Perhaps this is most obvious in the math and physics that are at the heart of games. A good portion of the time I’ve spent studying game design from a programming perspective has been devoted to figuring out how to move objects through virtual space so that they at least appear to be responding realistically to things like gravity and collisions.

Less obvious is the effect that making games has had on my aesthetic appreciation of the world around me. When trying to increase verisimilitude in games, it becomes increasingly important to pay closer attention to reality, and this can enhance enjoyment. For example, there’s just something about considering atmospheric scattering in a game that makes sunsets a bit more interesting. This is difficult to explain, and perhaps a bit corny, but no less true for it. Somehow, my passion for creating imaginary environments causes me to appreciate even more the beauty of the real world

A few years ago, I became involved in a discussion on property ownership in games. Wanting to get a better handle on the issue, I found myself reading John Locke’s Second Treatise on Government. I was struck by how applicable some of Locke’s thoughts were to massively multiplayer online games. For instance, look at how the following speaks directly to the practice of kill-stealing in an MMO:

And even amongst us, the hare that any one is hunting is thought his who pursues her during the chase. For being a beast that is still looked upon as common, and no man’s private possession, whoever has employed so much labour about any of that kind as to find and pursue her has thereby removed her from the state of Nature wherein she was common, and hath begun a property. (Locke, Chapter V)

If not for my interest in game design, I’m not sure that I would have deliberately sought out this sort of reading material. Yet my passion for understanding how to design imaginary worlds encourages me to more closely study my own.

Not all games are simulations. The ones that have endured for centuries are often much more abstract. Yet even here there are fascinating lessons to be learned. The more I read about design in books like Koster’s A Theory of Fun for Game Design, Chris Crawford on Game Design, Salen and Zimmerman’s Rules of Play, and Donald Norman’s Design of Everyday Things, the more I realize that it is all about people. Games are about our struggle to survive and about our desire to be connected. They are playful, interactive, and often abstract conversations that we engage in with ourselves and with each other. Stripped of their cosmetic trappings down to their ludological core, games have much to teach us about ourselves and the reality of the human condition.

So, why design games? In all honesty, this is simply what I love to do. But the realization that studying games and their design might help me to become a better person is an awfully nice bonus.