Imagine crafting video games where every element revolves around the player—because, let's face it, gamers are fundamentally all about themselves! This isn't just a fun idea; it's the cornerstone of legendary designer Chris Avellone's approach, and it's sparked endless debates in the gaming world. Stick around to discover how this philosophy turned a young tinkerer into a master of immersive worlds, and why it might just challenge everything you think you know about game design.
Chris Avellone, the celebrated game designer behind hits like Planescape: Torment, has always prioritized one thing: making sure players have an unforgettable time. When people ask creative professionals how they broke into fields like game design, Avellone points to a crucial insight he picked up early on—a lesson that shaped his entire career.
'Players are inherently self-centered,' Avellone reflects, drawing from his work on the iconic computer RPG Planescape: Torment. 'The more you tailor the experience to revolve around them, the more engaging it becomes. In Torment, nearly every aspect is centered on you, the protagonist.'
True success in gaming hinges on keeping players thoroughly entertained, and catering to this natural self-focus is a golden rule in design. But here's where it gets controversial: Is this really empowering players, or does it risk turning games into echo chambers that ignore broader narratives? Avellone learned this long before his fame with Fallout 2 or Planescape: Torment, back when he was just an eager beginner. His initial foray into world-building wasn't digital—it was through the physical world of tabletop role-playing games.
Drawing Inspiration from the Tabletop Scene
Avellone stumbled upon Dungeons & Dragons as a wide-eyed nine-year-old, and it ignited his creativity in ways he could never have predicted.
'Encountering Dungeons & Dragons at such a young age was eye-opening,' he shares. 'It felt like guided pretend play with built-in challenges—where success isn't a given, making it exhilarating. Yet, I didn't overhaul the rules much; instead, I used them as a base to layer in my own stories and adventures.'
Initially, Avellone preferred a laid-back role as a participant rather than the one calling the shots. But fate intervened.
'I never aspired to be the game master,' he recalls with a chuckle. 'I just wanted to join in as a player. But when no one else in my group stepped up—let's be real, it's a ton of hard work—I gave it a shot. To my surprise, I loved guiding the interactive tale for everyone involved.'
This shift sparked experiments beyond the table. Though he avoided programming as a full-time gig ('Probably saving the world from my coding disasters,' he jokes), Avellone dabbled in basic coding on a TRS-80, inspired by text-based fantasy adventures.
'I aimed to create stories similar to the Scott Adams series,' he explains. 'My early attempts were glitchy nightmares, but they offered a peek into the inner workings of games.'
This was the pre-internet era, lacking today's online communities and tutorials.
'In the early '80s, resources were scarce—no forums or courses,' Avellone notes. 'I relied on library books and manuals for self-study. Working solo on fantasy quests, I would've thrived with a mentor or fellow enthusiast to bounce ideas off.'
Despite his triumphs, Avellone didn't set out to build video games.
'Video game design just sort of happened to me,' he admits. 'It wasn't a known career path back then. My dream was crafting tabletop modules, adventure books, and comics. But earning a living that way is tough, so when a video game gig opened up, I jumped in, planning to keep my side projects. Yet, just like game mastering, I found digital design thrilling, and it became my main focus. I did get to write comics and modules later, but game narratives felt like being a virtual storyteller.'
Like many pioneers hacking away in their garages, young Avellone built on others' frameworks.
' I'd dissect existing adventure game structures and tweak the content,' he remembers. 'But errors were constant, and nothing ran smoothly.'
And this is the part most people miss: Every setback was a stepping stone, mirroring his tabletop sessions where collaborative storytelling taught him invaluable skills.
Core Principles from the Table
In our chat, Avellone kept circling back to his player-centered ethos.
'First, grasp what motivates your players—what's their ideal fantasy?' he advises.
Every participant, whether in a digital game or tabletop session, deserves their moment to shine.
'That spotlight is key,' he elaborates, 'as it lets everyone feel like a hero who truly impacts the outcome. The finest adventures highlight each player's unique contributions through their choices and role-playing.'
Players should reach that peak on their terms, not yours.
'Not all gamers play alike,' Avellone stresses. 'As a designer, don't force styles on them. If someone optimizes their character stats without focusing on plot, that's fine. If they're deep into acting out roles, give them rich interactions. In video games, skipping cutscenes should be an option without harsh penalties. Remember, it's their experience, co-created with you.'
This principle, rooted in tabletop games, permeates his video game work.
'Planescape: Torment was my first big test,' Avellone says.
Shaping Planescape: Torment
It was 1995, and Interplay had secured the Planescape IP from Wizards of the Coast (formerly TSR, the Dungeons & Dragons creators). Seeking ideas for a video adaptation, they interviewed Avellone, who was penning content for Hero Games. Impressed by his pitch of a game where death isn't an end but a new beginning, they hired him as a junior director.
This concept stemmed from Avellone's dislike of 'save scumming'—reloading saves repeatedly for perfect outcomes.
'Save scumming felt wasteful,' he explains. 'Deaths led to reloads or quitting, potentially losing players forever. By auto-respawning characters in compelling ways, I aimed for seamless flow. It didn't fully click, as players clung to old habits and felt defeated anyway. I was bucking entrenched gaming norms.'
Viewing death as a plot device, not a dead-end, echoes another Avellone maxim from tabletop: Stories keep rolling no matter what.
'Let events unfold naturally,' he urges. 'It breeds richer tales. I struggled at first, clinging to my planned arcs and saving favorites from rolls. Big mistake—fudging removes tension and diminishes victories.'
Post-Torment's acclaim, Avellone refined ways to tailor games to players. He started with pre-development player interviews to gauge desired arcs.
Insights from Fallout Van Buren
For Fallout Van Buren (Interplay's planned Fallout 3), he scaled this up by creating a tabletop RPG to test systems.
'Our Fallout tabletop playtests were invaluable,' he notes. 'With diverse builds like ghouls, super mutants, and new types such as Science Boys, we ensured everyone could excel.'
Though Van Buren was scrapped, elements influenced Fallout: New Vegas, where Avellone led design and DLC.
Another tabletop lesson: Avoid yanking away rewards.
'Never give and then snatch,' Avellone warns. 'I once had players endure a grueling hunt for a massive treasure, only to lose their unique finds at the next session's start. They thought I'd taken it for good—it nearly sparked a rebellion!'
When asked if his early coding tinkers and dice-rolling sessions influence his modern work, Avellone's response revealed the enduring spirit of that imaginative kid crafting fantasy realms.
'They still guide me,' he confirms. 'I focus on diverse character types, making them feel vital uniquely. I craft plots that align with players' self-interests, not imposed goals, creating deeper immersion.'
He applies this to his latest gig: Leading development at Republic Games, founded by Adam Williams (ex-Quantic Dream). They're building a dystopian fantasy about rebels battling tyranny.
'We've referenced classic RPGs for guidance,' he hints. 'But I'll spill those details once the game drops.'
Avellone's journey reminds us that great design is player-first. But is prioritizing self-centered playstyles the future of gaming, or does it limit creativity? What do you think—does making games 'all about the player' truly enhance experiences, or could it stifle innovation? Share your thoughts in the comments; I'd love to hear agreements, disagreements, or fresh takes!
