Continuing yesterday’s list, today’s meandering takes me into the world of in-app purchases. I find myself reflexively recoiling when I see that an app has a “top in app purchases” listing in the store, which likely has to do with their history of misuse, but I’m coming to see that they might not be all bad. Some that work and some that irk:

4. Pay for additional content. Add new modes, songs, chapters, maps, etc. for an additional charge. The lines of this one get blurred quite a bit: if the initial app is free, is this not really just the “lite” model? If the new features are insubstantial, what differentiates it from a dev tip? And what of episodic releases? The common idea here is that, after the player has had a solid opportunity to enjoy the meat of a game (more richly than a demo, I might argue), more content is offered for an additional charge. This is, in theory, a pretty sensible model, echoing the expansion packs of old: if I enjoyed Jedi Knight, why wouldn’t I shell out for more of the same in Mysteries of the Sith? And it works to support continued development: if enough buy the initial game and are clamouring for more, you’ve got a foundation (structural, social, and financial) to build upon. It’s when it feels like content is missing from the initial purchase that this one gets a bit iffy. That’s not entirely the case with Neuroshima Hex, but $5 for the game + another $8 for all the teams is a tough sell for me. Maybe I’m just not valuing things appropriately (and definitely not when compared to the board game’s cost of $40 + $25 for each of three expansions), but this model definitely relies on player investment to increase over time.

5. Pay to win. The player can purchase boosts or enhancements that either accelerate progress or grant exclusive abilities/options. This one captures the big problem I’ve seen with in-app purchases, which is when they compromise the integrity of the game system. If a game is only fun when there is some sort of progression (not necessarily true, but bear with me), then this model has, in some cases, slowed progress to an unreasonable crawl unless the player is willing to chip in some additional funds. In other cases, it grants some players in a multiplayer environment a distinct advantage over others (unforgivable!). At its best, this model allows players with more money than time to experience content that they otherwise would not have reached, but I feel like a sense of accomplishment and of overcoming challenges is a pretty critical part of many game experiences. I’m a bit of a purist in this regard, eschewing the item packs in Triple Town even though they can be purchased with in-game currency. Maybe I’m being a bit silly there, but overall I find this model to be a detriment to design. If you want to throw money around to overcome obstacles, please choose an environmental or humanitarian issue instead.

6. Pay for cosmetics. Buy hats or visual customization options or what have you. This one is, in many ways, an reincarnation of the developer tip. It’s something nonessential that grants a player a little bit of additional flair and room for personal expression. Pretty inoffensive, as long as the solicitation is not intrusive and the modifications aren’t disruptive. Obviously this won’t work with anything relying on serious characterization, but it’s remarkable how much more enjoyable it can make playing as an otherwise faceless avatar (see Jetpack Joyride, then buy the paper bag, barrel, and balloon jetpack).

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Thinking over all of these, it’s more apparent to me than ever how different games call for different income models. If your game relies on networked local multiplayer, it ought to have some free-to-play option lest nobody ever get to play it. If your game presents a self-contained experience, it’s probably best to ask players for their investment early on. And if the player’s avatar is essentially just a stand-in to serve the mechanics, why not let them jazz it up a bit? Just don’t forget what’s at the core of your experience: a game. A game with boundaries and challenges and reasonable possibilities for achievement. When money gets in the way of these, all is lost (and you end up with another Cow Clicker ;P).

And as a player, it’s important to remember that any experience you enjoy has value. If the free game you’ve played and delighted in for hours asks for a little money, do consider the contribution that the developers have made to your life.

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P.S. After yesterday’s post, I made a point to break my longtime pattern and sent a couple bucks to the Spaceteam dev. A crime I didn’t do it sooner.

Sifting through the vast accumulation of iOS games I might want to play, I come up again and again against a tremendous variety in pricing models. As a consumer of limited means, I want to make sure that my dollar is well spent: not only do I want adequate value for my money, I want to financially support those developers who have done something really worthwhile. So I tend to gather a lot of information before making a purchase. Sometimes this is easy: when I’m given the opportunity to sufficiently experience the game firsthand, I can make an informed decision. But given the spectrum of game experiences out there, this isn’t always necessarily the best way to present a given product, either. Some models I’ve been thinking about:

1. The straight buy. “This app costs x dollars, paid upfront for the entirety of the experience.” This is a traditional retail-rooted model that works well for games in which in-app purchases wouldn’t be appropriate. It also best serves those games that would rely on a continuous narrative arc to carry their experience, those that would lose something by being broken into smaller chapters. This is a hard sell, relying entirely on marketing and presentation. It works well for developers well-established enough to have developed a public expectation of quality from their products. Far more rare are the gems that make themselves known on this model (e.g. Sword & Sworcery) and though it seems the straightest path to honest money, it’s a tad daunting for an unproven indie like me.

2. Lite. A free “lite” version (better termed a demo, na?) with a separate purchasable full version. This is one of my preferred models (as a consumer), but the demo treads a very fine line: offer enough of the product that the consumer is intrigued, but not so much that they feel they’ve already had their fun. I appreciate the opportunity to actually have the game in my hands and, with some clever design, the developer could grant me an honest taste of what else is in store. The problem with this model lies in making a demo that’s simply too enjoyable. This can be a problem when your game is designed around a single mechanic, which can be more or less fully exhibited in a demo (see: Gasketball). I remember playing dozens of hours of the Gish demo with my brother before, years down the road, I finally bought the game out of respect for the product (and then played comparatively little of it). With a good sense of one’s product, I think this model can be a pretty workable one.

3. Tips. Offering your whole game for free and then asking players to show their appreciation is a bold move. There’s no question as to what’s behind the paywall because there simply isn’t one. The entire game is available for the consumer who can enjoy it as fully as they like for as long as they like. And you, as a developer, hope that they will feel positively enough about the experience to want to reward you for facilitating it. There’s a certain beauty to this model, but the pragmatist in me questions what the conversion rate might be. I like having things for free, certainly. I also like to recognize good work. But would the fact that I haven’t yet thrown the Spaceteam devs a dollar or two as I’d intended to do suggest something deeper about consumerist patterns? This model probably only works for games that players return to again and again. If they play through the game in a single sitting, close it, and never return to it, it’s likely never going to occur to them to tip the developer. But if you’ve got something with staying power (and aren’t too worried about income stability?), this is a highly intriguing model.

I’ve got more to say and several more models to disentangle, but it’s getting on in hours and I’m going to turn in for now (read: play iPhone games in bed for several hours until it’s well past any reasonable bedtime).

TO BE CONTINUED (in part 2).