Clarity on Ice Water Games

I recently had a short conversation with a games journalist who thought Eidolon and Viridi were “the work of the same person.” It’s been bothering me for a couple weeks now, because it’s inaccurate, does a disservice to the people who made them, and is extremely my fault for not being more open + clear about what we are.

Hi! I’m Kevin. I run Ice Water Games, and am the only permanent fixture here right now. IWG is my games label, basically, but I don’t necessarily make the games! Well, I help on them. Some of them? All of them so far, but very probably not all of them in the future.

Eidolon was my baby, but 9 other people worked on it. Viridi was the baby of Zoe Vartanian, who had the help of 3 others in delivering it. Isa Hutchinson worked on both (and has helped run IWG business stuff in the past, too). Michael Bell has done basically all of our sound and music. Some other collaborators: Meagan Malone, Jeff Klinicke, Aron Miller, Shadie Hijazi, Adam Murgittroyd, Jacob Leach. I've added short credits snippets to the end of all of our game pages to help with clarity.

It’s hard + scary to do business in 2017. There’s a lot of legal stuff, tax stuff, and general bureaucracy to deal with. So when I’ve been associated with a game, I’ve generally volunteered to sell and promote it through IWG. I handle the legal stuff, divide the money up, and mail out royalty checks. I kind of hate bureaucracy, but it feels nice to write checks to friends, especially when they’re big :)

Ice Water Games isn’t a development house, games studio, or publisher in any traditional sense, because it hasn’t ever funded anything. IWG is just a label under which many artists of different stripes have promoted and sold their work.

The Ignorant Dogmatist

I have papers from 4th grade in which I declared proudly that I’d be a game programmer one day, but I didn’t know ‘game design’ existed until 2009, my first year away from home. I found Rules of Play in an art school’s library, where I had been digging for weeks, searching for purpose and direction in a scary new city. The Brainy Gamer, Lostgarden, and Gamasutra soon came into my universe, and then an unending, unfolding expanse of thought and writing about games that totally enraptured me.

Having always had a proclivity towards philosophy and critical theory, this discovery seemed important to me, and important to games. I couldn’t stop thinking about the things I was reading, and the things I was writing in response.

I was a budding game designer. I thought about game design. I wrote about game design. I applied the things I thought. I made a lot of small games, supposedly to learn more about design.



Years later, and a couple significant releases down the line, I understand much more about how games are made: especially, about how mundane and unspecial the process can easily be, as well as how diverse actual studios’ processes have been.

The reality is that there is little overlap between game design theorists whose work I follow and creators whose games I’ve personally connected with. So why should I continue to assume that compelling essay work translates into solid advice for creators?

In fact, much of my current thinking on my own process, informed by (admittedly still very limited) personal experience, goes contrary to the common sense ideologies I was handed as a starting point 7 years ago. I strive to bite off more than I can chew. I think it’s wise to invest significantly in whatever idea strikes me as the most exciting, rather than working on many small prototypes at once. I think playtesting, while good at catching bugs and bringing you back to reality, should be used as a creative tool only rarely. I believe that ideas can be genuinely valuable. I think that often, the non-mechanical components of a game are more important than the mechanical ones, and so I tend to work on visuals and writing at least as early as mechanics.



The objective, engineer-like creativity sold by most game design writers is a trap for folks like me. If my voice isn’t heard naturally and I have to warp it to find my audience, maybe they aren’t my audience. Neither of us will be fulfilled at the end of the day. I haven’t spoken honestly to them, and dishonesty harms everyone involved.

Design and art are traditionally separate fields, and different creators have different ideas about which tradition they’re part of. Games certainly have affinities with both. As a kid, I looked up to novelists, painters, animators, poets: conventional artists. Game criticism, game design theory put me down the wrong path for understanding myself as an artist who makes games. Metrics, models, and playtests are dangerous because they have the ability to create game designers who think like stock romance writers—they teach you to use the trappings of an art form to mask thoroughly impersonal and ultimately forgettable emotion-generating machines.

It’s not that people shouldn’t be thinking about what they’re making, or that doing work on paper is bad. It’s that design is the wrong word for what some of us are trying to do today.

Playtests can be a valuable part of an artist’s process, except that playtest again is probably the wrong word. We should be thinking about critiques among fellow creators, critics, friends, as we do with poetry or painting. I want feedback that’s informed, holistic, thoughtful, high expectation, high concept, feedback that can actually push me as an artist and a thinker. I have no interest in the kinds of user studies used in advertising or politics, where scientists observe disinterestedly and optimize their products accordingly, whether they use models or metrics to theorize.

Criticism is part of a rich cultural experience of art, and conversations between creators are important—they provide the ability for creators to evolve their process and find companions in a cold, lonely world. And these design theorists are an important part of that conversation. But the goal of a theory of art should not be to drive a linear path for a whole society of artists. Art needs to be diverse. Important and powerful art is distinct. It can be valuable to ignore the amalgamated voice of society.



In Chris Bateman’s recent essay, “The Craft of Game Design Cannot Be Measured By Any Metric,” he casually derides a certain group of game makers (his opposites to the mobile business metric designers he’s actually focused on) as being ignorant and dogmatic. It seems like he’s referring broadly to indie/alt-games folks, neither of which camp I feel totally comfortable in, but I saw myself in his description nonetheless.

In some sense, ignorance might be an appropriate word for what I’m advocating: for creators to intentionally ignore with greater diligence the pressures to be similar, to follow fashion or money or power, pressures to use objective, scientific methods of art production. And similarly, I think part of what I’m advocating for could be called dogmatism: for creators to hold firm in their values and goals in order to create works that are more distinct, more filled with themselves, more honest and interesting and worth talking about.


Viridi on Mobile (One Month In): Curiosities!

Hi internet! I decided to write this update after a couple of oddities cropped up around the mobile release of our succulent simulator Viridi. This is our first mobile game, so it’s possible these things that seem odd to me are actually old news to the rest of the world. Either way someone learns something - either you or me. Apologies for the disconnected mess of thoughts and data ahead.



In a little over a month, Viridi has moved ~150k units on the Android Play Store, and ~100k on the iOS App Store. The pickup rate seems to be unsteady but accelerating on average. Here’s our ‘current installs’ curve on Android, for instance. (Hoping that last plateau bumps back up soon, but who knows, all is chaos etc.)

We just went to Casual Connect, where I was exposed to a lot of mobile jargon, and thanks to Unity Analytics, I can actually look up some of these various stats. For the group of people who know and care about these, our ARPPU is a little over $3, our ARPDAU is a little under $0.05, our retention rates (are changing a lot (mostly going up) but) are currently around 55% on day 1, 20% on day 15, and our conversion rates are ~1% 15 days from install. I assume these numbers are low, since we’re not designing for any of this stuff, but I would be curious to know better.



Reading our more negative reviews, we saw a trend where people would mention that the app didn’t seem to have anything to do, and was entirely based on IAP. This is sort of true, since the point of the app is actually the user doing very little: just focusing, waiting, paying attention, and slowly nurturing their plants. But we thought, “Hey, a lot of these users are just bumping into us on the store, and maybe don’t know what the app is. They’re probably coming in for their first experience, seeing plants that don’t do anything except die when you overwater them, and then uninstalling the app out of frustration. We probably just need to be more clear in our messaging.”

We decided to add a couple dozen words of tutorialization, split across 3 prompts. Very lightweight, just enough text to signal to the user that the game also happens while you’re away, and that closing the app is part of the experience. We looked at Neko Atsume’s tutorial as inspiration, but decided to take a lighter approach, asking the users to close the app and come back later, but not forcing them out. I was excited to see that the Google Developer backend supports A/B split testing. I wanted to be able to see with certainty that the revised introductory experience was leading to happier players.

Above are the results. Build 18 was the build with no introductory tutorial, build 20 with. Those numbers are stars out of 5. There is indeed a strong trend, but it’s the opposite of what we expected. We shouldn’t have second-guessed ourselves maybe, but then we never would have seen this interesting data point. Though it’s hard to know what exactly to take from it.



Presented for your consideration: Our installs yesterday on iOS:

We’re not even localized in any way. And our installs by territory:

Additionally on iOS, we had 14 million impressions in China yesterday, up from 50k worldwide the day before. Not sure how that happened. Please do let me know if you have some ideas.



Here’s our installs by territory on Android:

We have ~5k iOS installs in the US, versus nearly 50k on Android. This seems to mostly be based on organic factors. Maybe the Play Store has significantly better discovery algorithms? We were consistently told that iOS was the more important platform to be on. So far, that doesn’t seem to be the case. Though with our growth in China, maybe so?



Please do provide any thoughts in the comments! But, you know, be nice.