Actions in game

What this element is

Actions are the verbs of your game — in Flanagan and Nissenbaum's words, "what can the player do (or cause playable characters to do) in game?" The structure and range of those actions is a design decision, from a wide-open toolkit down to a single permitted task.

Why it carries values

The action set reflects the game's purpose: whether players should explore and learn for themselves, or strictly adhere to clinical and procedural guidelines. The games studied split into two clear patterns — those that want players to feel autonomy and freedom, and those that limit actions to mimic real-life processes. Autonomy is granted when exploration, self-directed learning and flexibility are the priorities. When real-world constraints and clinical rigour dominate, restricting player action isn't a missing feature — it's a statement that the game values safety, compliance or strictly measured outcomes.

Patterns from practice

Free play

The physiotherapy titles let players navigate levels their own way, giving a sense of agency that matches the goal of making physical therapy fun and something players can own. Choice here recognises the person as an active participant in their own progress, not a passive recipient of instructions.

The space VR experience is similar but more staged: players move through a space station solving problems with their hands in "a very physical, tactile and haptic kind of way" (P6). Interaction mechanics are taught linearly at the start, then the experience gradually opens up so players can combine interactions to solve puzzles — freedom, earned in stages.

The conservation games build autonomy into the structure but load it with value-laden nudges. Players work towards a thriving ecosystem — slashing away plastics, fishing hooks, trawler nets and crown-of-thorns starfish to protect the reef's residents. The system offers a wide range of eco-friendly options and uses incentives to guide players towards them, but doesn't tie their hands: protecting the reef is the top priority, but players choose how to get there and see the effects of their actions or inaction, learning by experiment.

The youth social services game offers a narrower kind of freedom: a limited menu of responses, each followed by visible consequences. The results are never punitive — they're arranged to be educational, letting the learner know what they should have done. Players are free to make mistakes precisely so guidance can follow.

Limited & procedural

The simulation-style games take the opposite stance, prioritising realism, practicality and following systems in an often clinical, precise way. In the medical VR experiences, players perform exactly one task — the ultrasound scan — with a clear picture of what they're up against. For these designers, the value of the game lies in exact replication of a specific procedure.

The fire warden game is formal and linear: learners click the right buttons on a touchscreen in response to the scenario, with no deviation permitted. Free exploration or improvisation would be against the objectives of the training. The learner-driver game is shaped by external laws: stop at the red light, don't exceed the speed limit, don't cross the lines — a small window of permitted behaviour. Driving is presented as a tightly controlled system where the value lies in compliance with the rules.

The early childhood assessment games are the most restrictive of all, because clinical analysis demands it. Every child goes through an identical, highly structured sequence of touchscreen interactions, graded on completion speed, so results can be measured and compared completely objectively. Uniformity and repeatability underpin values of fairness, reliability and diagnostic usefulness. The aim isn't player autonomy — it's ensuring the data is consistent and valid. What looks like bad game design is, in context, the ethical choice: every child gets exactly the same test.

Questions to ask your team

1. What can the player actually do — and does that verb list match what we claim the game is for?
2. Are we granting freedom because exploration serves the learning, or because open-ended feels like "good game design"?
3. Are we restricting actions because the domain demands it (safety, law, clinical measurement), or because restriction is cheaper to build?
4. If actions are tightly scripted, does the player understand why — or does the game just feel arbitrary and railroaded?
5. Where players do have freedom, have we arranged incentives so the desirable path is attractive without being forced?
6. Would two different players produce comparable results? If measurement matters, can our action set guarantee that?
7. What would a player try to do that we haven't permitted — and is blocking it a values decision or an oversight?