Quotations from The Well-Played Game
I recently read Bernie De Koven’s The Well-Played Game all the way through for the first time. Here are some of my favorite bits.
…as our play community develops, there are particular times when we seek out games withy fewer and fewer rules. We have so affmired our ability to play well together, to be safe with each other, that rules begin to get in the way of our freedom together.
As we begin to sense our power to create our own conventions, as we discover that the authority for determining whether or not a particular game is suitable resides not in the game but in the play community, we are willing, even, to change the very conventions that unite us. (pgs. 12–13)
As we continue to pursue this need to focus on the game alone, we find ourselves less and less willing to do anything other than think about the game. (…)
We create an authority which is no longer within our control, no longer subject to the conditions of our community. This helps us keep our minds on the game. This helps us avoid arguments. We have others now who can do that for us.
As our rules become regulations, we create greater and greater distance between our community adn those who govern it. Not only do we give our authority over to the referees and umpires, but we also allow their authority to be determined by an even larger authority, unnamed, unspecific, to which ascribe the personality for determining the regulations by which we play. (…)
We have reached a point in the pursuit of our well-played game in which the game has taken precedence over our community. (pg. 32)
Rules are made for the convenience of those who are playing. What is fair at one time or in one game may be inhibiting later on. It’s not the game that’s sacred, it’s the people who are playing. (pg. 44)
If anything needs to change, it is much more logical to change the game than it is to change the people who are playing. (pgs. 47)
No matter what game we create, no matter how well we are able to play it, it is our game, and we can change it when we need to, we don’t need permission or approval from anyone outside our community. We play our games as we see fit.
Which means that now we have at our disposal the means whereby we can always fit the game to the way we want to play. (pg. 53)
Clarity. Clarity. We can’t play unless we are clear that that’s what we’re doing. (pg. 103)
The games [of the New Games Foundation] were called “new” not because people had never played them before but because they were kept new by the ways in which they were played. Whatever rules there were, they were only the starting point, the introduction to the game. They described not how the game had to be played, but rather how the game could be played. People played the games the way they wanted them to be. that was the understanding that made the games “new.” (pg. 113)
We can play dangerously and still play well. If it works, we can play with more. We can be safe even though we’re playing with things that we can’t play with anywhere else. We can play with serious things—things of consequence. We could play with silence, with fasting, with patience. We could play with anger, with fear… Because we play responsibly, because we have affirmed our responsibilities to each other, to the sense of wellness, we can become larger than necessity. We can discover a new freedom. (…)
So we play with danger. A little danger. Enough danger. It is thrilling beyond words, this ability to play well with survival—to include in our games the very things that we have never been able to play with before. We can even play with death.
We can do this as long as we maintain our balance, as long as we are fully aware of the consequences, and fully accepting them. But, as our games get dangerous, our community has yet another obligation—we must make doubly sure that everyone we are playing with knows the consequences, has chosen to play. (pg. 125)
Playing to win is as absurd as anything else, but if it helps us play well together, if it helps us arrive at a well-played game, we have to know that we all take the effort seriously. (pg. 130)
Imagine how incomplete you would feel if, before the game, you were already declared the winner. Imagine how purposeless the game would feel—even though the universal agreement was that you were the winner.
It is disillusioning, being a winner. As disillusioning as it is to be a loser. If you’re a winner, you lose the reason to play. The game goes on, but you don’t. If you’re a loser, you lose reason. You go on, even though the game is already over. (pg. 138)
We seek purpose so strongly that when our purposes are finally, ultimately fulfilled—when we come close enough to see that satisfaction is inevitable—we create, as swiftly as we can, other purposes. (pg. 140)
When we’re playing, we’re not thinking about how well we’re playing. We’re just playing. We’re not even thinking about playing. (pg. 142 )
If we can all play well together, if we can find out how to do that, we might be able to raise the stakes infinitely. (pg. 143)
The Well-Played Game was first published in 1978—an auspicious era for us elf-game nerds. The way De Koven writes, though, it all feels relevant. One of the quirks of De Koven (as with a lot of game studies text from before the ’80s) is that he takes folk games as a default assumption. Games were published, sure, and there were board game designers that were active, but the vast majority of games lacked such a clear designer and direction. They were made, largely, by their players.
One of the quirks of studying RPGs is that, despite the astounding and enduring influence that D&D has had on videogames over the decades, RPGs remain folk games. It’s almost impossible to make definitive statements about rules or mechanics or design because they’re so unique and individual to their own tables. Even extremely tight, rigid RPGs vary wildly from table to table and group to group.
It’s what makes De Koven so relevant to our circles and scenes, I think. He writes for a time when games, as they existed in the collective consciousness, were far more fluid and pliable than we conceive of them now. Yes, videogames can be changed (see Boluk & Lemieux), but RPGs are fundamentally folk-based games. There is no authority that really matters beyond the players at the table.
It’s a beautiful thing.