The meeting to discuss Christie’s vision was at two p.m. in Sonic. It had been two months since Christie’s Advent Calendar had launched, and Allie was itching to launch the next big thing. But she trusted Christie too much to push her.
Christie had claimed the small conference room as her war room and covered the glass front with paper. The sign on the door said “Top Secret” and had a whimsical drawing of an angry hedgehog shaking a finger at the viewer. Don’t mess with Sonic.
Allie walked in. Inside, every bit of wall was covered with drawings, writing, and photos. There were pictures of players, notes from playtesting, endless flowcharts, and diagrams. There were concept sketches, printed out and thus losing a bit of their vivid colors. The whiteboard was a mass of circles, boxes, arrows, and utterly incomprehensible handwriting. It certainly looked impressive.
But bad ideas could come in shiny packages. Allie stayed cautiously optimistic but skeptical. The perfect emotional state for a general manager, she felt. Ready to be dazzled or for everything to go to hell.
Christie came dashing in, her laptop open in her arms, cradled like a baby. Emma, one of the artists, followed her. Emma was a quiet Chinese woman, a recent graduate of the art school down the street. She rarely spoke, but if it was shyness about her English or just shyness, Allie didn’t know. Then she thought about Carlton.
“Hey, did you invite Carlton?”
“I’m sure . . .” Christie said, not sounding sure.
“I’ll grab him. He should start getting caught up.”
Allie walked over to the art team and tapped Carlton on the arm. He looked up from his laptop and blinked at her.
“If you are free, we’re going to look at a new event Christie’s been working on with Emma . . .”
“Of course!” he said brightly.
When they returned to the room, Christie had her laptop connected to the projector and was ready for the pitch. They sat down and Emma dimmed the lights.
The door opened and Jheryn popped in. He was the tech advisor, there to make sure all concepts were buildable. “Sorry I’m late,” he mumbled, and pulled up a chair.
Christie started. “After the Advent calendar bold beat, we realized there was an untapped desire for freeform creation.” She showed slides of the some of the landscapes created on the Advent canvases. “It was our most successful bold beat so far, by an order of magnitude.” She showed a chart; Advent had outperformed the strongest release half again. “And the bulk of that growth was driven by freeform creative play.”
“Which led us to CountyFair. This is not an event. This will be an expansion.”
Allie sat up. Events were important, but expansions . . . were rare. It was almost like creating a new game. They took longer to make, and they had about the same chances of being successful as a new game. Though considering how successful QuiltWorld had been, it made sense. Like making a sequel to a hit movie. She became more excited and more anxious all at once.
“CountyFair has two parts. You have your property, where you have your house and workshop, and you have the fair itself.” She showed an aerial view of a patchwork countryside, then clicked to show a small house and a big wooden barn. “We’ve got some ideas about events around the house later, but for now, it’s all about the workshop.” She went to the next slide. It showed the interior of the barn, filled with bookshelves, almost all empty, and bins. “You start with a limited amount of tiles and thread. We’ll also provide some direction, probably in a play-tutorial.” These were gamified tutorials, in which you tried to follow instructions as closely as possible to get maximum stars. “We’ll use the play-tutorial to introduce another concept . . . sending the work to the fair.”
At this, Christie smiled broadly, full of glee to share this apparently brilliant creation. But she waited, savoring. “But before we move to that, I’ll point out all this empty space. . . . Right now we think,” she nodded to Emma, “it will act in two ways. Obviously players will want to shop for material. But also Emma was researching crafting stores, and . . . you tell them, Emma!”
Emma cleared her throat and took a small sip of water. She spoke slowly and too softly. “I have researched people enjoy to buy materials because they like how pretty they are. Many people only use a small percentage of the materials. If we have many pretty things and much storage, we can appeal to collectors.”
This was brilliant. Completionists can’t resist getting all of a certain item. Empty shelves would drive them crazy. Some people preferred shopping anyway, the dream of making being more appealing than making. It was likePokémon; some collected and some battled. Because QuiltWorld always shipped just enough materials for whatever you were making in your kit, this was a world they hadn’t explored.
“What’s the model?” Allie asked. “Per item, or unlocked materials, more like Minecraft?”
“I’d like to test that. We’ve got a paper prototype test coming up next Friday. But please, can you hold questions? I’d like to show you the whole thing first.”
“Oh, of course!” Allie reached for her notebook and pulled out a pen.
“So we’ve got collecting and making. We think you can also buy more instructions. Emma’s research showed there is also a huge market for craft books that we theorize would translate to a market for instruction manuals, maybe crowdsourced. We could also use it to fuel community participation.”
Emma smiled proudly.
“Okay, I mentioned sending it to the fair!” Christie continued. “When you are happy with your creation,” she showed a slide of a hobbyhorse appearing to be made of calico scraps, “you click submit. For now, we think it’ll just go to a tent,” she showed an image of a tent full of toys made of fabric, “but we could do something more social, like voting. If people campaign, the virals could be incredible.”
Allie could see it: a real reason to reach out to your social network. Better than begging for coins to buy the latest release, or lives so you could keep playing. She wrote herself a note to ask about energy management in the economy. She had never felt good about having to pay for more playtime or having to beg friends for it. It never felt integrated into the play.
“We already know one of the things that motivates play is pride in creation. So formally displaying work should be highly motivating. We’re bouncing around ideas for blue ribbons as well. We think that could be a huge event, great for reacquisition.”
She clicked back to another aerial view, this time of the fair. “We think some people may just like looking around, exploring the creations, like they do with YouTubes of Minecraft builds. We may be able to get longer session times. We’re going to try out putting in a following mechanism, to encourage stranger play.”
Stranger play was a holy grail. The longer players engaged in the game, the more likely they were to see their more dilettante friends drop out. To keep them engaged, they needed a safe way to play with people they didn’t know. A following relationship might be the trick to build connections. Players could follow each other’s work, ask for gifts, vote for each other. Over time it might create the kind of social bonds that kept players playing. World of Warcraft was notorious for having players who only logged on to socialize and never played anymore.
There were a lot of untested hypotheses in this expansion, but they were all built on hard-earned knowledge. Christie’s design was packed with mechanics that would engage players over time. She’d pulled on both SOS knowledge and the best practices in the industry. This was a very calculated bet, but it was also a go big or go home bet. Allie was tingling with excitement now.
“How long do you think it will take? And what size team?”
Christie flicked on the lights, and Jheryn turned to Allie.
“Here’s the thing. The whole thing will take at least nine, twelve months as scoped. That’s with two pods of engineers, and probably most of the art team.”
Allie shuddered.
“But I think we can break it up into releases, so we can start to get some numbers early.”
Allie turned to Christie and she nodded. “I wanted you to see it as the final vision, of course. But if we release the workshop first, and the fair second . . . in fact, if we limit it to quilts in the first release, we might be able to have the first release out in under two months.”
“Wait, people making quilts in QuiltWorld?” Allie laughed. “Imagine!”
Carlton cleared his throat. Everyone looked at him. He had a slight pinkness around his throat, like a flush. “I’ve got a few questions.”
“Sure.”
“Are you sure this is the right direction?”
“What do you mean?” asked Christie.
“Letting people make whatever they want?”
Christie bobbled her head, puzzled.
“If you let people combine things any way they want, make anything they want, do you know how ugly that will be? It’ll be like a MySpace page!” His fair skin was becoming red and blotchy. Allie realized he was upset. “This project is a mess. QuiltWorld is where you make beautiful things! We design ways anyone can be an artist! Even when they have no talent, like most people. And now you’re going to let people make ugly things?”
Christie clicked back to the first few slides, puzzled.
“We’ve covered the numbers . . . free-crafting looks to be a massive engagement driver. The numbers are telling.”
“I don’t care about numbers, this is an artistic decision.”
Allie froze. What the . . . He was insane. He was against the very idea that would take QuiltWorld to the next level. And why? Because some players might make ugly things? Really? And then she imagined Yosi on her shoulder, whispering in her ear, “Give feedback right away . . .”
She looked straight into Carlton’s too-blue eyes. “No, it’s really not. We make decisions based on customer data in this studio, not based on individual opinion. We make our players happy, even if their taste isn’t the same as ours.” She swallowed, and licked her lips. “You’re new here. Tell you what, let’s grab lunch and I can fill you in on the background.” Without waiting for a response, she turned back to Christie. “This is amazing work. All of you. After the first round of testing, if all goes well, let’s prep for product council. We’ve got something here.”
From the corner of her eye, she could tell Carlton was completely red now. She looked down at her notes, then turned back toward Christie. “So, tell me how energy works in the economy?”
* * *
Allie considered how to handle Carlton’s weird outburst. She agreed with Yosi’s model: fast, clear, and make sure the person understands there are consequences. It was hard. But doing the hard thing was the job description.
She walked up to Carlton’s desk a little before noon. “Ready to grab some lunch?” she asked. She hoped he’d calmed down a bit. He was no longer pink, anyway.
“Sure.” He pushed away from his desk aggressively.
She suggested Pazzo. They could get sandwiches and eat upstairs where it was quiet.
Allie got a chicken Caesar and Carlton got a meatball sub. This meant they had to sit downstairs, at least until his number was called. Hot food took a little longer.
They picked a table about halfway from the counter and sat down. Allie decided to wait to touch her salad until Carlton was served. She considered how to broach the meeting when Carlton exploded.
“You really disrespected me in that meeting! Emma works for me, and Christie is a peer. It’s my domain, the look and feel of the game. I’m not sure I can do my job if I can’t make key calls that affect the final product. It goes on my portfolio, you know.”
Jaw. Floor. Allie did not see any of that coming. “Carlton, let me . . .”
“I mean, what is that? User-generated content? When has that worked well? Heard of MySpace?”
Now she stared at him, wondering what was going through his head. “Heard of Minecraft?”
“Oh, sure, a kids’ game.”
“Three hundred sixty-seven million last year. And some truly amazing projects. There is a city in Sweden that’s using it for collaborative city planning.”
Carlton paused and stared. Allie had finally shut him up. She decided to start with hard facts and wrap with inspiration. “Look, Carlton, I’m not sure what kind of relationship you had in the past with your GM, or what was expected of you. And I’m sorry we didn’t get this out in the interview process. But it’s important you understand where you work and our philosophy. SOS is a highly profitable, metrics-driven company that succeeds by making players happy. We hope to go IPO in the near future, and we want that to be a life-changing event for all employees. I don’t know if you looked at your package closely, but if you vest fully, it will be for you also.
“While we respect the creative process, we also believe that constraints are part of great design. We do not express our individual vision in games. We use research and logic to make great games that touch our players’ hearts and engage their minds. And in return, they pay us.
“We don’t set out to make art. Art might happen, but our goal is to make our players happy. And if players are happy making ugly worlds with Tinkertoys, that’s what we’ll give them.
“I think they’d rather make beautiful things. The small percentage of players who do freecrafting do make wondrous creations. I’m happy to send you some. You need to have more faith in our players, and more faith in our game designers who make it possible. But most of all, as an executive at SOS, you need to know the end game. If you can’t combine art and commerce, this may not be the place for you.”
And as if to punctuate her comment, she stabbed her salad with a plastic fork and took a bite. As she chewed slowly, she stared at him and waited for him to absorb her speech. He was red again.
She swallowed her bite. “Oh, and your portfolio is not my problem. The game revenue is. But you are welcome to do great things with both.”
Carlton’s order number was called out. He rose stiffly and walked slowly to get his food.
Allie berated herself. That last bit was too much. This wasn’t feedback anymore. She was just angry. She was trying to save a game she loved, and he just cared about looking good. Then she remembered what Yosi said about not knowing another person’s intent. She should try to better understand what was motivating him. If only she’d done that in the interview. She pulled out her notebook and made a little note on her hiring page: “Find out interviewee motivation.” She could ask Derek for question ideas for that later.
Carlton came back slowly as well, but he was back to a pale pink. “I think we might be talking past each other. Let’s take a moment and try to figure out what our goals are here,” he said.
Allie was surprised. Did he read her mind? “I’d like that. I’d love to hear more about what your goals are for taking this job in the QuiltWorld studio.”
“I play the game,” he said. “I love the game. I’d come home after a long day, and then I’d just pour myself a glass of wine and play. It was so relaxing, not too much thinking. I think that’s part of what I was resisting in this change. But also the things I’d make were so lovely. And then, I started thinking of new things I could make, and thought how wonderful it would be to create them for others to assemble. It could be magical.”
Allie frowned a bit. Did he not understand how game process worked? “Carlton, usually at SOS, the art director oversees the artwork for the game, but the actual modules are designed by the game designer, or sometimes if it’s a smaller quest, a PM.” And then she realized she was telling someone who really loved QuiltWorld, loved her game, she’d hired him to be an order taker.
“But the recruiter, she was telling me how collaborative you work, how ideas can come from anywhere.”
Recruiters. They’ll tell you anything, then when you arrive, you’ve got a signing bonus you don’t want to give back and a bad surprise ahead of you. Then again, what he was describing was not unreasonable, just not how George had run things. She no longer needed to run things like George did.
Carlton was no longer pink. He just looked sad. And he hadn’t touched his sandwich.
“Carlton, I’ll be honest. I have only run this studio for a few months, even though I’ve been part of it for much longer. If you can familiarize yourself with how we develop and run games, and your ideas are expanding on the SOS framework, and not overturning it, I don’t see why ideas should only come from a few people. In fact, that would be stupid of me. It’s not like great ideas are so common I can just pick them up off the ground on my way in to work.”
Carlton was still.
“Can we focus on getting you up to speed first? I’d like you to familiarize yourself with QuiltWorld, and we can look at revising the work flow to cast a wider net for new quests. But I want to make this clear: I do own final call on strategy for the game. That means all aspects of it, from design to architecture. I look to you for your expertise, but I’ll always do what’s best for the game. Are you going to be okay with this?”
Carlton put his head down, apparently staring at the meatballs covered with coagulating cheese. He looked back up. “I need to try it out. It’s different, and it’s not what I expected, but it’s a different place.” He paused, thoughtfully. “I think it’s a special place.”
That it is, Allie thought to herself. Maybe together we can make it even more so.