web strategy, social networks, game thinking, and the future of good
I'm currently designing an online game for kids, a project that has tapped all sorts of mental muscles I haven't exercised for quite a while. When the project started I quickly began devouring blogs, tweets, and books on the topic of game design. Of the many kernels of wisdom that have helped me design my game is the power of what's called "mini-games."
Mini-games are simple, one-time activities a game player interacts with to achieve a quick result. One example of a mini-game is from the narratively-rich game Fable 2. Players must perform an activity (such as blacksmithing) by clicking the mouse at just the right time while a pendulum swings through a target area. Click at the right time, and your hammer hits the anvil at the right time; click outside the target area and you waste some time. One to two minutes of play and you'll have yourself a nice result. Quicky. Easy. Mini-game.
These mini-games are great 'return on investment' for game designers because they can be reused in different contexts throughout the larger game and are not difficult to program. Players can quickly grow tired of them, though, which is fine since more mini-games can be designed.
This past week I realized that this mini-game concept is not only powerful for game design, but for parenthood as well. Fathers especially have to be quick on their toes and design 'one-time activities a child interacts with to achieve a quick result,' whether that result is a change in behavior, a learning opportunity, or a pre-emptive shift in focus.
There are several mini-games that I play with my son, Kenny, that have netted great 'return on investment.' Let me share those with you and then ask what mini-games you remember from bygone days or which ones you use to accomplish a goal.
Countdown is simple but priceless. You need to get out the door or into the car quickly and you don't have time to mess around, but you don't want to ruin the good day you're having with your kiddo, either. The trick is to suddenly pretend that X must be done in 10 seconds or the world is going to explode, the game is going to be lost, or some similar consequence.
I use Countdown most often when getting Kenny into his car seat. He tends to--shall we say--get easily distracted during this essential step in the ordeal, so I suddenly put on my urgent-heroic voice and say something like, "Oh man, we haaaave to get in the seat in 5, 4, 3, 2...." He always gets in the seat in about three seconds.
Many a times hath this mini-game diffused frustration that could quickly turn into outburst. The game is to begin a statement we often use when something spills or an accident happens, and then wait for Kenny to finish the sentence. Our two most oft-cited phrases are, "That's O[K], we can clean it [UP]," and "Accidents [HAPPEN]."
Kenny will almost always provide the 'K' and 'Up' for the first, and 'happen' for the second, and when he does it triggers a memory that, hey, we've done this before, and it really IS okay to spill, to miss something, to lose a game I was playing. Tragedy averted.
Kenny likes to initiate this mini-game, too, though his blanks are sometimes hard to fill. Case in point: We were discussing whether he'd a get a treat soon and said, "I'll get one if you w__ __." I just looked at him puzzled. What starts with a "w" here? Finally he finished it off himself: "If you wet me"--but he meant "let me". Poor guy hasn't quite got his L's yet :)
You're at the dinner table and conversation has turned to something that your kiddo need not harp on. Not wanting to eat, wanting dessert but not deserving it, wanting to go play. A quick distraction I often employ is to quote a funny part of a movie and then ask, "What movie is that from?" Though this is not as fail safe as some other mini-games, Kenny will generally shift focus to this funny thing he remembered and produce the movie title.
He also likes to initiate this mini-game himself (he asks, "What is that movie from?" but I just smile inside and understand). Once again, his versions are tough, and methinks some of his quotes are from movies that apparently don't exist yet.
The game is fun to play "standalone" as well, when there isn't pressure on and a quick outcome needed. I find it helps grow memory and recall, drawing on movies that we haven't seen in some time or parts of a film that aren't standouts. Good stuff.
When Kenny's in a sensitive, touchy mood in the morning, my leaving for work can be a tough situation. I mean, I have to go provide for the family but I'm leaving said family with kid screaming tears and wife having to deal with him.
Yes, there's an app--err, mini-game--for that. Kenny and I created on a whim one morning: I pretend that I'm going out to battle all the dragons and evil in the world (which I like to think I really am doing) and he provides me all the tools I need for the job as I get on my bike. He throws the sword, I catch it and strap it on. He throws the shield and it's quickly synched to my arm. Rope gets tied around the bike, cage (?) in my pocket, key in the other pocket.
Rather than being mad at my leaving, Kenny is put into a helper state of mind as he sees me gear up for this momentous battle. He's sharing an experience with me rather than watching me leave. As I pedal away he's happy and goes about his merry way. Priceless.
My in-laws bought Kenny a hardback volume of the original Curious George stories last Christmas. God bless 'em. No, really. I'd wager that in the past 42 weeks, 3 to 4 nights a week we've read one of the seven stories from that weighty tome. Doing a little math, that comes to roughly 120 to 160 readings of an original Curious George story. Man alive. I needed a way to spice things up. Thus, "funny things."
This mini-game is for daddy's sake as much as Kenny's. I'll simply replace words that ought to be uttered with either their opposites or something completely obsurd. Take the following: "This is George. He lived with his friend, the man in the yellow hat." When Kenny asks, "Do the funny things!" this becomes, "This is Henry. He lived with his enemy, the man in the blue hat." And Kenny will quickly and smilingly say, "Naaaaa," and provide the correct version.
I only do "funny things" for a few pages because, honey, 80 pages of un-funnied George is long, but funny things makes it longer. I feel it is teaching Kenny opposites, listening skills, and all sorts of other mental goodies.
So, those are five of our favorites. I'm curious to hear about mini-games you play with you little ones. At the dinner table? Bed time? Bath? Let the mini-games begin!