What makes a game a game? (Part 1)

Max’s Pillars of Gaming

One thing about me is that I like clear definitions. Maybe it stems from my background in science and mathematics, but being able to put a definitive rule or classification on something helps me to better appreciate it.

As a result, I’ve done a lot of thinking about this question in the past. In fact, I’ve had a fair few debates with friends, family members and one memorable debate with my partner and fellow trustee, Sophie, which lasted several days about our differing opinions on this subject.

After a lot of consideration, a game, to me, is defined by three pillars:

• A game is separate from the real world
• A game is defined by its rules
• A game requires meaningful decisions

Remove any one of these, and you still may have something which is fun (like a roller coaster), or winnable (like a lottery), but fundamentally isn’t a game. Below, I’ll explain why I think each of these points is necessary with some counterexamples. Please note, the following contains major spoilers for the classic science fiction novel, Ender’s Game.

1) A game must be separate from the real world

In one of our previous blog posts at VoNCon, we dived into the idea of the “magic circle.” The basic idea is that, when we play a game, we step into a temporary world with its own rules and meanings. I believe a game must have this boundary with the outside world for it to be a game. Inside that space, controlling territory in a wargame isn’t aggression. Deception in a social deduction game is not dishonesty. Winning is not domination. 

These separations are what makes games safe. But what happens when that boundary breaks?

A useful example comes from the classic Orson Scott Card novel, Ender’s Game. In the story, the protagonist, Ender, believes he is playing a simulation. In reality, his actions in this ‘game’ issue commands to real military forces, putting real lives at stake. The simulation looks like a game to those participating, but the consequences are not contained. The whole point of the story is that Ender’s game was never a game in the first place. In other words, the “magic circle” has collapsed.

Alternatively, there’s the proverbial example of someone taking things too seriously at a game night and flipping the table over when a turn doesn’t go their way. Again, the real world comes crashing in and the game ceases to be a game.

This suggests something important: a game stops being a game when its consequences escape the circle without the player’s consent. 

However, this raises an immediate challenge: what about professional sports? A football match at the highest level can determine careers, finances, and the future of the club. These are all clearly real-world consequences, so does that mean if a game is enjoyed by enough people it somehow stops being a game?

I don’t think so.

For me, the key distinction is between internal meaning and external consequences. Even at the elite level, scoring a goal is just points on the board, not a literal conquest. The rules define internal meaning. The  money, promotion, careers, and emotions are attached externally and are not inherent to the system of play.

Perhaps a better way of framing it would be this: in a game, the meaning of actions is contained within the system, even if the outcomes have real-world effects. 

So, while we are on the topic of things contained within the rules, let's take a closer look at my second pillar…

2) A game must be defined by rules

If the magic circle defines where a game exists, then rules define how it works. Without rules, there is no game, only freeform activity.

After doing a bit of research, it seems I'm not the first person to come to this conclusion. The esteemed professor emeritus, Bernard Suits, from the University of Waterloo describes games as, “voluntary attempts to overcome unnecessary obstacles”.

Those obstacles are created by rules.

But rules don't always have to be written down. Consider two children playing pretend. There is no rulebook (indeed, they may not yet be able to read), no formal agreement, but the moment one child says, "You can't do that, that's not fair!" we see rules emerging. They may be negotiated in real time, but the game exists because both players are trying to maintain a shared structure.

This highlights something important: rules don't need to be fixed, they only need to be shared.

Another way to think about this is in the context of house rules. Probably the most famous board game in history is Monopoly, and it is utterly notorious for this. Played rules-as-written, the game can take under two hours and be an absolutely cutthroat economic simulator.

However, with the most common house rules, it can become a multi-day affair that many people find to be a frustrating slog. At some point, the experience diverges so much that it arguably becomes a different game sharing the same components. Ultimately, the rules define the game, but as long as they are shared, a game still exists.

3) A game requires meaningful decisions

This is the point I feel most strongly about. Coincidentally, this is also the point I get the most pushback on (and the reason the debate with my wife lasted several days).

A game is something you play, not simply something that happens to you. That requires decisions that meaningfully affect the outcome. In other words, to quote the creator of the Civilization computer games, Sid Meier once famously described games as, "a series of interesting decisions."

Not all choices qualify however; for a decision to be meaningful, it must offer genuine alternatives, potentially lead to different outcomes, or involve some degree of uncertainty or trade off. Without that, there is no agency, only participation.

I would argue the card game War and most games-of-chance, like bingo, are not actually games, but instead activities. The outcome is determined entirely by chance. The player does not make decisions which influence the result. The system resolves itself and the player is effectively a spectator.   

By contrast, other casino games like Blackjack or Poker include randomness, but also have elements of decision making. Over time, skill and judgement influence outcomes. From this perspective, the difference between a game and an activity is agency.

But is that too strict?

There are some compelling counterpoints. You could easily argue the act of choosing to engage in the system is itself meaningful. If we apply this to the example of roulette, for example, you choose how much to bet and whether to play on after a win or a loss. In a bingo hall, players decide how to interact, where to sit, how to engage with each other, etc.

These are all valid points, but for me, these 'meta-decisions' are external to the system, you're not affecting the gameplay itself. In other words, these decisions exist outside of the magic circle, and are therefore outside of the game.

With all of that said, I'm happy to concede these activities sit close to the boundary; they're game-adjacent. But if we're trying to put a pin in what a tabletop game is, rather than what it feels like, I think meaningful decisions remain essential.

So, what makes a game a game?

For me, each of the above parts is necessary for a game to be a game. The magic circle creates a safe, separate space for interaction; the rules create structure and shared meaning; the decisions give players agency and ownership. Remove any of these and the experience changes fundamentally.

Perhaps that's why games are so powerful in bringing people together. They're not just entertainment, but they're carefully structured spaces where people can connect, interact and share experiences.

But that's just my opinion and I look forward to seeing VoNCon’s other trustees' thoughts on the subject in the coming months! After all, if games teach us anything, it’s that the most interesting outcomes often come from people approaching the same system in different ways.

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