There are some phrases in game criticism and the post-game discussion at my game nights, that always make me roll my eyes. Things like „this game is basically abstract, and could have any theme“ or „the theme doesn’t really come through“. Comments like these do pick up on the legitimately and accurately observed distance between a game’s rules and its theme. But they also imply that the rules fall short of fully conveying the game’s theme. That if only the rules expressed their theme more thoroughly, the resulting experience would be more engaging.

But this puts the cart before the horse. Because the purpose of rules isn’t to reproduce their theme and gain depth this way. Because a thematic game isn’t defined by detailed imitation. It is defined by successful inspiration.

Outside of its use as a mnemonic aid, a game’s theme also serves to inspire players’ imaginations. This effect shouldn’t be overstated, of course. A strongly thematic game will not lead players to attempt the things, that have been mentioned in the game. Nobody will open a fast food franchise, because they’ve made so much profit in Food Chain Magnate.

Instead, we directly channel this inspiration back into our game to enrich our experience. We transfer the abstract mechanisms into the game’s metaphor, using its thematic illustrations and vocabulary. Instead of removing coloured cubes from the game board, we offer medical assistance to infected people in a major city. Instead of placing cardboard pieces on the table, we expand the railway network between two locations of major industry in England.

This comes so naturally to long-time gamers, that it’s hardly surprising that this step barely registers as active participation. It seems inherent to the game itself, that the mundane actions we take around the table match the words and mental images we use. Most of all, we criticize the game, when they don’t. The game doesn’t “feel” thematic, or it is “at its core pretty abstract”.

Much like mismatched comparisons are flawed, you could say that a mismatched metaphor doesn’t hold. If the metaphor needs a lot of mental effort to cover the things it’s supposed to describe, that is to say, if the theme requires a lot of imagination to transfer it to the actions we take at table, the gulf between real player actions and their metaphoric description widens. The metaphor can’t hold the mechanisms. This might happen, because the thematic metaphor wasn’t well developed or chosen. But it can also happen, because players can’t or won’t engage with the metaphor itself.

The afore-mentioned inspiration often goes hand-in-hand with familiarity. We are far more likely to successfully match metaphor with player actions, if we’re familiar with a game’s theme. Or if we can at least grasp the inner logic of it. We might not have read all the lore surrounding the Sardakk N’orr, the Winnu or the Mentak Coalition, but once we understand the brinkmanship and proxy conflicts of the Cold War, we immediately grasp the thematic depth of a Twilight Imperium.

For similar reasons, the choice of theme can make us keep our distance. The metaphor we’ve been offered and the internal logic and connotations it’s based on, can lead people to stay away. Take for example games about World War II (aka Antifa European Tour), or games that clad themselves in the colonialist exploitation of non-European places. To many people it is an unappealing and somewhat repulsive thing to imagine, and that they are now asked to wed to the rules of the game.

But it is also this refusal to engage with the thematic depth of a game, by centering the abstract mechanisms and ignoring the thematic metaphor as much as possible, that is a common practice players employ to still be able to play the game. Because the alternative of having to think within the lines of the game’s metaphor does not appeal.

Which happens to be one of the most important functions of a game’s theme: it has to make using our imagination as we play the game appealing. Instead of using our brain exclusively to analyze and optimize our next move, we also want to give our creativity and imagination something to do while we play. A strong thematic metaphor does that.

But this is also where indifference or ignorance can reduce the relevance of a game’s theme to us. If we don’t value games as an activity that engages our imagination, because we see them only as harmless competitions or personal challenges, then themes will be neither appealing or inspiring to us. The same is true for people who have no time for things like fantasy literature or science fiction concepts. These kinds of metaphors won’t hold for them, because a theme needs active player participation. If they are neither interested, nor bring the necessary familiarity with them, their thematic experience will remain paper-thin.

Generally, a lack of thematic resonance can’t be measured by its mechanical integration. It’s when the thematic metaphor is insufficiently developed to clearly communicate player actions and inspire its players, that the game feels dry. If players aren’t motivated to use the game’s theme to talk about their actions or use it to visualize them, only the game’s mechanisms remain. And those are always unflinchingly abstract.