作者：Robert Yang

如果你曾经评述过某些电子游戏的“不足”（游戏邦注：如《星际争霸2》毫无新意，《矮人要塞》易用性过低等），那么你就必须说明哪些对我们这些普通玩家来说算是“优秀”的游戏。

那么，是什么成就了所谓的“优秀”游戏呢？这完全取决于你是否相信绝对真理。

为了文章表述简单，文中只阐述希腊古典哲学。我们将探究两位被广泛视为当代西方哲学鼻祖的人——亚里士多德和柏拉图。（点击此处阅读本系列第二、三、四部分）

Plato & Aristotle(from niallmarkey.hubpages.com)

亚里士多德提倡多元文化，认为社会的目标在于确保公民个人的繁荣发展（游戏邦注：他所说的公民指少部分希腊社会成员，包括受过教育的男性土地拥有者和上等人，女性和奴隶不属于这个范畴）。当他们达到自我超越或“eudaimonia”的状态时，便得到繁荣发展。

许多人错误地将“eudaimonia”解读为快乐，但事实上其包含更深层次的含义。其中含有自我实现的层面，即那种最终实现某个目标的成就感。当然，你应当会获得那种成就感，因为这是你自行付出努力赚取的。

所以，游戏设计中的亚里士多德哲学便是假设这种“公民”的存在，即硬核玩家。在此等状况下，游戏主要需要迎合这部分人群，或许需要付出减小游戏对其他类型玩家的可接入性的代价。

“其他玩家”不值得考虑，因为如果他们无法在游戏末期打败BOSS，那么如何能够感受到克服挑战带来的成就感呢？这并非他们的本性，他们无法感受到那种真正的成就感。“降低难度”只能削弱那些有天赋的玩家的游戏感觉。也就是说，游戏必须要有难度。

在8位机时代，这种设计哲学很流行，像《洛克人》和《魂斗罗》之类的平台游戏都有着超高的难度，游戏只奖励那些有着非凡协调能力和反应能力的玩家。

最近，随着平台游戏题材在独立游戏中的重生，这种设计观念有点复苏的势头。这些新亚里士多德游戏并不像“经典亚里士多德游戏”，因为他们不对玩家的失败进行严厉的惩罚。如果玩家在游戏过程中死亡的话，通常会从死亡的那个场景重新开始，而且游戏角色的生命数量无线，并非《洛克人》那样强迫玩家在生命耗尽之后完全从新开始。然而，虽然游戏通过这些小改动来提升易用性，但是这些游戏仍然有很大的难度，需要玩家的反应能力。

事实上，尽管《VVVVVV》已经相对较为简单，但是能够打通的玩家仍然相当少，但是那些能够打通的玩家会获得极大的成就感。以这个层面来看，这些类型的游戏确实是“以玩家为中心”，因为游戏的吸引力本质上来源于玩家获得胜利的愿景和技能。

因而，亚里士多德理论是：优秀的玩家成就优秀的游戏。

但是，这种类型的设计存在许多哲学问题，这也是为何今日恪守这项准则来设计的游戏相对较少的部分原因所在。

具体地说，柏拉图会认为这种说法完全是谬误。

想象下，你绝望地看着自己的同事Ted努力玩《洛克人》，被汗水浸透的双手不断击打着你珍贵的上等NES控制器。当他因挫败感而将控制器摔出时，你势必会大声呼叫。难道Ted会认为《洛克人》是款优秀的游戏吗？

可能他不会这么想。但是《洛克人》仍然非常出众，只是Ted玩不好而已。

现在，想象下整个世界充斥着Ted之类的玩家。他们无一认同《洛克人》是款优秀的游戏，然而这并没有让游戏的质量有所下降。这些玩家的个人经历玷污了《洛克人》的纯洁本质，也就是说，《洛克人》仍然保持其优秀的本性，但是是独立于那些无法击败Top Man阶段的拙劣玩家之外。他们只是无法认同和感受到游戏的优秀之处而已。

因而，柏拉图支持的是绝对真理。人们总是会撒谎或者误解某些事情，你是否还认为个人经历是可靠的吗？Ted或许很不擅长玩《洛克人》，但是你恰好在第一人称射击游戏中表现不佳。你在《光晕》中拙劣的表现丝毫不会影响到游戏的创新性，也不会影响到整个游戏行业。

所以，游戏的质量应当独立于玩家之外。

依柏拉图的意思，要对游戏的质量做出准确的判断，需要选择那些独立于普通公民之外的哲学家来体验，因为只有他们能够使用超乎玩家个人体验之外的理由和逻辑来向我们展示何谓优秀游戏。那么，谁属于此类哲学家呢？

答案就是：游戏开发者。

柏拉图或许会认为，《洛克人》之所以属于优秀的游戏是因为它出自Capcom之手，或者因为Capcom中某些“哲学开发者”的独特影响力。《洛克人》的优秀与否与玩家没有关系，因为我们都知道玩家有着不同的口味、技能和经验。在此类环境中，他们不可能形成可靠的认知模型。

因而，与亚里士多德理论想对立，柏拉图设计哲学以开发者为中心，其支持的观点是：优秀的开发者成就优秀的游戏。

我认为，这种玩家中心和开发者中心对立是所有后续游戏设计哲学的基础，至少是划分和组织其他哲学的简便方法。

今天，多数开发者和玩家（游戏邦注：包括作者在内）相信，玩家中心和开发者中心同样重要。优秀的游戏设计应当遵循某些类型的“黄金准则”或“折中方法”，将开发者的想法同玩家反馈、难度和可接入性以及商业潜力和艺术价值相平衡，这似乎是很显而易见的事情。是否有不同的观点呢？

游戏应当优秀，这是毫无疑问的。

的确，当遇上那些简单的公理时，所有的这些哲学思维或许都显得毫无意义。但是让我们回顾下电子游戏设计想法的历史，游戏中的“玩家易用性”和“艺术价值”似乎都是相对较新的概念。事实上，它们在16位机时代几乎未曾出现，8位机时代就更少了。现在很显然看到的是思维长期不断变化的结果。

即便是现在，我们的游戏设计“黄金准则”仍然在随着新开发者和新玩家用户的出现而不断改变。我们对“优秀游戏”的概念正在慢慢向某个地方发展，但是这个地方是哪里呢？在本系列文章中，我会尝试解决这个问题。

游戏是否变得更加“政治化”，如果是这样的话，那么依我们的标准这些还能否视为“优秀的游戏”？如果EA坚持将塔利班作为可玩派系添加到《荣誉勋章》中，那么这算是优秀的品味抑或只是宣传计划，或者这只是个游戏根本不值得我们如此严肃地探讨？如果有的话，那么什么才是通用于有关当前事件的高度政治化游戏和完全非政治化游戏的黄金法则呢？

“艺术游戏”究竟是个合情合理的题材还是在将来没有发展空间，因为所有的游戏本质上都具有艺术性？然而，Tale of Tales声称“游戏并非艺术”，支持全新题材的互动艺术，否认规则、目标和机制的重要性。如果有的话，那么什么才是通用于这些“非游戏”和游戏之间的黄金方法呢？

我们是应该将《FarmVille》视为“社交游戏”，还是视为不受许多硬核玩家喜爱的“肤浅”游戏，还是像Warren Spector在PAX 2010的主题演讲中所说的那样，只是硬核玩家在电子游戏新玩家和那些老玩家（游戏邦注：这些人关注主机、订阅《PC Gamer》而且知道小岛秀夫之类的著名开发者）之间人为建立起的一道障碍？如果有的话，那么什么才是通用于“社交游戏”和所谓的“传统游戏”的黄金法则呢？

人们在电子游戏上的分歧还不止这三个。这些分歧都无法用简单的答案解决，但是所有都呈现出独特的哲学理论和令人懊恼的激辩。

但是这些令人懊恼的东西都是很棒的，因为这才会引发对话和交流。

如果我们想要制作出更新更好的游戏，如果我们想要让游戏作为艺术媒介更加成熟，能够维持自身的存在并提出严峻的问题，那么我们就需要分析当前的推断及其合理性，而本系列文章便是个开始。对提出这些问题的逃避是种精神懒惰行为。

游戏邦注：本文发稿于2010年9月28日，所涉时间、事件和数据均以此为准。（本文为游戏邦/gamerboom.com编译，如需转载请联系：游戏邦）

The Philosophy of Game Design

Robert Yang

If you’ve ever said that a videogame was “bad” for any reason – FarmVille is evil, StarCraft 2 is nothing new, VVVVVV is too hard, Braid is pretentious, Dwarf Fortress is inaccessible, Dead or Alive is sexist – in the performance of your royal duties as Grand Arbiter of Good Taste, then you also have to define and articulate what is a “good” game for us simple-minded folk.

So, what makes a “good” game? Well, it all depends on whether you believe in absolute truth. (No, really!)

For purposes of simplification, I will ignore all traditions of ancient philosophy that took place outside of Greece. Instead, we’ll just look at the two figures largely recognized as the roots of Western philosophy today – Aristotle and Plato.

Aristotle argued for a type of pluralism, where the purpose of a society was to ensure its individual citizens flourished (and by citizens, he meant only the small portion of Greek society that was the educated male land-owning military and gentry – sorry, women and slaves, no flourishing for you!) and such a person flourishes when he has reached a state of personal excellence or “eudaimonia.”

Many people wrongly translate eudaimonia as happiness, but it is more than that – there’s an aspect of self-actualization, the sense that you’ve finally achieved something. Surely, you deserve that feeling of achievement because you earned it.

So, an Aristotelian philosophy of game design would presume the existence of a “citizen” – the hardcore gamer. Under this account, the game should chiefly cater to this “best of the best,” allowing these players to excel, perhaps at the price of accessibility for every other type of player.

“Everyone else” isn’t worth considering because if they’re not capable of beating the boss at the end, then how can they possibly feel the accomplishment of surmounting a challenge? It’s not in their nature; they’re incapable of feeling real achievement. “Watering down the difficulty” would only weaken the sense of triumph for the gifted individuals that can meet the challenge – that is, games must definitely be difficult.

Such a design philosophy was very popular in the 8-bit era with incredibly difficult and unforgiving platformers like Mega Man and Contra, games that rewarded players who demonstrated uncanny coordination and reflexes.

More recently, this attitude toward design has enjoyed a return of sorts, with the rebirth of the platformer genre in the indie games scene through games like Flywrench, Streemerz and VVVVVV, as well as a new sub-genre dubbed “masocore” that delights in constant and sudden failure – or you can also consider the surprising popularity of Demon’s Souls as an example of this resurgence, a sort of neo-Aristotelian view of game design. These types of neo-Aristotelian games aren’t “classically Aristotelian” because they don’t harshly penalize the player for failure, often respawning them on the same screen if they die along with a healthy supply of infinite lives – unlike a game like Mega Man that forces a complete level restart upon running out of lives. Yet, these games still value difficulty and player reflex, despite such small gestures toward accessibility.

Indeed, relatively very few people will ever beat the “Veni, Vidi, Vici” sequence in VVVVVV, despite its relatively forgiving nature – but those who do progress past it will have reached a transcendent state of platforming prowess. In this respect, these types of games are “player-centric” because the engaging nature of the game originates from the player’s will and skill to win.

And so, the Aristotelian tradition: Good players make good games.

But there are several philosophical problems with this type of design, which is part of the reason why there are relatively few games designed strictly in this tradition today.

Specifically, Plato would’ve called bullshit on it.

Imagine your hopelessly incompetent co-worker Ted tried to play Mega Man, with his sweaty hands permanently staining your precious vintage NES controller. (He can’t even beat Top Man! What a disgrace.) You scream bloody murder when he tosses the now-greasy controller across the room in frustration. Would Ted agree that Mega Man is a good game?

Maybe not. But is Mega Man still good? Well, yeah, of course it is! Ted just sucks at it!

Now, imagine the entire world was populated solely by Teds. None of them agree that Mega Man is good – yet it’s still the same game, it’s still good! The personal (unskilled) experience of these Teds has corrupted the purity of Mega Man; that is, Mega Man remains eternally good, independent of the crappy players who can’t even beat the Top Man stage. They’re just too simple-minded and poorly endowed to see its greatness.

Thus, Plato argued for an account of absolute truth. People lie, misinterpret and get tricked all the time – do you really think that personal experience is reliable? Ted might be awful at Mega Man, but you happen to be terrible at first person shooters and can’t “get into” them despite Ted’s constant prodding. Your inability to play Halo without foolishly running into walls and spinning around in circles does not diminish its innovation and impact on the entire game industry.

And so, the “goodness” of a game must exist outside of the player.

Plato argues that the execution of justice is up to a select few of philosopher kings acting independently of the citizens, for they are the only ones who can use reason and logic to transcend the personal experience of players and to show us what a good game is. Who are these philosopher kings, pray tell?

The answer: game developers.

Plato would argue that Mega Man is good because Capcom made it, or because of the specific influence of certain “philosopher-developers” at Capcom. Mega Man’s “goodness” has nothing to do with players – because, as we just established, players all have different tastes, skill levels and experiences. It is impossible to formulate any reliable amount of knowledge upon such shaky ground.

Thus, as a sort of counterpoint to the Aristotelian tradition, a Platonic design philosophy is developer-centric and argues that: Good developers make good games.

This core dichotomy of player-centrism vs. developer-centrism is, I argue, the basis of all subsequent game design philosophies – or, at least, a convenient way of grouping and organizing these philosophies.

Today, most developers and players (including me) are moderates and believe in the importance of both player-centrism and developer-centrism. It may seem incredibly obvious that a good game design should follow some sort of “golden mean” or “middle way” that balances developer insight with player feedback, as well as difficulty with accessibility and commercial potential with artistic merit. How can anyone possibly think differently?

Games should be good. Duh.

Indeed, all this philosophizing might seem pointless when confronted by that simple truism. But let’s recall the history of thought in videogame design (or at least, recall it in the way I’ve packaged it) – the very notions of “player accessibility” and “artistic merit” in games are both relatively recent. In fact, they barely existed in the 16-bit era, much less the 8-bit era. What seems obvious now is actually the result of a long, gradual shift in thinking.

Even now, our “golden mean” of game design is still shifting as new developers and new player audiences emerge. Our notion of a “good game” is slowly moving somewhere … But where? Over the course of this series, I will try to address that question.

Are games getting more “political,” and if so, are these considered to be “good games” by our standard? If Electronic Arts insists on the Taliban being a playable faction in the newest Medal of Honor, is that in good taste or is it a publicity stunt or is it “just a game” so it shouldn’t be taken seriously? What, if any, is the golden mean between highly political games about current events and totally non-political games?

Are “art games” a legitimate genre or a pretentious annoyance with no future – or is the very label redundant if we’re to argue that all games are intrinsically artistic anyway? Yet Tale of Tales declares that “games are not art” and argues for a radical new genre of interactive art that rejects the importance of rules, goals and mechanics. What, if any, is the golden mean between these “notgames” and games?

Should we be ghettoizing games like FarmVille as “social games,” as “shallow” games rejected by many hardcore gamers – or, as Warren Spector argued in his keynote for PAX 2010, is the very notion of the hardcore gamer creating an artificial barrier between new players of videogames and the “old guard” of 18-34-year-old males who argue over consoles, subscribe to PC Gamer and know who Hideo Kojima is? What, if any, is the golden mean between “social games” and so-called “regular games?”

These are not the only three different directions that people are pulling videogames – there are, no doubt, many more. None of them offer easy answers but all of them present unique philosophies and frustrating debates.

But that frustration is good, because that will begin the conversation.

If we want to make newer, “better” games – if we want videogames to mature further as an artistic medium, capable of defending its own existence and asking the hard questions – then we need to analyze our current presumptions and their validity, and this series of articles is a start. To avoid asking these questions is intellectually lazy. (Source: The Escapist)