My Imperfect Children

Over the years, I’ve banged the drum quite a bit in favor of perfectionism in board game design. Whenever I do so, I try to emphasize that, while I think “perfection” is the correct target to aim at, I don’t believe that any of my own designs have actually hit this target. “Perfection” is like an infinitesimal point at the center of a fuzzy circle. The point is real, and it’s the correct thing to aim at, but it’s unreachable in practice. The fuzzy circle represents the threshold that each of my designs must cross before I’m willing to call it “good enough”. And the moment I conclude that a design will probably never cross that threshold, I shelve it.

Over the course of about 15 years of hobbyist board game design, I’ve ended up with exactly five published designs that I consider to be “good enough”. I have a sixth design that I’m pretty happy with, but I haven’t worked very hard on getting it published. I’ve also designed a few party-style games that are probably “good enough” by my standards, but feel so slight that I’ve done nothing more than post their rules here on my site. On the flip side, I’ve had a few of my designs published, in one form or another, which don’t quite live up to my own standards. It reminds me of a line by the comedian Jonathan Katz: “I have a wife and two beautiful children. And a couple of other kids who aren’t so attractive.”

My beautiful children are Zendo, RAMbots, Why Did the Chicken…?, Criminals, and Blockers. Although these designs are “good enough” by my standards, they aren’t perfect. I thought it might be fun to write up a blog post detailing their imperfections as I see them.


One of my biggest complaints about Zendo is that mondos and guessing stones aren’t meaningful enough. Mondo feels satisfying, and it unquestionably improves the experience. It adds a bit of tension, and provides players with intermediate rewards throughout the game. Furthermore, it creates an intimate communal feeling, and allows you to get a glimpse of what other people are thinking.

The problem is that most of the time players end up with more guessing stones than they know what to do with, and at that point calling mondo is kind of pointless. Of course, it’s still fun (which is why people continue do it), and it helps you gauge how well other players are doing, which may have some (very negligible) effect on your winning chances. But overall, its primary purpose of doling out guessing stones has become irrelevant. All else being equal, calling mondo slows the game down, and one can argue that it’s not worth doing when every player already owns a pile of stones.

Over the years, we’ve tried many, many alternatives to the current mondo rules, including making each guess cost more than one stone, making people lose stones when they guess incorrectly, eliminating the mondo rules completely, etc. None of the resulting games have ever felt quite as good as the current ruleset. Zendo seems to lie at a local optimum. Every small tweak we try makes it worse. I don’t doubt that there are deeper changes to consider, but the results are probably different enough from Zendo to count as new games.

Another possible complaint about Zendo is that the downtime can be extreme. A related problem is that people sometimes find it very painful to wait for their turn to come around once they’ve figured out the rule. Some people even play with a variant that allows anyone to spend stones and guess the rule at the end of anyone’s turn. Although that’s a fine idea, I’ve never been willing to make it into an official rule, because it’s complex and unwieldy if you try to write it out (which I have).

Beyond this, there’s a whole cloud of problems relating to the fact that when you’re the Master, you need to know what you’re doing. You need to come up with a rule that’s not too easy and not too hard. You need to mark koans correctly. You need to build counterexamples correctly, which can be difficult even for experienced Masters. You need to make silent judgement calls about ambiguous koans, and you need to communicate correctly with players when they ask about them. Overall, it’s relatively easy to ruin a game when you’re the Master. It all feels a little brittle.

One could argue that some of these flaws—especially the ones in the last paragraph—are inextricably bound up with the goodness of the game. I agree. But I insist, ruthlessly, that they’re still flaws. It sucks that Masters can ruin games so easily, and if I could eliminate that possibility while retaining everything else that I like about Zendo, I certainly would. I see no reason not to call a spade a spade in these situations, and I see a really good reason to do it: a concerted effort to solve these problems could lead to some new game that’s as different from Zendo as Zendo is from Eleusis. I’m not currently working on that problem, but maybe I or someone else will someday. This is part of what I mean by problem-driven game design.


The basic problem I have with RAMbots is that it’s too complex. I doubt I’ll ever create another board game that contains this many rules. Actually, it’s probably simpler than the average board game, but it’s still pushing the edge of my personal complexity threshold.

One specific problem that’s always bothered me relates to the red “damage” beam. The red beam damages other RAMbots, but doesn’t knock any objects over. RAMming damages other RAMbots, but also tags and knocks over upright RAMbots and beacons. This inconsistency often confuses new players. The obvious solution is to allow the red beam to also tag and knock over beacons and RAMbots, but the resulting game simply isn’t as good. We can allow the red beam to knock over objects without tagging them, but that’s even more inconsistent and confusing. We can say that RAMming only tags and knocks over upright objects, and the red beam only damages other RAMbots, but again the resulting game is a lot less interesting.

Recently Jake Davenport suggested scraping the red beam action entirely, and replacing it with a “sideways slide” action. Just like the blue “push” beam and the yellow “pull” beam, the red “slide” beam now moves any object it hits by one, two, or three spaces—but it moves the object sideways away from the beam, and always towards the center line of the board. I have played this version of the game exactly once, and I thought it was great. I didn’t miss the old damage beam at all, and the new slide beam was useful and made the game more fun. Even though it hasn’t been tested much, I’ve gone ahead and updated my RAMbots rule page.

The resulting game still isn’t perfect. It remains more complex than I would like, and there are probably other inelegances that I haven’t quite put my finger on yet. Nevertheless, it does lie comfortably within my fuzzy circle of “good enough”.

Why Did the Chicken…?

I’m only half-joking when I say that the main problem with Why Did the Chicken…? is that it’s a party game, and all party games are broken.

More seriously, many party games break down if the players care too much about winning. For instance, when I’m the judge in WDtC, I can often glean who wrote certain answers based on their word choices and style of humor, and if those players are ahead, I can avoid choosing those answers. Another problem is that it’s possible to get so far behind in the game that you know you can’t possibly win.

A more general complaint is that this game asks its players to be creative and funny on demand, and that’s scary and stressful for many people. This game has provided me with some of the biggest belly laughs of my life, but it’s also generated some of my most awkward gaming experiences. Again, one can argue that this “flaw” is an unavoidable side-effect of what’s great about WDtC. I agree! The flaw is unavoidable given my design goals, but it’s still a flaw. Recognizing it as a flaw doesn’t mean I have to try to fix it. I’ve never been able to see a way to fix it without sacrificing what I love most about the game, and the flaw doesn’t push the game outside my fuzzy circle of acceptability, so I’m happy to call it “done”. However, if I could find a way retain the core that I love while making the game easier to play for many people, I’d certainly do that.

The excellent Cards Against Humanity can be viewed as one possible solution to the problem of making a joke-writing game that’s accessible to a wide audience. Of course, there are always trade-offs, and Cards Against Humanity exhibits a flaw that’s almost the polar opposite of WDtC’s: it makes players feel clever and funny, but it’s often the game itself that’s writing the jokes. Cards Against Humanity is to comedy writing as Guitar Hero is to guitar playing.

I’m not suggesting that either game is better than the other, nor am I suggesting that the designers of Cards Against Humanity were influenced by WDtC. (I have no idea if they even know of WDtC’s existence.) My point is that if you were to start with either one of these designs, take its flaws seriously, and try to fix them, you might very well end up with something like the other. And that would be a good thing, because both of these games deserve to exist! On the other hand, simply claiming, “It’s a feature, not a bug!” will never suggest interesting new directions in design space. This is problem-driven game design in action once again.


One minor complaint I have about Criminals is that players are sometimes eliminated. However, it doesn’t seem as bothersome as it does in many other elimination games I’ve played. Criminals is usually pretty short, and if you do get eliminated, you’re still allowed to hang around and take part in the game discussion. It’s also possible to play a full game without any player getting eliminated. Nevertheless, I do consider the elimination aspect to be a flaw, albeit a minor one.

Beyond that, my main complaint about Criminals is similar to my complaint about RAMbots. It’s too complex. Actually, I would say that Criminals is simpler than RAMbots, but that RAMbots is more elegant.

Criminal’s inelegances are related to the existence of the Crime Boss—an extra crime card in the deck that’s not attached to any player. Adding this extra crime created some breathing room in the design, and fixed a bunch of problems. Nevertheless, the mechanism necessitates a number of special-case rules that make the game significantly harder for new players to learn. For instance, accusing the Crime Boss requires a unanimous vote by the entire group rather than the normal vote of “at least half the group”, and a successful accusation ends the game and invokes special win-conditions. There’s even a special rule that says that when a crime comes up and everyone except you has an alibi showing for that crime, you are considered to be accusing the Crime Boss perforce. The fact that such a rule is even necessary is a sign that something’s not quite right.

Co-designer Dave Chalker and I worked on Criminals on and off for years, and at this point I don’t have any new solutions to suggest. The current version isn’t perfect, but it still manages to claim a spot within my fuzzy circle.


Like almost every abstract game that supports three or more players, Blockers can be kingmakerish in the endgame. Sometimes you know you can’t win, and sometimes your final plays will determine who does win. This is obviously a flaw, but it’s a flaw that’s impossible to eliminate completely in most games of this type. My design goal in these situations just to make sure that it doesn’t happen too often, and that it doesn’t feel too bad when it does. Some of the earlier rulesets had unacceptably bad kingmaker problems. I can live with the current version, but your mileage may vary.

As much as I love its overall design, I’ve grown increasingly uncomfortable with Blockers’s capture mechanic—specifically with the fact that you’re not allowed to split another player’s group. This restriction is certainly necessary given the current ruleset, and it generates a lot of juicy gameplay. Nevertheless, virtually every time I play the game with a new group of players, at least one player accidentally tries to split a group, and I have to step in with a correction. Since a copy of me doesn’t come packaged in every box, I can only assume that most new groups who are figuring out the rules for themselves are making game-ruining mistakes (whether they realize it or not) during their first few games. Maybe the emergent juiciness of the rule makes the problem worth putting up with, but I’m not as happy with the whole thing as I used to be.

In fact, I’ve recently begun to theorize that the capture rule in general is indirectly responsible for the game’s failure in the marketplace. (Although you can still find copies of both Uptown and Blockers for sale out on the web, no version of it is in print at the moment.) There were actually two very different productions of Blockers on the market. Briarpatch’s North American version had a nice plastic board, with raised ridges to keep the tiles from sliding around. This production caused the price of the game to be higher than we wanted it to be, and I’ve heard a few claims (by people who know more about the game business than I do) that the price hurt the game’s sales. Amigo’s European production contained a warpy plastic grid riveted to a flat black board. It was an attempt to cut production costs, and it showed. I don’t actually know whether or not this hurt the sales of the game, but I sure wouldn’t have been happy with it if I’d been a customer.

The important point is that these problems were ultimately caused by my game design. Blockers has players placing tiles into a tightly-packed grid, and then awkwardly trying to pull them back out again. Although this generates some juicy gameplay, it also creates a logistical problem that forced the publishers to produce overly expensive or disappointingly substandard game boards. I would love to see a production of Blockers that’s as elegant and functional as that of Qwirkle or Ingenious, but I don’t think it can happen with the current ruleset.

Of course, the capture mechanic was added in order to address a tough design problem. Although some people might think I’m nuts, I occasionally toy with the idea of returning to the root of the design and branching off in some other direction that doesn’t involve moving pieces once they’ve been placed. I even have a few ideas about what directions I might try, but I’ll save those for another time.

Beyond all of this, I’m also willing to consider the possibility that Blockers didn’t do so well in the marketplace for marketing reasons, or because it just isn’t as good as Ingenious or Qwirkle. Maybe it’s too abstract, or too dry, or too heavy, or too something else that I can’t put my finger on. I can live with that!


I want to reiterate that, in spite of all of their flaws, I’m really happy with all five of these designs, and I don’t regret letting any of them loose in their current forms. It’s possible to be a crazy perfectionist without going perfectly crazy, and it’s possible to find flaws in your best creations and still sleep well at night.

I’d love to drive a stake through the heart of that old vampire, “the perfect is the enemy of the good,” but something tells me that all I’m doing here is holding up a pathetic, fleshy cross. So be it!

15 thoughts on “My Imperfect Children”

  1. Hi I’d like to share my experience with what I thought was Zendo. I read the rules to Zendo online and then didn’t get a chance to play till many months later when the rules and terminology were foggy to me. I ended up completely forgetting about the all the stones completely.

    I was in a bar with 2 other friends and the bar had a copy of an old and abused 100 games in 1 set. It had fragments of multipurpose component which could be used to play many generic old abstract games. Checkers pucks, colored matchsticks, colored meeples, colored pawns, etc. I looked at all of them and thought “hey maybe we could play Zendo with these!”

    Here are the rules we used: I came up with a Rule. I made two structures: one that displayed the Rule, and one that didn’t. They then had free rein over the remaining pieces to make their own structures, and ask “does this display the Rule?” I would answer yes or no. They would then sometimes ask “is the Rule . . .?” I would say yes or no. If they guessed the Rule they got to make the new Rule.

    We ended up having a blast with this for hours. No need to take turns or keep score. It was just great casual fun. The only stipulation we made was that you had to give others a chance to guess what the Rule is before trying to guess the Rule twice in a row. Now that I know about the purpose of the stones I can’t really imagine using them. What we played worked so well and was so easy to explain and play.

    1. Did the players take turns, or was it a real-time free-for-all? If the latter, the game you played is almost identical to Speed Zendo (a.k.a. Turnless Zendo):

      I definitely know people who prefer Turnless Zendo to standard Zendo. I’m on the fence myself. The turnless version has always felt more like an activity than a game, and for some reason I enjoy the structure and the pace of the turn-based version. But I’m probably biased.

      If the version you played is turn-based, then it’s actually similar to the first Zendo test I ever did, which was really just a proof-of-concept test (and only for a single player). We also did a test much like this somewhere in the middle of the design process. Mondo had already been tried, but we were having problems with it, so we decided to try a test where players just took turns setting up koans, and optionally guessing after seeing the result. During this playtest, I distinctly remember one player just wandering away from the table without a word in the middle of the game, and I took this to be a sign that the game wasn’t structured or game-like enough to hold some people’s interest. I probably let this lone incident color my judgement more than it should have. I’m still pretty sure I prefer turn-based Zendo with mondo to turn-based Zendo without mondo, but again, I’m probably biased.

  2. Cool interesting article.

    For newbie players, I’ve sometimes taught & played simplified Zendo with no guessing stones and no Mondo.

    RAMbots is a game I enjoy very much and wish more people were into it! It is the “RoboRally killer” for me – the goofy fun of simultaneously programmed robots, with much more elegant simple rules and shorter playing time.

    FWIW I don’t see kingmaking as anything particular to ABSTRACT multiplayer games, but to interactive multiplayer games generally.

    The original (I think) edition of Uptown (with a normal flat board instead of raised ridges around the cells) works great for us and looks nicer/classier to us than the shiny plastic Blockers edition.

    1. I hadn’t even played RoboRally when I started working on RAMbots, but I knew of its existence, and I could tell at a glance that it was going to be way too complicated for my taste. (Later playings confirmed this.)

      I agree that kingmaker problems plague almost all interactive multiplayer games, not just abstract ones. However, in my experience, they tend to be worse (or feel worse) in the more abstract ones. Complexity, elements of chance, and hidden information can all mitigate kingmaker problems to some extent, and these are more common in less abstract games.

      Incidentally, one relatively abstract game that almost completely avoids kingmaker is Sid Sackson’s Can’t Stop. The push-your-luck structure makes it possible in principle for any player to win on any turn.

      In some ways I prefer Uptown’s production to either version of Blockers, although I had to laugh at one reviewer who said something like, “This is the nicest prototype I’ve ever bought.”

      I still find it really problematic in Uptown when you want to make a capture in the middle of a crowded board and you try to pull the old tile out with your fingernails. It’s virtually impossible to do it without bumping a bunch of tiles a bit and having to straighten up the board again. I would love to see some version of Uptown/Blockers with a very nicely produced flat board (like the one in Ingenious), and some beautiful big hefty tiles (like those in Qwirkle or Quandary) that you can click snugly next to each other and then never move them for the rest of the game. This would require eliminating the capture rule and basically re-designing the game. But maybe that game would be as good or better than the current one!

      BTW, if the tiles were hefty enough, you probably wouldn’t even have to put tile racks into the game. You could just stand up your hand of tiles in front of you, like you do in Qwirkle. So the game would just consist of a flat board and five sets of blocks, which is possibly a reduction in production costs as well as a reduction of the physically fiddly nature of tile capturing.

  3. I know it’s phenomenally rare, but what are you supposed to do in Blockers when none of your tiles are valid plays? It’s not impossible – for example, the middle three rows of the board can all be full of uncapturable tiles, so if you are stuck with the letter and shape tiles that can only be played there, you’re left wondering what to do.

    1. The official rule is that if this happens, you must wink out of existence in a puff of logic.

      In all seriousness, you’re correct that this is a deadlock case that the rules don’t cover, and I was aware of it before publication. I believe it’s so unlikely that it will never actually happen in real life (although I’ll admit I’ve never done the math). We decided that it was so unlikely that it wasn’t worth cluttering up the rules with an extra sentence to cover it.

      I would be more inclined to include such a sentence if I could come up with one that isn’t horribly ugly. If you’re allowed to take some special action in this case, then you’d need to show your hand to the other players, to confirm that you indeed have no playable tiles. That’s already ugly, and it’s not obvious what should happen next. I think I would just say that the game ends immediately, with the usual scoring rules in place. That’s pretty extreme, but at that point the universe is probably approaching heat-death anyway.

      A better alternative would be to change the basic rules of play so that it’s always possible to do something on your turn, even if all of your tiles are unplayable in the normal sense. For instance, given the current Blockers rules, you could say that, on any turn, you’re allowed to play an unplayable tile down in front of you as a capture. Your own color counts as one of your captured colors, and if you discard too many of your own tiles this way, it will hurt you. I’ve never tried this, so I don’t know how it feels.

      Incidentally, if I were working on a capture-free version of Blockers, this is one of the routes I’d try—some rule that allows you do something interesting or useful with tiles that can no longer be played on the board. Another route I’ve considered is to play a no-capture version of the game on a larger board—maybe a 12×12 board made up of nine 4×4 regions, or even a 16×16 board made up of sixteen 4×4 regions. Again, I haven’t tried it, so I don’t know how much it would solve our old hand-clogging problem.

      1. My first instinct was that if your hand is blocked and you can prove it, you should be able to ignore the no-splitting rule for just that turn. Then you can write the rule “You can never make a capture that breaks up a group, unless you have no other valid plays available.”

        I know it’s rare as hell but the part of me that took programming classes in college really wants every case to be covered. 🙂

        1. I wouldn’t like that rule. I don’t think a player should ever be allowed to split another player’s group under any circumstances (even rare ones).

          I agree that it’s good to cover all cases, but when that creates an extra rule that almost never comes into play, it indicates that there’s something wrong with the core rules. The best solution is to change the core rules so that the special case goes away.

  4. Sorry for the second comment in a row, but I had a thought about Blockers’ design. Why not give each player a deck of cards instead of a hand of tiles, and just use simple unmarked chips or pawns or marbles or something? It might not drive the manufacturing price down, but it could be made to look classier. Though it would invariably draw comparisons to Sequence. :/

    1. My intuition is that I wouldn’t like this as much, but I might be biased from years of doing it the “normal” way. My gut tells me that it’s just more natural and direct to have the symbols printed right on the pieces, as if each piece is telling you, “Hey, here’s where *I* go!” But it would be easy to test your idea with an existing Blockers set and some hand-written cards.

      Also note that it’s important for players to be able to remember what’s already been played, so you’d have to keep all of your cards face up in front of you for other players to see, which is messy. (I would be strongly against making this information hidden trackable.)

      1. Stackable pieces would work. A four-sided pyramid or truncated pyramid could stack nicely with the additional benefit that the letter/number/symbol could be printed on all four sides of it. But then you have to make a note in the rules that says you’re allowed to look at tiles under the tops of stacks (unless you could fit the printed area entirely in the un-covered area when tiles are stacked), and also the racks would have to be weird.

        Though, if you went with tall enough pieces, you could easily pull them out of their spaces without having to dig, and then they wouldn’t even need to be stackable. Then Looney Labs couldn’t sue you either!

  5. I think I should share a couple of our house rules for Zendo and RAMbots, because we always found the games more interesting (and orthogonal) with these.

    For Zendo:

    1) the master should prefer making a counterexample of the rarer kind (if there are more non-buddha constructions, a buddha counterexample and vv.). Of course, this cannot be compulsory.

    2) there are no “master” rounds at all. Mondo does not really take extra time and it keeps everyone involved. Moreover, the only reason to play master instead of mondo is laziness or the desire to keep others’ stone numbers down when you already have enough (through luck?).

    3) if we play hardcore, you can pay a stone to take a stone away from someone else.

    4) an alternative way of playing: everybody builds koans at the same time, and we mondo about them at the same time (pointing those we think have buddha-nature). Then if the players want to use guessing-stones, they go in order they can come up with proposed rules.

    For RAMbots:

    1) red beam only damages and knocks over, ramming only knocks over and tags. (I really dislike the way RAMbots tends to become ramming back and forth when the players are too close.)

    2) our board is hexagonal with triangular locations for objects. This means a lot of locations for quite few lines, making big moves more useful but hitting more probable. Also, if you’re adjacent to an object, you can choose two directions in which you can push and/or shoot beams and have them hit. This means that you can pull someone and send them in another direction without having to go around them between these actions.

    3) sometimes we’ve played so that shooting a green beam also makes the hit object fire a beam of its own color, into its own (old) direction (but not if already upright), and of equal strength to the green beam. This is complicated, but it can be an extra rule to introduce when players are familiar with the base rules. The upright rule prevents loops, since the green beam sets upright whatever it hits so that every object can fire at most once per turn.


    1. Hi Panu, thanks for the interesting variants!

      I’ve tried versions of Zendo in which all turns are mondos. I *do* feel that it slows the game down, and when everyone at the table has 7+ stones, it feels kind of pointless. It definitely makes more sense in tandem with your “hardcore” rule, or any other rule which can cause you to lose stones. But in general, I’ve always gotten lukewarm responses to playtests in which players can lose stones.

      I personally don’t like the RAMbots rule where the red beam knocks over objects as well as damaging them, but your mileage has obviously varied.

      RAMbots on a triangular/hex board sounds crazy! At first I didn’t understand the part about choosing between two different beam directions, but I see it now. I’d like to try it someday!

      Although I don’t mention it directly it directly in my design history page (, I’m pretty sure we tried the exact green-beam rule you’re talking about at some point during the design. It’s fun, but for me it doesn’t add enough to the game to justify the extra complexity. I think the game is too complex even without it!

  6. I love your Uptown game both for its mechanics and its ascetics. It’s also one of the few games that my mostly non-game playing in-laws enjoy playing almost as much as I do.

    Do you have plans for a mobile implementation and if not, would you mind if I worked on one? I’d at least initially target Android (if that makes a difference.)

  7. I know I’m way late to the discussion here, but reading what you said about perfection in the opening reminds me of one of the dialog lines in Starcraft 2 with Abathur:

    “Never perfect. Perfection goal that changes. Never stops moving. Can chase, cannot catch.” [sic]

    While the subject of his perfection is pretty far from game design, I think the idea is the same. There’s always going to be something that you’ll feel you can tweak to make it better… but even if you tweak that, it’ll still never hit “perfection”, because perfection is an ideal that we can always strive to be closer to, but never actually reach.

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