ROBIN Hunicke
Co-founder, Funomena
Robin Hunicke is a game designer and producer whose credits include The Sims 2: Open for Business (2006), MySims (2007), Boom Blox (2008), Boom Blox Bash Party (2009), and Journey (2012). In addition to her design work, she helped found the IGDA’s Education Committee and co-organizes the annual Experimental Gameplay Sessions at the Game Developers Conference. She is currently an associate professor at UC Santa Cruz, where she directs the Art & Design, Games & Playable Media BA program.
How did you become a game designer?
My career as a designer snuck up on me, while I was studying for a PhD in AI and Computer Science. I was modifying games as part of my research on behavioral robotics, and began speaking with various game developers as a result. Around that same time, I met Will Wright at an academic AI conference at Stanford. After I described my research and passion for games, he asked if I’d ever considered becoming a designer.
I’d loved and made up games all my life, and was becoming more and more involved in the community through the IGDA and teaching and speaking at GDC. But working as a full-time developer never came to mind—perhaps because there were so few women in the industry at that time. Eventually, I decided to apply for an entry-level design position at EA/Maxis and got the job. It was the best decision I’ve ever made!
On games that have inspired her:
The first game I fell in love with was Danielle Bunten Berry’s M.U.L.E.
I had a friend whose brother had a Commodore 64 in his room, and we’d play the game after school. At the time, you didn’t play videogames together, really. Instead, you took turns. So being able to barter in real time against the shop and other players felt … so new! The strategic quality of the game, mixed with the social aspect of trading, made it impossible to put down. I would go home daydreaming about the game and show up at her house dying to play it. Looking back, my strong belief that games can bring people together and facilitate novel social interactions comes very much from these early experiences with M.U.L.E.
Many years later, when I was in college, I worked nights at the school computer lab—where I began playing SimCity 2000. Because we didn’t have a computer at home, my exposure to games had primarily been through the Atari, Nintendo, and Super Nintendo consoles. I loved the games on these systems, but SimCity blew my mind. You were in charge of the whole city, and your decisions were at the center of the design. My later interest in games like Thief and Deus Ex was directly related to this design philosophy. And as a group, these games taught me the value of designing systems that leave room for player choice, and embracing the player’s own sense of design, creativity, and agency.
The third and possibly biggest influence on my design sensibility would be Japanese console games from the PlayStation era. Parappa the Rapper, Rez, and Katamari Damacy helped me see that console games could really push past standard platforming and puzzle mechanics. Ico and Shadow of the Colossus showed that video games can explore complex concepts like love, trust, and even our own mortality.
Since then, most of my inspiration comes from games in the IGF, IndieCade, and Experimental Gameplay workshop. Every year, these festivals showcase games that push the boundaries of our medium, and I’m always eager to see what’s up next!
What exciting developments do you see in the industry?
Diversity in participation and content! I can play games today that even 10 years ago wouldn’t have been built (due to resource and tool constraints) or distributed (due to platform constraints). This includes paid downloadable games like Dear Esther and Cart Life as well as free games like Dys4ia, Mainichi, and Lim.
As more people craft games to communicate their personal experiences, the medium grows and matures in ways it simply couldn’t have when the industry was smaller and more exclusive. I play games to feel new feelings, and to see the world in a new way. So this evolution of our creative ecosystem is really exciting to me.
On her design process:
I should start by saying that I use the MDA approach for design. I start thinking about the unique feeling or Aesthetics I want players to experience as the result of playing a game. Fleshing out the Mechanics comes next, and finally tuning the Dynamics. But I always start with the feeling first.
Generally, I have my best ideas when my body is occupied, but my mind is relatively free. So when I’m working on a new project, I spend a lot of time doing semistructured activities like hiking in nature, gardening, cooking, or riding my bike.
Once I’ve had an inspiration, I let it roll around in my mind for a while. I’ll draw and write about it in bursts, sometimes waking up in the middle of the night to jot something down. I also read a lot of related literature, watch films, or do activities that are in line with the themes of the work … trying to immerse myself in inspirational material from a variety of mediums so that the project itself will be informed by more than just games.
I think this is because when the game I’m working on doesn’t have a central theme that I care about communicating, I find it very difficult to stay focused on it. Even on a relatively straightforward franchise expansion like MySims, I spent a lot of time thinking about the culture of small towns, creativity as a practice that helps you see your world differently, and how giving people gifts often makes you happier than hoarding things for yourself.
Once it feels like the underlying theme has coalesced, I begin to look for the seeds of its Mechanics. That starts with talking about it with my team or trusted developers in our community. The act of describing the game and its nascent rules often leads to critical realizations about holes in the design, or potential opportunities with a specific mechanic. It’s also very common for the idea to grow and change as I discuss it with others—developing new components that come explicitly from chatting with other talented and inspired people. I believe very strongly that design is best done in collaboration.
And just when it feels like my mind is about to explode with possibility of the game, I sit down to write a couple of solid pages that describe the idea as succinctly as possible. I don’t believe in writing huge design docs—but I do think that a trim concept doc helps frame what is and isn’t going to be relevant. And then it’s on to prototyping…
On prototyping:
Honestly, I can’t imagine designing any other way. With a simple digital or paper prototype, the design conversation can shift from being about the overarching Aesthetic themes of the game, and focus on the structure and behavior of its actual Mechanics.
Before you have a prototype, the Mechanics are rough thoughts about how the time, activity, and attention of the players will be structured. Building the prototype makes them concrete. And then, each player brings unexpected information or impulses to the actual gameplay Dynamics. So the only way to really shape the Mechanics and emerging Dynamics for predictable outcomes is to test it with lots of players.
As people explore the prototype, you can see and feel how close or far it is from communicating the essential Aesthetic goals that inspired it. The playtests guide future development, helping you weed out bad mechanics and hone in on the soul of your game. This is how you build something elegant that feels tight, composed, and solid. Start with the A, discover the M, then perfect the D for a range of players and situations.
In my experience, this process works for all kinds of creative projects! It works regardless of where the inspiration came from and irrespective of the experience’s final form. It is universally applicable, and immeasurably valuable.
On a difficult design problem:
Right now, I am collaborating with Keita Takahashi on a game that has a playful, whimsical Aesthetic and simple, child-like Mechanics. And yet, the core interaction of the game has been frustrating for certain playtesters.
Specifically: younger players typically ignore UI cues and just do what feels right given the tuning of the game system. But adults keep get hung up on “doing it right,” especially when they don’t get the response that they expected.
So I began testing without the initial UI. Once we removed the idea of “doing it right,” adult players felt free to experiment and find their own local solution to the challenges at hand. Giving them less instruction gave them more confidence to engage their inner child and … just explore through play!
Now, instead of feeling like they have failed to do what the game requires, they feel clever for discovering what works within the system, through trial and error. It’s a very simple, but very profound, lesson.
What are you most proud of in your career?
Journey is certainly up there! The game concept was incredibly experimental, and the challenges we faced (technical, creative, organizational) seemed insurmountable at times. But we kept pushing, and eventually made something everyone could be proud of.
We got so many inspiring letters from fans who were touched by the game, and l still get tears in my eyes when I play it, or watch someone else experience it for the first time. For me it is a testament to the power of designing games with feeling in mind, and it proves that our medium is limited only by the scope of our imaginations.
On a larger scale, I suppose I’m proud to be a driving force for diversity in our industry. I work very hard to support new voices, whether that’s by showcasing new work, mentoring aspiring developers, or just playing new, experimental games as they emerge. I’m proud to be a part of our industry and to participate in the design conversation as we evolve.
Advice to designers:
Make lots of things, experience lots of feelings, and enjoy new experiences. They translate to everything you do … and they make life worth living.
You only get one ticket, and the ride will be over sooner than you think. So be curious and engaged in everything you do. Embrace it!