Archive for Justin Gibbs

The Birth Of My Daughter

Hi, blog.

It’s been a while. I missed you. My absence is mainly due to the tiny human whose first day on the planet I intend to write about here. The tiny human who has led me to make Facebook posts such as this:

Well, the kid’s new word is “Why?” Which is cool, it opens us up to deeper conversations.


“There is no why. Your search for meaning in a random, uncaring universe will prove absurd and unsatisfying.”


“You learn quickly. Sure.”

And this:

Noises from behind me:


Lindsay: “Why would you do that?!”

Baby: *crying*

…I’m not turning around.

And who, in the past year, has changed quite a bit:


We took Bradley Method classes leading up to the big day and we were very hopeful of having a natural childbirth. I highly recommend the classes, should you ever find yourself in a situation where the appearance of a tiny human is eminent. Even if you don’t care about natural childbirth (though I think you should) they’re still a good place to meet other parents and they’re full of helpful tips and, more importantly, terminology. So if the doctors all of a sudden start talking about Cephalopelvic Disproportion, you know what the hell is going on.

My wife was diagnosed with Gestation Diabetes (though she hasn’t had diabetes before or since pregnancy) so there were concerns about the size of the baby and about stillbirth. Our due date was December 27th 2013 and it was stressed to us that, due to the Gestational Diabetes, that we induce labor on the due date if the baby hadn’t come yet. Unfortunately, the holidays are a very difficult time to schedule having a baby. Because many of the doctors had the week off, and a number of people had already scheduled c-sections/induction in order to make the cutoff to get a tax break for having a child during 2013, we were unable to get in until the following week (and since we actually had a medical reason and our due date was that week, I was… not pleased).

We went in to the birthing center to start the process on the morning of December 31st, 2013. My wife’s aunt, who is a midwife, had flown out for the event and having her there was amazing. They started the Pitocin drip early that morning and the labor started. I don’t remember much of that day. There was a lot of waiting with the baby… not coming, as the contractions became more and more painful with the increased dosage (apparently contractions caused by induction are more sudden and therefor more painful than natural labor). I remember counting in between pushes and going too fast and getting reprimanded by the nurse and my wife’s aunt. I did what I could, but I think I was mostly in the way during this part of the process. But I was there, even if I was feeling rather helpless.

That night she finally got an epidural for the pain. She had wanted to avoid that because they make pushing more difficult and increase the likelihood of a c-section, but after fifteen plus hours of labor she couldn’t take the pain anymore. I remember her crying and telling me she felt like she had failed. But I know I couldn’t have taken it for that long, and she went through all of that without pain relief for all those hours for the health and safety of our baby. I’d have probably given up after about ten minutes, so I can’t imagine her being any stronger or having any more love for our child. That’s not a failure.

Around 1pm the next day, the baby was finally starting to crown, but her vital signs were starting to fall. Our doctor finally recommended a c-section. Up until this point, she had been incredibly supportive of having a natural birth and when we had outlined our birthplan the nurse had even said to her, “These are your kind of people!” This was really important to us, because we had heard a lot of stories about doctors pressuring patients to have c-sections or be induced because it fit their timetable or other, personal reasons that weren’t about the safety of the child. Even though we didn’t end up having the birth we had planned, I feel having a doctor who supported and respected our decisions had a hugely positive impact on the situation because, if nothing else, we took her at face value when she said we would need a c-section. Natural childbirth isn’t for everyone, but being able to make an informed decision is.

They wheeled my wife into surgery and I followed. She squeezed my hand and told me she was scared. The sheet went up, and a few minutes later they were holding up our baby. My wife couldn’t see what was going on, so I told her how beautiful our baby was and how she was waving her arms and I could see her breathing. I was lying. They were desperately trying to resuscitate her. It must have been less than a minute, but it felt like an eternity. Finally she started crying. I would find out later that the meconium (that’s not a pleasant link) had been released during labor and it had filled up her lungs.

I stuck with Isabel (the baby) as my wife remained to get stitched up. Isabel had a fever, which is a pretty scary thing in newborns since they basically don’t have an immune system yet. She had to go on intravenous antibiotics immediately so my first few minutes with her were spent holding her down and helping nurses get the needle in. After a few busted veins it finally took hold in her right leg. A few different people (nurses, doctors? I wasn’t really keeping track of who was around me) commented that this must not be my first. I guess most new parents freak out a bit more instead of helping to stick their new baby with needles. It was sort of an odd moment. I remember wondering if I was really just cold and dispassionate, which is very possible. But I think I mostly just considered everything a bonus after she had started breathing.

After they got the IV in and everything calmed down there was this really clear moment when she was lying there looking up at me and we made eye contact. I didn’t say anything, I just smiled and I remember thinking, “So, this is who was in there.” It was strange, I already felt like I knew her. We had named her almost immediately after finding out she was a girl. I remember the other couple in our birthing class asking us what names we were thinking about and we replied, “Isabel.” And they were like, “That’s… it?” She had always been Isabel. I used to poke her mother’s belly until she kicked so she could give me a “prenatal high five.” (Her mother loved this). And now, looking back, all I can think is, “I didn’t even know her yet.”

Eventually they brought my wife in and I gave her the baby so she could hold her and try to feed her. Other than nurses lifting her to move her, I made sure my wife was the first person to hold Isabel. It seemed like the right thing to do after what she had been through.

They had to take her out before long for more post surgery stuff so I stayed in the nursery with the baby and let her fall asleep on my chest. I’m not sure how long we stayed there, but it was amazing. This tiny human sleeping on me after such a rough day for her. Eventually I had to get up and put her first diaper on her so I could take her in to see my wife again when she was ready.

We ended up staying in the hospital a week. I hardly slept. I went with the tiny human for every procedure, every diaper change, every… everything. I *think* my wife let one of the nurses take her for something during one of my brief naps, but I’m still not sure. The whole week was a blur, living in a hospital out of a duffle bag, eating nothing but turkey sandwiches and drinking this strange concoction of sprite and cranberry juice they kept on hand for women in labor. I remember the nursing staff, they were amazing. They reminded me of what it was like to work in a good school, where your coworkers are like family, every day is full of surprises, and everyone is putting the needs of the kids (or, in this case patients) first. Not all schools are like that. Most aren’t anywhere near it. And I wouldn’t be surprised if this birthing center was an exception as well, but we were lucky to have it and its staff.

Oh! We also got in the local paper, since Isabel was the first baby of 2014. Our very own new year’s baby.

I’m not entirely certain why I’m sharing all of this. Maybe somebody will find something here helpful. Maybe I can look back on it later. But I said a long time ago I would write a post about this and, since I’m going to try to get this blog going again, it seemed a good place to start.

Challenges Faced By Miniature Game Tournaments


Tournaments are common in the gaming world. Magic Protours give away cash prizes, Hearthstone tournaments are taking off in the esports world, and basically everything from My Little Pony to Warhammer can be played in a tournament setting if that’s what you’re looking for. However, miniature games face some particular challenges when it comes to creating a fair, competitive environment.

The first and foremost difference between miniature tournaments and those held for other games is the need for terrain. As we all know, terrain has a huge impact on the game, so how it is set up in a competitive environment is very important. It needs to be fair to both players while still being interesting and varied from board to board. However, this means that the table a player is assigned to can actually affect his or her performance in the tournament. Think about that for a second. Imagine for a moment that a Magic the Gathering tournament was held where, at certain tables, red decks would get an advantage while at other tables blue decks would get an advantage. The tournament organizer would be lucky to escape with their life. Yet this is something we take for granted with miniatures tournaments. If you have a shooty crew and end up on a forest table, you just have to deal with it. The heart of competition is measuring your skill against your opponent’s and, the more elements that are outside of your control, the more difficult this is to do.

All of that said, terrain also adds a lot to the miniature tournament scene. Although varied terrain can sometimes mean that the results of the tournament don’t perfectly reflect player skill, it forces the player to use that skill in new and creative ways. Take the shooty player stuck on the forest table as an example. Although this player may have reduced odds of winning his or her match, they will also be challenged in different ways and, if they overcome their unfortunate situation, they will have good cause to be proud. So while the results of miniature tournaments may reflect player skill less accurately than tournaments for other gaming genres, they also encourage players to apply that skill in more interesting ways than simply how to play their list to counter the current meta. How would your gremlins deal with a sniper on the magically floating water fall?


Another huge factor in miniature tournaments is time management. This is, of course, a huge issue for any tournament, but miniature games frequently require an hour or more, putting significantly more time pressure on an event than a fifteen minute card game would have. In fact, in most card games, a round with one opponent is usually determined by best out of three games. The more games two players play, the more often that the skilled opponent will come out on top as sheer bad luck is ironed out over a number of games. This is another reason that the tournament systems for other games are generally a better indicator of skill; in miniatures tournaments, players will be lucky to finish one game which means that one round of bad luck is more likely to skew the results. Also, due to the serious time constraints, certain lists are more restricted than they would be in casual play. For example, you may not want to take a 300 model ork army to a 40k tournament as the sheer amount of time it takes to move and manage all of those models will result in your games coming to time more often than not. This means that sometimes the best list to win a casual game is not the same as the best list to win a tournament game. For years Games Workshop has even claimed that 40k was simply never designed to be a tournament game and, although I believe in supporting players fully in however they choose to play the game, I can understand the basis for this statement.

Miniatures games also have a heightened level of imprecision compared to other games. Players can move the wrong distance, have differing opinions on whether a model has LoS, accidentally bump something with their elbow, etc. These all create situations that the tournament organizer potentially has no concrete way to judge. For example, if the organizer is called over and two players are arguing over whether a model was moved too far, the organizer has nothing to go on but the conflicting story each player presents; the model’s original position is already lost. The same can be true of situations involving LoS, etc. This doesn’t mean that anyone is cheating, these situations can come up completely unintentionally. This would never happen in Magic the Gathering, there is no point where the organizer is forced to take a player’s word for anything unless blatant cheating is involved (for example, one player claims the other looked at his hand, etc). Nobody cares if one of the players moved one of their cards a quarter inch too far.

Of course, it’s not all doom and gloom. One place where miniature games (particularly Malifaux) really shine is in their win conditions. Most competitive games (particularly card games) have a hard coded win condition. Playing Magic? Deal twenty damage and get the kill (yes, I know stuff like Poison Counters exist, shut up). With miniature games, the win conditions tend to vary from round to round. This forces players to adapt, which is always interesting in a competitive environment. It also gives tournament organizers a powerful tool to influence the meta. Are static, shooty crews too dominant? Pick win conditions that require movement. This is a tool most games simply don’t have access to.

Tournaments provide many benefits to players and to the community as a whole. They force players to meet new opponents and deal with new situations, they encourage everyone to play at the top of their game, and they make a great excuse to give yourself a painting deadline. They are a ton of fun, and they are an (admittedly imperfect) indicator of player skill. However, the results of any single tournament for any gaming system are never a definitive statement about the players or the meta, and this is even more true for miniatures games.

Designing Leveticus


Leveticus was an incredibly difficult master to convert over to second edition. His playtest was long and rather painful. He was the only master who was tested publicly in both wave 1 and wave 2 and he saw more revisions than any other master. In the end it was all worth it, because I think we ended up with a very good result. However, his design was interesting and led us to some new design techniques, so I thought he deserved his own blog post.

In the first iteration of Leveticus, we tried to keep him as close to his 1.5 incarnation as we could. Unfortunately, in 1.5 he was a master with an incredibly diverse hiring pool, great damage, good summoning, and he hardly ever died. Combining all of those things into second edition was, to say the least, too much. This was our initial mistake, as I think it caused some perception issues right off the bat and led to a lot of trouble later on down the road.

Once we accepted that we couldn’t keep Leveticus as he was in 1.5, we had to think about how we were going to convert him over to second edition. I wanted to clean up some of his abilities, split his hiring options onto two limited upgrades, and tone down some of the more powerful aspects of his card so he could keep his flavor without being over powered. However, Mack had other ideas (this was still during Wave 1, so he was involved in Malifaux testing at the time).

Mack wanted to write down each of Leveticus’s abilities onto scraps of paper and then randomly draw them from a hat to see where they would go. For us this was a tried and true method, but I felt that Leveticus needed a bit more finesse in his design. The argument got heated, so I took it to Eric. As usual, Eric smacked me full on in the face and shouted, “Never question the hat!” This was, more or less, the response I expected, but I thought I had to try.

Unsurprisingly, Leveticus players were not pleased by the results of the hat method. I begged Eric and Mack to at least consider casting stones or reading the entrails of a goat, but they refused. Mack actually seemed pleased with the dismay on the forums. When I confronted him about it, he kept mumbling something about needing their tears to power his machine.

Quickly I realized that this master was not going to be ready for wave 1, so I pulled him and continued testing him through wave 2. During wave 2 Mack was distracted by the RPG so I was able to use a Magic 8 Ball like I had wanted to in the first place.

Well, that’s the story.

Although there is one thing I never really got closure on. I’m told Mack’s machine is till out there. Waiting.


Happy April Fool’s Day!

The Importance of the Local Game Store


These days, brick and mortar is a tricky business. A store doesn’t just have to compete with the guy down the street, but also with a sea of online retailers who have less overhead and can cut their costs. We have already seen the effects of this on the book trade with Borders closing its doors and Barnes and Noble hurting, but what about the game trade? Is this a good thing, giving players access to our games with a click of a mouse at a reduced cost? Is brick and mortar going the way of the dinosaur?

These are complicated questions, but I would argue that the friendly local game store is essential to the gaming industry and is here to stay. And this is particularly true for miniature games. Games have something to offer that books never will: community. While the individual games can be sold in bulk and discounted by online retailers, online retailers will never provide you and your friends with a table filled with terrain. They will not provide a place for you to find new opponents. They will not stay open late for your tournament. (Now, this isn’t to say there is anything wrong with online retailers. They provide an important service to the industry which I may point out in another post someday, but this post is about brick and mortar, and online retailers will not REPLACE brick and mortar.)

By definition, games require other people (well, my definition), so a place for people to gather and play them is essential. The game store isn’t just the middle man who hands you our products, it’s also the center of the gaming community.

In no other gaming genre is this more important than in miniature games (it has even been argued that a misunderstanding of this concept could shed some light on Games Workshop, but that’s another story). Miniature games are competitive, requiring a steady stream of new opponents to remain interesting. Unlike, for example, roleplaying games which can be played with the same group every week into eternity. This makes the space that game stores provide all the more essential. Additionally players need a decent amount of terrain which they may not otherwise be able to store at home or transport easily. Finally, a large appeal of miniature games is the aesthetic, making a gaming table in the middle of a store the perfect way to sell to new players. For all of these reasons, game stores are absolutely essential to the miniatures trade and to Wyrd.

So, to all the game stores out there, we know and appreciate the important job you do, thank you. And to all the players out there, always remember that the best way to thank your game store is to shop there.

The Beta: Before and After

The wave 2 cards are finalized and available for download, so I thought it would be interesting to look at how far we came during the beta. For this blog, I grabbed the oldest iteration of each wave 2 master I could find and put it next to its finalized version. This doesn’t include upgrades or supporting models, but it gives a good general sense of how each master developed, and gives some of you a glimpse behind the curtain at iterations that never even made it into the public beta. It’s surprising how little some of them changed, and others were rewritten entirely. It just goes to show how much the beta accomplished! (I would suggest opening these with Adobe Reader)


Lucius Before the Beta

Lucius After the Beta

Hoffman Before the Beta

Hoffman After the Beta


Jack Daw Before the Beta

Jack Daw After the Beta

Hamelin Before the Beta

Hamelin After the Beta

Leveticus Before the Beta

Leveticus After the Beta


Kirai Before the Beta

Kirai After the Beta

Molly Before the Beta

Molly After the Beta

Ten Thunders

McCabe Before the Beta

McCabe After the Beta

Yan Lo Before the Beta

Yan Lo After the Beta

Shenlong Before the Beta

Shenlong After the Beta


Colette Before the Beta

Colette After the Beta

Ironsides Before the Beta

Ironsides After the Beta

Kaeris Before the Beta

Kaeris After the Beta


Collodi Before the Beta

Collodi After the Beta

Dreamer Before the Beta

Dreamer After the Beta


Mah Tucket Before the Beta

Mah Tucket After the Beta

Ulix Before the Beta

Ulix After the Beta

Wong Before the Beta

Wong After the Beta


Designing Showdown


Originally posted in Wyrd Chronicles Volume 10.

Showdown is a fast-paced, bluffing card game. To find out more about it, watch the Tom Vasel review here. At the moment the Shodown game is set in a dark, futuristic world featuring the “Icons.” This was not always the plan. Showdown was actually originally designed to be a Malifaux product. However, at that time our Malifaux artists were busy getting art ready for M2E so Showdown needed a new theme. I am very happy with the dark, sci-fi theme that we ended up with. It’s a fun twist and something a bit different for Wyrd. But Malifaux is something I’m passionate about, so today I proudly announce that five new Malifaux themed Showdown decks are in the works. To celebrate this, I wanted to talk a bit about the Showdown design process.

I was originally inspired to pitch Showdown to Wyrd after playing Yomi ( Yomi is another fast-paced card game focusing on bluffing. Each player has a deck of cards (which doubles as a regular poker deck) which represents a character in a martial arts battle. As soon as I saw the concept, I was intrigued because I saw the potential for Malifaux. If I could design a game that would fit onto a regular deck of cards (aside from the traditional games like Hearts, etc) then we could produce Malifaux fate decks which players could use during a game of Malifaux as their fate deck while doubling as a totally separate game. It would give Malifaux players something to do in between rounds at a tournament, while waiting for a pick-up game, etc. Additionally, if it was simple enough, it could help introduce more people into the Malifaux universe.

After playing and getting to know Yomi I got some ideas for where I wanted to take the design as well. In Yomi, each player plays a single card face down and then flips them up simultaneously. A “rock, paper, scissors” system is then used to resolve combat: attack cards beat throws, throws beat blocks and dodges, and blocks and dodges beat attacks. The winner assigns damage and play continues until somebody is knocked out. Based on that brief description play may seem random, but there is a lot of depth in reading your opponent, knowing the decks, and trying to get off combos. If you haven’t played it, I highly suggest checking it out. However, there were two things about Yomi I felt that I would personally like to see changed, so I set out to design a system that was inspired by Yomi, but created its own unique system.

My first issue with Yomi was that it involved a bit of tracking. Characters generally have between 80 and 100 health, and players need to keep track of where it is. This means that the game requires a pen and paper (or one of the slick Yomi play mats and a counter) to keep track of health. For Showdown, I wanted players to need absolutely nothing other than two decks of cards; this would make the game much more accessible after a game of Malifaux. So I came up with the system of using the Aces in the deck for health. Basically, each player removes the four aces from their deck at the start of the game. Every time they lose a battle, they flip one of their aces face up. When they have no more aces to flip, they lose. This solved my tracking issue in a neat little package, and allowed players to need nothing other than the cards. It also opened up some fun design space. As aces are flipped face up, they grant the player some special abilities, which created a fun “catch up” mechanic for a player who was getting steam rolled. It also created some nice variety in play, as the order in which your aces get flipped up will change up the game play. Finally, having such little health created a fast (15-20 minute), intense experience that was very enjoyable during testing and perfect for the “in between” space a game of Showdown was designed to fill.

The next place that I wanted Showdown to be differentiated from Yomi a bit was in the bluffing. Because Yomi only uses a single card during combat, knowing your opponent’s deck is critical. For example, if you know your opponent has a deck with a lot of throws in it, you will be more likely to play an attack. This is great, but for Showdown I wanted to emphasize knowing the player more than knowing the deck. To do this, I used a two card system. In Showdown, players each play one card face up, and then one card face down. This means that when you play your face down card, you will have some limited knowledge about what your opponent is trying to do, as you will be able to see their face up card. The two card system gave players just enough information about their opponent’s plan to make bluffing interesting without making it predictable. There is, of course, a bit more to it than that, and if you’re interested I would highly suggest watching the Tom Vasel video I linked above or checking out the free online rules.

I think it’s interesting that I was able to create an entirely unique experience by tweaking two of the dynamics in Yomi. This is a fun way to look at game design in general, and I think it shows the flexibility in the model of game which Yomi pioneered: a single deck, asymmetric bluffing game. Personally, I would love to see this catch on and become its own genre, much like the deck building games. But, even if it doesn’t, I’m proud to have helped add to this space.

With many of my decisions hinging on selling this as a Malifaux product (the fast play, the lack of any resources other than the deck itself, etc) I was a little hesitant to retheme the game. But once I saw the amazing sci-fi art that was going on the game, I was all the more excited for it. Even so, I can’t wait for the next five Malifaux decks we have in store for you.

I also want to note that I wrote this article from my perspective: David Hanold and Redd Cohen were instrumental in designing this game, and I don’t want to leave them out here. In fact, they designed the five Malifaux decks which are coming your way with only playtesting input from me, and they did an amazing job.

The Language of Games


To a certain extent, I see rules as a language. The strength of having clear, well-defined rules is that two players who have never met before can come together and play a game without any arguments about what their models do.

This is why I will never condemn a player for wanting the rules to do exactly what they say. Only when players interpret the rules as they are written, not as they think the rules *should* be, can a game accomplish that level of clarity. This goes back to the old argument of Rules As Written (RAW) vs. Rules As Intended (RAI). A player who wants to play the rules exactly as they are written is a fan of RAW, where a player who tries to guess what the designer intended is a fan of RAI. The issue with attempting to guess another person’s intent is that not everyone’s interpretation of that intent will be the same, so house rulings and patches crop up, making it more difficult for gamers from two different groups to play a game together. In other words, as time goes on and more house rules are made, those two groups of gamers will slowly evolve separate rules languages until they are ultimately unable to communicate.

Now, I have no issue with house rules, so long as players recognize them for what they are. If it isn’t obvious, I’m more of a fan of RAW than I am of RAI, although I would never judge another person for how they choose to play the game. I just think that playing the game as it is written leads to the least amount of confusion.

This may be a bit of a surprise to some of you, after all, I wrote the rules (well, good portions of them, it’s a group effort). Why wouldn’t I want people playing the rules as I intended them? And haven’t I been seen on the forums calling for a “common sense” interpretation of the rules? Doesn’t all of this point to more of a RAI point of view?

Not necessarily. While I most certainly would like the rules played as I intended them, I find that when people guess at my intentions they are rarely correct (no hard feelings – I probably wouldn’t be able to guess about your intentions either). Also, in my experience, telling the difference between RAW and RAI can actually be more difficult than it seems. Rules As Written tends to have the bad reputation of being the most lawyeresque, strict, knit-picking interpretation of the rules possible. I would argue that this isn’t always the case and that, frequently, Rules As Intended arguments end up being far more strict and counter-intuitive. Let me give you an example.

In this thread the following question came up: Does Lilith need to be able to draw Line of Sight (LoS) to a Silurid in order to target it with a Ca Action?

The reason for this question was that Lilith and the Silurid have the following abilities:

On Lilith: Master of Malifaux: This model is not affected by severe or hazardous terrain and does not need LoS to target models with Charge or Ca Actions.

On the Silurid: Silent: Models cannot ignore LoS or cover when targeting this model.

Taken at face value it would seem that Lilith would indeed need LoS to target the Silurid, as her Master of Malifaux ability is negated by the Silurid’s Silent ability. This makes the most intuitive sense, because otherwise there is seemingly little reason to have the Silent ability at all.

On the other hand, the argument was made that Silent stops models from ignoring LoS restrictions, but Master of Malifaux simply states Lilith does not need LoS. In other words, Lilith doesn’t ignore LoS, she simply doesn’t need it, therefore she can target the Silurid. At first, this would appear to be the proper RAW interpretation of the rules. However, I would argue that it is not.

This entire argument is predicated on “ignoring” a restriction being different than “not needing to adhere to” a restriction. Although slightly different wording is used, they do indeed mean the same thing, and that’s the important part. Because they mean the same thing in the literal sense of the English language (although not necessarily the exact wording used) the two rules do interact with each other, and Silent will effectively negate Master of Malifaux, forcing Lilith to draw LoS as normal. The best argument against this interpretation is that if the designers had intended these two rules to interact, they would have been sure to use the same language; in other words, it’s a Rules As Intended interpretation (and an incorrect one) which is the more strict and counter-intuitive of the two arguments.

I think I have shown how trying to guess the designer’s intent can actually lead to the less intuitive conclusion. But it begs the questions, why don’t we just always use consistent wording to avoid this? And when does strict wording matter?

Strict wording matters when you are dealing with game terms. Game terms are definitions which are strictly outlined in the rulebook and which have a different definition than the usual English definition. For example, in Malifaux, “killed” is a game term. When a rule says that a model is “killed,” it does not mean the model’s heart stopped beating, it means the model is removed from the table and drops any applicable markers. This is very different than the English definition, so we spell it out in the book, and it means something entirely different than other terms (like sacrifice). Placement is another game term (call out box pg. 51), because in Malifaux “placement” is different than “movement” (when in the literal sense placing something is generally going to involve moving it). Reducing damage is different than preventing damage, etc. When the rules use a specific game term, they are speaking very strictly about that term, and that term will be defined in the book. However, when the rules use the English language, they are referring to the literal definition of that language, but the exact phrasing isn’t as important (this is why “ignoring” a restriction is the same thing as “not needing” a restriction).

Alright, now we know when to adhere to strict wording and when not to. All that said, what about the first question, why not just use perfectly consistent wording in all rules which the designers intend to interact? Why use “ignore” and “does not need” at all? Why not just choose one and stick to it? Part of the issue is sheer manpower and deadlines. With enough people and enough time, we could certainly do a better job of this. But, even with infinite time and manpower, there are still very good reasons to rely on the English language definitions as opposed to making everything into a game term. I give an example of this in the thread I linked above:

This is hardly the only example in the rules (NOTE: speaking about the Silurid/Lilith debate), it’s just the one the forums have latched onto for the moment. For example, a model which is inflicting damage usually “deals” damage. A model which is taking damage usually “suffers” damage. Ideally, these would have been the exact same term. But it would have lead to weird sentences like this:

“When another model is suffering damage, this model may discard a card to force the target to suffer 1 additional damage.”

Compare this to:

“When another model is suffering damage, this model may discard a card to deal 1 additional damage.”

You can see the economy of space there, if nothing else. And, before people pick this apart and start trying to show how they could have used the exact same wording while saving space AND making sense, keep in mind this is only one example. You would have to do that hundreds of times, no two the same, and screwing it up even slightly means nobody understands the rule.

The dealt/suffer wording in regards to damage is just one example. And it’s one which could have a weird rules interpretation, if the RAI route is taken. For example, the Armor ability states:

Armor +1: Reduce all damage this model suffers by +1, to a minimum of 1.

This could lead to the argument, “If the designers had intended Armor to reduce damage from this *insert action or ability here*, they would have used the wording ‘suffer’ instead of ‘dealt.’”


Clearly this is not the interpretation we wanted (nor is it the correct one) so why did we leave ourselves open to it? Two reasons: grammar and card space.

Depending on which model is the subject of the sentence, the appropriate word changes. For example, if the model taking damage is the subject, then “suffers” is the appropriate word to use (i.e. this model suffers damage. The model being damaged is the subject). However, if a model is inflicting damage, then “deals” is the appropriate word to use (i.e. this model deals damage. The model doing damage is the subject). Keeping the wording consistent for all situations would have involved some creative writing to change the subject of the sentence, which would have led to some strange (but totally consistent) wording. Unfortunately, this wording makes less sense in the context of the English language, and English wins, because it’s what we speak. Ignoring the language we speak makes this game a lot less accessible to new players.

Economy of space is equally important. Ultimately, a card is a pretty tiny space in which to write a complex rule. You have no idea how many hours I have spent tweaking, rewording, and adjusting kerning to make the rules fit. That extra line or two does, absolutely, matter.

And, at the end of the day…nobody has ever (to my knowledge) made this argument about Armor (yes, I know, they will now. Shut up.) The rules are intuitive, players get it. And that counts for a lot.

Armor cat

Armor cat laughs at your rules arguments.

I think I have made my position about as clear as I can, but there is one more question I would like to address. Why don’t we just add a few extra lines to make the rules as absolutely clear as possible? Well, first is manpower and deadlines, of course I wish we were better at this. Even with unlimited resources, we still run into the card space issues I mentioned above. However, there is one more reason we don’t always do this: Every line is a line that can be misinterpreted.

I almost want to get that tattooed on me somewhere. It would just be awkward quoting myself.

Every line is a line that can be misinterpreted.

-The dude who’s elbow this is

I could write paragraphs about how each individual rule works. But somewhere buried in that paragraph would be a line that is either ambiguous or which people really want to mean something else, and a whole new argument starts. When writing rules, you just need to keep them succinct, clear, and then encourage the player base to interpret them with a grain of common sense.


After thought: how many pages are the official Magic the Gathering rules? If you don’t already know, take a guess before you click.

Running The Malifaux Beta


There are two key skills to game design; predicting human behavior, and running the numbers. Games are played by humans, so predicting how they will react in the game (and how they will feel about the game) is absolutely key. That’s not something you can figure out just by calculating statistics, because people don’t always make the logical choice (or even play a game for the same reasons). On the other hand, you don’t want a system that can be broken and manipulated, so you also need to run some hard numbers and know your statistics. This is important both so that you can make sure that the most intuitive choice is also the most statistically viable choice, and to make sure that six months after release someone who does understand hard statistics doesn’t release a net list that dominates your meta.

A single game designer only needs one of these skills; but a game will need people with both skill sets to function. I’d like to think I’m capable of doing the tight rope walk between both of these skills, I would argue they’re pretty much the only two things I’m good at. Luckily, running a public beta falls very heavily into one of these areas: predicting behavior.

The past four months of public beta have been a hell of a ride. If a beta like this goes bad, it can go VERY bad. Every time I mentioned to another game designer that I was running a public beta, I always detected a little bit of a cringe. All too often it can just turn into a non-productive hate fest that nobody wants to talk about once it’s done. I think we can all agree that was not the case for the wave two testing, but why not?

First, I need to give credit to the community. You guys are awesome. The Malifaux community is one of the most mature, respectful gaming communities out there, and I don’t know if I could have pulled this off with another fan base. Also, I need to give credit to the hard working moderators who kept an eye on things.

That said, we are all gamers. We were all on the internet. And we all showed up to the beta to argue a point. Even with an amazing community, that can be a recipe for disaster, so I needed to get ahead of the game. I needed to provide an environment where the great community we had could live up to its full potential.

First and most importantly, I set a schedule and I stuck to it. Updates would come once a week, every week, on the same day. This is something I instituted in the Showdown playtest, insisted on continuing during the wave 1 beta, and kept up here. Updates for this beta came every Tuesday. Even the day was no accident. I poled a number of people behind the scenes and found that Monday was the most convenient day for a beta update (followed by Tuesday). Unfortunately, Monday didn’t work for me, because most playtest games are played over the weekend and I don’t even see them until Monday, so Tuesday became update day. This gave me enough time to input the data, and gave the player base enough time to digest the rules before their games on the weekend. I stuck to this schedule rain or shine, posting updates on Christmas Eve and New Years Eve. I did post two updates at odd times in the morning the day before my daughter was born and the day we came home from the hospital (yes, we spent a week in the hospital, that was fun) but that was pretty much the only thing I let get in my way.

I kept to such a strict schedule because a predictable schedule is probably the best behavior management tool you can ever have. When people don’t know when things will happen, they get antsy and, worse, they get bored. People *want* to be productive but, if they can’t have that, they’ll always settle for a little destruction. I can’t point to examples of this in the beta because I didn’t let it happen but, after five years with the school district, I can assure you it would have (and no, I’m not comparing you to children. It’s just how people are. I’m the same way. How many horror stories start out, “So, I was bored one day…” Internet flame wars are no different.)

My next most powerful tool was allowing people to feel heard. I accomplished this in a number of ways. The first and most effective way to allow people to be heard in the beta was simply to put in the changes they were asking for. How many of you can proudly point to an ability and say, “That was my idea!” That’s an awesome feeling, even if you were just pushing for a slightly lower/higher stat. I say that this is the easiest way because…it’s the entire point of the beta. People showed up to influence the game, allowing them to see that influence kept the beta a positive experience. It’s what I wanted, and it’s what the players wanted (efficiency!). Now, that’s all well and fine when the ideas people were pushing were good. Obviously, that can’t always be the case. However, more than once I put a change in I knew would probably be removed just so people could tell I was listening, and try it out for themselves (and, hey, sometimes I was wrong and those things stuck).

Of course, sometimes I reached a point where this wouldn’t work. The suggestions were too varied or there wasn’t enough time to test things I knew might be dead ends. In these instances I jumped in, brain stormed with the community, and did a “mid-week update.” Basically, I tried to distill what people were saying and actively worked with them to come up with something when there wouldn’t normally be an update. This was beneficial when there were a lot of voices going in different directions. It focused the discussion and made it more productive, rather than simply allowing fifty different lines of argument to continue until there could be an update (which is obviously a recipe for negativity).

My final tool for allowing people to feel listened to was to simply…respond to them. I know this may seem obvious, but you’d be surprised how many professionals just don’t respond to emails or private messages. I tried to always respond (admittedly, at the height of the beta, with my daughter being born and spending a week in the hospital, I probably missed a few). Of course, I didn’t just wait for people to reach out to me. If I wanted a better understanding of where someone was coming from, I messaged them.

No matter how you do it, letting people know that they are being listened to is incredibly important. Because if they feel like they’re just yelling at a wall, they’ll get frustrated, worked up, and then just start yelling at each other.

My next tool was preventing escalation by hyperbole. Escalation by hyperbole is something you see a lot on the internet. One person comes in saying, “Yan Lo is a little weak.” The next person responds, “I’ve never seen him lose!” Cut to ten pages later and one guy claims Yan Lo shoots lasers out of his eyes and levels Tokyo on the weekends, and the other guy is claiming that Yan Lo is the worst model ever made and if he goes to print like this he will melt his models down into a point and jam them into his eye because at least then they’ll be able to deal damage. This sort of progression is terrible for the beta, both because it gets people insulting each other, and because it seriously dilutes feedback. I combated this sort of escalation in two ways.

First, I put a lot of emphasis on battle reports. This kept the discussion on hard facts (VP differences, models killed, etc). Hyperbole is a lot more difficult with the truth sitting in front of you. It also gave either side an “out” if they got into a hyperbole war. They could always just politely say, “Well, I’d like to see the battle report.” Of course, keep in mind, I’m only commenting from a community management point of view, battle reports were incredibly useful for a myriad of other reasons (which made them all the more efficient).

Secondly, I put a stop to the escalation when I saw it, and I never allowed any one thread to carry on too long. Usually, if I locked a thread where this sort of thing was happening, neither party bothered starting a new thread. The battle ground had been closed, and both parties wandered away. Granted, not every thread I closed had this problem, but any thread that goes on too long runs this risk, so I made a habit of pruning them. (This also made it easier for me to read feedback. Again, we’re back to efficiency. If you want to run a public beta by yourself, efficiency is something you’re probably going to want to keep coming back to).

Another great tool was recognizing passion for what it was. Sure, a lot of the time that passion was frustration pointed at me. And on occasion I got frustrated right back, and I had to say sorry once or twice. But, at it’s core, everyone was there for the love of the game. If I could take that passion and let people legitimately help influence the game, I won twice. I had one less person unhappy with me, and one more person helping me.

Finally, I encouraged people to give me feedback privately if they wanted. This allowed a number of people who weren’t comfortable with the forums to have a say. Opening this line of communication was very important. It allowed me to get feedback I may have otherwise missed out on while also preventing other, less productive, communication.

For most of the beta, I tried to maintain my distance. I didn’t want my opinions influencing feedback. If I came in and told people how to use a model, that’s how they would use it. Unfortunately, the players who get that model a year from now won’t have me sitting at their table telling them what to do. So, to a certain extent, I needed to let people struggle to see where the system broke. On the other hand, I sometimes needed to pop in and say, “test this.” Or, “calm down guys, here is the story…” When I worked for the school district I had a teacher who told me, “Everything is a moment in time, and you will need to make a judgment call. You won’t always be right, but you do need to make a call. Learn from it either way.” I definitely heard that voice in my head a lot during the beta.

Of course, there was a lot more to the beta. I didn’t even touch on…game design. Or analyzing data, or managing my time, or, well, a lot of things. But I think this beta was unique in how positive it was, and I wanted to spill some light on how I worked towards that. And, again, most of the credit goes to you guys. I provided an environment where the community could be productive, but you’re the ones who did it.

Anyway, this whole process was a great experience, so I want to wrap this up with a sneak preview of one of the first masters on which I had some say on the art direction and character.

Meet Ironsides

(Click image to enlarge)



Sleep Now In The Fire…

Resource Design In Malifaux


Today’s post is on resources, and how to design resource mechanics for Malifaux. By resources, I mean something that will be spent when using an ability in such a way that it limits the use of that ability. For example, discarding a card to take an action, etc.

Fundamental Resources

There are a few resources which I qualify as “fundamental resources.” These are resources which basically every model in the game uses. There are three fundamental resources:

Cards: The cards which make up a player’s hand can be spent on almost any model.

Action Points: The action points which dictate how much a model can do throughout the course of the game. I have a whole post on viewing AP as a resource.

Wounds: The number of wounds a model can take before it dies, which can also be spent by certain models on some abilities.

Without these resources, the game simply wouldn’t function. While using them as a limiting factor for certain actions is common, relying on them too much can make the game collapse (I’ll get into this a bit later).

Secondary Resources

Secondary resources include anything which can function as a resource, but isn’t one of the fundamental resources. This can include almost anything from a condition on a friendly model (Chi on Yan Lo) to a condition you put on an enemy model (Poison for McMourning) to things like scrap, corpse, and scheme markers.

Crew Mechanics

Many crews are themed around a specific resource. McMourning is themed around poison, Colette is themed around scheme markers, etc.

However, a fundamental resource can never be used as a crew mechanic. If a fundamental resource is used, there will be too many other models which interfere with the functioning of the crew. This is something we have tried a number of times before, and it has never been pretty.

For example, Jack Daw went through a period in the beta where he used the cards in hand instead of wounds to stay alive. Basically, he only had one wound but could always discard a card to prevent any incoming damage. This was neat and unique, and a throwback to 1.5 Jack Daw. But it had the severe limitation of Jack Daw having to save his hand to stay alive rather than cheating fate, which hampered the rest of his crew. Additionally, any model which allowed Jack to draw (or forced him to discard) cards caused huge fluctuations in his survivability. For these reasons, we needed to abandon this mechanic.

Similarly, Kirai went through a period of using her wounds as her primary summoning resource. Of course, opposing models were continually trying to take this resource away from her by attacking her, which both made her easier to kill and weakened her summoning. On the other side of the spectrum, run of the mill healing abilities made her summoning too powerful. Again, this caused huge swings in her power level. (Now, to an extent you could say that Kirai still uses wounds as her summoning resource, but I would argue that she is primarily designed to use Seishin as her resource with wounds as an option. But that’s a topic for a Kirai design post.)

Using a fundamental resource as a crew theme resource always causes wide swings in power because so many models interact with them. Additionally, playing with them too much can cause issues for all of the models, not just the ones playing in theme.

Of course, there are lots of models that use cards and/or wounds as a resource, and that’s fine. But it is a question of degree. A single model which has a zero action that requires a discard to function isn’t going to bog down an entire crew. In fact, minor discard abilities help to even out the luck inherent in drawing a hand, as low cards can be used to make these abilities work if you drew a bad hand (or, conversely, if you drew a really good hand, you now have a tough choice about which high card to discard). I like these abilities because they even the playing field a bit. But a master which revolves completely around one of these resources is going to become a black hole that the whole game has to revolve around.

In my experience there are two kinds of resources that work very well as a crew themed resource:

The first are resources that are obtained in a manner that allows the opponent a resist. For example, McMourning can summon after he applies poison to enemy models. Poison is McMourning’s themed resource. However, the enemy models will always have a chance to resist being poisoned. To an extent corpse markers fall under this category as well, as the most efficient way of getting them usually involves killing enemy models.

The second are resources that are totally unique to that crew. Take Chi on Yan Lo as an example. Chi generation is not limited to being gained by killing enemy models (although that is an option). However, because Chi is so specific to Yan Lo, I never need to worry about another model having an ability that grants Yan Lo an insane amount of Chi. Every model that gives out Chi was tested with, and intended for, Yan Lo.

The only exception to this rule that I can think of is Colette. She uses scheme markers as a resource, which are neither specific to her crew nor gained through conflict with the enemy (although I would still consider them a secondary resource). The catch here is that the things Colette does with scheme markers are, generally, a bit less powerful than the things other masters can do with their resources. Resurrectionists can bring in brand new models, Yan Lo can gain all sorts of upgrades, etc. Colette tends to use scheme markers for movement and damage mitigation, areas that other models often have built in. This makes her a very tricky and very unique master. However, it also means that I have paid very close attention to her in the beta, as she took on a mechanic I knew would be difficult to balance. But, I think we pulled it off.

Anyway, those are my notes on how to apply resource consumption in Malifaux design. The easiest way to design a broken model is to make it revolve around one of the fundamental resources.




The Problem With Summoning Part 1


Summoning is a major part of Malifaux, but it comes with some unique issues. There are very few (if any) other table top war games where actively putting new models on the table plays such a major role. Generally, all of your actions are focused on removing the opposing models from the table. While summoning makes Malifaux all the more diverse and unique, it creates some issues which other similar games never need to worry about.

I mentioned in another post that AP should be viewed as a resource. In this view, the winner is the player who most efficiently turns his or her Action Points (AP) into Victory Points (VP). This makes actions which either remove opposing AP, or add friendly AP, very powerful. Removing opposing AP is the more common of the two, and is most easily seen in killing models. The vast majority of models in the game have the potential to remove opposing models from the table (or are specifically designed for that purpose).

Summoning friendly models is the logical opposite to killing enemy models. Both forms of action hinge on changing the AP differential between you and your opponent in your favor. If you’re only looking at the AP differential, there is very little difference between deleting an opposing model and creating another friendly model. So it would seem that, on the surface, these two strategies are inherently balanced. Unfortunately, that’s not the case.

To remove an opposing model, you almost always need range and Line of Sight (LoS). This inherently implies that there is a positioning element, which allows your opponent to react to you; either through positioning (running away) or counter attacking (killing your stuff first). Additionally, the opponent will generally have an opportunity to resist (because actions that can kill opposing models almost always require an opposed duel of some kind). This further adds to the counter play.

Summoning, on the other hand, can be accomplished in a vacuum. There is nothing inherent about summoning which requires positioning or opposing models to pass duels, etc. You can just do it in a corner without worrying about what the opponent is doing. Imagine if Lady Justice could sit in a corner swinging her sword and cheating in high cards every so often while removing opposing models from the table. From an AP differential standpoint, unchecked summoning is just as powerful. And, in addition to being too powerful, mechanics which don’t encourage interaction are simply less fun and more frustrating.

Of course, I am only talking about how summoning plays inherently. There is nothing specific about its design which forces player interaction and positioning, but that’s precisely the sort of problem we go about solving when we design summoning mechanics. This is why summoning actions usually require another resource (such as a corpse or scrap marker) which lessens the power of the ability, adds a positioning element, and forces interaction as the best way to get those resources is for models to start dying. I don’t think any of our wave 1 summoners are too powerful (and their beta counterparts are shaping up), I’m simply noting what I look out for as a designer. There are a number of other creative solutions which I will talk about in a future article, but for now I’m just laying out the problem.