Article 1: Three Angles of One Idea: Education, Play, Classroom

When we started working on The Great Gambit, one of the first questions I kept asking myself wasn't just what kind of game to make, but how to balance three forces pulling in different directions: education, gameplay, and the everyday reality of the classroom.

I’ll break it down into three components:

1. Educational Core – What are we really trying to teach, and how do we spark curiosity rather than just transfer knowledge?

2. Game Elements – How do we create systems that invite exploration without turning school into an arcade?

3. Classroom Constraints – What does it mean to design for real teachers, limited time, and unpredictable tech setups?

Educational Core

Developing an educational core of The Great Gambit, I kept thinking about how to get students genuinely interested in discussing historical events. Not just playing a game, but actually wanting to engage with the real historical material afterward.

I noticed something from my own experiences: people naturally want to discuss things they've lived through together. Think about it — after experiencing something challenging or interesting with someone, conversations flow easily. You don't need to force it. There's already common ground, shared references, and mutual understanding. I wanted to create that same kind of "fertile ground" between teachers and students that could give them a shared experience to reference and build upon.

That's where the game comes in. It could provide that common experience, something both teachers and students live through together, creating natural openings for deeper discussions afterward.

This led me to think about what roles students and teachers would have during this shared experience. For students, I thought about how children naturally learn when they're genuinely curious. When kids play with blocks or explore their environment, they're essentially conducting experiments and learning without being told to. They have intrinsic motivation — they want to figure things out.

I wondered if we could tap into that same kind of natural curiosity in the classroom. When students have genuine motivation to understand something, learning becomes easier and more engaging. They're not just memorizing facts — they're satisfying their curiosity.

For teachers, I imagined a role similar to a Dungeon Master in D&D, someone who creates the setting and guides players through challenges, but doesn't dictate outcomes. The teacher wouldn't be focused on whether students "win" or "lose" in the simulation, because the most valuable thing is the experience itself.

In the end, I envisioned the learning process working like this: students are given the opportunity to figure things out themselves — exploring, experimenting, and making their own decisions within the game. They "cook their own stew," so to speak. The teacher doesn't try to explain everything or organize information for them; they just facilitate the process and create the narrative that immerses students in this historical universe.

But here's where the teacher's real superpower comes in — during the reflective sessions afterward. The game sessions are for self-discovery, where students are free to experiment without being forced to listen to lectures or follow specific instructions. They're simply gaining experience. Then, in the following session, the teacher skillfully builds connections using that experience (fertile ground) to explain complex historical concepts.

Game Elements

When thinking about what type of game would support our educational core without overshadowing it, I started exploring different options.

I thought about what games let me experiment and explore while also learning about the world. That's when Anno 1800 came to mind. These historical simulations teach you about economic systems and urban development just by playing, not through lectures. You learn by trying different strategies and seeing what happens. I wondered if something like that could work for teaching about the lead-up to WWI, where players could take on roles of different countries or political groups and explore how their decisions affected others.

After reading Björn Berg Marklund's research about Minecraft being used in schools, I had mixed feelings. Minecraft is actually another great tool for experimenting and exploring — kids can build, create, and learn in this sandbox environment. But it requires a certain skill level to control the game effectively. His research highlighted something important — not all students have gaming experience. It may actually lead to bullying, with kids getting mocked: "What, don't you know how to play Minecraft? Where have you been living?"

So I started thinking about what games are both engaging and can be explained in 5-10 minutes without complex controls. Board games seemed perfect for this. Unlike Minecraft, board games don't require mastering complex controls or navigation skills. All you need to do is read and pick a card, pretty much anyone can handle that regardless of their gaming background.

I was torn between making physical cards or a digital version. Physical cards have this tactile element I love, and I'm not a fan of kids just staring at screens all day. But a physical version would limit how complex our game mechanics could be. Advanced economic models in a board game would force teachers to do all calculations manually, adding extra work for someone already juggling a million tasks. And if we simplified things too much, students might find it "childish" and lose interest. Digital lets us offload all those calculations to the computer. Plus, practically speaking, digital was way cheaper to produce, and Swedish schools already had Windows laptops available, so that decision kind of made itself.

This approach gave us the experimental nature of simulations but with the accessibility of card games: students could role-play, make decisions, and watch how these choices ripple through their simulated historical situation.

Classroom Constraints

The third challenge was ensuring everything would actually work in a classroom. Unlike apps like Duolingo that people use in their free time, we needed something that could fit into 80-minute lessons at both high schools and universities.

I also had to consider the reality of teachers' digital literacy. Not every teacher is tech-savvy. I witnessed this firsthand when Anders invited me to observe a Swedish classroom, the projector suddenly stopped playing audio, and it took Anders and several students about 15 minutes to fix it. That experience showed me how easily technical issues can disrupt the flow of a lesson and how difficult it is to regain students' attention once it's lost.

This meant I needed to create something extremely simple that wouldn't break in the middle of a session. That's why I decided the game shouldn't depend on WiFi, internet connection, or any complex technologies that teachers might not know how to troubleshoot. I was essentially trying to recreate a board game in digital form; all you need is a charged laptop, nothing else. And even then, one laptop for every 4 students is enough. This approach minimizes technical dependencies.

These practical limitations actually helped focus our design decisions. When you know exactly what technology you're targeting and how much time you have, it simplifies a lot of choices. I designed it for Windows laptops that Swedish schools already had, created experiences that could be completed within class periods, and made sure teachers could facilitate without extensive training.