better question is whether stories can be fun in the way games can.
When we speak of enjoyment, we actually mean a constellation of different feelings. Having a nice dinner out can be fun. Riding a roller coaster can be fun. Trying on new clothes can be fun. Winning at table tennis can be fun. Watching your hated high school rival trip and fall in a puddle of mud can be fun. Lumping all of these under “fun” is a rather horribly vague use of the term.
Different people have classified this differently. Game designer Marc LeBlanc has defined eight types of fun: sense-pleasure, make-believe, drama, obstacle, social framework, discovery, self-discovery and expression, and surrender. Paul Ekman, a researcher on emotions and facial expressions, has identified literally dozens of different emotions—it’s interesting to see how many of them only exist in one language but not in others. Nicole Lazzaro did some studies watching people play games, and she arrived at four clusters of emotion represented by the facial expressions of the players: hard fun, easy fun, altered states, and the people factor.
My personal breakdown would look a lot like Lazzaro’s:
Fun is the act of mastering a problem mentally.
Aesthetic appreciation isn’t always fun, but it’s certainly enjoyable.
Visceral reactions are generally physical in nature and relate to physical mastery of a problem.
Social status maneuvers of various sorts are intrinsic to our self-image and our standing in a community.
All of these things make us feel good when we’re successful at them, but lumping them all together as “fun” just renders the word meaningless. So throughout this book, when I have referred to “fun,” I’ve meant only the first one: mentally mastering problems. Often, the problems mastered are aesthetic, physical, or social, so fun can appear in any of those settings. That’s because all of these are feedback mechanisms the brain gives us for successfully exercising survival tactics.
Physical challenges alone aren’t fun. The feeling of triumph when you break a personal record is. Endurance running can be immensely satisfying but you have not solved a puzzle. It is not the same high as when you win a well-fought game of soccer thanks to your teamwork.
Similarly, autonomic responses aren’t fun in and of themselves. You have them developed already, so the brain only rewards you for doing them in the context of a mental challenge. You don’t get a high from just typing, you get it from typing while pondering what to say, or from typing during a typing game.
Social interactions of all sorts are often enjoyable as well. The constant maneuvering for social status that all humans engage in is a cognitive exercise and therefore essentially a game. There is a constellation of positive emotions surrounding interpersonal interactions. Almost all of them are signals of either pushing someone else down, or pushing yourself up, on the social ladder. Some of the most notable include:
Schadenfreude , the gloating feeling you get when a rival fails at something. This is, in essence, a put down.
Fiero , the expression of triumph when you have achieved a significant task (pumping your fist, for example). This is a signal to others that you are valuable.
Naches , the feeling you get when someone you mentor succeeds. This is a clear feedback mechanism for tribal continuance.
Kvell , the emotion you feel when bragging about someone you mentor. This is also a signal that you are valuable.
Grooming behaviors , a signal of intimacy often representing relative social status.
Feeding other people , which is a very important social signal in human societies.
A lot of these feel good, but they aren’t necessarily “fun.”
Aesthetic appreciation is the most interesting form of enjoyment. Science fiction writers call it “sensawunda.” It’s awe, it’s mystery, it’s harmony. I call it delight. Aesthetic appreciation, like fun, is about patterns. The
When we speak of enjoyment, we actually mean a constellation of different feelings. Having a nice dinner out can be fun. Riding a roller coaster can be fun. Trying on new clothes can be fun. Winning at table tennis can be fun. Watching your hated high school rival trip and fall in a puddle of mud can be fun. Lumping all of these under “fun” is a rather horribly vague use of the term.
Different people have classified this differently. Game designer Marc LeBlanc has defined eight types of fun: sense-pleasure, make-believe, drama, obstacle, social framework, discovery, self-discovery and expression, and surrender. Paul Ekman, a researcher on emotions and facial expressions, has identified literally dozens of different emotions—it’s interesting to see how many of them only exist in one language but not in others. Nicole Lazzaro did some studies watching people play games, and she arrived at four clusters of emotion represented by the facial expressions of the players: hard fun, easy fun, altered states, and the people factor.
My personal breakdown would look a lot like Lazzaro’s:
Fun is the act of mastering a problem mentally.
Aesthetic appreciation isn’t always fun, but it’s certainly enjoyable.
Visceral reactions are generally physical in nature and relate to physical mastery of a problem.
Social status maneuvers of various sorts are intrinsic to our self-image and our standing in a community.
All of these things make us feel good when we’re successful at them, but lumping them all together as “fun” just renders the word meaningless. So throughout this book, when I have referred to “fun,” I’ve meant only the first one: mentally mastering problems. Often, the problems mastered are aesthetic, physical, or social, so fun can appear in any of those settings. That’s because all of these are feedback mechanisms the brain gives us for successfully exercising survival tactics.
Physical challenges alone aren’t fun. The feeling of triumph when you break a personal record is. Endurance running can be immensely satisfying but you have not solved a puzzle. It is not the same high as when you win a well-fought game of soccer thanks to your teamwork.
Similarly, autonomic responses aren’t fun in and of themselves. You have them developed already, so the brain only rewards you for doing them in the context of a mental challenge. You don’t get a high from just typing, you get it from typing while pondering what to say, or from typing during a typing game.
Social interactions of all sorts are often enjoyable as well. The constant maneuvering for social status that all humans engage in is a cognitive exercise and therefore essentially a game. There is a constellation of positive emotions surrounding interpersonal interactions. Almost all of them are signals of either pushing someone else down, or pushing yourself up, on the social ladder. Some of the most notable include:
Schadenfreude , the gloating feeling you get when a rival fails at something. This is, in essence, a put down.
Fiero , the expression of triumph when you have achieved a significant task (pumping your fist, for example). This is a signal to others that you are valuable.
Naches , the feeling you get when someone you mentor succeeds. This is a clear feedback mechanism for tribal continuance.
Kvell , the emotion you feel when bragging about someone you mentor. This is also a signal that you are valuable.
Grooming behaviors , a signal of intimacy often representing relative social status.
Feeding other people , which is a very important social signal in human societies.
A lot of these feel good, but they aren’t necessarily “fun.”
Aesthetic appreciation is the most interesting form of enjoyment. Science fiction writers call it “sensawunda.” It’s awe, it’s mystery, it’s harmony. I call it delight. Aesthetic appreciation, like fun, is about patterns. The
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