To explore the two meanings of theme in
boardgames, I would have to take you through literature and music. Bear with
me, it’ll come around.
In literature, theme is the central idea of
a piece, where the writer can help us examine our world. We can explore topics
such as jealousy, corruption, patriotism and courage in a story supported by subject,
setting, plot, characters and style. Theme is the reason such works are
written, and all else supports that.
Anyone who thinks that the meaning of Moby Dick was about whaling has grasped the subject but missed the theme.
Anyone who thinks that the meaning of Moby Dick was about whaling has grasped the subject but missed the theme.
Musical theme is in recurring melodies and
style to build mood. So now ‘theme’ means artistic direction. In film, sound
and visuals add to the mood and support the elements of character, setting and
style. Darth Vader had his own theme music, for example, and in four seconds,
without breaking Vader’s stride, we know that an imperial badass has entered
the scene.
As well as artistic theme, of course, film
has literary theme. Art supports the mood and setting, which supports the
story, which supports the literary theme. ‘Theme’ then covers both ends and
mean opposite things!
In games, literary theme is a subjective
experience, and pretty hard to prescribe, nor would we want to beyond a point. We
can lay out the conditions for an experience we want them to have, but it is up
to them to have it. In the same game, one player might learn something about
the seduction of greed, another about trust and betrayal. The next time they
play, they will hopefully have a different experience.
‘Theme’ in boardgames more often refers to
the artwork and flavor text, which support the setting, characters and style, and
the franchise we just borrowed from, to deepen the emotional response. Artistic
theme in games is so pervasive that theme has come to mean any design decision
that is not a mechanic.
A broad category indeed! And further
confounded when, as I would argue, mechanics does more than artistic theme to
support literary theme.
Games offer the rare experience of us being
involved in the decisions of a character in that world. Of taking risks without
guarantee of the outcome, and of learning something different each time we play.
The player is not merely watching characters on screen facing theme-filled
dilemmas, but actually having that experience themselves. As soon as we can get
the players making meaningful decisions, the richer their theme will be.