I was first introduced to Finite and Infinite Games in 2016, a book by James P. Carse, who was a Professor of History and Literature of Religion at NYU. At the time, its influence was cited by Chinese tech entrepreneurs like Wang Xing, founder of Meituan, and Kevin Kelly, cofounder of Wired magazine and author of Out of Control. Lately, I started this book out of curiosity to rethink the familiar concept of gameplay in everyday life.
01 Boundary differentiates finite and infinite games
As the title suggests, Carse argues that there are two types of game in the world: finite and infinite games. Finite game is played for the purpose of winning, with an agreed winner and an end, whereas an infinite game is played for the purpose of continuing the play.
To play a finite game, players must agree to a set of externally defined spatial and numerical boundaries. For example, a game is played in that place, with those people. Each game is defined by its rules, or its range of limitations on the players, which allow considerable room for choice within those restraints and by which the players can agree who has won.
On the contrary, an infinite game does not have such boundaries. The rules of an infinite game evolve to prevent anyone from winning the game and to bring as many people as possible into the play. This resembles the mechanics of open-world games like Minecraft and The Legend of Zelda, where players can freely choose how to approach the game without the traditional linear structure. In short, finite players play within boundaries; infinite players play with boundaries.
Emotionally, it’s interesting to note that finite game feels serious because of the competitive nature of the zero-sum game, whereas infinite game comes with laughter and feels like play because new possibilities are continuously discovered to be explored with other players.
02 Power through title is won in a finite game
In a finite game, what one wins is a title. When a person is known by title, the attention is on a completed past and may take a person out of play. On the other hand, infinite players are only known by their names and the attention of others is open to the possibility of their future interactions. This is a gentle reminder to focus on the concrete, specific person, instead of the abstract titles.
Carse argues that titles are theatrical, where each title has a specified ceremonial form of behavior. This reminds me of a common improv acting technique to assign titles to your partner to shape the relationship in the narrative. For example, using titles such Captain, Mrs., Professor, Comrade, Father, Secretary signals the mode (e.g. appropriate respect), the content (e.g. only certain subjects are suitable for discussion with the District Attorney), and the manner (e.g. shaking hands, bowing, averting the eyes) of address.
Unsurprisingly, titles also conveyed power. Power can only be measured in relation to others and is determined by the amount of resistance one can displace within spatial and temporal limits. Those around them are expected to withdraw their opposition and conform to their will in the area (i.e. the game) the title was won. Validity of these titles depends on the repeatability of the game.
The finite player plays to be powerful, whereas the infinite player plays with self-sufficient strength. Power refers to the freedom people have within limits, strength is the freedom people have with limits. Strength is allowing others to do what they wish in the course of my play with them, whereas power is considering how much resistance can I overcome relative to others.
Carse further argues that society is a finite game whereas culture is an infinite game. A society preserves its memory of past winners with record-keeping functions like large bureaucracies to maintain social order. Culture, on the other hand, has no boundaries and anyone can participate and shape. Cultural deviation does not return us to the past, but continues what had begun and not finished in the past. In contrast, social convention requires that a completed past be repeated in the future.
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03 Storytelling can be seen as an infinite game
Storytelling can be seen as an infinite game. A good story presents a vision that moves and inspires you with its underlying belief. The interactive and engaging elements of storytelling is what truly connects the speaker and the listener. The end of a compelling story is the new beginning of the listener’s imagination and reflection on their own journey, which is similar to how an infinite game continues the play without true ending.
When comparing storytelling with explanation, Carse argues that explanation settles issues, showing that matters should reasonably end as they have. Narrative raises issues and inspires reflections in others. In this case, explanation sets the need for further inquiry aside, whereas narrative invites us to rethink what we thought we knew. I see where Carse’s argument is coming from, but am not convinced that explanation is a finite game in this sense.
The concept of explanation actually makes me think of its inherent role in interpreting and predicting the future. If the rules governing past events can be discovered and explained, we can make better prediction about the future. This captures an important philosophy of user experience research as a discipline: if we can understand the motivation that guides human behaviors and perceptions, we can meaningfully derive aggregate patterns of human needs to inform investments for the future. Investing in research is a way to play the infinite game, where the focus is to co-create a long-term vision on the horizon. The more insightful framework we have to understand a problem space based on existing behaviors, the better we can predict and build for the future. In this example, explanation is also an infinite game that opens up new possibilities.
04 Garden is an infinite game, while machine isn’t
Carse further extends the finite and infinite games framework to the machine and garden analogy. Think of a gardener who uses machine as a tool to help with gardening. Machine is a finite game because it is operated to complete a task. When it is most effective, the tool becomes invisible and eliminates itself because the effort is minimal. Garden, on the other hand, is a place of growth and maximized spontaneity. “To garden is to design a culture capable of adjusting to the widest possible range of surprise in nature.”
Machinery can exist in the garden quite as finite games can be played within an infinite game. Technology is a tool that helps with gardening as a means to an end, not the end itself. The question is not one of restricting machines from the garden but asking whether a machine serves the interest of the garden.
Additionally, the relationship between the machine and its operator is very much like how humans interact with technology today. We often think of a machine as a tool—the extended arms and legs of the operator. However, Carse suggested that “to use the machine for control is to be controlled by the machine.” For example, when using a search engine, many start with a broad query then gradually refine and add keywords as they review the result. This is not how we naturally talk to others when we look for things. Search engines are designed to help look up information today as a tool, but we as operators are also trained to interact with it in such specific ways.
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05 Celebrate spontaneity and forgo control
In the garden analogy, gardeners celebrate variety and spontaneity, which may seem chaotic and out of control on the flip side. But vitality comes from an abundance of styles and sources of change. Gardeners are acutely attentive to the deep patterns of natural order, while having the freedom to choose how to play with nature and its force.
If we play the finite game, the more power we exercise over nature, the more powerless we become before it. In a matter of months we can cut down a rainforest that took tens of thousands of years to grow, but we are helpless in repulsing the desert that takes its place. The human desire to control and organize chaos means transforming the remote into the familiar. When we attempt to take control of nature, we’re essentially reducing an unpredictable vitality to a predictable mass. Sometimes, the desire for control, just like the need to declare war, is a way for us to re-identify ourselves.
Ultimately, Carse gently nudges us to rethink the type of game we are playing. When it comes to interacting with other humans or with nature, it’s easy to go straight to playing the finite game, so we can gain the immediate reward quicker. Carse reminds us to think about the trade-offs behind these finite games and whether they truly serve the interest of the garden—the infinite game—that we are working towards.