Beta Testers: Getting Them. Keeping Them.

I've been running Spiderweb Software for about fifteen years now. I owe my ability to make a living writing my cute, little Indie RPGs to a lot of things. Tenacity. A moderate amount of designing skill. Dumb luck.

But, as much as anything else, I owe my ability to stay in business to a group of skilled, dedicated, hard-working volunteer beta testers.

There is a huge chasm between the rough, quivering lump of code you just wrote and a solid product you can distribute to actual people. To make your game/mod/level/adventure publicly available without melting someone's computer, you will need testers. And, if you are a lone individual or running a little company like mine, you won't be able to afford to pay QA people. Thus, you will need to go out and find testers.

I've been doing this for a long time. Here is some advice for how to find the people you need to test your game (or other sort of application) and how to deal with them when you have them.

1. How To Get Testing Volunteers

I am established and have a fan base, so this part is easy for me. I write that I need testers on my web site, take the beta testing application page live, and winnow through a huge pile of applications. If you're just getting started, you will have a harder time.

Make a web page and put up some info and screenshots, so that people can drop by and see what you are making. Then go to online forums where gamers hang out. Write a short, respectful post saying "Hey, I'm making this and I need testers. Drop by my web site and take a look. Send such and such information here." While forums justifiably hate advertisements, offering an opportunity like this is generally tolerated. (And even sometimes appreciated.)

Ask potential testers to send you information about themselves. What sort of computer do you have? What sort of hardware? What sort of games do you like? What have you tested before?

Hopefully, you will get applicants. However, I'll warn you now. You will get very few decent testers. People who can play a game, analyze it, spot bugs, report them in a coherent manner, and come back for more are very rare. They are precious jewels. You'll have to sort through a lot of, well, people who aren't jewels, to find them.

Also, don't be afraid to use your friends, but don't get your hopes up. Very few people have the mental skills and dedication it takes to be a good tester. The odds of any given friend having those characteristics are low. But give it a shot.

2. How To Screen Your Testers

When you get a pile of testers, you'll need to pick out the ones who are potentially useful. One advantage of asking them to write about themselves is that you will be able to scratch out a bunch of incoherent, confused, and crazy folks right away. If they can't answer a few simple questions, they will not be able to report bugs well. We all know how dangerous the incoherent can be in positions of importance.

Once I've picked out a few applications, I make them provide a signed Non-Disclosure Agreement (I let them fax the form, mail it, or e-mail me a .pdf signature). Google "non-disclosure agreement template" to find a few boilerplate versions.

Now, to be honest, if someone leaks your beta, there isn't much you can do about it. But make people sign an NDA anyway. It's legal protection. It stresses to them how important secrecy is. And making them send an NDA in is great for weeding out flakes. If they aren't together enough to send a signature, they probably won't be able to test well.

OK. Hopefully you have a few testers. Some of them might even be decent. If not, you'll be back to begging on the forums again.

3. How To Instruct Your Testers

You will need to give your testers clear instructions. How should they report bugs? Where should they report bugs to? Any particular format you want bug reports in? The exact details will vary depending on the sort of product you are trying to test. However, you will need to tell the testers something.

This is also a good chance to explain to them important basics. Things like how to take a screenshot or how to compress large files before sending them. And make sure to stress that, in any given report, they need to say the exact version of the beta they found the problem in. (So you don't go chasing down bugs you have already fixed.)

4. How To Interact With Your Testers

First off, always be nice. Always take constructive criticism well. These people are volunteers. They are spending their priceless and irreplaceable time helping you for free. Be polite. Be professional. Never lose your temper. If you find yourself writing a snide e-mail, get up. Take a walk. Count to ten. Then delete it. I have lost my temper with a tester only two or three times, and I always felt terrible about it afterwards.

This is a good chance to work on developing a thick skin. Nothing the testers subject you to will compare to the abuse you'll take online after your project has been released.

Don't hesitate to ask for more information about a report when you need it. Ask for exact steps to reproduce the problem. Screenshots. Saved games. Stress to testers that they need to provide lots of details. You never know what tiny scrap of information will help you to find a bug. Vague reports are useless reports. And, if a tester never answers your follow-up questions, that tester should probably be fired.

Yes, you will sometimes need to fire your volunteers. If they don't use the product. If they don't send helpful reports. If they don't treat you in a polite and professional manner. (The way you are treating them. Right?) Just because they aren't being paid doesn't mean that they should always be kept around. They are taking up your time and they are eating up a precious beta tester slot. Also, being able to beta test is valuable, even if no cash is paid. It is professional experience (more on that later) and a chance to actually take part in the creative process. These are valuable things.

5. How To Reward Your Testers

You must treat your testers with the respect and gratitude they deserve. Thank them. List them in the credits. Give them a free copy of your game.

Some testers will help you in order to get experience, in the hopes of getting a real QA job. If a helpful tester asks you for a reference, give one, and make it good. I have had people ask me for references before, and my success rate for getting people their desired positions is 100%.

And Good Luck.

Don't be ashamed to ask for help. For a certain, rare, marvelous breed of person, the ability to take part in the creative process is a great opportunity. Find those people and let them help you. Be nice. Be professional. Figure out what works for your particular product and go with it. After all, without testers, all software would suck.

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Sometimes, I Link To a Comic Strip.

Bwaaaaahahahahahaha.

Stolen Pixels #114

I have two things to say about this.

First, every aspiring Indie developer should set this comic as their screensaver, so that it flashes up at any moment when you are foolish enough to feel hope.

Second, I love the term "Indie games" because it doesn't have all the Loser connotations that "shareware" did. I now realize that it's only a matter of time before "Indie game" gets all the same connotations.

If you don't believe me, drop by XNA Community games (Soon to be XBox Live Indie Games. Thanks Microsoft!) and try those out. (Shudder.)

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Review: Secret Of Monkey Island, Special Edition.

I used to, in a prior century, be an absolute fiend for adventure games. I loved Infocom more than anything. I would spend three or four months trying to solve a game like, say, Zork II, going at it again and again, trying absolutely every little thing, so that I could have the joy and satisfaction of solving it without degrading myself by getting a hint. Months.

Wow. I was a dope.

It hurts me deeply to say it. But. Is there a genre of computer game that suffered a faster, harsher, and more deserved downfall than the adventure game, with its obscure, illogical puzzles and its total lack of hesitation about stopping you stone cold because you didn't notice some 2x2 pixel detail on the screen?

I don't want to spend too much time kicking a genre when it's down. It has already been taken to pieces better than I ever could here and here.

But adventure games are not dead. Now the flame is kept alive almost solely by Telltale Games, makers of the Sam & Max, Wallace & Gromit, Tales of Monkey Island games, not to mention Strong Bad's Cool Game For Attractive People. Good for them. It's a lonely vigil. (By the way, I've played Seasons One and Two of Sam & Max. Good games. Lots of fun, as long as you grab a hint any time you're stuck for more than fifteen minutes.)

Although my feeble old brain lacks the patience to bang away at adventure games like I used to, I do get the occasional nostalgic urge to play one for old times sake. And since The Secret Of Monkey Island is a classic which I managed to avoid playing, I jumped at the chance to play the Special Edition on XBox Live.

My review: If you hold down the 'X' button for a few seconds, the game gives you a hint. Do this every time you're stuck for more than fifteen minutes, and you'll have a fantastic time.

Longer version: It's extremely funny. It comes with an awesome feature where you can press a button to toggle between the original version of the game and the new spiffy version, which never stops being cool. Some of the puzzles are really ingenious. And, if you go too long without pressing 'X', it will remind you of everything that was horrible about adventure games.

An Example. (Warning! I am about to reveal the answer to a puzzle!)

So there's a fish on a dock. There is a seagull next to it. You need the fish, but you are afraid that, if you reach for it, the seagull will peck you. So you have to scare the seagull away.

This seems like it should be easy. You see, at this point in the game, you are carrying around a shovel and a sword. And I personally may be no pirate hero, but I assure you that I could use either of those items to scare away a seagull. Because, you know. Sword.

But that isn't the answer. You see, the board the seagull is standing on is loose. Note that there is no visual cue that the board is different from any other board. You need to walk around the dock until you hit the sweet spot and lift the board and knock the seagull away. Of course. The puzzle is solved by wandering around randomly. And hoping you step on the correct spot.

Getting stuck and needing to beg for help on something like this makes me feel angry and stupid. In any game, any bottleneck along the lines of "Be clever or be stuck here forever." is iffy design, at best. So now I mainly play games where the puzzle is how to get past the monster at the end of the hall and the only thing I have in my inventory is a big, big gun.

How Smart I Am ...

I needed about six hints to finish the game. Usually the hint just drew my attention to the door or little screen speck I missed. Playing the game in my TV instead of a monitor and moving the cursor around with a joystick instead of the mouse only makes it harder to find that vitally important hotspot that's about the size of an ant's booger. So be warned. You're gonna spend a lot of time staring.

But I shouldn't let this just be some big rant about adventure games. Monkey Island is really funny, most of the puzzles are neat, and it's a chance to sample gaming history.

But if you stop having fun, even for a moment, lean on that 'X' button and don't be ashamed. Every adventure game should have that feature. What do the developers care if I finish the game quickly? They already have my money!

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Getting a Thousand True Fans

Someone sent me a link to this article and said it was interesting. I agree, so I thought I'd pass it on ...

1000 True Fans

The basic idea behind it is really simple. In this day of advanced communications and powerful online distribution, all you need is a 1000 loyal fans to make a living. If you can come up with a loyal core that supports what you do, you can be a creator for a living. Since I believe very strongly that, if you work hard to provide something people want, you should be able to make a living off of it, this idea has a great appeal.

Spiderweb Software stays successful because it had built, over the years, a core of loyal fans. These fans are enormously important to me, and I'm hugely grateful to them.

However, the article plays awful fast and loose with the practical details of the thing.

The article suggests that, if you get 1000 fans and they each give you $100 a year for your work, you can make a living. This is true. However, my god, $100 a year from a given person is an ENORMOUS hurdle to jump over. I don't know what you're doing to get $100/year from people, but you won't be getting it from me. That's like, what, 4-5 Indie games or 5 books or 6-8 albums of music a year? Not happening.

No, I will give my own, much more practical rule:

You should try to get 4000 fans who pay you $25 a year for your work. Then you can make a living doing what you love.

I can see why the authors of the article didn't phrase it this way. It's because getting 4000 fans sounds much, much more daunting than getting 1000. And it is. But, practically, to make a decent living, that is your goal. And, if you're good and dedicated, it's an attainable one.

But remember, there's one other rule.

It's very difficult to get even one fan. Besides your mom.

The hard part is making a product that anyone will give you money for at all. There are very few people who enjoy blowing twenty bucks for nothing.

Four thousand people is a huge goal. But it is attainable. So get to work.

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The Joy Of Rereleasing Old Games.

Warning: This blog entry contains unpopular views, a mercenary attitude, and an unattractive display of pure, raw greed. Those who prefer a purer, more principled breed of Indie developer should look elsewhere.

A little over fifteen years ago, I started writing my first game, Exile: Escape From the Pit. (I am old.) This is quite a milestone for me. Since then, I have found that life as a self-employed Indie has many advantages, some small, some large. As I work on Avernum 6, the last game in my longest-running and most successful series, one of them has been very much on my mind.

I own my own intellectual property (or, as the cool kids call it, IP).

Why is this so awesome? Because then I get to rewrite and rerelease my older games, letting me make a bunch of money for a small amount of work. For example, Exile: Escape From the Pit came out in 1995. Its first rewrite, Avernum, came out in 2000. So, in 2011, over a decade after its previous iteration, I plan to release a super flashy new version of Avernum, with really sharp new graphics and sounds, a new dungeon or three, and some nice new features added. It won't be a huge amount of work. It'll be a great new product. I will clean up.

I once wrote a game called Nethergate, which developed quite a cult following. Then, as time passed, it became very shaky and outdated. So, two years ago, I released Nethergate: Resurrection. It took two months to do it. I really liked this game, and putting out a newer, nicer version was very rewarding, both emotionally and financially.

A lot of people have complained to me over the years about doing this. I don't understand it. It's good for me and its good for players. There are several good reasons to exploit your old IP:

Good Games Deserve To Exist

One of the most frustrating things for me about video games as an art is that individual titles die out. The older a game gets, the better the chance it will stop working on new machines. There was this awesome old Mac game called System's Twilight. It was a lot of fun, but it won't run at all on any new mac. The machines that will run it grow ever older and dustier. I think this is HUGELY wasteful.

Someday, people won't be able to play Baldur's Gate 2 or Planescape: Torment anymore. This really sucks. I want to delay my games going the same way as long as possible.

Avernum is starting to get wonky on new machines. The tech support complaints are growing steadily. Until I get some sort of universal language I can use to make games that run well forever, all I can do is freshen them up with new versions myself.

It Doesn't Keep Me From Making New Games

Sometimes, people say to me, "You should use the time to make something new." Hey, I'll still make new stuff. But if one old game dies off so I can make one new game, I haven't increased the number of games in the universe.

Releasing a nicer new Avernum will introduce it to a whole new audience. And hey, it's new to them.

It Makes Lots Of Money

A carefully done and marketed rewrite takes a fraction of the time to develop of a whole new game, and it can sell almost as much. A week hasn't gone by in the last fifteen or so years that I haven't made money off of Exile (in one form of it or another), and I have every intention of eating out on that game until I die. That is the reward of being brave, starting your own business, and making your own IP.

So Indie developers, if you put out a game and it gets some traction, and a decade passes, freshen it up, expand it a little, and kick it out there again! If it's good in year X, it'll still be good in year X + 10.

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Avernum 6 Announced.

I have finally gotten around to putting up screenshots and information for our next game, Avernum 6. It will be the final game in the very long Avernum series. I'm pretty excited about it. Its story is cool.

There is something very liberating about writing the last game in a series. First, you won't have to write any more. Second, you get to totally trash the place. Of course, it leaves me with the terrifying prospect of writing a whole new series. But, after Geneforge FIVE and Avernum SIX, I'm desperate.

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I Want To Play Awesome, Fun People Full Of Awesomeness

I had one of those gaming epiphanies the other day. I get them every so often, but I can usually lie down in a dark room with a wet washcloth on my head and make them go away. But not this time.

Here's what I decided. I don't mind if a game like Final Fantasy or Grand Theft Auto gives me a fixed character and tells me my story without letting me choose anything important about it. I'm cool with that. I can still have a lot of fun. But ...

I will no longer play any game that makes my character an insufferable, fun-hating prig.

This first started getting on my nerves with Grand Theft Auto 4. In this series, you're supposed to be this crazy criminal dude running around and doing wild, crazy things, right? Total adolescent power fantasy stuff, right? Well, instead, you play Niko Bellic, a tormented Serb with a dark past whose issues have issues. He's a grim guy. He hangs out with his cousin Roman, who is obsessed with drinking, gambling and strip clubs. And trying to not get too bogged down in his cousin's freaky drama.

After about 20 hours, I realized that I wished I was playing Roman. He had more fun.

Then the first downloadable content for GTA 4 came out. The Lost and the Damned. It's about biker gangs, so that's gonna get crazy, right? Well, your character is the responsible, business-oriented, goal-focused member of the gang, constantly berating your wild, devil-may-care superior. I instantly loathed myself.

Last week, I tried out Lost Odyssey, a huge RPG for the XBox. It's a gorgeous game, really pretty and high budget. But you play this (wait for it) grim, tormented immortal who never smiles or has fun or does anything to lighten up his joyless trudge through eternity. And, early on, you meet this immortal girl, and she's really hot and she wears shirts with no backs and flirts with you. And what's just about the first thing you try to do?

Punch her.

Seriously. She pokes fun at you and you take a swing at her and she jumps away. And what the hell? I want to spend 40 hours maneuvering this douchebag? It seemed like a neat game, but I'm sick of playing games where I hate the dude who's always in the middle of the screen.

Know what game I loved? Final Fantasy X. (Warning. Spoilers for a 75 year old game ahead.) In it, you play Tidus, who is a SPORTS STAR who gets to make time with HOT, MYSTICAL BABES, and who loves to laugh. And sure, you eventually turn out to not exist and dissolve, but sometimes that's the price you gotta' pay to have a good time, amirite?

(If you watch the video I linked to above, the awesomeness starts at 2:00.)

So there. That's my pet peeve. I have enough self-loathing in my regular life, without loathing my imaginary self too. I have two small kids. Jesus, let me have fun SOMEWHERE.

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