開發者談策略遊戲設計多個層面的質量標準

本文所討論的策略遊戲被定義為一種“決策競賽”，即互動式系統的一種非常具體的形式。這類遊戲具有高度的可玩性且通常以比賽的形式進行，要求玩家通過創造性的技巧來應對不同的挑戰。這類遊戲中不存在“擊敗”之說，因此它們從根本上不同於那些預先設定好劇情和關卡結構的線性遊戲（比如《神祕海域》和《超級馬里奧兄弟》）。本文將闡述策略遊戲系統隱含的核心概念，並由此推匯出遊戲設計的具體質量標準。

決策

設計師兼作家基思·伯根（Keith Burgun）在他的文章《互動形式的分類》中把決策競賽簡單地稱為“遊戲”，從而將它們與缺乏目標性的玩具、可解謎題及“純粹的”競賽（即衡量某種特定技能的競賽）區分開來。我們可以將一項決策定義為一種情況，在這種情況下，玩家掌握的資訊既充足又不足：一方面他無法完全確定哪種行動方案最好，因為若預先知道最佳解決方案，決策將毫無意義。另一方面，玩家必須獲得可供決策的資訊，否則每一種決策對他來說實際上都是相同的，這同樣會毀掉決策過程（換句話說，這還不如用擲骰子來“決定”）。最重要的是，決策帶來的影響必須是永久性的，否則玩家將不會真正地做決定，而僅僅嘗試每一種可能性。


此外，一場決策競賽相當於一個互動系統，在此係統中由至少一名玩家做出決策，然後系統根據具體目標來評估決策的質量，並最終決定勝利或失敗。“競賽”一詞並不意味著對手非得是多個人類玩家或AI機器人。在單人戰略遊戲中，系統本身就是“對手”。衡量此類系統質量的一個公認標準是決策本身的趣味性，而直接關係到這種趣味性的是解決方案與猜想之間的範圍 (見上面的幻燈片，源自伯根在2013年紐約遊戲設計學術會議上的演講)：在給定的方案之間做選擇有多難？我是否掌握了充分的資訊，並能根據資訊對最佳方案做出合理的假設？同時，我掌握的資訊是否太少，以至於無法完全確定所有方案的定性分析排名？如果是這樣，那麼我大概面臨著一個有趣的決策。以下篇章將探討更多（可能不太明顯的）評估決策競賽（即策略遊戲）設計的標準。

效率與透明度

這裡的效率指的是有趣的決策在遊戲中出現的頻率。因此它也可以被稱為“密度”。假設系統的(主要)價值確實在於做這些決策，決策出現的頻率自然越高越好(假設這些決策都具有高度趣味性)。一般來說，花在等待或者瑣碎的腦力工作上的時間應該越少越好。這類事物的明顯例子比如，過場動畫、繁雜的內務和手動調整鏡頭，此外還有一些微妙的例子，比如回合制遊戲中的動畫。從遊戲機制的角度來看它們沒有實際意義，因此不會影響決策過程(與即時戰略遊戲不同，即時戰略遊戲中動畫播放的時間是一種實際的資源)。因此，它們要麼應該徹底消失，要麼應該與玩家的輸入非同步執行，以便玩家仍然能夠儘快地發號施令。從本質上看，這個原則可總結為珍惜玩家的時間並確保不白白浪費它。基思·伯根同樣呼籲提高策略遊戲的效率：“如果玩家願意花五分鐘玩你的遊戲，你就欠了他們一個天大的人情，你必須確保這五分鐘是完全值得的。”

另一個對戰略遊戲至關重要的因素是透明度，即清晰的遊戲機制。當然，這並不意味著玩家應該瞭解應對任何情況的最佳方法（正如之前提到的，這會破壞決策過程）。然而，玩家應該始終清楚當前的情況是如何發生的，存在哪些行動方案，以及它們對遊戲狀態的直接影響是什麼。透明化需要遊戲規則在任何時刻都能被清楚展現。一個非確定性系統（non-deterministic system）也可以完全透明，只要機率是已知的，比如通過擲一個六面骰子來決定怪物被擊中還是躲避了攻擊。索倫·約翰遜（Soren Johnson）將透明度視為桌遊和電子遊戲的主要差別。前者的遊戲機制通常十分明確，而後者經常(有意或無意地)模糊他們的內部情況(比如他們那巨大而神祕的資料)。

優雅（Elegance）和多樣化

優雅雖然不太容易被感知，但它同樣是一個重要的概念。傑西·謝爾（Jesse Schell）在《遊戲設計的藝術》中這樣描述道：“優雅是任何遊戲中最受歡迎的品質之一，因為它意味著你的遊戲上手簡單且容易理解，但又充滿了各種有趣、新興的複雜性。”因此，優雅的基本原則是“易上手，難掌握”。這意味著整個系統必須由易理解的元素(這些元素本身沒有複雜性)組成，並且只有這些元素一起運作時遊戲才表現出了眾多深度和可能性 (即新興的複雜性)。換句話說，系統的各個部分相對微弱，然而組合成的系統本身卻具有強大的功能。一款遊戲可以同時具備高度複雜性與優雅性，但條件是遊戲僅依靠規則的內在複雜性來實現深度化。反過來看，一款簡單的遊戲卻不一定優雅，如果它的一切都流於表面的話 (比如三連棋)。儘管如此，一個偉大的設計通常儘量少而簡單。這使玩家能更快接觸到真正的戰略深度，並使整個遊戲生命週期中的學習曲線更加樂觀。總之，優雅是高效價值傳遞的基礎。

上述的新興復雜性促進了另一大標準：多樣化。一款好的戰略遊戲中會出現各種各樣可能的情境。關於這一點，沃倫·斯佩克特（Warren Spector）曾經把基於系統的遊戲稱作“永恆的新奇發動機”。玩家將不斷遇到新情況。因此，他們不能簡單地依賴於記憶中的知識，而必須運用他們系統的認知來尋找創造性的解決方案。理查德·加菲爾德（Richard Garfield）和他的同事在《遊戲的特點》中將這種行為描述為啟發法的應用：玩家在逐步學習理解系統的過程中建立起了“經驗法則”。在面臨任何情況時，他們都會決定是否遵循這些法則，甚至完全放棄或修改這些法則。深度的多人遊戲具有高度的多樣性，由於對手的行動永遠無法被真正預測，因此每一場比賽都可能成為一種新的體驗。此外，影響遊戲的初始設定的輸入隨機性(例如《文明》系列中的隨機地圖)能夠促進遊戲狀態的多樣化。在單人策略遊戲中，這種隨機性是絕對必要的，否則一旦玩的時間長了，玩家將不加思考，僅依靠記憶進行決策。

連貫性和平衡

遊戲系統的連貫性指的是遊戲機制的相互關聯性，比如各個元素間的聯絡的數量和強度。一般來說，我們希望元素間存在許多緊密聯絡，因為它們不僅促進了新複雜性的產生 (通過在多個機制中緊密合作)，並且它們能使遊戲設計更加優雅。如果一個元素與許多其他元素相連，它便能在整體系統中發揮多重作用。反過來說，這也意味著任何或多或少孤立於系統剩餘部分之外的元素都必須被剔除。即便是一個鬆散結合（loosely coupled）的元素也應受到質疑：這種聯絡能以某種方式得到加強嗎？這個元素能夠與其它元素聯絡起來嗎？如果答案是否定的，那麼最好把它完全移除掉。基思·伯根在《遊戲設計理論》中甚至提出了一個圍繞單一核心機制進行設計的理念：“理想狀態下，遊戲中的每樣事物都應直接支援核心機制——任何與核心機制無關的東西都可以被剔除。”

接著是平衡問題。一款遊戲的平衡不僅與各個系統有關，也與決策本身有關。當一場決策競賽“處於平衡”時，所有的行動方案都是相當的，不存在什麼優勢策略，因為它們本質上都是解決方案，甚至在被考慮之前就已經做出了的決策。另一方面，遊戲中也不應該存在從未發揮作用的明顯劣勢元素，這種元素最終會成為系統的沉重負擔——使系統設計不夠清晰。例如，試想一種具有“重踢”和“輕踢”攻擊方式的格鬥遊戲；假設只有力量和速度是影響因素，“重踢”的速度肯定會被設計得慢一些，否則但凡是理智的玩家都永遠不會使用 “輕踢”，它甚至不應該出現在一個平衡的系統中。讓每一個元素都在遊戲中發揮出各自的作用。平衡將幫助你減少不相關的元素。

次要標準：創造力

強連貫性、由此產生的複雜度結合上平衡的行動方案，將刺激玩家動用他們的創造力。策略遊戲的本質是，玩家所採取的每一步行動以及系統做出的相應反饋均非預先設計好的。遊戲的情境不是手動組合成，而是戲劇性地出現的。很多電子遊戲都鼓勵創造性的玩法，但大多數情況下它們只是一種“很酷的假象”，一種可以讓玩家在朋友面前炫耀的操作，但在遊戲中沒有實際意義，因為它遠非最佳的方式。而一款優秀的策略遊戲，則通過讓這些“酷”操作成為最佳方式並引發系統最佳的反饋，從而刺激玩家發揮創造力。

為了探討這個概念，讓我們以Dinofarm Games的遊戲《奧諾》（Auro: A Monster-Bumping Adventure）為例。這款回合制策略遊戲的核心理念是，所有的操作均圍繞著核心機制“碰撞”間接發揮作用。比如玩家無法直接向怪物射擊火球，而是（通過多種方式）讓怪獸撞擊預先放置的火焰圈。怪獸從不會直接攻擊玩家，只會在地圖上挪動一格。玩家需用各種道具技能讓怪獸掉到火中或水中。遊戲中“只有”九種不同的技能，但經過多年的平衡和打磨後，它們無論是自身還是同彼此結合均能最大程度地發揮趣味性。此外，這些技能還能與不同種類的地形和怪物(怪物也具備各自的戰術技能)以多種方式互動，由此產生了高度的複雜性。但最重要的是，系統對玩家精彩而機智的表現給予豐厚獎勵，玩家們通過在連續的操作獲得高分，例如在多個連續回合中巧妙地組合使用不同技能。這鼓勵玩家們不斷思考創新性的打法。

運氣與操作

策略遊戲設計一個忌諱就是讓玩家的輸贏完全取決於運氣，例如由於輸出隨機性(比如用擲骰子來確定對RPG造成的傷害)或輸入隨機性，運氣在不同場次或玩家身上的效果差異很大。這些因素與系統的核心——決策，存在直接衝突。運氣和隨機性對遊戲結果的影響力越大，玩家所做的決策分量就越小。最重要的是，玩家得到的系統反饋被扭曲了：我贏了是因為我做出了更好的決策嗎？或者也許只是運氣差罷了？在大多數情況下，劃清運氣和決策間的界限是件不可能的事。與這個問題密切相關的一種現象叫“自我假想能力”（imagined agency）：在失敗的情況下，許多玩家認為他們只是運氣不好；然而一旦勝利，他們會將之歸功於他們的高超技術。從心理學的角度看，這似乎是一個積極的特徵，但事實上它完全是玩家的一種自我欺騙。而依賴這種心理的設計至少是值得懷疑的。

除了對運氣的依賴，操作速度對遊戲結果的影響力過大也是一個問題。如果比賽結果大部分取決於誰的操作更靈活，決策的重要性會相應降低。舉個例子，在《星際爭霸》中，一個決策更好的玩家最終可能會輸掉比賽，因為他的對手的操作更快更精準。然而，在理想的策略遊戲中，最終結果應該完全取決於決策。決策是“你應不應該做X”的問題，而操作則是“你能不能做X”。從這個角度來看，即時戰略遊戲具有一定的爭議性。一個疑似案例是《洞穴探險》（Spelunky），遊戲十分考驗操作，但至少決策的影響力與操作相匹敵並常常凌駕於操作之上。

最後的思考

當然，上述的這些標準和觀察大多屬於機制和系統的範疇。事實上，就設計準則(這也是本文的重點)而言，劇情、人物、背景甚至主題等也起著次要作用。對於策略遊戲來說，主題的主要作用是讓遊戲機制感覺更直觀。例如，“劍士只能攻擊相鄰的敵人，而弓箭手可以攻擊兩個距離以內的敵人”比一個抽象的“方石頭只能消除相鄰的石頭，而圓石頭可以消除兩個距離以內的石頭”更容易理解。主題藉助玩家的常識使他們更容易瞭解規則。進一步說，以上討論的標準從根本上刺激創新：兩款策略遊戲如果只有主題不一樣，但機制相同，那麼它們實際上沒有區別。而較晚出現的那一款遊戲基本沒有設計上的創新，除了包裝，或者拉斐爾·科斯特（Raph Koster）所說的“裝飾”。

但話又說回來，“包裝”無疑是幾十年來整個行業的一個主要關注點。儘管上世紀90年代至2000年間，由於技術的飛速發展，視聽效果豐富的遊戲佔據上風，策略遊戲的流行程度大大下降，但近幾年來它又呈現出了某種復甦之勢。不可挽回性和以技能為基礎的遊戲再一次受到矚目。像《超越光速》（Faster than Light）、《以撒的結合》（The Binding of Isaac）或《節奏地牢》（Crypt of the NecroDancer）這樣的遊戲都非常成功。“roguelike”幾乎成為了一個熱門營銷詞彙，以及用來判斷遊戲是否真的具有策略性的指標。除此之外，桌遊（一直以策略遊戲為主）也在不斷數字化，桌遊改編遊戲佔領了iOS策略遊戲類別。策略遊戲的黃金時代才剛剛開始。

最後，策略遊戲的真正獨特之處，也是使它具備“常青樹”潛質的原因，在於它的系統是可以學習的。掌握一個深度的策略遊戲，就是看穿一個由內在聯絡構成的複雜網路（其縝密而優雅的構圖可能具有巨大的審美價值)並能夠自信地操縱和利用它。它是通過對系統的假設進行反覆驗證來找出個體元素之間的相關性，並一點點構建出一個關於遊戲可能性空間的心智模型，即一個巨大的啟發式網路。玩家親眼見證自身理解和策略水平的提升是策略遊戲的核心價值所在。它就像弗蘭克·蘭特斯（Frank Lantz）所說的“看得見自身的思想”。

本文由遊戲邦編譯

In the context of this article, strategy games are defined as “contests of decision-making” and therefore a very specific form of interactive system. These potentially highly replayable games are usually played in matches and demand creative finesse in coping with diverse challenges. They can’t be “beaten” and are therefore fundamentally different from linear games with a preset story or level structure (such as Uncharted or Super Mario Bros.). The following article elucidates the core concepts underlying these systems to then derive specific quality criteria for their gameplay design.

Dissecting Decisions

Designer and author Keith Burgun would simply call decision-making contests “games” in his taxonomy of interactive forms, thus separating them from goal-less toys, solvable puzzles, and “pure” contests (which measure a single specifically defined skill). A decision is defined as a situation, wherein the player has enough and insufficient information at the same time: On the one hand he can’t be completely sure as to which action alternative is the best one, else there would be nothing to decide since the correct solution is already known. On the other hand the player must have some information on which to base his choice, otherwise every alternative would effectively be the same, again destroying the decision (in other words, it might just as well be “decided” by a die roll). On top of that the decision has to come with permanent consequences. If it didn’t the player wouldn’t decide anything, but merely try out the options

Further, a contest of decision-making is an interactive system wherein at least one player makes decisions, whose quality is then evaluated in the context of a specific goal, and finally leads to winning or losing. The word “contest” does not necessarily imply multiple human players or an AI simulating a human opponent. In the case of single-player strategy games the system itself is the “opponent”. An obvious criterion for the quality of such a system is the interestingness of the decisions themselves, which is directly connected to the range between solution and guess (see slide on the left, taken from Burgun’s talk at Practice 2013): How difficult is it to choose between the given alternatives? Do I have enough knowledge to make a well-founded assumption as to what the optimal option could be? Do I, at the same time, have too little knowledge to be completely sure of the qualitative ranking of all the actions? Then I’m probably facing an interesting decision. The following sections will explain a few more (possibly less obvious) criteria by which to assess the design of a decision-making contest.

Efficiency and Transparency

Efficiency describes the frequency with which interesting decisions occur during gameplay. It can thus also be called “density”. Assuming the (primary) value of the system really lies in making these decisions, more decisions per second are of course better (given equally high interestingness). In general as little time as possible should be spent waiting or performing mentally trivial tasks. Besides obvious examples such as cutscenes, housekeeping busywork and manually adjusting the camera, this also concerns more subtle elements such as animations in turn-based games. They have no mechanical meaning and therefore do not affect the decision-making process (in contrast to real-time games where the time an animation needs to play out is an actual resource). Therefore they should either not exist or run asynchronously to the player’s input so that he can still issue commands as quickly as possible. Essentially this principle comes down to valuing the player’s time and making sure not to simply waste it. Along similar lines Keith Burgun calls for efficiency in strategy games: “If players give you five minutes, that’s a huge gift and you owe it to them to make sure it is completely rewarded.”

Another factor of central importance for strategy games is transparency, the clarity of the game’s mechanics. This does of course not mean that players should know what their best action is in any given case (again, this would destroy the decision). However, it should always be clear how the current situation came to be, which action alternatives exist and what their immediate consequences are regarding the game state. Transparency is concerned with clearly laying out the rules of the game at any given moment. A non-deterministic system can also be completely transparent if all the odds are known, for example when rolling a six-sided die to find out if a monster was hit or missed. Soren Johnson views transparency as the primary difference between board and video games. While the former are usually mechanically very well-defined, the latter (intentionally or not) often obfuscate their exact inner-workings (simple example: huge and mysteriously calculated scores).

Elegance and Variety

A little less tangible but at least as important is the concept of elegance. Jesse Schell describes it in “The Art of Game Design” as follows: “Elegance is one of the most desirable qualities in any game, because it means you have a game that is simple to learn and understand, but is full of interesting emergent complexity.” Thus the basic principle is “easy to learn, hard to master”. This means that the overall system has to consist of elements that are easy to understand (having little inherent complexity), and only in working together create a lot of depth and possibilities (emergent complexity). In other words the system does a lot with relatively little. A game can be immensely complex and still elegant if it just creates far more depth than it has by the inherent complexity of its rules alone. The other way around, a simple game can be inelegant if there’s actually not much more to it than what can be seen on the surface (see Tic Tac Toe). In general though, a great design expresses itself in as few and simple components as possible. This allows players to access the actual strategic depth more quickly and makes for a much more pleasant learning curve throughout the game’s lifecycle. In short, elegance is the foundation of efficient value delivery.

The mentioned emergence in turn contributes to another criterion: variety. A good strategy game allows for and generates a broad range of possible situations. Warren Spector, on that note, calls system-based games “engines of perpetual novelty”. Players will consistently be facing novel situations. Therefore they cannot simply rely on memorized knowledge but have to employ their systemic understanding to find creative solutions. Richard Garfield and his colleagues describe this behavior in “Characteristics of Games” as the application of heuristics: Players develop “rules of thumb” over time as they learn to better understand the system. In any given situation they then decide whether to follow these rules or not, or maybe even discard or revise them altogether. Deep multiplayer games offer an especially high potential for variety since the opponent’s actions can never be truly predicted, therefore potentially making each match a novel experience. Additionally, input randomness affecting the game’s initial setup (such as random map generation in Civilization) can support the emergence of varied game states. In single-player strategy games this form of randomness is in fact absolutely necessary. Without it there can be no decisions since long-term it would just come down to memorizing and executing the perfect solution.

Coherence and Balance

The coherence of a gameplay system describes the interconnectedness of the mechanisms of a decision-making contest, i.e. the number and strength of the connections between the individual elements. In general many solid connections are desirable, because not only do they support the idea of emergent complexity (in multiple mechanisms working together closely), they also tend to make for a more elegant game. If one element is linked to many others, it potentially serves multiple purposes within the overall system. Conversely this also means that no element should be added to the design that’s more or less isolated from the rest of the system. Even an only loosely coupled element should be questioned: Can the link be strengthened somehow? Can connections to other elements be created? If that’s not the case, it might be worth removing this element altogether. Keith Burgun, in “Game Design Theory”, even describes the concept of arranging a design around one single core mechanism: “Ideally, every single thing that’s inside the game should be in direct support of the core mechanism – and anything that has nothing to do with the core mechanism can probably be removed from the game.”

Next up, a game’s balancing is not only concerned with the systemic elements but also the decisions themselves. When a decision-making contest is “in balance”, all the action alternatives are weighed against one another. There can’t be dominant strategies because those are essentially solutions, decisions already made before they’re even considered. On the other hand, there shouldn’t be obviously inferior elements that never play a role, since in an otherwise coherent system those would in the end just be “dead weight” – noise obfuscating the systemic clarity. For example, consider a fighting game that has a “strong kick” and a “weak kick” attack. Assuming strength and speed are the only factors, the strong kick can’t also be the faster one. If it were, the weak one would never be used in a competition between rational players, and shouldn’t even exist in a well-balanced system. Every single element has to serve a particular purpose and have “its place” in the overall game. The act of balancing saves elements from irrelevance.

Secondary Criterion: Creativity

A strong sense of coherence and the potentially resulting emergence in combination with well-balanced action alternatives will in turn incentivize players to employ their creativity. Decision-making contests live by the fact that not every small step the player could take and the according reaction of the system is pre-planned by the designer. Situations aren’t manually assembled but emerge dynamically in-game. Indeed a lot of videogames allow for creative play, but in most cases that’s just a “cool shenanigan”, a move that will get the player imaginary “style points” in front of his friends but has no actual relevance in the game because it’s far from the optimal way of doing things. A good decision-making contest enforces creative play by making the “cool” move the mechanically optimal one that causes the best possible systemic feedback.

To exemplify this concept we can take a look at Auro: A Monster-Bumping Adventure by Dinofarm Games. The core idea of the turn-based tactics game is that all actions work indirectly, centering around the core mechanism of “bumping”. The player for example doesn’t shoot fireballs at monsters, but he tries to maneuver those monsters (by several means) into previously placed flame traps. Monsters are never directly attacked for damage, but only ever pushed one tile further. The player has to find ways of moving them into fire or water, over ice, through the air and any imaginable combination of all those. There are “only” nine different skills but they were balanced and honed for years to be maximally interesting on their own and in combination with each other. Additionally, they also interact with the terrain and all the different monsters (who in turn all have their own tactically relevant special abilities) in a myriad of ways. The resulting emergent complexity is absolutely massive. But on top of all that, the most spectacular and clever way of dealing with a situation is usually the one that’s most rewarded by the game system. Players receive the highest amount of points for big action chains, cunningly combining various skills in multiple consecutive turns – i.e. for employing their creativity in repeatedly coming up with these satisfying little strokes of genius.

Luck and Execution

By contrast, a “natural enemy” of the decision-making contest is the dependence of a player’s success on mere luck, for example caused by output randomness (like rolling dice to determine the amount of damage done in an RPG) or input randomness with unfairly high variance regarding its effects on different matches or players. These elements are in immediate conflict to the system’s core: the decisions. The more the outcome of a match depends on luck and randomness, the less weight a player’s decisions have in the end. On top of that, the systemic feedback is distorted by chaos: Did I win because I made better decisions? Or was it just luck? In most cases it’s simply not possible to draw a clear line between the two factors. The phenomenon of “imagined agency” is therefore closely related to this problem: In the case of defeat many players assume they were just out of luck. Any victory however they quickly ascribe to their superior skill. This may seem like a positive feature at first from a psychological point of view, but it is actually completely based on players willing to consistently fool themselves. And a design relying on such a thing can only be called dubious at the very least.

Besides dependence on luck, a big impact of motoric execution on the outcome of a game is also problematic. If the result for example depends to a non-negligible amount on who has more dexterity, the decisions are of accordingly reduced importance. For example, in a match of Starcraft it’s possible that one player constantly makes better decisions but loses in the end because his opponent was able to click way faster and more accurately. In an ideal contest of decision-making though, the end result wholly depends on the choices that were made. Decisions are questions of “Should you do X?”, whereas an execution requirement asks “Can you do X?”. In this sense real-time games always call for a bit of skepticism. A borderline case is for example Spelunky which has an important execution component, but its relevance is at least rivaled, and often trumped by decision-making.

Final Thoughts

Of course all these criteria and observations are mostly mechanical and systemic affairs. And indeed in terms of the ruleset design (which is the focus of this article), things like story, characters, setting and even theme play a subordinate role. For a decision-making contest the main purpose of a theme is to make the mechanisms feel more intuitive. It’s for example easier to grasp and internalize that “the sword fighter can only attack adjacent enemies, while the archer can attack enemies in a distance of two tiles” than a more abstract “the square stone can only remove adjacent stones, while the round stone can remove stones in a distance of two tiles”. Theme means using the player’s common knowledge to ease him into learning the rules. By extension, the presented criteria inherently incentivize innovation: Two decision-making contests that only differ in terms of theme (not in terms of how intuitive they are), but are mechanically equivalent, do actually not differ at all. In the case of the newer of the two, there was basically nothing to design except the packaging or, to say it with Raph Koster, the “dressing”.

Then again, said “dressing” has without a doubt been a major focus throughout the whole industry for decades. And although the form of the decision-making contest lost a lot of momentum in the 1990s and 2000s due to rapid technological advancements enabling audiovisual spectacle to take over in terms of popularity, there has been kind of a revival over the last years. Permanent consequences and skill-based games count for something again. Games like FTL, The Binding of Isaac or Crypt of the NecroDancer are very successful. The term “roguelike” has almost become a marketing buzzword and often basically an indicator of whether or not a system actually is a decision-making contest or not. On top of that there has been a fusion of the digital realm with board games (which have essentially always been dominated by decision-making contests), especially indicated by a huge amount of board game adaptations taking over the strategy game genre on iOS. This could just be the beginning of a golden age of strategy games.

In the end, what’s truly unique about the decision-making contest and provides it with “evergreen” potential is the systemic learning it allows for. To master a deep strategy game is to see through a complex web of interconnected parts (whose cautious and elegant composition can be of immense aesthetic value) and be able to reliably manipulate it to one’s own advantage. It’s about finding correlations between individual elements through the repeated examination of hypotheses about the system, and piece by piece building a mental model of the game’s possibility space, a giant network of heuristics. In witnessing one’s own understanding and the resulting finesse of play grow, is where the core value of strategy games lies. It truly is, as Frank Lantz put it, “thought made visible to itself”.（source：Gamasutra ）



來源：遊戲邦
原文：http://gamerboom.com/archives/95674