In "The Art of Computer Game Design," Chris Crawford says: "A truly excellent game allows us to imprint a greater portion of our personalities into our game-playing. Such a game allows me to play in a way that only I could have played it."

These two sentences have been rolling around in my mind ever since I first read them several weeks ago. I think they provide a major clue as to why I've been so fascinated with games all my life.

Sure, games are challenging. But if that was all, I might as well sit around working mathematical puzzles. Or push a rock up a hill or something. Sure, some games (e.g., RPGs and some wargames) provide a richly detailed "alternative reality"; but I can experience that in movies or books.

Challenge and immersion together don't quite seem to add up to fun. Not to me, anyway.

But one thing I really love is the opportunity to put something of myself into the game I'm playing--to project my personality, or playing style, into the game. And then sit back and watch what happens. Whatever happens, I end up seeing some facet of my personality reflected back to me. It's a process of self-discovery.

So, now I'm wondering: What kind of game best facilitates such personality imprinting? If you'd like to respond to that, feel free to stop here. Below, I'm going to wax philosophical.

One game that pops to mind is chess. Chess history includes biographies of some very unique players and playing styles. Andersson the master of sacrifice; Nimzovich the defender; Marshall the "swindler"; Morphy the genius of attacking combinations; and so forth. Each player has a unique approach to the game, yet all of them mastered it.

So, I suppose that's one obvious requirement of the kind of game I'm looking for. It has to offer many equally valid paths to success. If, thoughout the game, I have little or no choice as to what move to make, there's no way I can express myself; I'm limited to making the available move. Same thing happens if I'm given several options but one of them is clearly much better than the others; then I have to choose the best move if I'm playing to win. But if I'm offered several moves and they're all about equally good, then I'm in business. Then I can freely choose, and my choice is an expression of my mood or personality.

It's even better if I get to choose from among several different kinds of pieces to move (which is why I like chess a lot better than checkers/draughts). And if I get to move the piece freely around the board (as in chess) instead of just along a track (as in backgammon). And if there are lots of other choices I get to make, better yet--provided each choice results in something significant, something tangible.

That leads to another requirement: that the game provide feedback of some kind. I don't just want to express my playing style or personality; I want it to be acknowledged and responded to. Because of my unique "imprint" (all the various moves I make), the game must develop in a direction it wouldn't otherwise go. It's no good if I'm "expressing myself" into a black hole which has no discernable effect. Every choice or decision or move I make ought to have some measurable effect on the game, so that I can see my choices reflected back at me.

One form of feedback is ownership. I like games where I can acquire relatively permanent possession of things. For example, the game of go, where I stake out and secure territory; Monopoly, where I buy properties; Adv. Civilization, where I settle lands and build cities; Settlers, where the things I build leave a permanent mark on the board showing what I did and where I've been. I tend to dislike games where ownership is more ephemeral: e.g., Merchant of Venus, where your cargo (and even your ship) is only yours temporarily until you sell it and pick up something else. Even among card games, I've always preferred rummy-type games, where you collect (and "own") matched sets; and I've always disliked trick-taking games, where you own only the hand you're dealt, and even that disappears play by play. Ownership in a game is a tangible imprint of one's personal presence, personality, or playing style.

Another form of feedback is response from other players. If I'm a very aggressive player, my opponents have to deal with that somehow. My aggressiveness makes its mark on the game, and each of their personalities also makes a mark. We're each expressing something unique, but at the same time we're acknowledging one another, responding to each other's style. By the end of the game, we all know each other better than when we started.

Maybe that's why some folks like negotiation games so much: they afford opportunities to achieve success via human dynamics--by expressing oneself and simultaneously adapting to the personalities and styles of all the other players. As it happens, however, this is my least favorite type of game. In my experience, all those other personalities interfere too much with my own self-expres-sion. That may sound narcissistic--and maybe it is. But frankly, I resent being thrown off balance by a sneaky, aggressive, or otherwise obnoxious player--or even being led down the garden path by a very pleasant player who nevertheless intends to win at my expense. In negotiation-type games (e.g., Diplomacy), there's no buffer between personalities; players clash directly with each other. I greatly prefer games that do provide a buffer between personalities--so that I can express mine and still leave plenty of room for other players to express theirs.

But then it comes back around to the idea of ownership. If direct interaction with other players isn't providing the feedback loop, the acknowledgment or response, then there has to be something tangible on the game board which reflects how I've expressed myself. I should be able to look down and see a physical record of all the moves I've made--and be able to compare that to the record of the other players' moves. That's the kind of player interaction I like: A mostly indirect comparison of personalities and playing styles. There can be some overlap, some direct confrontation; but it shouldn't be predominant. No player's personality should be squelched by the force of another player's personality. Even a weak player should ideally end up owning *some-thing.*

For this reason, I've always found go to be a much more pleasant game than chess. In chess, barring a draw, one player will always end up owning everything, and the other player always ends up losing everything. In go, I always manage to secure a portion of the board for myself--a portion of territory that even the strongest player in the world couldn't possibly take away from me. A loss in chess always seems absolutely crushing; whereas in go I always end up feeling good about whatever territory I own, however small a piece it might be (of course I feel a whole lot better if mine is the lion's share).

Yet, an abstract game like go doesn't seem to satisfy my urge for self-expression (or "personality imprinting") either. After all, you get to place just one stone each turn, and all the stones are alike. In chess, I get to choose from among six different kinds of pieces with unique movement patterns. Unfortunately, chess moves are relatively ephemeral; there's no "ownership" in that game, in the sense of establishing territory of your own or collecting things of your own. The things you do have in chess--your pieces--are often sacrificed or exchanged away during play.

For years I was an avid wargamer; and now I see one reason why. In a wargame, you get lots of pieces to move each turn, and there are usually at least several different kinds of pieces. And furthermore, you get to capture and control territory--i.e., establish ownership. Not only is your army yours, but it's a tool you can use to acquire territory for yourself. And then, just as in go, the "front lines" end up being a tangible record of what you've done throughout the game--how you've expressed your personality to achieve breakthroughs, pinch off salients, and secure objectives.

Wargames also have a downside, though, in regard to personality and playing style. There are so many units on the board that each one's identity tends to get lost in the crowd. If you lose a unit or two, so what? For that matter, there are so many hexes on a big mapboard that the gain or loss of a patch of territory sometimes means relatively little. If a player is to imprint his personality on the game, each move he makes ought to make a serious impact on the board situation. In wargames, one often has to move a dozen units over the course of several turns in order to "make a serious impact." That's too slow and diffused to be satisfying.

So, once again, I wonder what games lend themselves best to imprinting one's personality or playing style.