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[In a column originally published in Game Developer magazine, former lead designer on Firaxis' Civilization IV and current EA 2D staffer Soren Johnson examines the role of luck in games, which he describes as "a social lubricant – the alcohol of gaming, so to speak."]

One of the most powerful tools a designer can use when developing games is probability, using random chance to determine the outcome of player actions or to build the environment in which play occurs. The use of luck, however, is not without its pitfalls, and designers should be aware of the trade-offs involved – what chance can add to the experience and when it can be counterproductive.

Failing at Probability

One challenge with using randomness is that humans are notoriously poor at accurately evaluating probability. A common example is the Gambler’s Fallacy, which is the belief that odds will even out over time. If the Roulette wheel comes up black five times in a row, players often believe that the odds of coming up black again are quite small, even though clearly the streak makes no difference whatsoever.

Conversely, people also see streaks where none actually exist – the shooter with a ‘hot hand’ in basketball, for example, is a myth. Studies show that, if anything, a successful shot actually predicts a subsequent miss.

Also, as designers of slot machines and MMO’s are quite aware, setting odds unevenly between each progressive reward level makes players think that the game is more generous than it really is. One commercial slot machine had its payout odds published by www.wizardofodds.com in 2008:

* 1:1 per 8 plays
* 2:1 per 600 plays
* 5:1 per 33 plays
* 20:1 per 2,320 plays
* 80:1 per 219 plays
* 150:1 per 6,241 plays

The 80:1 payoff is common enough to give players the thrill of beating the odds for a a big win but still rare enough that the casino is in no risk of losing money. Furthermore, humans have a hard time estimating extreme odds – a 1% chance is anticipated too often and 99% odds are considered to be as safe as 100%.

Leveling the Field

These difficulties in accurately estimating odds actually work in the favor of the game designer. Simple game design systems, such as the dice-based resource generation system in Settlers of Catan, can be tantalizingly difficult to master with a dash of probability.

In fact, luck makes a game more accessible because it shrinks the gap – whether in perception or in reality – between experts and novices. In a game with a strong luck element, beginners believe that, no matter what, they have a chance to win. Few people would be willing to play a chess Grandmaster, but playing a backgammon expert is much more appealing – a few lucky throws can give anyone a chance.

In the words of designer Dani Bunten, "Although most players hate the idea of random events that will destroy their nice safe predictable strategies, nothing keeps a game alive like a wrench in the works. Do not allow players to decide this issue. They don’t know it but we’re offering them an excuse for when they lose ('It was that damn random event that did me in!') and an opportunity to ‘beat the odds’ when they win.”

Thus, luck serves as a social lubricant – the alcohol of gaming, so to speak – that increases the appeal of multiplayer gaming to audiences which would not normally be suited for cutthroat head-to-head competition.

Where Luck Fails

Nonetheless, randomness is not appropriate for all situations or even all games. The "nasty surprise" mechanic is never a good idea. If a crate provides ammo and other bonuses when opened but explodes 1% of the time, the player has no chance to learn the probabilities in a safe manner. If the explosion occurs early enough, the player will immediately stop opening crates. If it happens much later, the player will feel unprepared and cheated.

Also, when randomness becomes just noise, the luck simply detracts from the player’s understanding of the game. If a die roll is made every time a StarCraft Marine shoots at a target, the rate of fire will simply appear uneven. Over time, the effect of luck on the game’s outcome will be negligible, but the player will have a harder time grasping how strong a Marine’s attack actually is with all the extra random noise.

Further, luck can slow down a game unnecessarily. The board games History of the World and Small World have a very similar conquest mechanic, except that the former uses dice and the latter does not (until the final attack). Making a die roll with each attack causes a History of the World turn to last at least three or four times as long as a turn in Small World.

The reason is not just the logistical issues of rolling so many dice – knowing that the results of one’s decisions are completely predictable allows one to plan out all the steps at once without worrying about contingencies. Often, handling contingencies are a core part of the game design, but game speed is an important factor too, so designers should be sure that the trade-off is worthwhile.

Finally, luck is very inappropriate for calculations to determine victory. Unlucky rolls feel the fairest the longer players are given to react to them before the game’s end. Thus, the earlier luck plays a role, the better for the perception of game balance. Many classic card games – pinochle, bridge, hearts – follow a standard model of an initial random distribution of cards that establishes the game’s ‘terrain’ followed by a luck-free series of tricks which determines the winners and losers.

Probability is Content

Indeed, the idea that randomness can provide an initial challenge to be overcome plays an important role in many classic games, from simple games like Minesweeper to deeper ones like NetHack and Age of Empires. At their core, solitaire and Diablo are not so different – both present a randomly-generated environment that the player needs to navigate intelligently for success.

An interesting recent use of randomness was Spelunky, which is indie developer Derek Yu’s combination of the random level generation of NetHack with the game mechanics of 2D platformers like Lode Runner. The addictiveness of the game comes from the unlimited number of new caverns to explore, but frustration can emerge from the wild difficulty of certain, unplanned combinations of monsters and tunnels.

In fact, pure randomness can be an untamed beast, creating game dynamics that throw an otherwise solid design out of balance. For example, Civilization 3 introduced the concept of strategic resources which were required to construct certain units – Chariots need Horses, Tanks need Oil, and so on. These resources were sprinkled randomly across the world, which inevitably led to large continents with only one cluster of Iron controlled by a single AI opponent. Complaints of being unable to field armies for lack of resources were common among the community.

For Civilization IV, the problem was solved by adding a minimum amount of space between certain important resources, so that two sources of Iron could never be within seven tiles of each other. The result was a still unpredictable arrangement of resources around the globe but without the clustering that could doom an unfortunate player. On the other hand, the game actively encouraged clustering for less important luxury resources – Incense, Gems, Spices – to promote interesting trade dynamics.

Showing the Odds

Ultimately, when considering the role of probability, designers need to ask themselves "how is luck helping or hurting the game?" Is randomness keeping the players pleasantly off-balance so that they can’t solve the game trivially? Or is it making the experience frustratingly unpredictable so that players are not invested in their decisions?

One factor which helps ensure the former is making the probability as explicit as possible. The strategy game Armageddon Empires based combat on a few simple die rolls and then showed the dice directly on-screen. Allowing the players to peer into the game’s calculations increases their comfort level with the mechanics, which makes chance a tool for the player instead of a mystery.

Similarly, with Civilization IV, we introduced a help mode which showed the exact probability of success in combat, which drastically increased player satisfaction with the underlying mechanics. Because humans have such a hard time estimating probability accurately, helping them make a smart decision can improve the experience immensely.

Some deck-building card games, such as Magic: The Gathering or Dominion, put probability in the foreground by centering the game experience on the likelihood of drawing cards in the player’s carefully constructed deck. These games are won by players who understand the proper ratio of rares to commons, knowing that each card will be drawn exactly once each time through the deck. This concept can be extended to other games of chance by providing, for example, a virtual “deck of dice” that ensures the distribution of die rolls is exactly even.

Another interesting – and perhaps underused – idea from the distant past of gaming history is the “Element of Chance” game option from the turn-based strategy game Lords of Conquest. The three options available – Low, Medium, and High – determined whether luck was only used to break ties or to play a larger role in resolving combat.

The appropriate role of chance in a game is ultimately a subjective question, and giving players the ability to adjust the knobs themselves can open up the game to a larger audience with a greater variety of tastes.

In our latest employment-specific round-up, we highlight some of the notable jobs posted in big sister site Gamasutra's industry-leading game jobs section this week, including positions from Relic Entertainment, Zoe Mode and more.

Each position posted by employers will appear on the main Gamasutra job board, and appear in the site's daily and weekly newsletters, reaching our readers directly.

It will also be cross-posted for free across its network of submarket sites, which includes content sites focused on online worlds, cellphone games, 'serious games', independent games and more.

Some of the notable jobs posted this week include:

Relic Entertainment: Senior Director Of Development
"The Senior Director of Development executes the developmental strategy of the studio in accordance with the GM and THQ’s strategic and tactical objectives. Responsible for ensuring project development achieves operating objectives and financial goals; ensuring development efficiency and product timeliness, and otherwise ensuring consistency and process improvements across projects."

2K Games: Channel Marketing Manager
"2K Games develops and publishes top-line PC, console, and handheld entertainment software, with a strong concentration in three distinct categories: sports, high profile licenses and specialty product. Some of the hit titles in 2K's lineup include the critically-praised Bioshock, Sid Meier’s Civilization IV, and The Darkness. 2K Games is a wholly-owned subsidiary of Take-Two Interactive Software, Inc."

Raven Software/Activision: Senior Game Designer
"Raven Software is looking for a Senior Designer for our latest unannounced action title, primarily focusing on combat systems and encounter design. Designers will work with the rest of the team to create and implement combat systems, AI behaviors, and scripted events in the game world. Additionally, the Senior Designer will act as the arbiter of quality for all the combat sequences in the game, working closely with other designers to make sure we have consistent, high-quality combat encounters throughout the game."

Sony Computer Entertainment America: Maya Technical Director
"Be a part of the most exciting and innovating computer entertainment in North America. Sony Computer Entertainment America (SCEA) markets the PlayStation® family of products and develops, publishes, markets, and distributes software for the PS one™ console, the PlayStation®2 and PlayStation®3 computer entertainment systems and the PlayStation Portable (PSP™)."

Zoe Mode: Senior Technical Artist
"As a Senior Technical Artist, you’ll define and drive the technical vision and art pipelines for multiple games throughout the studio. You will work closely with both the Lead Artist and engineering staff to create powerful, yet easy to use, systems for artists and designers to use in our ground breaking games."

To browse hundreds of similar jobs, and for more information on searching, responding to, or posting game industry-relevant jobs to the top source for jobs in the business, please visit Gamasutra's job board now.

In our latest employment-specific round-up, we highlight some of the notable jobs posted in big sister site Gamasutra's industry-leading game jobs section this week, including positions from Relic Entertainment, Zoe Mode and more.

Each position posted by employers will appear on the main Gamasutra job board, and appear in the site's daily and weekly newsletters, reaching our readers directly.

It will also be cross-posted for free across its network of submarket sites, which includes content sites focused on online worlds, cellphone games, 'serious games', independent games and more.

Some of the notable jobs posted this week include:

Relic Entertainment: Senior Director Of Development
"The Senior Director of Development executes the developmental strategy of the studio in accordance with the GM and THQ’s strategic and tactical objectives. Responsible for ensuring project development achieves operating objectives and financial goals; ensuring development efficiency and product timeliness, and otherwise ensuring consistency and process improvements across projects."

2K Games: Channel Marketing Manager
"2K Games develops and publishes top-line PC, console, and handheld entertainment software, with a strong concentration in three distinct categories: sports, high profile licenses and specialty product. Some of the hit titles in 2K's lineup include the critically-praised Bioshock, Sid Meier’s Civilization IV, and The Darkness. 2K Games is a wholly-owned subsidiary of Take-Two Interactive Software, Inc." Continue reading

[In this in-depth design analysis, first published in the August 2009 issue of Game Developer magazine, Electronic Arts designer Soren Johnson (Spore, Civilization IV) looks at the myriad factors in the decision to make a game turn-based versus real-time.]

One of the most important choices a designer makes at the start of a project is deciding whether to make a turn-based game or a real-time one. Each type of base game mechanic provides potential benefits and drawbacks.

While turn-based games favor more strategic and transparent play, they can feel a little stodgy to players used to action-oriented titles. Real-time games, on the other hand, are more immersive and multiplayer-friendly but can also easily overwhelm new players if they are not well-paced.

Turn-based games, of course, descend directly from the board game tradition which predates video games. Indeed, the fanbase for turn-based games still overlaps significantly with the fanbase for board and card games. Real-time games (excluding sports) were only truly possible with the advent of computers. Indeed, quite a few games - Super Mario Bros., Team Fortress, FIFA, Pac-Man - could only ever conceivably be developed as real-time games.

However, quite a few games could go either way, with an understanding that each path comes with its own set of trade-offs. Roguelike dungeon-crawlers, for example, have been made as both turn-based and real-time games. Early versions, such as NetHack, were purely turn-based; the game’s clock only moves forward each time the player takes an action.

However, Blizzard’s Diablo put the same explore-and-loot formula into a real-time environment and created an experience that was less strategic but more visceral and potentially addictive. Furthermore, without the waiting inherent in a turn-based system, the designers could develop a viable multiplayer mode.

Nonetheless, Diablo has not supplanted the continuing popularity of turn-based roguelikes, such as Pokemon Mystery Dungeon or Shiren the Wanderer, which maintain their own tactical charm. Thus, deciding between turn-based and real-time is not a question of which system is “better” or “worse” but rather a question of which set of trade-offs best fits the game the designer wants to make.

How Much Stuff?

One simple way to look at a game is by asking how many game systems and elements the player needs to master to feel competent. For example, a typical shooter might have ten weapons; a real-time strategy game might have fifteen units per side; a role-playing game might have twenty spells available. New players can often be intimidated by the sheer quantity of new concepts and options a game presents to them, and the time pressure of a real-time game only makes this learning experience an even greater challenge.

When first prototyping the original Civilization, Sid Meier originally built the game as a real-time simulation. Inspired by Will Wright’s SimCity, he tried to extend the concept to a global scale.

He quickly found, however, that players were overwhelmed by the high number of new game systems they needed to juggle at once. After all, SimCity had no diplomacy, no trade, no combat, no research, and definitely no marauding barbarians. Thus, he changed course and rebuilt his prototype as a turn-based game, and the phrase “just one more turn” entered the gaming lexicon.

Designers always should be aware that each game can only contain so much “stuff” before the center cannot hold, and the experience overpowers the senses. By removing time pressure, turn-based games allow players to adjust the learning curve to their own needs. Veterans can still play quickly, but new players can take their time poking around the interface and thinking through their moves.

Thus, turn-based games are generally more accessible than real-time ones. It is no surprise that many of the most popular casual games are turn-based, from staples like Solitaire and Minesweeper to PopCap’s stable of Bejeweled, Bookworm, and Peggle.

Deterministic or Chaotic Play?

At their core, turn-based and real-time games play to different strengths. One example is the question of whether an experience should be deterministic or chaotic. With the former, success often depends on knowing exactly what the results of one’s actions will be; in Puzzle Quest, for example, the player needs to know that when a row of four skulls disappears, the other pieces will fall in a specific way so that a new column of consecutive red gems might form.

Just because some luck elements are involved - such as the unknown new pieces which fall from the top - doesn’t mean that the player isn’t mapping out an exact series of events in her head. This sequential gameplay is one of the core strengths of turn-based games. On the other hand, chaotic, unpredictable gameplay is a strength of real-time games.

When players first spot a heavy-medic combo in Team Fortress 2, they know that they are probably in trouble, but the sequence of events to follow is so varied that players know it’s impossible to overanalyze the situation. A sniper could kill the medic. An explosion might knock the heavy off a platform. A spy might sneak up behind them. An event on the other side of the map might encourage one side to simply abandon the area.

Real-time games support chaotic gameplay best because, with the added pressure of a shared clock, players are not able to reduce each situation down to a repeatable series of moves and counter-moves.

Multiplayer or Single-Player?

Another divide which defines the different strengths of turn-based and real-time games is whether the focus of the experience is multiplayer or single-player. Generally speaking, multiplayer games work best in real-time wheras turn-based games usually focus on single-player sessions.

Turn-based games, like Advance Wars and Civilization, have only a tiny, hard-core multiplayer audience. On the other hand, real-time games with similar themes, such as Command & Conquer and Age of Empires, respectively, gained much of their popularity from their multiplayer modes.

The reason for this divide is clear - waiting for another player to finish his turn is anathema to fun - so designers looking for a synchronous, multiplayer experience almost always prefer real-time games. However, because no one else is waiting, designers of purely single-player games give themselves the option of using turn-based elements whenever convenient, to either add some spice or allow more strategic play.

For example, the single-player game Fallout 3 allows players to pause real-time combat and enter V.A.T.S. mode to strategize which enemy body parts to target, even displaying the exact probability of success for each possible choice. Similarly, the Baldur’s Gate series is a hybrid model, with real-time combat that pauses depending on certain player-selected events, such as when a character receives damage or a new enemy becomes visible.

Breaking the Rules

Indeed, these games are but a few of the many games that blur the line between “pure” turn-based and real-time systems. For example, what about turn-based decisions with a time limit, such as Madden’s play-calling clock? What about X-Com, with its crunchy real-time strategic shell surrounding a gooey turn-based tactical core? Or the Total War series, which does the exact opposite?

What about Europa Universalis, which is technically real-time but plays out so slowly that it “feels” like a classic, sprawling turn-based strategy game? How about asynchronous Web-based games like Travian, which play out over months instead of minutes, eliminating the time pressure but keeping the multi-player benefits of real-time play?

What about Bang! Howdy, which plays as a typical tile-based tactical wargame, except that each unit’s turns regenerate in real-time? In reality, a vast continuum stretches from one extreme to the other, and most games find a space somewhere in the middle.

Therefore, the most important thing to focus on is not the labels themselves but what types of gameplay they represent. For example, the tower-defense game Plants vs. Zombies is ostensibly real-time, but its characteristics are more in line with traditional turn-based games. Besides being solely a single-player game, the gameplay itself is strictly deterministic, even moreso than many turn-based games.

The map consists of five tracks along which the zombies progress, each with exactly nine slots on which to place defensive plants. Furthermore, the zombies’ behavior is entirely predictable - Pole Valuting Zombies will always jump over blocking Wall-nuts, even if that means falling right into the jaws of a Chomper plant.

The game may look chaotic to an observer, but - like most tower-defense games - the strategic play is built upon predictable enemy behavior. The real-time mechanics simply provide time pressure, not the other qualities usually associated with the format, such as chaotic play or a multi-player mode.

Likewise, Boom Blox is a turn-based game which eskews the usual strengths of the format. In the game, players have a discrete number of throws during which to knock down various block-based structures. Unlike most turn-based games, however, Boom Blox is a very chaotic affair, with unpredictable physics-based game mechanics.

Furthermore, unlike Plants vs. Zombies, in which players’ actions take place on a precise 5-by-9 grid, players of Boom Blox use strictly analog controls to point at the screen and then “throw” the ball with the WiiMote. Chaos theory dictates that an identical series of throws will almost never happen twice in a row.

Furthermore, this unpredictable nature coupled with the very short turns (each only a single throw) makes Boom Blox an excellent multi-player game, a rare feat for turn-based video games. Thus, in the end, deciding whether to make a game real-time or turn-based is less important than deciding which aspects of those formats are most relevant to the overall design. As they say, one needs to learn the rules to know how to break them.

[Continuing his 'Sound Current' series talk to notable game audio creators, Jeriaska sits down with Civilization IV soundtrack co-composer Christopher Tin on his new album, inspired by one of the signature Civ IV songs.]

Musician Christopher Tin made his debut as a game composer with the tracks "Baba Yetu" and "Coronation" for the 2004 strategy title Civilization IV. His contributions to the score earned him two awards from the Game Audio Network Guild, for Best Original Vocal Song and Rookie of the Year.

Music from Civ IV has graced the stage numerous times as part of the Video Games Live concert series, allowing for "Baba Yetu" to be performed around the world. On October 1st the composer is publishing an album of music inspired by the piece.

Called "Calling All Dawns," the collection assembles twelve songs in twelve languages, including a brand new rendition of the celebrated videogame vocal theme. The album represents the culmination of an artist's personal interpretation of a computer software series that has inspired him since his youth.

In this interview coinciding with the release of "Calling All Dawns," Christopher Tin describes being a part of the VGL concert series. The discussion offers a personal perspective on the position of game soundtracks as an art form with international appeal.

As an intersection of Civilization IV and the entirely new material present on Calling All Dawns, "Baba Yetu" is also an example of bringing together ancient musical traditions and modern game software. In your work as a composer, what have you observed about the interplay of the canon and today's videogame industry?

Sadly, on a macro level, there is no interplay between classical music and videogames. This is not to say that the classical world doesn't explore adaptive and dynamic music (Steve Reich, John Cage) and that game music doesn't flirt with the classics (Civ IV had a number of licensed pieces, including 20th-century works by John Adams). But the circles have been wary of each other for awhile.

Tours like Video Games Live are helping to redefine those boundaries, but it's an uphill struggle, and videogames and the classical canon have little to do with one another for now. But really... why should there be any interaction between games and the classical canon? Why can't game music evolve as its own distinct art form? Why should it rely on the Western classical tradition at all?

Videogames (and their music) are complex, evolving, and technologically mediated. Why should the music in videogames rely on a the classical tradition that's centuries old, linear in definition, and based on artifices of 16th-century technological limitations?

Does the idea interest you of writing music that includes an interactive component and responds dynamically to the feedback of the player?

As far as effective uses of interaction in games, I'd have to say that Troels Folmann does this very well in his scores (matter of fact, Troels does many things very well).

I would certainly love to write more dynamic and adaptive music. I've done it for various sound installations and product design applications, but not yet in a game context. I certainly have a lot of ideas as to how it could be done; some of which may extend beyond the limitations of the current generation of consoles.

The key, though, is that I consider myself a highly structural composer; for me, the second most important element of music is form (the most important element is melody). So the challenge becomes how do you maintain a cohesive and satisfying musical form, while still relying on an adaptive engine? How do you have sensible modulations, recapitulations, developments, counterpoint, etc.? Is this possible, practical or even desirable? Maybe someday when the technology catches up, someone will hire me to solve this dilemma.

Prior to contributing to the score of Civilization IV, what had been your experience with the computer game series?

Civ was a huge part of my childhood. The funny story is that it was my college roommate, Soren Johnson, who turned out to be the lead designer for Civilization IV. I ran into him at our five-year reunion at Stanford. We had done an overseas study program together at Oxford. He was studying history and computer science, which is perfect for Civilization, and I was studying music. We caught up and he had just finished Civilization III as one of the co-designers. I told him I had been a huge Civilization fanatic growing up.

A couple months went by and I got a phone call from him saying, “Hey Chris, we are in the process of putting together the opening animations for Civilization IV. I took a track from one of the Stanford Talisman a capella albums recorded back at Stanford, and everyone loved the world vibe of it.” Talisman specializes in African choral music, so Soren came back to me and asked if I would be up for writing something new that was an epic sounding African vocal track with drums. And it was right up my alley.

I spent a month writing the main theme for Civilization IV, which is actually a long time in composer terms. I then recorded it with Talisman a capella back at Stanford. I got it into the game and that was it.

What is it that appealed to you about the series when you played it in your youth?

I’ve always been the type of person that likes to build, cultivate and tinker with things. I get fixated and obsessed on little projects. A game like Civ, where you’re growing a Civilization, expanding your borders and expanding new territories, that all fits into that pleasure center in my brain.

Your music for Civilization IV has been a fixture of the Video Games Live concert series program. What has been your experience working with the event organizers?

Well, Tommy and Jack are great. To me, they’re living the life right now. Having gotten to know them over the years, they have cultivated a great sense of community among game composers.

For example, Tommy has an annual summer barbecue where he invites everyone in the Game Audio Network Guild to his house. I can’t think of another industry where one of the top composers says, “Hey guys, everyone come over and hang out at my place!” It doesn’t matter if you’re an A-list composer, an assistant or an intern, you can come over, play videogames and hang out.

Has participating in the Video Games Live concert series directly contributed to the design or realization of your concept for Calling All Dawns?

I think that any time you're able to take a piece of music out of the context of a game and still have it stand on its own it's a validation that you've written a good piece of music. In a sense, the success I've had with my music being featured in Video Games Live (and the hundreds of other live performances of my music) gave me the motivation to create an entire album of music that would stand on its own, apart from any visuals.

On your blog you mentioned an audio/video experiment that took place at a recent performance of your Civilization IV medley at Video Games Live in Kalamazoo, Michigan. You had attended the concert virtually from your home in California and participated in a Q&A session by being projected on a monitor at the venue. How did the experiment turn out?

It was a great experience! And kudos to the VGL guys for trying to integrate this technology into the concert experience. In this day and age, why can't we do more of this stuff?

I'm relatively young, but I still remember a day when the idea of a 'video phone' was some sort of distant, newfangled technology. Nowadays we can beam anyone's voice and image anywhere in the world (and for FREE, on top of it), so why not have more remote participation events where composers 'virtually' attend concerts of their music? If any orchestra or choir out there wants me to do such a similar broadcast, even if it's just to say 'hi' during a rehearsal or do a Q&A, I'd be ready and willing.

Do you find it rewarding as a musician to interact directly with listeners and hear their feedback, for instance during the Video Games Live series' post-concert meet-and-greets?

Absolutely! I love meeting game music fans in person, and especially getting emails from people who are fans of my music (I usually write back). I'm very 'public' in my composition process. When I have the time, I love to workshop works-in-progress with a trusted circle of friends for feedback. The act of playing your works for people is a very revealing part of the creative process; you can no longer avoid those weak points that maybe you've been turning a blind eye to, but instead, are forced to confront them.

How would you say your academic training, both in terms of your literary background and training as a musician, contributed to your career as a composer?

Well, one can be inspired in the head, and one can be inspired in the heart. My cerebral inspiration, of course, was my study of the musical canon, which in one form or another gets subconsciously translated into the music that I write. But as for what moves me? What inspires the heart? It comes from far and wide.

I suppose that looking at the music I grew up listening to, there's a common thread of good old-fashioned tunefulness, that seems to work its way into what I write. I don't talk about it much, but when I was a tween I was absolutely obsessed with the musicals of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Schönberg and Boublil. (In fact, I originally wanted to be a musical theatre composer!)

There's a certain sweeping drama in their works that I loved growing up, AND you can't get their melodies out of your head. Once I entered high school I traded that love for the likes of The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, The Who, and the rest of the 'classic rock canon'. And again, the sort of repetitive riffs and hooks that you find in their music work their way into the stuff that I write. I write very riffy, hooky orchestral music. Maybe I'm a rock musician trapped in a classical musician's body.

Is "Calling All Dawns" a reflection of your academic training or experiences traveling?

A little of both, perhaps. The two aren't mutually exclusive. Book knowledge and life experience are often spoken of as competing ideas, but really they're two sides of the same coin. In fact, what you learn in school and what you learn in the real world should teach you the exact same thing: that it's important to look at the big picture, to think big, to take it all in, and to be unafraid to make a statement in the world.

Anyone who has traveled has been humbled by the enormity of the world's cultures and landscapes. Likewise the more schooling you have, the more awestruck you are by the depth, breadth and history of human knowledge. So whether you went through years of academia or years on the street, you should graduate with one important lesson learned: respect. Respect for the world, for the people around you, and for the people who came before you.

So what is Calling All Dawns? It's a vehicle of respect.

Christopher Tin conducting 'Baba Yetu' with the Golden State Pops Orchestra

What has been your experience meeting Afrika composer Wataru Hokoyama? You’ve both received GANG Awards for Rookie of the Year.

Wataru and I did a concert together with the Golden State Pops Orchestra at Game Music in Concert (four of the six composers there were GANG Rookies of the Year). He’s a great guy and a great composer. We did joke that when the game community wants something African, they turn to the Asian composers.

One of the songs on your forthcoming album, "Mado Kara Mieru," was recorded in Japan. Did you receive any advice from videogame musicians in the creation of this Japanese-language music track?

Absolutely! Hitoshi Sakimoto (of Final Fantasy XII fame) was instrumental in helping me get the vocals recorded. The song itself was conceived and written several years ago with the help of various Japanese-American friends, but when it came time to record, I didn't have the resources to find the right vocalists on my own.

As it turns out I was passing through Tokyo earlier this year, and decided to see if I could find some leads through the Game Audio Network Guild. One member referred me to Sakimoto-san, who referred me to the excellent singer Lia.

Through Lia's management I met two other excellent singers (Aoi Tada and Kaori Omura), and the three of them are the featured vocalists on my song (entitled 'Mado Kara Mieru'--translated as 'Through The Window I See'). It really speaks to the closeness and camaraderie in the game industry, I think; Sakimoto and his company were amazingly helpful in contacting the vocalists, arranging the recording session, and even helping out with the paperwork. I hope I can repay them in some way, someday.

How did you go about finding lyrics for "Mado Kara Mieru"?

With a lot of these songs, I tried to capture a cultural understanding of the language that the song is based on. There is a tendency to rely on clichés in striving for ethnic legitimacy. Whenever possible, I try to go a step beyond and find a deeper cultural raison d’etre.

This is where the understanding of literature and poetry comes into play. As it is, each of these songs draws from texts about life, death and rebirth. You have the requiem mass in Latin, you have excerpts from the Bhagavad Gita, an excerpt from the Torah, a Catholic hymn, a Japanese haiku, Māori proverbs, Persian poetry by Omar Khayyám. It’s not just sacred material, but also secular. 2009 has been spent recording soloists like the Soweto Gospel Choir performing "Baba Yetu," various singers in Japan, and Anonymous 4 in New York. The Portuguese Fado singer Dulce Pontes also sings a song for me, as does Iranian singer Sussan Deyhim and the legendary mezzo-soprano Frederica von Stade.

The dominant poetic form in Japanese is the haiku. In doing research into haiku, I got to understand that basically every classical haiku has a kigo, a seasonal word. They will say something like, “I look up in the sky and I see the moon.” The moon in that case is the seasonal word, because in autumn the moon is its roundest. That grounds the haiku in a particular season. If you see the word “sakura,” --meaning 'cherry blossoms'--it refers to spring, when the cherry trees blossom. Many of these haiku are grounded in particular seasons.

At the time I was writing this, I knew that my overall theme for Calling All Dawns was the cycle of life. Life, death and rebirth are a never-ending cycle. Even our distant ancestors observed this cycle in the turning of the seasons and the crops rejuvenating themselves in the spring.

What I did was take five haiku with corresponding words for spring, summer, autumn, winter and spring. Then I put them in order and treated them as a rondo. The goal was also to have singers at different stages of their lives singing these solos. The spring haiku would be sung by a young girl, for example. The summer haiku, by a young woman.

In the end is this how you went about recording the song?

Not quite. Ultimately, while all this artistic vision is important, the emotional impact of the vocalist is the most important thing. While you can theorize that it would be ideal to get a young girl to sing this, if an adult woman who can sound like a young girl is more capable, you should side with her. In other words, you should always choose quality over strict authenticity.

Looking back at your own experience, is there any personal advice you might offer someone who plans on going to school for musical training and is interested in working in videogames?

I wouldn't encourage prospective students to look *specifically* to get into video games, nor anything else for that matter. Just focus your energies on becoming the best possible composer you can be, and don't worry about what you're going to compose for--that will sort itself out later, and frankly you have no control over what's going to fall your way.

The truth is, though, that if you're a good musician, you'll be able to apply those skills towards any field you wind up working in. One thing in particular is that I've always believed that if you can write a good melody, you'll never go hungry. Why? Look back on history: every single piece that's established in our collective memory has always had a good melody. Even the great composers have pieces that stand out from the rest of their canon, and most often those are the ones with the great melodies.

Beethoven wrote nine symphones. How many people can hum the Fourth? The Eighth? Yet everyone knows the Ninth, the Fifth, the Third, and to a lesser extent the Sixth and Seventh. Why? Because they're great melodies. Even canonical dissonant works like the Rite Of Spring have great melodies. Want to write a piece that everyone connects with, that will stand the test of time? Write a good melody.

[Find more about Christopher Tin, along with ordering information on the album, at the composer's official website. Images courtesy of Christopher Tin. Hear samples of "Calling All Dawns" on Soundcloud.com.]

[In this design analysis, first published in the May 2009 issue of Game Developer magazine, Maxis designer Soren Johnson (Spore, Civilization IV) addresses the careful balance between smart AI and player perception that the game is cheating.]

The designers of Puzzle Quest have a frustrating burden to bear – everyone thinks they are a bunch of dirty cheaters. The game centers on a competitive version of Bejeweled, in which players duel with an AI to create the most “match-3” colored patterns.

The problem comes from how the pieces on the gameboard are created - when, for example, a column of three green orbs is lined up and removed from play, new pieces fall in to take their place. However, sometimes, these three new pieces happen to be of all the same type, which means that a new match is automatically made, and the player scores again.

The odds of such a result are low (around 2% for getting three of the same colors in a row), but they are still high enough that a player will see it many times with enough games played.

Of course, the AI is playing the same game, so the player will see this lucky match fall into the enemy’s lap as well. At this point, human psychology takes over. Because the new pieces are hidden from view, how does the player know that the computer is not conducting some funny business and giving itself some free matches?

The human mind is notoriously bad at grasping probability, so many players are convinced that the AI is cheating. The developers have pledged over and over again that everything is fair and even, but whether they like it or not, the player experience has been affected by the simply possibility of cheating.

Trust Me

Games do not start with a player’s trust – this trust needs to be earned over time. Our audience is well aware that we can make a game do whatever we want under the hood, so the transparency and consistency of a game’s rules contribute significantly to player immersion.

The worst feeling for a player is when they perceive – or just suspect – that a game is breaking its own rules and treating the human unfairly.

This situation is especially challenging for designers of symmetrical games, in which the AI is trying to solve the same problems as the human is. For asymmetrical games, cheating is simply bad game design – imagine the frustration which would result from enemies in Half-Life warping around the map to flank the player or guards in Thief instantly spotting a player hiding in the shadows.

However, under symmetrical conditions, artificial intelligence often needs to cheat just to be able to compete with the player. Accordingly, designers must learn what cheats feel fair to a player and what cheats do not. As the Puzzle Quest team knows, games need to avoid situations in which players even suspect that the game is cheating on them.

Cheating is not the same thing as difficulty levels – by which the players are asking the game to provide extra challenges for them. Cheating is whether a game is treating the player “fairly” – rewarding them for successful play and not arbitrarily punishing them just to maintain the challenge. Unfortunately, in practice, the distinction between difficulty levels and cheating is not so clear.

Show the Mechanics

Fans of racing games are quite familiar with this gray area. A common tactic employed by AI programmers to provide an appropriate level of challenge is to “rubberband” the cars together. In other words, the code ensures that if the AI cars fall too far behind the human, they will speed up. On the other hand, if the human falls behind, the AI slows down to allow the player to recover.

The problem is that this tactic is often obvious to the players, which either dulls their sense of accomplishment when they win or raises suspicions when they lose. Ironically, games which turn rubberbanding into an explicit game mechanic often becomes more palatable to their players.

For example, the Mario Kart series has long disproportionately divvied out rewards from the mystery item boxes sprinkled around the tracks relative to the riders’ current standings. While the first-place racer might receive a shell only useful for attacking other lead cars, players in the rear might get a speed bullet which automatically warps them to the middle of the pack.

These self-balancing mechanics are common to board games – think of the robber blocking the leader’s tiles in Settlers of Catan – and they don’t feel like cheating because the game is so explicit about how the system works. Thus, players understand that the bonuses available to the AI will also be available to themselves if they fall behind. With cheating, perception becomes reality, so transparency is the antidote to suspicion and distrust.

Cheating in Civilization

Sometimes, however, hidden bonuses and cheats are still necessary to provide the right challenge for the player. The Civilization series provides plenty of examples of how this process can go awry and drive players crazy with poorly-handled cheating.

Being turn-based, the developers could not rely on a human’s natural limitations within a real-time environment. Instead, Civilization gives out a progressive series of unit, building, and technology discounts for the AI as the levels increase (as well as penalties at the lowest levels).

Because of their incremental nature, these cheats have never earned much ire from the players. Their effect is too small to notice on a turn-by-turn basis, and players who pry into the details usually understand why these bonuses are necessary.

On the other hand, many other cheats have struck players as unfair. In the original version of the game, the AI could create units for free under the fog-of-war, a situation which clearly showed how the computer was playing by different rules from the human. Also, AI civilizations would occasionally receive free “instant” Wonders, often robbing a player of many turns of work.

While an AI beating the human to a Wonder using the slow drip of steady bonuses was acceptable, granting it the Wonder instantly felt entirely different.

How a cheat will be perceived has much more to do with the inconsistencies and irrationality of human psychology than any attempt to measure up to some objective standard of fairness. Indeed, while subtle gameplay bonuses might not bother a player, other, legitimate strategies could drive players crazy, even if they know that a fellow human might pursue the exact same path as the AI has.

For example, in the original Civ, the AI was hard-wired to declare war on the human if the player was leading the game by 1900AD. This strategy felt unfair to players – who felt that the AI was ganging up on the human – even though most of them would have followed the same strategy without a second thought in a multiplayer game.

In response, by the time of Civ3, we guaranteed that the AI did not consider whether an opponent was controlled by a human or a computer when conducting diplomacy. However, these changes still did not inoculate us against charges of unfairness. Civ3 allowed open trading – such as technology for maps or resources for gold.

An enterprising human player would learn when to demand full price for their technologies and when to take whatever they could get – from a weak opponent with very little wealth, for example.

We adapted the AI to follow this same tactic, so that it would be able to take whatever gold it could from a backwards neighbor. To the players, however, the AI’s appeared to be once again ganging up against the human. Because the AI civs were fairly liberal with trading, they all tended to be around the same technology level, which led the player to believe that they were forming their own non-human trading cartel, spreading technologies around like candy (or, in the parlance of our forums, “tech-whoring”).

Perception is Reality

Once again, perception is reality. The question is not whether the AI is playing “fairly” but what is the game experience for the player? If questions of fairness keep creeping into the player’s mind, the game needs to be changed. Thus, for Civ4, we intentionally crippled the AI’s ability to trade with one another to ensure that a similar situation did not develop.

The computer is still a black box to players, so single events based on hidden mechanics need to be handled with great care. Sports game developers, for example, need to be very sensitive to how often a random event hurts the player, such as a fumble, steal, or ill-timed error. The dangers of perceived unfairness are simply too great.

Returning to our original example, the developers of Puzzle Quest actually should have considered cheating, but only in favor of the player. The game code could ensure that fortunate drops only happen for the human and never for the AI.

The ultimate balance of the game could still be maintained by tweaking the power of the AI’s equipment and spells - changes which appear “fair” because they are explained explicitly to the player. The overall experience would thus be improved by the removal of these negative outliers that only serve to stir up suspicion. When the question is one of fairness, the player is always right.

[In this design analysis, first published in the March 2009 issue of Game Developer magazine, Maxis designer Soren Johnson (Spore, Civilization IV) addresses the potential of asynchronous multiplayer gaming.]

One of the first things that separated video games from board, card, and parlor games was real-time interaction. The computer could handle all the details and challenges inherent in allowing two (or more) people to play the same game at the same time.

Indeed, despite the name, the first multi-player video games may have had their roots more in sports than in games. Pong, after all, was inspired by table tennis. These early experiences were inherently synchronous, meaning that the players experienced the game together, at the same time, on the same machine.

Since then, the synchronous format has been the default model for multi-player video games, and - with the arrival of online gaming - this same experience could be enjoyed even by people who were not necessarily in the same location.

The synchronous model is so deeply embedded in the standards and traditions of the industry - think Doom, StarCraft, Madden, EverQuest, and so on - that few designers consciously consider that synchronous play is simply a design choice. Another option exists - asynchronous play, meaning multi-player games that can be experienced in bite-sized chunks at different times for each player.

The board-game world provides examples of games which can be played using this format, such as play-by-mail chess or wargames. The most successful game for this format is clearly Diplomacy, the classic game of back-stabbing, which rewards secret negotiations and hidden pacts difficult to achieve in a synchronous format. Indeed, with the appearance of the Web, a number of unofficial sites have sprung up giving players a moderated, asynchronous Diplomacy experience online.

One of the reasons Diplomacy works so well as an asynchronous game is that the turns are executed simultaneously. In other words, unlike sequential games like chess, in which players take turns performing actions, all moves in Diplomacy are done at the same time. Players submit their orders secretly to a gamemaster who then handles all interactions and conflicts according to the carefully crafted rules.

This format is ideal for an asynchronous experience because all players get to make a decision every single turn. More traditional board games, from Risk and Monopoly to Carcassonne and Ticket to Ride, would slow down to a painful crawl in asynchronous play because the vast majority of turns are spent waiting for other players to make their moves. Thus, asynchronous play favors a specific style of game mechanics, ones which minimize waiting and keep players involved as much as possible.

Games for Real People

Asynchronous games hold a number of advantages over their synchronous counterparts. To begin, the time pressure of a standard turn-based game is eliminated. No more are 4 or 5 other gamers sitting around a table, waiting for the slow player to make up his mind. Instead, a player could take an hour deciding what to do without negatively impacting the flow of the game.

Furthermore, asynchronous play allows multi-player gaming - still the richest, most engaging experience available - to fit the schedule of regular people with busy lives and unpredictable free time, across multiple time zones.

Few adults can afford the total devotion required to participate in a five-hour, 40-man MMO raid. In contrast, an asynchronous game can allow a large group of friends to play together as long as each player can find 15 minutes per day to check the game. In Diplomacy, the English player can submit her moves in the morning, and the French can do it at night - or vice-versa - whatever works best for each one.

Indeed, the ideal online asynchronous game goes a step further than Diplomacy, which can still hang if one player neglects to send in a turn, by moving to a real-time format in which the game progresses regardless of an individual player’s specific actions. In fact, fantasy sports games follow exactly this model.

Once a league is initiated, scores are tabulated each day of the season whether players log-on or not. However, the players are all full participants in their league whether they check their teams once every other week or hit the waiver wire multiple times per day.

The strength of this model can clearly be seen by the astounding popularity of online fantasy leagues, with at least 30 million North American players in 2007, according to a study by the Fantasy Sports Trade Association. (In fact, a case could be made that fantasy sports are the most popular form of multi-player gaming in the world.)

Players with different commitment levels can play together and still enjoy the experience - a statement which definitely cannot be made about your typical RTS.

Looking to the Web

Few good examples of asynchronous gaming exist for AAA retail video games, besides some play-by-email modes for older strategy games. For Civilization IV, we created a PitBoss (”Persistent Turn-Based Server”) option which allowed large games of up to 32 players in which players could log-on at any time to execute their turns. Combined with simultaneous movement and a 24-hour turn timer, epic games of Civilization were finally manageable thanks to the asynchronous format.

One could also say that World of Warcraft’s focus on solo content is a form of asynchronous play, in that players could finally participate in a traditional MMO without needing to juggle the logistics of managing a raid schedule or looking for a pick-up group.

Furthermore, Leaderboards and Achievements are also a form of asynchronous interaction layered on top of traditional single-player or synchronous multi-player games, enabling a extra level of socialization for gamers across multiple sessions.

However, most of the innovative asynchronous games exist on the Web, a platform already built upon asynchronous interactions. Many Facebook games, like Wordscraper (nee Scrabulous), manage the persistence of simple turn-based games while using the social networking aspects of Facebook to make it easier to challenge one’s friends.

Games can be played between two friends over a few hours or a few months - whatever matches their level of commitment. Asynchronous MMOs exist as well, such as Mob Wars and Knighthood on Facebook or Nile Online and Travian on their own sites.

All of these games allow players to grow and develop some entity within a larger world, for prestige or challenge or the simple pleasures of leveling. In Nile Online, for example, players control a city on the banks of the Nile, each one with a unique resource, such as cedar, gold, or oil.

As the cities grow, they begin trading with nearby players to acquire the resources they need - perhaps bronze for sculptures or emeralds for jewelry - or to sell their own excess goods for a profit. Eventually, players can see their cities rise in the global rankings or create great Monuments for further renown.

Meaningful Interaction?

The challenge with these asynchronous MMOs is that, while they do have some of the advantages of a multi-player environment, they tend to feel more like a less predictable single-player game. Player interaction is fairly light as most of mechanics focus simply on developing one’s own domain, without much concern for the neighbors.

Allowing meaningful interaction between players is a challenge because, by definition, the system can only assume one player is logged-on at a time. If one player could wipe out another player’s city, what if the latter player is asleep? Would it be fun to wake up and discover all of one’s hard-earned progress destroyed without a chance to counter the attack?

Thus, most of the games include options to lessen the impact of other players’ actions. In Travian, for example, a player can build a Cranny which automatically protect her resources when another player ransacks the town.

However, these mechanics are ultimately self-defeating; player interaction is either meaningful or it is not. If zero-sum mechanics, like resource raids, are too powerful and negate the advantages of asynchronous play - the ability to set one’s own play schedule - then the developers should focus on the parallel competition mechanics of the game instead, building a Wonder first or achieving economic dominance.

One asynchronous web-based game which tries to solves this problem while keeping meaningful zero-sum mechanics is Duels, a fantasy-themed MMO in which characters level up by fighting one another.

The system is asynchronous because players do not actually need to be online when their characters fight. Instead, a warrior might challenge a wizard to a duel, which is only played out when the wizard actually accepts the challenge later that same day.

The advantage is that while the conflict and interaction is meaningful, the players themselves can still play the game at whatever pace they prefer without worrying about looking for games in the lobby or rage-quitters spoiling the battles.

However, the problem is that, because players can be offline when combat occurs, no meaningful decisions actually occur during the duel itself. Thus, combat is a “black box” which takes in two characters and spits out a result. If a good game should be a series of interesting decisions, Duels paints itself into a corner by taking control away from the player.

Native Asynchronous Play

Truth to be told, asynchronous games are still in their infancy from a design perspective. Their future is promising as the potential audience for asynchronous multi-player games is much great than the potential audience for synchronous ones - although anyone who can find time for synchronous games can find time for asynchronous ones, the opposite is not true.

The challenge is, instead of aping mechanics from established synchronous games, finding game mechanics native to the format itself, ones which make sense only in an asynchronous world.

The best example of such a game is Parking Wars, a Facebook game in which players earn money by parking for an extended period of time on another player’s street. The trick is that if a car is parked illegally, then the owner of that street can steal all the money the car had earned by handing out a parking ticket.

Thus, the best strategy is knowing what times one’s friends are less likely to be checking their streets for illegally parked cars and using that knowledge to earn money. The counter-strategy, of course, is to check one’s own street at unexpected times to catch one’s friends trying to do the same. Thus, the game cleverly uses the actual time players are off-line as the game’s content.

Unlike the mechanics of the other asynchronous games mentioned previously, the rules behind Parking Wars could not work at all in a synchronous environment. Designers of future asynchronous games should follow this precedent -- the time has come to stop retrofitting synchronous mechanics into an asynchronous shell and to find the format’s native voice.