Last month's column mentioned standards. By "standards" I mean a kind of yardstick to judge things with. This month's column discusses some of the standards that apply to the rules of our games. We ought to be able to count on game designers following these standards.

All standards reflect the conventions - a kind of majority agreement - of the society that produces them. The standards them- selves are inflexible, but their yardstick stretches over a large range of measures, from the smallest to the largest, from the least significant to the most significant, from the merely annoying to the devastating.

As the society changes, so do the conven- tions change. But, like changes to our lan- guage, these changes tend to be glacially slow, unnoticeable except over several generations. Until a large, influential portion of the society adopts a different way of doing things, a change to the convention has not taken place.

So, at any time, we can gather the stand- ards of our society and write them down and use them as a yardstick. In some instances, there may be a perceptible change in progress; but the largest part will be palpably solid.

For example, we have agreed upon the spellings, grammatical functions, etymologies, meanings, etc. of the words in our language and set this agreement down in books called dictionaries. If you as a reader come across a word in this article that is new to you, you can go to your dictionary and come away with a new treasure for your hoard. If I as a writer use a word that you can't find in your dictionary, I have broken the conventions, and I do so at the peril of your misunderstanding what I have written.

All this is pretty basic, isn't it? And yet, sometimes the most basic things, when overlooked or ignored, can play havoc.

It's equally basic that the wargame designer must - unless he's designing a game for himself as a kind of intellectual exercise I present his design to the wargamer. He has his design in his head, in some notes on paper, in some rough counters or cards or maps, etc. Now he must follow the conventions of presentation and make his design into a game playable by his fellow wargamers. He has several tools at his disposal: a common language; common methods of design, printing, counting; common approaches to playing wargames; and so on.

But, just as I as a writer take an unacceptable chance of the reader's misunderstanding me if I consistently use words that he can't find in the dictionary, the wargame designer takes an overwhelming risk of his game's never being played - or being played very differently than he intended it - if he consistently overlooks or ignores the conventions.

We should also note that designing a wargame is an effort entirely different from presenting a wargame to a potential player. The two tasks require different skills, different experiences, and attention to different standards.

The two kinds of abilities in the same person seems to be rather rare.

In any event,

The rules themselves represent the biggest dollar and time investment in any game. The playing pieces and the game map even the box cover - may look much more colorful and interesting. But the rules are where the money is, or at least they are where the money should be. Without good rules you cannot have a good game.
--[James E Dunnigan, The Complete Wargames Handbook. New York: William Morrow and Company, 1980, p. 255.]

What are the standards that we should expect designers to follow? The rest of this column will discuss a standard - in no particular order of importance - and then give examples from MIH's Kursk: Ring of Fire (KROF) and GMT's The Battles of Waterloo (TBOW) to show how that standard has or has not been adhered to.

The rules should tell us how to play the game.

That is, the rules will tell us how we can handle our units, when we can do the different things that the design allows us to do, and, equally important, what we can't do. In other words, the rules will tell us not about the game, or about its history, or about how the designer came to undertake the project, but about how to play it.

Unfortunately, this standard - so basic that it shouldn't need stating - seems to be lost sight of regularly. Too often, rules seem to read like the designer's description to himself of what he wants his design to be; although there may be a place for that kind of writing (in "designer's notes"?), I submit that the rules are not the place for it. Something in the game box must tell us how to play the game, and I can't think where else this kind of instruction would be if it's not in the rules. (Nor should we have to purchase a separate cassette tape to explain the game to us.)

The rules should be organized logically.

The rules should follow a logical plan of organization, because only by that plan can the reader deduce the structure of the rules. All readers, no matter what they're reading, need maps and signposts to navigate with. Good writers pay attention to these guides, make sure they're clear, make sure the reader can find them.

Sometimes, these guideposts can be as simple as a numbering system to the paragraphs of the rules. Remember when your grade-school teacher tried to teach you about outlining? Outlining is a kind of shorthand representation of the logic that went into separating the pieces (sections, paragraphs, sentences) of the writing.

But the logic must be susceptible to Aristotle's "right reason." For example, one the basic notions of logic is the division of a group of like things into smaller groups, each having similar characteristics. However, to "divide" is to separate into two or more parts - it is not possible to divide a thing into one part.

In KROF, we find on pages two and three this description of the organization of its rules:

Each major section of the rules is assigned a whole number (1.0, 2.0 .... ). Subordinate rules are assigned a corresponding number to the right of the decimal place. For example: 2.1, 2.2 .... under rule 2.0; 2.11, 2.12 .... within sub-section 2.1; and even 2.111, 2.112 ... within sub-section 2.11.

This is a good description of the numbering system that's been common in military specifications since before our Civil War. It has the advantage, for our purposes, of providing exact reference to the smallest unit of text. It also shows, at a glance, the writer's idea of coordination and subordination.

Unfortunately, KROF's rules have, under section 6.4, the subsection 6.41 - there is no subsection 6.42; in other words, the writer has divided 6.4 into one part, a logical impossibility. Again, at section 12.16, we have a 12.161 without a 12.162; and at 14.5, a 14.51 without a 14.52. The writer tells us on pages two and three how he is going to organize the rules, but he doesn't do it that way. He has told the reader what to expect and then disappointed him.

TBOW uses a mixture of specification numbering and the old grade-school scheme of A., A. 1., A.2., B., B. 1., B.2. There are also un- numbered and un-lettered headlines and double- bullet paragraphs that may or may not have a place in the logical structure.

For example, section 3.0 discusses the game-turn. There is an un-numbered, un-lettered headline for the sequence of play (SOP), which has in turn lettered subsections A through G. There is no other headline coordinate with the SOP, which therefore represents a division into one part.

This requirement for logic in dividing into parts is not merely a question of numbering. It's the other way around: the logic determines the numbering.

And it must make sense. For example, section 12 of KROF deals with combat. The game has three kinds of combat - tank combat, air combat, and regular combat. Reasonably enough, section 12 has 12.1 for tank combat, 12.2 for air strikes, and 12.3 for regular combat. The three kinds of combat take place in that sequence: that is, one can't do air strikes before tank combat, or regular combat before air strikes. Unreasonably, however, section 12.2 says

Air Strikes are conducted during the Combat Phase and the Reserve Combat Phase, immediately following completion of the Tank Combat Segment. Please refer to 13.2 to see how to conduct Air Strikes.

The next section, 12.3, goes on to tell us how to do regular combat.

There is simply no compelling reason to jerk the reader from one section of the rules to another in this fashion. Section 12.2 is the logical place to treat the air combat section.

The rules for TBOW are worse. This is a complicated game design, with a complicated SOP Section 3.0 first discusses the SOP (repeated on a separate play-aid card). Conspicuously absent from the SOP is any movement, combat, morale, supply, etc. - things that you'd expect to do in most kinds of wargame.

Subsection C. (Operations phase) implies that some actions may take place under the allowance of the Leader Initiative Marker (drawn in an earlier phase) and references rule 4.73. At that place we find the action - or at least several references to it: these range from sections 9.3 to 8.99 to 5.33 to 8.1 and 8.12 to 8.7 to 7.4. (in the order presented in the rule). There is a separate play-aid card called "Assault Resolution Procedure," which re-prints all of rule 8.23 (complete with further internal references); this card has not been referenced so far.

The reader has been jerked, jerked again, and, if he continues, will be jerked several more times.

The rules should be presented in the order that the gamer needs to know them.

In other words, rules should use a logical presentation as they tell us how to play the game. If an SOP (no matter what name it parades under) requires the player to do things in sequence A, followed by B, followed by C, etc., the rules for A should be presented in their entirety; the entire rules for B should follow, etc.

For example, if the first player's first action involves checking his units' morale, the procedure and the relevant rules shouldn't be 26 pages away at rule 18, the last section before the game design credits.

KROF's section 5.0 shows both an "outline" (at 5. 1) and an "expanded" (at 5.2) SOP. The two players have an identical SOP at the "outline" level, and the repetition for each player tends to mislead us into expecting a difference (otherwise, why repeat it?). At the "expanded" level, there are some differences; however, the differences are minor, and using a full page of which half is repetition again misleads: the reader has to dig out the differences, whereas a separate treatment would highlight them.

At the top of page 8, KROF's rules say

The rest of the rules in the sections following this one are organized, as much as possible, to explain things in the order they are encountered as you progress through the game turns.

Unfortunately, the SOP leads us to believe differently. Section 6 is replacements, which equals the SOP's 1. (and 11.) A. But the SOP and the following rules diverge at the very next step: the rules have a section 7 on reinforcements (equals the expanded SOP's II.B. step 2), and then a section 8 on withdrawals (equals the expanded SOP's I.A. step 3). Then come rules sections 9 and 10 (no equivalent in the SOP) before the rules and SOP reconverge at section 12 (equals I. and II.C.). (It seems to me that sections 9 (stacking) and 10 (zones of control), which are not a part of the SOP, are general things that one needs know before getting to grips with the game turn sequence and that logically and conveniently fit in the structure before section 5.)

I will freely admit that, for TBOW, I will probably never figure out the sequence in which the gamer needs to know the rules. I am certain, however, that the rules do not present themselves in that sequence.

The rules should separate nonp- laying information from playing information.

This standard represents a kind of corollary of the preceding standard. I have proposed that the rules should present themselves in the order that the player needs to know them: its corollary would require us to put in some other place any rules, notes, discussion, etc. that the player does not need play the game. That is, anything that is outside of the SOP should not have its rule collated with the rules that explain the SOP.

I'm not necessarily proposing that the writer should omit this kind of content. It may be necessary for "housekeeping" (see below), historical background, design notes, player notes, the designer's explanation of a particular rule, etc.; but I am asking the designer to put this information somewhere else other than in the middle of his explanation of how to play a turn of the game.

If some topic tends to get mixed up in A but has been treated more fully at F, the rules for A should reference section F at the appropriate place.

For example, nearly all our games have some sort of rules that reflect the effects of terrain on movement and combat. The player needs to know the terrain effects one moment at the place in the SOP and the rules where the rules explain movement. If subject of terrain needs to developed still in fully in its own section, the rules at movement should reference this later section, which should not be mixed in with other SOP rules.

The effects of terrain on combat should treated similarly; the writer should discuss these effects at the place in the SOP where the rules explain combat. If necessary, a reference to another section, not mixed in or combined with the SOP rules, could send us further detail.

The rules should contain complete "housekeeping" coverage.

By "housekeeping" 1 mean all the things in the rules that we expect to find there but that don't apply directly to playing the game. These might, where appropriate, include a contents listing, an introduction, a listing of the game's components, examples of counters and of how to read them, a glossary of terms peculiar to the game, standard procedures, a discussion of the game's scale, designer's notes, player's notes, and so on. You will note that games may include some, all, or none of these.

Some writers seem to skimp their treatment of these housekeeping items, as if the gamer doesn't need them to understand how to play the game. If the gamer doesn't need them, the writer shouldn't skimp his coverage, he should omit it altogether. If the items are necessary, the coverage should be complete.

This and the previous standard distinguish two groups of things - rules needed to understand an SOP and other things in the rules booklet. These two groups should not be mixed. Once the gamer has read through everything before the SOP, he knows that he has finished the housekeeping and that the "real" rules are about to begin. From now on, nothing should detract him from learning how to play the game.

For example, the "standard procedures" item could include everything from the simple -- whether the zero on a ten-sided die represents a zero or a ten -- to the unexpected: treatment of zones of control, stacking, fractions rounding, etc. Anything that is common to all SOP rules belongs here, not mixed in with the SOP rules.

Both KROF and TBOW do an adequate job with housekeeping, but both mix the housekeeping and the SOP rules to the point of distraction.

Where appropriate, the rules should cross-reference related rules.

Although this standard begins with the qualification "where appropriate," we should expect all - except for the very simplest, introductory-level games - our rules to crossreference related rules, both within the same section and to other sections. Of course, if the rules don't use any kind of numbering system, cross-referencing becomes so unwieldy as to make it impossible; and that alone might be enough to require that specification- type of numbering system.

(Although this column has restricted itself to the rules of our games, this might be the place to plead for cross -referencing between play-aid cards and the rules that fully explain them.)

Both TBOW and KROF do a good job of cross -referencing the rules - TBOW better than KROF, although both are adequate. TBOW suffers slightly both from a mixed numbering system (4.1 and A.1.) and from one that doesn't go deep enough.

For example, section 4.73 - which explains the vitally important LIM business - could use a deeper numbering system to advantage: players will need to refer to parts of this section from elsewhere in the rules, and a deeper numbering system would simplify that effort.

(There will be those writers who will misuse this cross -referencing technique to try and avoid their responsibility of writing a reasonably explanatory rule. They shouldn't.)

Rules of more than introductory level complexity or of significant length almost require an index. Even though, if done the old-fashioned way, an index can require a lot of extra work, the wargamer will thank the writer forever; and computers can make short work of the process. Even games of this type that get played over and over still require an index for convenience and for keeping the flow of the game going. In this regard, the TBOW rules perform a very welcome service by printing a thorough index (at least as thorough as the numbering system will allow) in three columns on the back page of the rule book. Excellent.

The rules should present examples of play and design concepts, with illustration and discussion.

Even the least complex games benefit from illustrated examples of how to play the game; for more complex games, these kinds of examples greatly ease the gamer's task of learning what the designer meant.

For example, line-of-sight rules sometimes push the envelope of comprehensibility, the writing going through tortuous paths of extreme lengths. Sometimes a simple illustration of a firing unit, with various types of terrain and other units, can quickly and easily show what hexes the unit can and can't fire through and into.

The TBOWrules would benefit from such an illustration; whoever wrote the rules finally adds, in a kind of wistful frustration.

We've found that some people instantly understand LOS; the rest do not ... and never will.

This sentence reads like a cop-out.

However, both KROF and TBOW do a very good job, throughout the rules, of giving examples of design concept and play. In this respect, KROF does the better job, giving pictorial illustrations of many important concepts, whereas TBOW confines itself to narrative description.

For example, the ZOC rules in KROF are innovative. All ground combat units have a ZOC, but their only effect on play is to provide the basis for creating a ZOC "link." Five lines of text and an illustration explain the concept clearly. After rules about their effects on play, a comprehensive illustration (half a page) shows each kind of link and its effect on play.

TBOW restricts its examples to narration, clearly labeled and set in an outlined frame with a screened background so that the eye can immediately recognize them for what they are. Although the text doesn't mention it, most gamers will gain more instructive benefit from the examples if they set up the counters on the map and follow the explanation as if it were actual play. TBOW has about 520 column-inches of rules (not counting "housekeeping" matter and "design notes"), of which about 47 column-inches (about 9%) contain narrative examples.

By contrast, KROF contains about 195 column-inches of rules (again, not counting "housekeeping" matter and scenarios), of which about 44 column-inches (about 22%) contain pictorial and narrative examples and "design notes" (which, in this game, function as explanations, not design comments). The narrative examples have been presented, as in TBOW, in a boxed frame with a screened background.

The rules should adhere to the conventions of language.

Our language gives us more ways to say a thing, ways to think a thing, ways to influence the reader, than any language in the history of the world. It has more tools, more devices, more flexibility. We ought, therefore, to make the most of it when we write rules.

We should conform to the essentials of our grammar, our diction, our punctuation. If we want to write in shorthand, we should confine ourselves to notes to the developer. If we want to abandon the responsibility of explaining things to the gamer and indulge in humor, we should confine ourselves to contributions to teenagers' fanzines.

In this respect, KROF does a creditable job, and TBOW does not. The latter tends to a kind of unfinished writing, a kind of shorthand, using the virgule [/] as if it were a part of writing instead of mathematics: "ricochet/bounce-through," "in this game/at this scale," "Road/Path," "and/ or," "farms/chateaux," and so on. This kind of draft writing shows that the writer didn't respect his reader enough to finish his share of the work of communication. It will offend many readers enough for them not to do their share; others will wonder, and rightfully so, what else the writer hasn't finished.

The rules should follow the conventions of presentation.

This standard encompasses a number of concepts that, when ignored, contribute to making the rules difficult for the gamer to read, to get around in, and to follow in a general narrative sense. Scholarly studies in how we read and how we react to whatwe read have long since recognized certain pitfalls in the process of presenting pages for reading.

Wargame rules fall into the category of technical writing; that is, writing that seeks to explain something - something that is sometimes quite complex - in detail. It has no room for ransom-note typography, for type that is difficult to read, for blocks of text set in all- capital letters: these things merely distract the reader from what can be a difficult and concentrated reading effort.

Next, the page layout must present the physical elements (headlines, numbering, text, illustrations, etc.) on the page in a manner that immediately shows their relationship with one another. For example, the illustration for a rule needs to appear close to the rule; more subtly, numbering needs to have a reasonable enough scheme that the reader can recognize where he is in the levels of co-ordination and subordination.

Then, if the rules follow a previous standard, the method of cross-referencing (and, we hope, indexing) must be thorough, easily recognized, and without holes (such as reference to a section that doesn't exist).

A note about typefaces: designers generally group typefaces by design (serif, sans serif, and display), by family within a design (Baskerville, Optima, Woodcut), and by face within a family (normal, italic, bold, bold italic, condensed, expanded, etc.).

Reading studies have shown that, for narrative text, serif designs are easier to comprehend than sans-serif designs. These same studies have shown that mixing designs, families, and faces makes the reading more difficult, as does setting text in all-capital letters. (In extreme cases, this kind of mixing takes on the flavor of the "ransom note" school of typography, which jocularly refers to a page typeset to look like a ransom note -words made up of letters cut from different sources and pasted onto the page.)

Good design practice, as it applies to narrative text, takes these principles into account and constrains the kind of enthusiasm it might exercise in, for example, a display advertisement. The typeface chosen for the narrative text must be set in a type size comfortable to read: for most typefaces, that's nothing smaller than eight points - and nine is more comfortable for most of us - and nothing larger than twelve.

KROF does a creditable job of conforming to this standard, although the amount of sans- serif type and its size in the headlines seems to me excessive - but please note that that's an opinion - and there are several instances of all- capital letters. By contrast, TBOW presents us with blocks of text set in all-capital letters and mixtures of typefaces, making for difficult reading throughout.

The rules should adhere to the conventions of typesetting.

Perhaps in no other regard does our industry seem to flaunt its amateurism than in its typesetting. Typesetting standards have been very firm in our country for well over a hundred years. Unless the writer wants to present his rules as a copy of his handwriting or as the output from a common typewriter, he should choose a typesetter who will conform to these standards. Competent typesetters will conform regardless of the writer's input.

For example, in English everywhere (except in the United Kingdom), the comma (,) and the period (.) are set inside the closing quotation mark (either single quotes or double quotes) in every case, without exception. (Other punctuation marks are set either inside or outside of the closing mark according to whether they're part of the quotation.)

Further, the typesetter should know (although the writer may not) the difference between a hyphen [-], an en-dash [-- ], and an em- dash [---]. Similarly, the typesetter will know the difference between quotation marks (["], ["], ['], and [']) and the apostrophe ['] and the typewriter-like marks for feet ['] and inches

More subtly, a competent typesetter will resist setting typewriter-like effects in the text, such as underscoring and setting text (even just one word) in all-capital letters. Typesetters have been trained - and by following that training in billions upon billions of pages of text have trained us as readers to use either the italic or bold faces of the type family for emphasis, and that rarely. They know, as good writers know, that emphasis derives from how the sentence is written, not how it is typeset.

The rules for KROF are relatively well typeset, but not, in my opinion, well enough. The typesetting's main fault lies in its inconsistency - an em-dash used correctly on on line, and a hyphen incorrectly used where an en- dash is called for only five lines away although the comma or period and closing quote combination is consistently wrong.

TBOW, on the other hand, contains nearly every typesetting amateurism - from large blocks set in all-capital letters to underscores (the most amateur characteristic of all) to quotation marks in the same line with inch marks used for quotation marks. Unfortunately, this typesetting shows us glaring amateurism at its blaring worst.

The rules for these two games have an unfortunate (but different) effect on the gamer's attempt to find the designer's intent.

The rules for KROF lead the gamer believe that the game is more complicated than it is; so that, when he finally plays it and gets a glimpse of the design, the gamer will begin to wonder why the rules make such a big deal of themselves.

The game has much to commend it: it's about a tank battle and it's certainly a tanker's game; the ZOC link make for some very interesting tactics, as does the double-move, double-fire SOP; and the whole system of reserves requires the player to pay very close attention to hoarding and using reserves wisely.

Aside from what may be too large a dose of randomness and brigade-level square and line formations, TBOW seems to have a good game design buried somewhere within a disastrous set of rules. It has some of the prettiest maps I've seen in years (although perhaps no the most accurate); and I have no doubt that you will read glowing reviews of this game mainly of the it's - not- a- review-but- a- free. advertisement kind. But the rules are an embarrassment.

The games used as examples in this column are in the ordinary run of today's games I used them not because I could pick out examples to illustrate the standards, but because they were provided to me for review. Anyone associated with these games should not think that I'm picking on them personally! But they should think that I'm picking on the disregard of the standards discussed in the column.

[Next month: standards for boxes, counters, cards, maps, and play-aid cards.]