I live in a continual state of trying to make more space on my game shelves. This isn’t for any real lack of shelves (though another couple of room’s full would be nice, thanks), it’s because I have a lot of games. I don’t think I’m alone in this quest, and regardless of how many games you have it’s not really about numbers, it’s about numbers compared to your room to store them. Whether you have one shelf or a whole library, it’s volume that counts.
In this regard, the most infuriating, most egregious sin, is games that have boxes with almost nothing in them. This is disrespectful of my space. If you want me to keep the game you made, it’ll need to live on a shelf. The less space it takes up, the less likely I’ll be asking it to justify its continued presence. Presumably, more people keeping and enjoying your game is a Good Thing, right? So why not consider this question when it comes to designing your box?
You could argue that the empty box is a sign of confidence that new expansions will need the space, and I think that’s sometimes true. In fact, I opened a new game yesterday, and for some reason that’s exactly the impression I was left with for the small amount of room that remained. Can’t put my finger on why I thought that. Definitely did though. Jisogi, in case you were wondering.
The usual situation is that a game ships with the box fully closed, and when you punch all the counters and organise it properly, there’s a lot of spare space inside. The answer to this is simple: don’t close the box when you shrink it. I’ve had several games come with the box lid raised by a stack of punchboards, and once they’re sorted out the lid closes nicely on a comfortably full box. That’s efficient, thoughtful, and it shows that you care both about how slick your product feels, and my shelf space. I like people who care.
I don’t like being sold a box full of air that takes up three times the room on my shelf that it needs to. This is a solid strike against something when I’m organising my shelves and deciding what stays and what goes. The poster child for this nonsense has to be 1066, Tears for Many Mothers. It’s even worse if you remove the card insert (which isn’t fooling anyone).
This sin of selling air masquerading as game used to be far more prevalent than it is today, mainly for the simple reason that size mattered for sales. It wasn’t my shelves that the publishers cared about, but those of my FLGS. People bought games in person, in a shop, where they could pick up the box. How your game was stacked on a shelf mattered, and boxes were designed to look good in multiple presentations. On a related note, it’s also why backs of boxes have changed over the years. Anyway, these days, you probably order from an image online, and the thumbnail’s the same size regardless of the real box.
This bloaty approach to boxes seems to survive mostly in smaller games these days, presumably trying to avoid disappearing into the jumble of card decks at the back of a shelf. They’re priced to be impulse purchases, but only if someone sees them. And if you’re priced low and look big, then maybe folk will think you’re a bargain, though that’s a double-edged sword.
Giant, sprawly, miniature-heavy, campaign games of the sort that Kickstarter and GF facilitated have a different challenge to earning their shelf space. They’re generally OK in their use of space inside any given box, they just bloat over half a dozen giant ones. Sure, it’s all full of stuff, but there’s a heck of a lot of it. There are several reasons why I’m more reluctant to buy new games if they’re huge and sprawly. Partly because they’re the cost of half a dozen other games (which I might enjoy more overall), partly because they’re so hard to get to the table, but also because they take up such a silly amount of space. Of course, the huge campaign monstrosities with buckets of miniatures can generate an experience that smaller games struggle to or simply can’t, so there’s that to include in the mix. But I digress…
Overall, in the internet age, I’m buying less air. That’s good. Less wasteful all round.
As you’d expect, there are some companies who seem to care more about this than others, and I always take that as a good sign. They’re thinking, literally, beyond the box itself. Beyond their immediate packaging challenges of getting it to your table, and into its actual life beyond delivery. I’d argue that this is all part of the gesamtkunstwerk idea that I bang on about, and I applaud it. Typically, if they care about this, then they care about other details too. In other words, it’s a green flag. A good example of this is Garphill Games. While they don’t always get it right, they tend towards smaller boxes that are packed to the brim. Only one of many good things about their range.
My takeaway from this rambling is that games are experienced in more ways than only in the mechanics, on the tabletop. They’re repositories of memories and nostalgia as well as being the results of understanding technical aspects of offset litho printing or sculpting for steel moulds. How your game design will be stored is part of the puzzle too. Just because it isn’t especially cool and exciting, doesn’t mean that it can be ignored.
And, you never know, there may even be a few nerds like me who see your art there too.
