One of the things that strikes me about graphic design in tactical games is how little things have changed in more than 40 years. Compare the counter layout in 1970′s PanzerBlitz to the counter layout in a more modern game like PanzerGrenadier, World at War or Conflict of Heroes. Looky there; numbers in the corners, artwork in the middle. Is that one of those unwritten game design “standards”? I’d think it is, especially considering that one of those contemporary games — World at War — is so loath to part from the standard that it actually screws up usability by cramming too much information into too little space.

World at War: 11 values? Count 'em. And squint.

Note that I’m not advocating sticking values in the middle of a counter. But I will point out that the geometrical judgement is fairly harsh: Cramming 10 values into four corners is simply not a recipe for great usability. I like the World at War system quite a bit, but I don’t get it on the table as often as some other games (or buy as many of the add-ons, to make an economic point) simply because of the usability issues.

Within the limitations of a square counter format, how many practical options are available for a designer to experiment with alternative, useful locations to place information? Some designers have experimented with alternative locations that weren’t so useful — the teensy values for command range or whatever they were (it’s been a few years) on some of the Fortress Berlin counters come to mind here — but are there any realistic options for the format?

I don’t consider spreading different bits of information across both counter faces a win for the user experience. Only one face is visible at a time. Asking a gamer to reach halfway across a table and flip multiple counters over to view the information he needs isn’t a gamer-friendly design choice. One of the things that has always put me off the La Bataille series of games, for example, is the design decision to place critical combat information on the plain, reverse side of the counters. I friggin’ hate having to pick up pieces, turn them over and squint at tiny type just to figure out their combat values.

Front vs. Back in LaBat. C'mon man!

Using the reverse side of the counters to indicate various unit formations — even those used primarily in combat — doesn’t resolve the issue. The design decision at that point seems to acknowledge the basic uselessness of the colorful obverse side of the counter, exchanging it for a much more bland reverse face that is essentially just a slate of numbers which are still too small for easy reading. The graphic design in this case doesn’t marry good art with usability; in practice, it slices them apart with a straight razor.

Now, obviously, in the case of the La Bat games, the very nicely done obverse counter faces are an important part of the game’s user experience. They look good individually; they look good in play on a map. Change formation and flip them over, though, and you’re suddenly playing with counter artwork from SPI’s old “USN”. There has to be a happier medium than that.

USN looked like this. Catchy.

For today I’ll plant the suggestion that perhaps the game system design and the game interface design need to cooperate a bit more in many cases. Given the basics of the interface format — a hunk of cardboard slightly over a half-inch square — a wise system designer might consider reducing the number of system values that a counter needs to deliver.

More on that next time.

Part of an occasional series. Part One is here:
Game, Graphics and Barbarians

My two cents is that it sits pretty firmly in the latter category. It’s a wargame that takes advantage of many of the conventions of the board game genre to regularize play and create appeal for a cross-over audience that otherwise might toss it off as just another tabletop figure-pusher.

The square-gridded gaming surface does indeed stylize play, but no more so than a hexgrid stylizes play in games like Memoir 44 and Tide of Iron — or ASL, for that matter. Important details like weapon ranges may seem contrived and “board game-y” to tabletop purists, but when you compare the interaction between weapons and movement in Dust Tactics to the same dimensions in popular game systems like Warhammer 40k, the numbers aren’t out of line at all. And has anybody noticed that the 4-hex range of the basic Soviet rifle squad in ASL is exactly equal to an infantry squad’s unaugmented one-turn movement allowance of 4? In Dust Tactics, “standard” rifle fire has a 4-square range and the average squad of grunts can move a maximum of 2 squares in a turn.

At any rate, the best policy is to let smart gamers decide for themselves how the thing works. So I’m going to provide a fairly detailed AAR of a Dust Tactics game to let folks see the system in action. My earlier posts gave some hints and showed some scenes from a game, but that was just the first scenario from the original starter box — pretty much an introductory game with an obviously contrived board arrangement and no additional terrain types.

Scenario map setup for Standing on the Beach.

On the Big Table, then, I’ve got “Standing on the Beach,” which is the first scenario from the “Operation Cyclone” expansion box. It’s an Allied amphibious landing that uses a larger map layout measuring three map tiles deep by four tiles across. The Allies enter from the three “landing craft” tiles provided in the expansion, while the Nazi defenders enter from the opposite side of the map, behind a line of structures that represent the outer works of their extensive Antarctic fortress of evil-osity.

The scenario lasts 8 turns, and the Allied goal is to end any turn with a unit surviving in one of the Axis entry squares. It’s a classic hurry-up vs. build-up scenario. Axis units enter in drips and drabs each turn, while the Allies storm ashore with their entire force. The Allied problem is that they have to cross the whole map to win — and they have to cross a bunch of it just to start shooting at somebody. They have to move fast, or their numerical advantage will be entirely wasted.

Forces for this scenario are built using the “new” Army Points method. The Allies begin with a hefty force: Up to 180 points in infantry and up to 120 points in armor. The Axis counter with 40 points of whatever each turn.

The map setup is straightforward. Inland from the landing craft tiles, the first row of terrain tiles is designated the “cover zone,” where the players take turns placing either tank traps (hard cover) or ammo crates (soft cover). Four of each type are set up. The next row of tiles is all open terrain, beyond which loom the walls of the Axis fortifications. There are three openings in the row of “wall” terrain overlays, one opening in the middle of each tile.

Don’t get me wrong. I understand the appeal and artistic grace of lovely ponies-and-rainbows website designs. Unfortunately, the dialectic of business analysis is rather like setting Conan the Barbarian loose with his big sword to run wild in the ponies’ multi-hued pasture. Business is about making money. Ponies that don’t make money need to be “recycled” and sent to the glue factory.

Think about it this way: A business website is an online graphical user interface (GUI) that connects customers to a business. There’s no separating the “graphic design” part from the “user interface” part. They either work together, or they don’t work at all. The skill of coupling attractive design with maximum usability is what sets a professional web designer/developer apart from Cousin Ned sitting at a PC in the back with his copy of CoffeeCup.

Graphic design in wargaming is a lot like business website design in that respect.

The schemes of colors, artwork and typography that overlay a printed wargame (or a game’s digital counterpart in VASSAL or Cyberboard) are really nothing more than a GUI that allows gamers to physically manipulate the game system to produce some sort of outcome. Game graphics are thus an important element of the design’s total user experience (or “UX,” as we say in the trade). Excellent graphic production can seldom salvage a poor game system (although it can certainly help generate sales), but poor graphic production can quickly kill an otherwise good system.

Ever read Don Norman’s “The Design of Everyday Things”? Norman, former Director of the Institute for Cognitive Science at the University of California and now a principle at the Nielsen-Norman Group, has a pretty simple theory. When a designer designs something without understanding how people want to use it, he screws it up nearly every time. The important thing isn’t how the designer wants it to work; the important thing is how the people who use it want it to work.

When users approach all but the most alien of gizmos, they have an expectation of how it will work. An online poker website will have information about poker. Links on web pages are underlined and colored differently from inactive text. Doorknobs should rotate. You hold a screwdriver by the handle. The movement allowance is never listed first on a wargame counter.

Here’s a simple guideline, which works as well for wargame graphics as it does for any other type of GUI design: It’s better to meet user expectations than to deviate. (Credit for that guideline to Jakob Nielsen, also a principle of the Nielsen-Norman Group.)

What’s the goal of a wargame design? Is it supposed to sit there and look nice, or is it supposed to be USED?

Whether or not game artists and designers like it, the cold, hard fact — the bottom line, to put it in perspective — is that games are systems, which have users, who in turn have expectations of how the things should work. Game design and art “standards” may not be always written down, but they exist just as surely as website design standards exist. Game design standards arise generally from the expectations of the gamers who buy the things.

Game designs seldom hew exactly to these unwritten standards. By the same token, wargames that deviate successfully usually diverge from the standards in only a few respects and adhere to expectations in many others. Games that violate expectations in too many areas may, in fact, still be quite good (as some have been) — but discarding a large number of design standards reduces a game’s usability and threatens to limit the number of gamers who care to put forth the mental effort to “grok” all of the differences.

By definition, games are intended to be played. Game systems are often complicated enough in themselves; layering on top of that a GUI which requires additional effort to comprehend simply makes no sense when more intuitive graphic options are available.

Over a few of my following blog posts my ambition is to take a closer look at some of the Good, the Bad and the Ugly in wargaming GUIs.

Reflecting a World War II era style of classification, both sides have light, medium and heavy combat walkers. A single “chassis” is available for each class, but they feature a number of different customizable weapon fits. The Allied medium walker box set, for example, ships with four different configurations: a 17-pounder tank-killing long gun; a short 75mm howitzer; a wicked short-ranged napalm thrower and a nasty artillery version with a rack of bombardment rockets and a “petard” mortar. The weapons easily interchange by snapping on and off the walker’s turret.

So Phase 1 of figuring out vehicles is deciding which weapon configurations best suit the mission at hand. Unit point values will likely play some role in the decision, although many times it’s best to pick which vehicle (or vehicles) work best, then build the rest of the force to fit the remaining army points. Combat walkers have good armor ratings, can withstand multiple hits and pack a load of firepower. Note, though, that as a general rule they aren’t any more mobile than your squaddies. In fact, medium and heavy walkers can be outpaced by squads with the Fast skill, or by the Allied “jet pack” squads like the Tank Busters who have a Move rating of 2.

An Allied walker in Pounder configuration.

Allied players have a bit easier time configuring walkers because their weapon fits are more well-rounded. The Allied “Pounder”, for example, is primarily a tank killer with its 17-pounder gun. However, it also packs both a .50-cal and a .30-cal machinegun for anti-infantry work. In comparison, the Axis “Ludwig” with twin 88mm guns is 1 die deadlier against other walkers, but it also has just a single light machinegun. The Pounder’s .50-cal adds 3 dice against most infantry, which makes it much tougher to confront for Axis tank hunter squads.

Specialist configurations like artillery fits or the Allied napalm-thrower, are more situation-specific. Artillery doesn’t come into its own unless you have a squad with the Artillery Strike skill (basically a radio guy) in your lineup. Napalm weapons are close-range, which can make them sitting ducks against tank killers in open terrain. In scenarios with lots of restricted LOS, however, they can be positively deadly.

Heroes add yet another dimension to the game. In a lot of minis systems heroes, or individual figures, are super-charged killing machines. In Dust Tactics they seem more of a finesse element, or at least so far. All of them can suffer multiple wounds before taking a dirt nap, but their weapons typically aren’t that over-powered.

Heroes are more useful for how they can provide more punch to your squads of grunts. Under the DT rules, any special skill that a hero may have — say, the “Charge” skill, for example — can be applied to the squad he joins. Making use of that rule is the key to getting the most out of heroes. Adding a hero with Charge to a Fast squad, for example, allows them to use their full movement and then get in a free close combat attack. Assign a hero with the “Badass” skill to the BBQ Boys, and suddenly they have an unlimited supply of extremely deadly demolition charges.

The restrictions on which squads a hero may join help keep things in balance, and resolve some of the sticky issues that come up in other rules sets. A hero must have the same armor class and speed rating as the squad, or he can’t join up. Simple, and perhaps a bit restrictive, but it avoids a lot of problems with mixed armor ratings in combat and goofy issues like what to do about movement when assigning a standard “foot” hero to a jetpack squad.

Don’t get me wrong, though. Dust Tactics has plenty in common with many tabletop rules sets; it’s much more than a military “themed” boardgame. Sound wargaming tactics will win games more often than not, but there are elements of stylized boardgame play that you have to account for in order to succeed consistently. “Classic” fire-and-maneuver play, for example, is certainly viable in the game, but it depends on what the terrain allows and your style of play.

The board layout in some scenarios keeps the LOS pretty short, such that fast units can get to grips with the enemy pretty quickly. In those games, it’s really close quarters combat. Reaction fire (basically opportunity fire) is unreliable in most cases — a typical unit has a one-third chance of activating in reaction — so “maneuver” is much more important than “fire.” Once your guys get in contact, those scenarios are over pretty quickly. Very wild and wooly.

The BBQ Boys (upper right) educate the Laser Grenadiers about old-fashioned shotguns.

The scenarios where the board is more open and you have longer sight lines are where things play out a little more according to classic tactics. The main consideration is that in those game, if you want to build a base of fire, you need to include a walker with a big gun in your lineup. Infantry weapons are too short-ranged in general, four squares most of the time. Big guns like the German 88 and the Allied 17-pounder, along with artillery, can hit anything on the board. Those are the guys that park and bark. Heavy MG and autocannon, also mounted on walkers, typically have a range of 6 squares.

If you do the math of weapon ranges vs. movement rates, though, Dust Tactics isn’t that much different from something like, say, Warhammer 40k. “Shooty” units generally get a turn or two if somebody “stompy” is coming at them, which is more than enough time to mow down most attackers. The math works more in the favor of fast units, or units with the “Charge” skill (which get a free close combat attack after a double-move). When the terrain limits LOS to just a couple of squares, close combat units become absolutely murderous.

Which highlights another factor important to enjoying Dust Tactics: You have to constantly be aware of every unit’s capabilities — both your’s and your opponent’s — at all times. That familiarity likely best comes with experience. As an example, in one of my games (the “Patrol” scenario), the Germans focused their attention on staying tight and moving down one side of the board for maximum impact. They ignored the Allied “BBQ Boys” squad several squares out on their left flank, figuring their longer-ranged guns and lasers could whittle it down before it got into the 1-square range of its flamethrower.

Three turns later, the BBQ Boys had swept in from that flank and eliminated all three German units on the board. Ooopsie. They used their “Fast” skill to close on the first German squad, which had already activated that turn. Five flamethrower attack dice and 12 shotgun dice finished off that squad. Then they swept in behind the Germans and opened up on the Laser Grenadiers at 2-square range with their shotguns. The grenadiers flubbed their reaction roll, and 12 shotgun dice produced five hits to take them out. Next turn, they used their fast skill again to move adjacent to the remaining German unit, a Ludwig walker with twin 88mm guns. The Ludwig, already damaged by a bazooka hit, succumbed to the BBQ Boys’ flamethrower.

Hey. Nobody told “Sgt. Steiner” to keep his distance from that stupid flamethrower. Some stuff you just have to learn the hard way. Toastie!