Category Archives: Design

State-of-the-Art Experience Design for Experience Nerds — Attending a Battlestar Galactica LARP

Posted on April 2, 2013 by hillel

Let’s get this out of the way at the outset. LARP is an acronym that stands for Live Action Role Playing. Think Dungeons and Dragons, but running around in the woods in costumes and with fake swords. Or at least, that’s what I thought it was. But, it’s way more than that. It’s way more than I imagined anyway. Before I get into the details, let me give some background.

Here at Jackson Fish Market, we live and breathe user experience design. And for us, the highest calling of a great design is making the user feel… have an emotional experience. This is what we strive for in small and large ways. As my co-founder Jenny has said, in some ways, a game is the purest form of user experience design. The person playing the game doesn’t need to get their work done, or get a message to someone, they’re just there to feel something, to have fun. With other software, the user needs to accomplish a task. The software they’re using may be their only option for getting it done. But in the world of games, there are tens of thousands to choose from. And these days, a huge number are free.

One of the common themes in game design circles is the desire to tell a story. Countless failed efforts at “interactive fiction” and games designed with the input of Hollywood folks have left that dream for the most part unfulfilled. But for game designers, software is but one canvas. The resurgence of tabletop gaming is evidence that the thirst for gaming goes will beyond our obsession with our various screens. And for one group, the canvas of choice is the real world.

A LARP is an experience where a group of people enter a situation in character and play out a story. There are other people, the game runnners, who arrange plan the experience, the rules, any props, and any non-player characters. The key is this, whatever the scenario, whatever the environment, the players job is to stay in character and keep the game going no matter what. There are tools to pause the game and discuss how to proceed, but the magic of the LARP experience is to feel like you really are in a dungeon/spaceship/different era. And when someone stops the game, the suspension of disbelief takes a hit.

In a world where the internet is filled with trolls, and online games have griefers — players who like nothing better than to ruin the game for others — it’s difficult to imagine playing a LARP where someone doesn’t try to ruin it for everyone else. But as best I can tell, the LARP community is small enough and tightly knit to the point that this type of anti-social behavior is frowned upon. So for a niche group, a LARP can really be an experience that creates real emotion and transports you to another time and place. Whether this is something that could be reproduced for a much broader audience I wonder.

A few months ago I read online about a LARP that was being planned for March 2013 in Sweden. It would take place in the world of Battlestar Galactica. In in the real world it would take place on a Swedish destroyer that was now a museum. The LARP was billed as put on by the most hardcore and serious LARPers on the planet. Basically, this would be the ultimate LARP. Four six hour “episodes” spread across three days on a Swedish Destroyer. Fascinated with game design, and with extending user experiences beyond the screen, I decided, if I was going to experience a LARP, this was the one to try. I signed up.

To be quite honest, it was fantastic. Like a movie more than a videogame but I WAS IN IT. Maybe it was more like a play? A play that went on for twenty-four hours on an immersive set? If you’ll excuse the metaphor from another fictional universe, it was like the holodeck. It wasn’t perfect, but when everything was clicking there were a few truly magical moments where I believed I was in space aboard an old ship that had just survived the Cylon holocaust that destroyed most of humanity. I was THERE. Seriously. I know that I have a data set of exactly one, but given the reactions from some of the veteran LARPers that were there, I think it’s fair to say my positive assessment is not entirely because of the fact that this was my first LARP.

Before I dive into some of the details, it’s important to note that while there are many reasons why this LARP was so good, the most important decision the team made was to set it in the Battlestar Galactica universe. If you’re going to make a Harry Potter LARP, the players need to pretend to cast spells (and more importantly, pretend to be affected by them). If you’re going to make a superhero LARP you’re going to need to pretend to fly and use superpowers. But while BSG has space travel, and sentient humanoid robots, the technology in the show basically resembles what we have here on earth. In fact, to avoid Cylon infiltration, the survivors in the BSG universe had to go use old tech that wasn’t susceptible to Cylon technology. That kind of technology looks a lot like a Swedish Destroyer from the middle of the twentieth century.

Because the rebooted BSG television show was produced on a budget, many of the decisions they made about the storyline and context of the story were made to save money. In other words, the producers of the show the LARP were trying to emulate tried to use as many real world props, and inexpensive environments as they could. The TV producers’ decisions made it so much easier for the LARP producers to create an environment that really felt like you were in the world of Battlestar Galactica. One of my favorite examples is the octagonal paper and signage present throughout the TV show. Basically, you cut the corners off a piece of paper and voila, it’s from the world of BSG. When I first saw this on TV I thought it was kind of silly, but like most of the little details the TV producers used, it grew on me, and gave texture to that world. And wonderfully, it was pretty straightforward to reproduce in the LARP. All you needed was a pair of scissors.

Who was in attendance at this LARP of LARPs? I didn’t do a formal survey but for the one I attended (they put it on three times) it felt like over half the people (and maybe more) were somehow involved in the business of game design. Video game concept artists, Disney imagineers, tabletop game store owners, video game level designers, and more. Basically, this was an incredibly well-thought out LARP, set in a perfect and immersive universe, run by the most hardcore game runners in the LARP world, and attended by people who design games for a living. In other words, this was a professional game for game professionals. A perfect storm.

Oh, and I was there too.

I played a marine. I was equipped with a backstory a uniform, and some weapons as well. The uniform didn’t fit. And like the food that wasn’t good, it all helped me get into the mindset of being a Colonial Marine. I imagine that Marines just make do. And that the food on some random commercial spaceship that luckily survived the almost complete annihilation of humanity wouldn’t be that great. There was money — cubits they gave us. There were a few card decks with which to play Triad (BSG Poker). And throughout this old Swedish destroyer, octagonal signage, and screens connected to hardware controls that let you actually do stuff that mattered – like fly and repair the ship. Or run scientific experiments that had a bearing on the story. Honestly the level of detail, and thoughtfulness put into this experience was nothing short of amazing.

You didn’t fly the ship with a joystick. You flew the ship in three dimensional space. Planning jumps. Reading sensors. Plotting coordinates. Math and stuff. Apparently the first version of the interface for flying the ship was so realistic, some PhDs in Astrophysics had a hard time getting it right. After some retooling the game organizers came up with some great teamwork inducing mini-games that let a group fo people in the CIC (that’s BSG speak for “bridge”) fly the ship pretty well. Yet another detail that was super well thought out.

But it wasn’t just environment, there was a story too. A good story. Playing with a bunch of game designers meant that not only was nobody trying to ruin the game for anyone else, everyone was almost nervous that they might ruin the game for others. So people played with a light touch, trying to read signals about what others wanted to do. It was actually quite nice. And everyone understood the basic rhythm of a good story, so everyone was content to let the tension and revelations build over time until the end of the experience where things came to a head. Creating a story that 140 people can guide in a freeform fashion is no small feat. The game runners did just that however. Often repeating the pattern of balancing three elements of the story, three choices, three sources of leverage with each other so there were always interesting directions in which the story could proceed. It was never A or B. It was almost always A, B, or C. And when key inciting events had to happen, the game runners were able to deliver those moments to the players either via the technology built just for the LARP or by the introduction of non-player-characters played by the game runners themselves. If you know anything about Battlestar Galactica I can’t tell you how disquieting it is to know that there are unidentified Cylons aboard your ship, and then suddenly see twins. Anyone familiar with the TV show knows that this is the telltale sign that you’re in deep shit.

The other players were really quite great. All of them trying their hardest to really live the experience, never break character, and make the game fun for themselves and others. They were also nice enough to help me with my crazy marine uniform (I would make a super crappy soldier) and advise me on the secret of LARPers — chocolate. When you’re on guard duty on a cold space ship, making sure a Cylon doesn’t escape, and you’re starving, a Caprican chocolate bar tucked away in one of your pockets can be a real life saver.

I want to take a moment to thank the organizers of the Celestra LARP including Martin, Cecilia, and Adriana. They were just one tenth of the team that put this on, but they were some of the folks I got to talk to in more detail at the afterparty over beers. They did an amazing job and I’m super grateful. (There’s also a Facebook page with lots of pictures and videos.) I’d also like to thank all my fellow LARPers — newbies and veterans alike who made it a super fun experience. I heard rumors that maybe this experience will come to the U.S. If they do put it on again, or frankly, if this group of folks put on any LARP again, I urge you to attend. If you have even one of the magical transporting moments that I did, I promise it will be worth it.

So say we all.

Why does the Valley want designers that can code? Because the Valley doesn’t understand what designers do.

Posted on June 2, 2011 by hillel

Jared Spool recently posted about “Why the Valley wants designers that can code.” Basically, he makes the good point that hiring managers at startups are always looking for ways to get more value for their dollar. And so based on that understanding he recommends “If you’re a designer, you don’t have to learn to code. But if you do, and you get good at it, you’ll find more opportunities as time goes on.” And in this he’s right. But of course his comments would be just as valid if he wrote a post titled “Why the Valley Wants Marketers That Can Code.” Or Engineers that can write press releases. Or any other combination of useful skills.

Except… the Valley doesn’t want marketers to write code or engineers to write press releases. Because, they don’t trust marketers to write code, and they feel that writing press releases would be a waste of the engineers’ valuable time and skills.

So what’s the real reason that many companies look for designers who can code? Because fundamentally they don’t understand and therefore properly value what great software designers do.

Spool says: “If you’re in a room filled with designers, bring up the topic of whether it’s valuable for a designer to also code. Immediately, the room will divide faster than Moses split the Red Sea. One side will tell you coding is an essential skill, while the other will vehemently argue how it dilutes the designer’s value.” If I’m in a room full of designers and any of take either of these positions, then I’m in a room full of designers I would prefer never to work with.

High quality software designers are true singer-songwriters. They can deliver a combination of interaction and visual design that don’t just make a product shine, they make the product what it is. They create its essence, its DNA. Should they have deep empathy for the software development process? Yes. Should they understand technology and be “technical” to a degree? Yes. Should they have passion for software as their medium? Yes. Much like a designer focused on print projects should understand how various ink/paper/press combinations will impact their final product’s design as well as cost, software designers should understand the canvas on which they are painting. But do I want a true software designer spending time fighting the various inconsistencies between browser CSS implementations to get the UI perfect? Nope. It’s a waste of their time. They should be doing more designing.

(If you’re annoyed by the previous paragraphs, this next one will make you crazy.)

Are there true singer-songwriter software designers that can write high quality code? Yes. But they are the exception. Anecdotally, I’ve found that most (not all) “designers” who can code are in fact coders who have empathy and passion for design, and may even have some good interaction design chops. But often they are weak when it comes to visual design. In our left-brain dominated industry, visual design is often looked at as fluff. Often people will say things like “art is the last step” or “that’s the lipstick”. I believe that when you treat the visual elements as some sort of layer of paint, then all the visuals can be is a layer of paint. And I believe that most “designers that can code” aren’t really designers at all.

The worst part is that design schools are complicit in this misunderstanding of what software designers should do. They’re busy teaching HTML, CSS, and Flash (yes Flash) to art students as if these skills are mandatory for them to succeed as high end software designers. These potentially talented software designers have an allergic reaction to spending their careers writing markup instead of drawing and decide to focus on “print”! Print! Pardon the profanity, but… WHAT THE FUCK??? The most incredible canvas in the world for designers — software — exists, and needs them. It lets them combine text and images and video and audio and user interaction in incredible ways, but they want to go make business cards and annual reports. Our industry needs a fleet of talented software designers and design schools are failing to produce them.

At some point, we will have more than a smattering of true software designers in this industry. They won’t be employees either. They’ll be founders and co-founders. And their companies will produce beautiful usable products that stand out from their competitors. And some of these designers will even be able to code. But we won’t let them, because we’ll want them spend every minute designing beautiful software.

A note: I’m sure that some of you will take exception to this post. Many of you will be annoyed because you either subscribe to the notion that designers should code and that it’s a good thing, or that you are designer that writes code and you are annoyed that I question your visual skills. Understood. I hear you. Please know, just because someone doesn’t fit the model of the designer I think we should be replicating, doesn’t mean I think they aren’t a valuable contributor.

And finally, some of you may criticize me and say that it’s easy for me to lobby for this model for software designers when my co-founder Jenny Lam exemplifies it. And to that I will say… you’re right.

Hover R.I.P. (~1991-2010)

Posted on November 3, 2010 by hillel

Was it the first tooltip (or screentip as Microsoft called it) that showed up when you hovered over toolbars in Word for Win95? Was it in 1991 with System 7 Baloon Help? Was it before those? In a game maybe? I don’t really know, and please comment if you do so I can update the date. But regardless of when the technique of revealing new UI when the mouse pointer was hovering over a particular region, today I am declaring that technique officially dead.

When we first started designing software for touch UI devices (namely iOS devices) I often forgot not to rely on hover as a technique for revealing more UI. Over time I remembered to make sure not to use hover in the designs for iOS. But still relied on it in web designs. But over the last two days I’ve been designing a web app. And I know it’s going to be used on touch devices, so what’s the point of relying on hover. I’m no longer using hover (other than for possible minor reinforcement of what’s clickable) in any apps we create.

And honestly, it’s a shame. I loved hover. It was an awesome relief valve. A great way to get shit off of the screen that didn’t need to be there until that one particular moment. Or maybe, I just used it as a crutch to remove stuff but not really remove it cause I didn’t have the courage to just say no.

Should there be some attempt at a replacement on touch devices? Some proximity thing? I doubt it. Sounds clunky.

Either way, hover is now dead. I’m laying a bouquet of virtual flowers by its tombstone.

What I think it means to be a “true software designer”.

Posted on May 20, 2010 by hillel

I’ve had this blog post kicking around for awhile. And now, since I’ve been recklessly pontificating about the definition of the term “software designer” I might as well give some background on what I think in detail.

If you’ve spent any time following Jackson Fish Market, you may have noticed that we’re somewhat unconventional as a startup. We haven’t taken any investment, we aren’t looking to flip, we have a female co-founder. The first two appear to be getting less rare, and the third, well, the tech industry still feels much like a boys club, But that’s a topic for another post. What’s interesting about our female co-founder is not her gender, but her role. Even rarer than a woman as a co-founder is a designer as a co-founder. If you’re a world famous designer like Philippe Starck, or if you’re running a creative agency, having a designer as a founder is common. But Jenny isn’t world famous (yet) and Jackson Fish Market isn’t a design firm, it’s a software startup.

There are two ways to understand why we have a designer as a co-founder. The first is to meet Jenny and see her work. The intelligence, talent, energy, creativity, and style that she brings to every piece of work we do should be obvious. But for a deeper discussion you must understand that there is an almost universal misunderstanding of the role of “design” and “designer” at a software firm. Once you understand what great designers really do, you’ll be wondering why you don’t have one as a co-founder. And then you’ll realize how few currently exist.

A true and talented software designer is like a singer/songwriter. The can both write the music and perform it with quality. A great singer will fail singing a badly crafted song. And a poor singer will fail singing even the most beautiful composition. In the case of software design, the song composition is the scenario definition, interaction design, and basic structure of the experience. The song performance is the top-most layer of the user interface, the combination of pixels, some as images, some as text, some animated, some aural (audio pixels?), that bring the experience to the users input mechanisms – sight, touch, sound (no smell and taste quite yet). And while it’s true that you can find a great singer and a great songwriter to partner to create magic, unless you’ve found a partnership of true equals, one side tends to dominate the other, to its detriment. There are certainly some popular music acts today that are created by a team with a performer out front and center. And yet, from my perspective, the vast bulk of genuine artists both craft and perform their art.

When it comes to software, our industry’s penchant for specialization is in full effect. The software designer’s role is divided across multiple people in an organization including the graphic designer, the information architect, the program manager, the usability engineer, the technical writer, the interaction designer, and in some cases the ethnographer or anthropologist. And that’s not to say that there aren’t some interesting talents and specialties in every single one of these roles. There are. But in a world where small teams make great things, in truth, one star software designer can handle pretty much all of these tasks, and the end result will likely be better. Less committee, more vision.

In most software companies that don’t have endless resources, the roles are divided into essentially two. The first role is what I’ll call “interaction designer” for shorthand which is basically everything above except for drawing the actual art that goes on the screen. The “graphic designer” is hired for the rest. And in almost every organization, the interaction designer is “on top”. They run the show. They get the credit. They get the paycheck. They’re in charge. In my opinion, this is backwards. I believe that most of the self-proclaimed “interaction designers” or “user experience architects” are a dime a dozen.

Here’s an observation that will offend many people. It is much easier for someone who’s intellectually curious with aesthetic skills, an eye for detail, some Photoshop chops, and a real sense of style to learn how to do interaction design, and understand how software works underneath the covers, than it is for a software person, (even an interaction focused software person) to learn how to do great aesthetics and presentation. To put it simply, becoming an interaction designer is really not that hard. I know.

If you ask me to create a true software designer from either a) a smart and talented graphic designer, or b) a smart and talented interaction designer, nine times out of ten I will start with the graphic designer because the interaction design skills are much easier to acquire. From my perspective, while there are some interaction designers out there who certainly add value, there are a lot more who are essentially valueless.

And in some perverse irony, it is often the people with the easily acquired skill who spend all their time acting like the graphic designers are a dime a dozen, and that the interaction design discipline is the serious one. I chalk this up to their insecurity. The graphic designers don’t go around shitting on interaction designers. They’re not threatened, and in fact, they often want to broaden their skills to include interaction design. And yet I’ve seen countless people referring to the role of creating the presentation layer as “applying lipstick” or something that can be added later. In fact the aesthetics need to come from a process where a true software designer is involved in crafting their vision from day one. Where a software designer is informed enough to help make technology choices give the experience they’re trying to create. Where a software designer is the person on the team who is ultimately responsible for having and executing on a vision for the kind of experience that the customer will encounter.

Not only should you have a true software designer in your organization, but the organization should be built to serve the needs of that person. I’m sure there are other ways to approach this problem. And there are certainly plenty of customers who don’t appear to notice quality when it comes to product design (note all the customers of General Motors and MySpace). But more and more I think people want to emulate VW and Apple. And I believe the only way to do this is to put a true software designer in charge.