type are made today, they hold immense potential to become hits if refined properly.

The latter includes classics like Lode Runner, which strongly target the human psychology of wanting to see what lies ahead by changing every single stage. Furthermore, these games are explicitly designed to let players enjoy variations within the strategy itself. In those games the job of the game designer is to create that variation, which is primarily accomplished by mixing a small number of basic elements.

Furthermore, if a game is built on a philosophy that emphasizes variation, you must create distinct waves of momentum across the stages in various ways, and the nature of the tactical engagement itself must be defined with a clear direction for each stage.

If the stage design is half-baked and repetitive, the game will lose its rhythm and run completely counter to your foundational vision. Above all, a game lacking a cohesive guiding principle simply cannot be interesting. You can have a solid core idea, but that idea must permeate all the way through to the stage design.

I believe this exact approach to level design should be utilized in scrolling shooters as well. In point of fact, the stage design of variety-based stage games like Bubble Bobble and that of shooting games share striking similarities. An excellent shooting game will have a masterful sense of pacing in the enemy waves.

Once you have hooked the player, if you can introduce waves into the player's movement routes themselves--for instance, thinking about how exciting it would be if the next wave of enemies approached from a specific angle--the game can become incredibly engaging. Such intentional structures increase the density of the tactical interaction by their mere presence, bringing true depth to the game.

One could even establish the formula: Density of Tactical Engagement = Depth of Design Intent. That over-arching vision is indispensable to game creation, and it should be thoroughly reflected in every element of your game.

Some PC games include level designers or construction modes, and many of you have likely tried your hand at stage design in this way. But if you rushed in with the sentiment "I just want to make something cool!" without having a well-defined vision, then I suspect you may have found it quite difficult to create an engaging layout. Even if someone manages to haphazardly throw together an interesting stage by pure coincidence, they would likely find themselves at a total loss if told to create a series of stages rich in variety.

So it's no exaggeration to say that a game cannot exist without clear design intent. The reason I have emphasized this point since the very first installment of this Introduction to Game Design series stems from this conviction.

Two-player, Versus, and Network Play

Why are some two-player games interesting, and others are incredibly dull? While numerous reasons exist, ultimately the games that succeed in being interesting are those where the concepts of cooperation, competition, and interference have been deeply considered and refined. This is precisely what we mean by "game design that prioritizes the tactical back-and-forth between humans."

Conversely, two-player games that lack this tactical dimension have very little justification for being two-player games at all. In many cases, they are turned into two-player games purely for commercial reasons.

Versus games like Final Lap give rise to an even more primal human layer of back-and-forth, strategy, and tactics. As long as the basic fundamentals like responsiveness are rock-solid, it is impossible for such games not to be fun. I think it would be wonderful if this style of multiplayer versus game emerged in genres beyond just driving games. (Namco, I am counting on you!) Every time I play this sort of game, I am reminded anew of just how incredibly fascinating human competition can be.

On PC networks, multiplayer games like Habitat are beginning to appear, and I fully expect this genre will continue to showcase various exciting developments in the future. This growth is inevitable, because the tactical interplay between human players possesses infinite depth and is endlessly compelling. No matter how much time passes, the attitude toward creating play will fundamentally remain centered on pursuing the ideal form of strategy. This truth will remain completely unchanged even in the distant future of the years 2000 or 3000. That is something I believe in deeply.

For myself, the act of creating interesting games is incredibly fun in its own right, and I look forward to seeing more and more games with this level of depth. To that end, I hope that many future designers with a clear vision will emerge from among the readers! Game design can be a lot of work, but it is an intellectual and joyful form of creative play that is far more rewarding than simply playing games. Once you taste this joy, you too will surely become hooked on game design!

Well, that is all for this column. I will see you in the next issue!

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