I have found that using the F word — fun — when talking about games is unproductive.

Now, I’m not saying that the ultimate goal of a game isn’t to have fun. But fun is subjective.

I can have fun posting to the forums.
I can have fun completing a mission in Mouse Guard.
I can have fun in Burning Wheel when my character is beaten to shreds and exiled — even though my face is purple and I’m pounding on the table, howling with rage, I’m having fun.

I can have fun when I win. I can have fun when I lose.

So fun is everywhere. And apparently, you don’t even need a game to have fun. Posting on the forums is fun for me!

So if I don’t need a game to have fun, why do I design games? No one needs them.

Because a game is about much more than “fun.” Game play is a meaningful part of our culture. Game play engages a significant part of our personalites. Competition, strategy, puzzle-solving, collaboration, fairness, uncertainty, risk, reward — these are elements of games that make them fun. When we play a game, we enter a special mental space, separate and different from all others in our lives. We agree — explicitly or implicitly — to abide by the rules so that all of the players can engage with the activity in a fair and reasonable manner. Now, “fair and reasonable manner” can mean that I get to shoot you in the face during the game — and you have to leave the field when I do — but once the game is over, there’s no more face-shooting.

Thus in roleplaying games, we engage with a system that challenges us. We use a set of rules that forces us from our comfort zone and encourages us to think and act in a manner we would not otherwise. We play the game. We don’t need the game to have fun. We can have fun anywhere, any time. Rather, we use the game to create unanticipated, unexpected results. We use the game to give everyone at the table a role in play. And we engage with that game as a neutral arbiter, to ensure that play is fair.

It just so happens that my games are rigorously playtested. So that in addition to challenging and engaging you, we know that the outcome of the game is likely to amuse and interest you. Maybe not in the moment — it’s hard to say “I’m having fun!” when your patrol mouse is hungry, angry, tired, injured and sick — but afterwards, when you reflect on those trying events, we think you’ll say it was fun. Because in the end, you get to stand up to that crushing weight and, win or lose, fight to be a hero. And I’d much rather have you say about my games, “It was hard — my patrol mouse was impaled by a shrike,” than “it was fun!”