Multi-layered Plan for the Game

During our design meeting on September 17, 2024, we set forth a multi-layered plan for our upcoming game, aiming to create an engaging yet educational experience suitable for both children and parents. This plan involves developing a series of dedicated documents that capture our creative vision. Specifically, we decided to maintain separate files for game design, mission design, and level design so that each aspect of development can be tracked, updated, and fine-tuned independently. By breaking these components into distinct workstreams, our team can easily reference and refine the project as it evolves, ensuring that no detail slips through the cracks. Central to these documents will be UML (Unified Modeling Language) diagrams, which provide a visual representation of the game’s structure, narrative arcs, and interaction points. These diagrams will illustrate both the main flow that most players experience and possible alternate paths for players who make different choices, follow different storylines, or need accommodations.

The choice to use UML is particularly intentional. UML diagrams are known for their clarity in mapping out processes and decision points, which is essential when balancing player agency with a coherent storyline. In this game, we anticipate that players will face multiple crossroads—moments where they must make decisions that affect future scenarios, relationships, and even the emotional tone of the game. Using UML diagrams, we can plan out every major fork in the narrative road and account for how it might affect subsequent missions or levels. This helps us manage complexity in a logical way. Rather than building a linear game that forces everyone down the same path, we want to open up the adventure so that it can adapt to different play styles. The UML documents will also serve as a communication tool among team members, helping developers, narrative designers, and artists synchronize efforts. Everyone will be able to see, at a glance, exactly what’s going on and where their work fits into the broader vision.

Another important design decision from this meeting was the introduction of “throughlines.” These throughlines function as overarching themes or conflict topics that recur throughout the game, anchoring the narrative around relatable issues. We identified several that are especially relevant to modern families: money, school, and vaccines. Each of these topics offers a way to explore everyday stress points or disputes that children and parents often encounter. By weaving these themes into the storyline, we aim to create scenarios that feel genuine and that invite reflection on real-life family dilemmas. For instance, if one throughline is “money,” the game might present a situation where a child wants a new toy, but the parents must juggle the household budget. Players then encounter branching dialogues or missions—perhaps learning about compromise or discovering coping strategies for stress and disappointment.

The reason we chose to label these themes as “throughlines” rather than simple “topics” is that we want them to run like a continuous thread throughout the game, affecting various missions, levels, and character interactions. We expect each throughline to be introduced early in the game, reappear in different contexts as the narrative unfolds, and finally be resolved or transformed by the end. This cyclical reappearance reinforces important lessons and coping strategies. When players see the same theme in multiple lights, they develop a deeper understanding of it. This is particularly meaningful when the game’s target audience includes both children and parents, because it allows for ongoing discussions and reflections on how the family might approach these conflict areas in real life.

A significant change in the game’s conceptual framework emerged when we decided to swap out “threat” cards for “need” cards. Originally, “threat” cards were intended to represent potential challenges or adversities that players might face during gameplay. However, we realized that framing everything as a “threat” could inadvertently place too much emphasis on negative or adversarial perspectives. By reframing these cards as “need” cards, we underscore that players (and by extension, family members) have fundamental psychological or emotional needs—such as security, belonging, and autonomy—and that when these needs aren’t met, conflict or stress can arise. For instance, a “need” card might indicate a child’s need for approval in school, or a parent’s need for financial stability. Instead of merely reacting to a menacing threat, players now aim to fulfill or balance a core need, changing the dynamic from defense to growth.

Emphasizing needs rather than threats also meshes well with our broader educational goals, which include encouraging short-term and long-term development. In the short term, players might recognize the immediate steps required to address a particular need—like practicing healthy communication strategies or scheduling time to do homework. Over the long term, repeated exposure to these scenarios helps players internalize coping mechanisms and conflict-resolution skills. In this way, the game doubles as an interactive teaching tool. Our intention is to embed these lessons subtly, so that the player’s experience remains fun, but their real-world skills in empathy, negotiation, and self-awareness steadily improve..

Crucially, we’ve designed the game for children but deliberately invite parents to take part in the adventure as well. This is not just a novelty. We firmly believe that parent-child collaboration can strengthen family bonds, enhance mutual understanding, and even alter parental behavior for the better. Picture a scenario in which both a child and parent are playing. They encounter a puzzle themed around conflict over screen time—something many modern families grapple with. As they talk through how the characters should respond, the parent might gain insight into the child’s perspective: “Perhaps my child needs to decompress after school, and restricting screen time without an alternative activity might feel punishing to them.” Conversely, a child might realize that “my parent is worried about my overall well-being and wants to help me form better habits.”

We hope these small epiphanies—catalyzed by gameplay—will spark more harmonious real-world discussions and strategies. By experiencing the game through a child’s eyes, parents could develop empathy for the unique stressors children face, especially at school or in social settings. Simultaneously, children can better grasp the complexities that parents deal with, like balancing finances or managing a busy schedule. As a result, the game aims for a “dual purpose,” seamlessly merging family entertainment with practical life lessons. The best educational games manage to achieve that—so seamlessly, in fact, that players often don’t realize they’re learning.

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