You could always play it on an emulator, making liberal use of saving the game state, and test the theory…

Purely for academic value, of course.

Also, in response to the etymology of fun, while there isn’t any evidence supporting me, it makes sense that “fun” comes from the same line as fundamental or foundation. The middle French “fond” probably became “fon” in middle english, both meaning “butt [of jokes].” Considering how jesters and fools were the primary amusement in courts, it’s probably that the word came to mean “amusement” as a direct result.

And you’re absolutely right about Bubble Bobble and the saving mechanism. This ties into something very important, that I may just have to write a new post about…

It’s odd to connect Middle English with a more contemporary conception of fun, since I imagine that period in history contained little or no “fun” for much of the population. Although they probably had a goodly amount of sword battles and jesters and quests and such, so perhaps I am wrong.

Thanks to you and Ian for the reading suggestions. I intend to locate both the book and the essay tout de suite.

I think Bubble Bobble would approach pure, unadulterated fun if you could save your progress rather than start over at level one each time you play/die.

This is why Bradley finds Nethack to be fun, for example, while I find it esoteric and frustrating and prefer the more straightforward Angband :)

All that said, I notice no one is debating the point that Braid roxorz.

Sonic the Hedgehog
Nethack
pinball
Torus Trooper

There are certainly more games which can be fun and pure, unadulterated fun. But one thing that separates these from many others is that you get all your fun upfront (except for Nethack, but it gets a pass because you’re sufficently enabled to start the game). You get all the tools you need to succeed at the beginning, and success is mostly defined by your ability to master the dynamics of the game (though with pinball and Sonic, you also need to master the mechanics). Plus they’re fabulous adrenaline rushes, even the often-glacially-paced Nethack.

Adulteration of fun, incidentally, does certain things for the game both positive and negative. Story injection, need for RPG levels, weapons, points, levels, etc. are all adulterants which help the game align with the creator’s vision. In many cases the replay value and length of play are both increased. But it can also cause boredom and frustration (at least if poorly implemented; poor implementation is, unfortunately, too often the case). Good adulterants of fun make for a more memorable game, and often a more played game.

Torus Trooper is probably one of the best examples of pure fun that I’ve seen. You don’t get better weapons, ever. The game mechanics are light (go faster, slide right, slide left, autofire). All you want to do is not get hit, blow up stuff if you can’t zip by it, go as fast as you can, and stay ahead of the clock. Mr. Do! is a close second, for the same reasons.

We don’t really precisely know what fun is: it seems to be a chimera consisting of many different emotions. So it’s disingenuous to say that a game is or isn’t some degree of fun. That said, fun still exists as a concept, whether we like it or not (1). The best recommendations that I can give for games that are pure, unadulterated fun are Katamari Damacy and Wii Sports. Although in both of these circumstances, I am thinking that “joy” is probably a more accurate word to describe what I feel when playing those games than “fun.”

For further discussion of fun, I refer you to Raph Koster’s A Theory of Fun, available from Paraglyph Press.

I have also determined that, while writing about fun is sometimes fun, the product of the writing never actually reads particularly fun.

(1) And some do not. I have run across several papers and development methodologies where people have thrown “fun” out the window in favor of one or several more precise variables, such as “challenge” or “agency.”