What a good time to make post mortem after everything ends (for now). Our game seems to be a surprise: a “surprisingly fun experience” that “surprisingly works”. And it is the time to discuss how we actually make it work, beyond a surprise.

Now, play the music and drive along the road we take.

Designer’s Note #1:

Connect with players as soon as possible.

We’ve all read the textbooks: polish your feature set, fine-tune the balance, then show it to the world. We flipped that script. We had the core concept, the skeleton, and we threw it at the players.

It was not until Playtest Day that we truly understood how players can enjoy our game. Before that, it was a mathematical equation. After that, it was a messy, glorious conversation. The surprise factor the press is talking about? It didn’t emerge in a boardroom; it emerged when a player laughed out loud because the mobile player used the “confused face” emoji when the VR giant missed a simple jump. That was the moment we knew we had something beyond a “working” game.

It taught us to connect with our players as early as possible, so that we can really know what creates fun among them.

Designer’s Note #2:

If you can predict what players will do, predict it everywhere.

Designers are often excellent fortune tellers—we predict the optimal path, the common mistake, and the obvious exploit. But too often, we only predict what a player will do within the game rules.

We went further. We predicted what they would do outside the rules. We predicted the VR player would wave their arms in frustration. We predicted the PC cat would spam jump while waiting. We predicted the mobile player would get bored during a difficult sequence.

And then, we designed features specifically to intersect with those predictions. Frustration waving becomes an opportunity for a high-five interaction. Waiting time becomes an opportunity to deploy an expressive emoji. We didn’t just design for the core loop; we designed for the human experiencing the core loop.

Designer’s Note #3:

Inter-player interactions matter in a multiplayer game.

Many multiplayer games (especially competitive ones) focus on big, dramatic verbs: “collaborate,” “synchronize.” We asked the question: how can players reach such a state?

The missing verb here is “communicate.” Players can always talk with each other, but effective communication requires a shared language, even if that language is just pure, unadulterated presence. We focused on how to help them communicate better, specifically non-verbally.

• We enabled the giant (VR) to high five with the cat (PC), although the cat must initiate this sequence through a special, slightly awkward animation. It’s not a mechanic; it’s an acknowledgement.
• We enabled the mobile player to initiate a “3-2-1” countdown whenever the team of players needs to perform a synchronized action. We are handing them the baton of leadership for a few crucial seconds.
• We even enabled the mobile player to send an emoji, just to express their emotion. When the VR giant dies, the mobile player isn’t just saying “sorry” with their voice; they are sending a tiny, distressed cartoon icon that perfectly sums up the shared emotional state.

These interactions aren’t about clearing a level; they’re about showing presence to each other. They’re the digital equivalent of a knowing look across a table—the foundation of true collaboration..

Designer’s Note #4:

It takes two to “beat” the game, and it takes three to have fun.

There is one fundamental design question we didn’t address in any posts before: why we need three players in our current design?

As a platformer, if one controls the platform, and the other controls the jumper, then they can beat the game. And there seems to have no need for the third player. The logical, cold-blooded design answer might be to cut the third player.

But our game works, why?

Our guess is that: fun is whatever is beyond the “needs.”

The third player—the mobile perspective—is the excess capacity, the cruiser on our road trip. They don’t have to drive, but their existence allows us to add the radio, the snacks, the air conditioning, and the map-reading. The third player’s presence allows us to add many features beyond the strict, utilitarian “platformer” requirements.

They are the designated communicator, the emotional conductor, the guy who takes the selfies, and the one who starts the countdown. They don’t need to be there to achieve the objective, but they are absolutely necessary for the experience to transcend “surprisingly functional” and hit the sweet spot of “surprisingly fun.”

In other words, it takes two to beat the game, and it takes three to have fun.