Because 140 chars is not enough for rambling me -
Lives, and entertainment part of them, all feel extremely efficiency driven. Even flow is a theory on
optimizing experience, like we're seeking some perfect algorithm to be Super!Productive Beings of Advancement. We're on a high-gear march to the future and extremely excited to get there, but we're starting to act like machines.
In games, when was the last time you 'stopped and smelled the roses' - that is, you played without (or took pause from) objective-driven actions to actively consume, contemplate, or observe the state or system a game presented. When was the last time you explored for exploring's sake - to see if you could reach the edge of the world or watch how the CryEngine handled clouds at sunset - and not for 100% map completion, item collection, or hidden bosses? Although games as a whole are usually intrinsically motivated (we play them for playing them's sake), the WAY that we play is still very much mechanical. We mark achievements off our check list, fill up our collection books, and try to reach the 'end' of the game like so many rats traversing a developer-created maze.
That's because most games are motivated by efficiency - a design model that demands clear goals, unambiguous direction, and 'weenies' that lead us from point A to point B. Donald Norman has been deified in this world, but games are not everyday things. We've mixed up the confusion of poor design for the ambiguity of art. In moving for complete clarity we're eradicating those wonderful little playful details that make the world so enchanting.
Why is the Roomba so intriguing? It is a machine that circles around, dancing across our carpet laden with whatever LEDs or lifeform cargo we can think of. It has no apparent purpose or goal. We are mystified by its path, because it is illogical, motivated by nothing other than seemingly random whims. That mystification is what we are losing, and the Roomba illustrates one way of getting it back.
Application: Even in game creation we are motivated by efficiency - deadlines require hasty production with limited quality reduction, a dangerous line. All but the necessary elements are cut. Features are removed or sliced away from conception. Characters are deemed superfluous, quirky levels extraneous. Not only do we normalize our designs, but we cut out opportunities for easter eggs - those special locations, characters, items, or otherwise that are irrelevant to the overarching storyline, redundant in terms of collection or completion, and, colloquially termed, "pointless". Because simply being there isn't enough of a point.
I loved Xbox achievements until I considered them as another way of making games extrinsic. Players always want more pieces of cheese in their maze. They want to be rewarded; they want their pats on the back, they want to finish their collection. They rarely traverse and explore for its own sake. They're acting for the cheese.
The Roomba could have buzzed back and forth, gridlining its world with clean carpets. It could have - but it didn't.
And we don't have to, either. In the end, I'm advocating an adjustment to the current balance in games between hasty, efficient, clear products and mystifying, intriguing, thought-evoking products. Enchanting products. I think we should dare to do things that might not be the most efficient, if they are things that will make people look differently at their preconceived notions, consider, think, apply, and enjoy. We should add content to the game that doesn't give you extra points, doesn't unlock hidden achievements, and isn't actually extremely important later in the game when you have to backtrack.
Oh, and backtracking ;)
Let's backtrack a bit from efficiency, and take a brief respite amongst the metaphorical roses.