Form Follows Function: Why We’re Making a Different Kind of Game

It was the American architect Louis Sullivan who coined the phrase “form follows function.” Most of you, like me, may know it better due to the design work of Frank Lloyd Wright. The saying has become a catchphrase—or unkindly considered, a cliché—in design circles. What it means, simply put, is that designers, artists, and architects ought to consider the purpose of the design first, and then make the shape of the design suit the purpose.

So a cathedral, meant for worship, ought to draw the heart and senses upward toward the heavens. A knife should be well-balanced, weighted correctly, and suited to the hand that’s doing the cutting. A woodland house ought to pay attention to the trees around it. Most famously, the house “Fallingwater,” by Frank Lloyd Wright, sits overtop the waterfall it’s meant to embrace. (Interestingly, this has posed some preservation challenges as time has gone on!)

How does this idea of “form follows function” intersect with what Story Warren is up to these days? We think it’s simple. If a game designer believes that a game is for having fun and enchanting the player with a good story, he will design a game that’s mostly about the fun and the story. It is the player who takes precedence.

If a game designer wants to make money, he will design a game that refuses to be left alone—one that asks for money to level up, one that calls the player back with increasing notifications, and one that pushes ad content to the forefront. It is the profit that takes precedence.

In the Year of our Lord 2025, we can understand why families are exhausted by the gaming culture. Kids get addicted; parents get exhausted. Arguments spring up where there weren’t any before. One way that current games hook kids is by pushing for repetitive, meaningless tasks. You’re a farmer, so you need to plant and harvest. You’re matching gemstones or pieces of candy. There is no greater story, unless perhaps world domination of the online imaginary farming scene is a place you’d like to hang your hat.

We’re trying to make a better way for families and kids to enjoy a video game that can be played through, enjoyed, and left alone. Our Helmer game has an order and a story, which means the activities within the game are attached to a larger scaffolding. The story helps the fragmented activities have meaning, much like a dance scene in a musical has an attachment to the story, or a fight scene in a movie has meaning in the storyline. This has much less potential for addictive behavior. We want this game to augment your family time, not supplant or dominate it. We’re on your side, even as we push the boundaries of what we’re doing.

As we explore the purposes and functions of games, we want to leave the door open for intersection with books, our first and best publishing object. You may have noticed that even while we promote a game, our content on this website hasn’t changed themes: we want to encourage kids and parents to read—read with each other, read to each other, and read alone.

Helmer’s story is told in two ways in this project: a book and a game. Parents who want to have their kids read the book first can do so. Parents who want to dive into the game first can do so. We also know there will be families who choose to do it one way and not the other.

We hope and pray that everybody enjoys each in some fashion. We love a good story, and we want your kids to be helped and inspired by Helmer. We know screens and games are a tenuous conversation in many homes, and we are hopeful that we’re contributing positively to the culture by making a game you can trust.

If you haven’t done so already, we’d really appreciate you coming alongside this project by contributing to our Kickstarter campaign here. The bigger our final total, the better work we will be equipped to do— both in Story Warren Press and in Longtreader Games endeavors.

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Kelly Keller

Kelly Keller is the managing editor of Story Warren. She has her BS in Elementary Education from Messiah University and has taught various ages, but her favorite was worldview and literature with high school students. The “gap” in her resume is actually a window of eighteen years of homeschooling, which she recommends as an effective, though demanding, way of expanding one’s home library.

When she’s not behind her laptop, Kelly enjoys live music, baseball, reading great books, and traveling with her husband, David. Kelly hails from beautiful snowy New England, but after nearly two decades in North Carolina, she feels right at home.

She invites you to subscribe to her newsletter, On the Common, or to follow her on Twitter or Instagram.

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