The YouTube system was intriguing because I’m constantly inundated by amusing stories of YouTuber blunders and apologies. Through the design process, I learnt more about the intricacies in how content is moderated.
The game does well at replicating interactions between YouTubers, specifically as they are pressured to address issues with creators they have interfaced with. The face-off and spectator waging mechanisms work together well to achieve this. However, there aren’t many fleshed out mechanics (beyond the follower tokens) that explore the positionality of subscribers within that ecosystem. Granted, DMCA is ultimately indirectly in control of YouTuber visibility/popularity (by wielding power over what videos are deemed “acceptable”), but there nuanced, public interactions (e.g. notes app videos, live streams, comments) that the game doesn’t explore. The mechanic of having players role-play stereotypical creators creates dynamics where players sometimes briefly reference subscribers in their “videos”, but that wasn’t guaranteed to happen in appropriate depth.
Fantasy and Expression are core aesthetics, derived from the dynamics created by campy YouTuber role-playing mechanics. We designed the game this way, so players learned (by doing) about the intricacies in YouTuber relationships within the system and some of the motivations behind their decisions. However, I wonder if the challenge of thinking of clever responses and rebuttals obscured the key learnings about the system.
Feedback of earlier game iterations rightfully suggested that we incorporate less controversial video topics. Players were visibly uncomfortable advocating for topics like doxing. The role-playing mechanics provided some separation and players engaged with touchier topics in the context: “I’m playing a character, not myself” but I don’t think the mechanic alone was enough to allow players to enter a lusory mindset. I wonder how the abstraction impacted players’ takeaways from the game (if at all). Admittedly (and for future work this would be helpful), it would have been appropriate to set up pre- and post-game learning assessments.
Ultimately, I was relieved to see people get into the game. I was worried that that kind of fun appealed to a niche group, and that most play-testers wouldn’t like roleplaying, especially in groups with people they were not close with. In the conversations I had with some peers, I found they also were surprised by how easily they were able to get into the game despite not being fans of role-playing games. I think having vivid campy characters helped because players were able to act out familiar clichés. I was thrilled to see a lot of laughter, and what I felt was fairly uninhibited engagement.
This project was a practice in setting work boundaries and shutting down scope creep. In every project for 377 (and 247) I’ve had the tendency to fret over minute details often at the expense of my time and sanity. This time I was intentional about saying no to the voice in my head that said the game board could benefit from more iterations. I learnt that I can still appreciate and be proud of my work without doing the most.
