The Gamification of Life: When Playful Design Becomes Controlling
Games are often treated as trivial, mere distractions, or even time-wasting indulgences. But philosopher C. Thi Nguyen argues that this framing is a significant mistake. In his book, The Score, Nguyen contends that games offer a clear window into how human agency actually functions, revealing what it means to choose goals, submit to constraints, and deeply care about things that don’t obviously matter.
Increasingly, Nguyen observes, the rest of modern life is being turned into something akin to a game, with scores, metrics, rankings, and performance indicators promising clarity, fairness, and efficiency. However, he worries that this trend reshapes our values, alters how we perceive ourselves, and dictates what we deem worthy of our attention. The core danger, he argues, isn’t play itself, but “value capture”—the gradual process by which simplified metrics supplant richer, more human forms of judgment.
Nguyen defines a game, drawing on the work of Bernard Suits, as the voluntary undertaking of unnecessary obstacles in order to create the experience of struggling to overcome them. “Finishing a marathon is not just getting to the finish line; it’s getting there in a particular way, under particular constraints, along a particular path, using your own legs,” he explained. The value, Suits argues, is intrinsically tied to the method and the obstacles themselves.
But why do we embrace these self-imposed challenges? Nguyen suggests the reasons are varied. Some games offer relaxation and social connection, others stimulate intellectual engagement, and still others provide a physical outlet. Rock climbing, for example, offers a unique experience where the struggle itself can be a form of meditation, quieting the mind through intense focus and physical exertion. “Either you think being inside the process, doing it, feeling yourself doing it, pushing against other people, cooperating with other people — either you think that can be beautiful in and of itself, or you think games are useless and insane,” Nguyen stated.
This inherent value in the process distinguishes games from many aspects of modern life. Fly-fishing, another passion of Nguyen’s, exemplifies this principle. The goal isn’t necessarily to catch fish, but to cultivate intense attention and connection with the natural world. The constraints—the delicate casting, the careful observation—are what make the experience meaningful.
Nguyen further distinguishes between “achievement play,” where the goal is to win, and “striving play,” where the pleasure lies in the struggle itself. Twister, he notes, is a prime example of striving play: the fun comes from attempting to win, even though intentionally failing can be equally amusing. The key difference lies in the insulation of the score. In a game, the points don’t truly matter; they exist solely to enhance the experience.
However, when scoring systems are imposed on real-life domains—education, employment, social standing—this insulation disappears. The stakes become real, and the freedom inherent in play is lost. Metrics transform from playful targets into governing values, potentially leading to a sense of constraint and diminished agency. “Institutional metrics feel so different,” Nguyen explained, “because they’re attached to your life.”
The problem isn’t necessarily the rules or constraints themselves, but rather the design and the lack of choice. Games are designed for enjoyment, while institutional scoring systems are often geared towards productivity or control. And unlike games, where individuals can freely choose to participate or opt out, real-world scoring systems often feel inescapable.
As gamification continues to permeate various aspects of life, Nguyen’s work serves as a crucial reminder to critically examine the underlying values and potential consequences of turning everything into a game. The challenge lies in harnessing the positive aspects of gamification—the engagement, the motivation, the sense of accomplishment—without sacrificing the freedom, meaning, and human connection that truly matter.
