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Our refrigerator still works fine, even if we've had it for a long time.
It's from the Energy Saver era, so getting a new one won't save a lot of money on our electricity bill.
We're not people who need to have the latest kitchen appliances, the sleek black ones that strutted down the runway this spring in Milan.
So if it's keeping food the right temperature and it's energy efficient, why do we hope to get rid of our refrigerator sometime next year?
Somewhere inside that big black box is a sensor. If you accidentally leave the door open a crack it lets you know before you have to mop the ice cream off the kitchen floor.
"Beep! Beep! Beep!"
You can tell where this is going. For the last few months, we periodically hear the warning sound, run to the freezer... and find the door securely closed.
The alarm goes off again. Adjust the contents again. Slam the door again.
"Beep! Beep! Beep!"
If we call a service guy to fix a 79-cent part on our old freezer it will cost several hundred dollars.
So because of a 79-cent part we have "new refrigerator" on our wish list. And when we get it, we'll throw out an appliance that otherwise continues to work perfectly well.
So what does this have to do with game design and software development?
How many times have you played a game you think you'll enjoy, only to have something drive you freaking crazy?
- You press a button and nothing happens because you're not in the right mode.
- Before you can do anything fun you have to go bring back the Crown Prince's Diet Coke can that he dropped in the French Revolution the last time you guys went time traveling.
- You've spent 30 of the last 60 minutes re-playing stuff because you died and they're making you go back and do it all again.
Somebody spent $15,000,000 to build that game.
You're about to trade it in at the store because of something that might have taken $15 to fix.
But we see it all the time. The same issue that's driving you crazy is all over the Net. Three different major reviewers call it out, and it's part of the reason for a 71 rating for what could have been a really good game.
Why didn't someone fix it before the game shipped? How much money did they lose by not fixing it?
We all get stuck behind deadlines. We want to do more playtesting with real consumers and fresh pairs of eyes, but the submission date is looming and the A's on the bug list aren't cooperating.
But what's the cost when teams DON'T get the chance to tune the game properly, to fix the unintended cumulative effect of five other changes? It can be millions of dollars and months and months of team members' lives.
The teams who handle these issues best have stellar track records. Blizzard and Valve are just two names that come to mind.
Why is it hard to think of a lot of publishers that give their games thorough testing and tuning UNTIL the player experience is flawless?
"Beep! Beep! Beep!"
I'll think about it while I fiddle with the damn freezer.
Some game publishers will accept a post-Alpha, pre-Beta milestone devoted just to tuning game play and the player experience. What would happen if you pitched this for your next project?
What would happen if you actually reserved the time for tuning the game, instead of using it for the post-Alpha to-do list?
What would happen if the game developers -- not the marketers -- got reactions from a series of first-time-on-the-game players periodically throughout development?
As difficult as it is to do these things in the real world with real deadlines, there are teams in the industry who do it. I mean, Valve has done OK with Half-Life, haven't they?
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Copyright (c) 2008, Don Daglow.




In my last post I discussed the first lesson I took from Alex Laurant's session at GCDC, called "The Transition from Film to Games: An Outsider's Perspective on Visual Design Challenges."



Alex Laurant


I'll be speaking at the