Game mechanics are conversations between the game and the player. As in any form of communication, there is an implicit assumption of a common language shared between both sides.

This language doesn’t have to be a written or spoken language — usually it isn’t. When we say “I don’t get Heavy Metal” or “I don’t understand modern art” we are referring to it: we are missing that common language.

Video games have a common language too (and sub-genres have their own dialects). Some of that language is borrowed from other media (like movies, for example). Also, the language itself changes over time. It doesn’t matter if it’s an unconscious change (for example, the way HEALTH evolved on FPS from Wolfenstein 3D to modern shooters), or a conscious one (for example, the active desire of games to become a more meaningful story-telling media).

When we interact with things in games, we bring with us all sort of knowledge from our life experiences. Usually this happens through things or experiences that we’ve seen before (the key to open a door, the trash bin on most desktop interfaces). Those things, when repeated over and over, become part of the new language (the disk icon to save files, for example).

Obviously, it works both ways. When we interact with things in games we also build up new assumptions (or reaffirm previous ones). Those assumptions may come back when we have to interact with things in real life. Of course, it’s not as literal as “you will run over people with your car if you play GTA”, but is it that insane to think that maybe it’s a bit easier to relate to what soldiers must do during war after playing Call of Duty?

Anyway, here it goes a small list of games and their metaphors.

Pac-Man (Arcade, 1980)

In Pac-Man the basic pick up are the DOTS. The player eats them as it walks through the map. The player becomes empowered to eat ghosts when it gets ENERGIZED DOTS. Eating is the core action of Pac-Man.

From time to time FRUITS appear on the center of the map. They act as bonus pick ups. The metaphor is simple: they are harmless and they are eatable, so you should eat them. Eating more is awesome. Fruits are good.

Strangely, the ghosts don’t eat you back. Instead you disintegrate when they touch you. It creates a separation between the player and its objective (to eat the dots) and the enemies and their objectives (to haunt the player). Pac-man dies after being confronted by this out-of-life presence. Ghosts are scary.

But imagine what Pac-man would look like if instead of ghosts we had Dinosaurs or Tigers trying to eat Pac-man, as Pac-man eats the dots. Now there’s no separation. The enemies are not out-of-this-world creatures. We are all the same. Maybe the players would eventually stop running and allow themselves to be eaten. Maybe we should all eventually stop running.

Could it be that somehow having ghosts chasing you around narrow corridors is less scary and traumatic than realizing we are also just an afternoon snack of someone else’s reality?

River Raid (Atari, 1982)

On River Raid there isn’t strictly a pick up. FUEL AREAS refill your fuel when you go over them and are destroyed if the player shoots them. FUEL AREAS have 3 game mechanics attached to it: they refill your main resource (gas) without which your plane can’t fly; they prevent the player from blindly shooting all the time; and they give a time-based challenge by forcing the player to stay in a particular position for as long as it can (to maximize refill).

In spite of its militaristic theme (airplane shooting boats and bridges), the fuel mechanic is very tender. The player is controlling something that is degrading and that demands care. It’s not just about kill or be killed, it’s about maintenance.

And going to war to sustain an oil dependency.

Super Mario Bros (NES, 1985)

Mario is not very strict on its item’s metaphors. MUSHROOM, FIRE FLOWER and STAR gives you special abilities (and makes you big, which works as a shield/can get hit once mechanic). Another color of MUSHROOM gives you an extra life. The common theme is: the items tries to represent what’s going to happen to Mario when he gets them, like icons. They also need to look harmless (specially the MUSHROOM that moves just like enemies), so the player doesn’t try to avoid them.

The standout is the COIN. When Mario collects 100 of them, he gets an extra life. The money metaphor is common in many games after Mario, but it’s usually associated with a resource that you can spend by buying items among a choice of items in a store. In Mario, that’s not the case.

Game-wise it’s a straightforward mechanic: it gives you instant gratification throughout the level and it gives you a long term objective of getting as many of them as possible.

Conceptually, on the other hand, it’s a bit more interesting. It is rooted on the notion that accumulating wealth is inherently good and that you will get magically rewarded if you get enough money. When the player starts playing Super Mario Bros, there’s no indication that you will get something by collecting all the coins.

Yet, it doesn’t become a design issue: if there is money, the players will spend their lives getting more of it and it’s only fair that a higher designer will add value to it later. Hence, everything and Wall Street.

Golden Axe (Arcade, 1989)

Golden Axe manages two resources with item. MAGIC POTION gives the player magic and MEAT gives the player health bar. As in Pac-Man the metaphor is to ingest things. Eating and drinking is always good for you. Just like HFCS.

The game also has ELVES WITH RUCKSACKS which can be attacked to steal POTIONS and MEAT from them. It’s really fun to boot them in the face. But how come does this fit the heroes game narrative? The designers put the elves there and had no doubt the players would be able to figure out you can attack them for prizes. How come?

My guess is that this, as most modern hero journeys, is not really about heroism (altruistically helping a group of people) but about power. So you see a defenseless elf, it is smaller than you, it’s fine to bully the shit out of it. It fits the story. Unless you think the story was about being honorable.

Dune 2 (PC, 1992)

In Dune 2 you compete versus other houses to control the planet Dune. Dune is kind of a shitty planet. There’s nothing much going on there: huge desert, people-eating sand worms, and SPICE.

During the game you harvest this orange sand called SPICE. It allows you to get credits to build things. You can use those things to kill enemies and eventually own all the SPICE on the planet. Which you can then harvest to get credits to build things that you can use to…

The plot twist is the obvious one: what happens when the war is over? After you spent considerable amount of natural resources to have a chance of controlling the (hopefully) remaining natural resource, what’s next? “Then we see”. The Hail Mary strategy. As applied in every single resource war that ever happened in history.

Notice how resource games (or wars) are never about personal change. The need for something is static, a given. Then there is a conflict: not enough of a resource to maintain status quo. Then the change must come from elsewhere: making someone else not exist, so nothing changes for us.