Imagine a table of Spirit Island. New invaders have already appeared on the coast, and as you look at the powers in your hand, you realize you are not short on options—you are short on time to solve all the problems at once.
A friend says he can take care of one of the places. So you turn your attention to another stretch of land and start imagining what will happen next round.
This time, we are not explorers arriving by sea. The island is not a blank space waiting for humans to plant flags either. Players take on the role of spirits, trying to resist the invasion together with the Dahan on the island, so that this land can continue to be the world it originally was.
The person who put this perspective on the tabletop is designer R. Eric Reuss.
His story is not well suited to being simply written as someone suddenly coming up with a masterpiece on a certain day. What is more worth reading is how a long-time gamer discovered the gaps in the usual perspective, and how, amid daily life, prototype testing, and constantly changing creation, he tried to respond to the questions he himself raised.
I. From Long-Time Gamer to Someone Revising Prototypes in the Gaps of Life
In an interview with Elevation Games, Reuss recalled that he played board games from childhood, later encountered traditional games such as chess and trick-taking games, and during university came into contact with works by more different authors and publishers. Magic: The Gathering, RoboRally, and others also appear in his gaming history.
These names show us that he did not arrive at Spirit Island along only one genre. Card combinations, spatial relationships, and the changes brought by multiplayer action can all become entry points for a player to observe games.
However, liking many games and having the time to make one's own game are still two different things.
In the design Q&A on his personal website, he explains that for most of the initial design process of Spirit Island, he was a full-time stay-at-home father. As a freelance designer, his life rhythm was also affected by family arrangements.
This adds a very concrete weight to "independent creation." It is not only about having one's own ideas, but also about finding time slots that can work, preserving unresolved problems, and re-entering that world before returning to the prototype next time.
We do not need to fill in stories of him staying up late or being in hardship on his behalf, and we can still understand the ongoing difficulty. Children, housework, and creation do not naturally arrange themselves into a conflict-free schedule, yet a complex game requires a great deal of repeated adjustment.
In the Q&A, he mentions that he deals with paper-cutting tools more often than he had originally imagined, and that he also tends to prefer physical prototypes. For players, a beautifully made card is the finished form of the work; for a designer, the piece of paper just cut out today may need to be replaced tomorrow.
II. In the Familiar Exploration Story, Who Does Not Appear on the Map?
A 2017 Tabletop Gaming interview preview preserved an important starting point for him: when playing games with colonial themes, he noticed, where were the original inhabitants of those places? They had often already been abstracted away and did not enter the reality players needed to face.
The theme of resisting colonialism then connected with his earlier ideas about depth and simultaneous-action cooperative games.
This question is not just about reversing the victory conditions.
If the original game made you used to seeing land as a container of resources, then after changing perspective, you begin to care about actions that originally needed no explanation: who lives here, who has the right to decide its future, and why a new building means different things to different people?
These are questions we can raise when reading the theme. They do not mean that a board game can replace real history, nor do they mean that the fictional island corresponds to one specific ethnic group.
The more valuable change is that players begin to realize that the map does not have a naturally blank stance. Rules make certain things important, and they also make certain things less easy to see.
Reuss chose to place players on the other side of the conflict, and he designed different powers for the spirits. Thus, the land is no longer just the place where we act; it also becomes the way we understand the characters.
Why is a river good at a certain kind of action, and why does a certain power seem appropriate in a specific place? These questions connect abstract abilities with a being that has its own nature. You are not just holding an ability panel; you are also learning a different way of observing.
III. The Difficulty of Cooperation: Everyone Needs Something to Do
After the theme is established, the people at the table still need a game they can invest in repeatedly.
In the Elevation Games interview, Reuss explained his considerations in difficulty design: some cooperative games do not vary difficulty finely enough, and some only increase pressure along one axis. He hoped the challenge could both approach different players' levels and change strategy in different ways.
This makes difficulty no longer just a number meaning "stronger."
Suppose the same group of spirits faces a changed form of pressure. A coordination that was reliable enough last game may need to be rearranged this game. Players must observe what their abilities can do under the new conditions, and then discuss the gaps with their companions.
For cooperative games, this kind of change is important. We want to become skilled through experience, and we also hope that after becoming skilled there are still places that need to be understood anew. Otherwise, the next game easily becomes writing down last game's answer again.
Of course, change has costs. More rules, higher understanding cost, and relationships among abilities that are harder to see at a glance. We cannot assume that because a work has many choices, every table will naturally have a good cooperative experience.
From the designer's perspective, what really needs to be solved is: has the complexity bought meaningful judgment? When a player asks someone for help, does he bring his own observations, rather than just waiting for a unified answer?
The discussion we imagined at the beginning can then become an entry point for judgment. A friend solves one place, you take care of another, and each person's abilities connect with the situation; only then does cooperation have recognizable contributions.
IV. The Same Island Can Also Continue to Grow New Creative Directions
After Spirit Island, Reuss did not just keep packing the same answer into boxes over and over.
In the official project interview for Nature Incarnate, he talks about how the seeds of spirit creation may come from natural phenomena, mechanisms, play experience, elements, or worldbuilding. After one direction appears first, the other parts in turn influence it.
He also discusses the formation process of Incarna: the development team wanted more candidates with moderate complexity, an old design gained a new form after being reworked; the developers saw potential in it and pushed it to become a broader concept in the expansion. The interview mentions Ted and the development team's opinions, reminding us that these results came from collaborative work.
This is a detail very suitable for a creator story. Many things that players regard as distinctive features may not have occupied the center from the very beginning during production. Sometimes it is first a part of a candidate, until someone points out that it deserves to be seen.
Designers need to protect what they consider important, and they also need to recognize what others' feedback is pointing toward. Persistence and revision are not always two personalities that can be easily separated.
In another direction, Horizons of Spirit Island uses more economical components, retains the core gameplay, and provides another set of spirits; in the interview, Reuss also clearly states that it differs from the base game in content and supported player count.
We can understand it as another kind of creative question: when a work has already formed its own depth, how can more people find a way into it? Changing the entrance also requires carefully judging which experiences must remain.
For players, expansions and introductory products are different boxes; for creation, they are both asking what in the same world has not yet been fully expressed, and what the next table of people needs.
V. Keep the Questions for Yourself, Rather Than Declaring the Theme Complete
The perspective shift in Spirit Island is very clear, but Reuss did not therefore treat his design as having answered all questions.
In 2023, he publicly responded on his personal website to a player researching anti-colonial issues. The other person asked whether the invaders constantly change the situation while the Dahan can often only counterattack after being attacked, and whether this makes them seem too passive?
Reuss acknowledged that this is indeed a shortcoming of the game: especially the base game's presentation of the Dahan's actions, attitudes, and autonomy did not reach the level he hoped for. He also explained that the already high complexity in the early stage was an important background for the trade-offs at the time.
This response is worth reading together with the work.
A designer can provide an explanation for his choices at the time while still acknowledging that it did not do everything well. Understanding limitations does not mean that the results brought by those limitations are not worth discussing.
If our theme is to make beings that were originally overlooked visible again, then later discovering that other beings still do not have enough space—this discovery itself should enter creation, rather than being kept outside the promotional language.
In the article Showing my work, he also talks about how, as a non-Indigenous designer, he supports voices less heard in the industry, as well as Indigenous and environmental organizations. These are actions he has publicly described, and they do not need to be exaggerated into some kind of moral medal.
Putting them together with design reflection, one can see a continuous self-demand: since the work draws strength from real-world experience and history, creators should also be willing to hear the questions the real world raises about the work.
Looking back at this path—from long-time gamer, to making prototypes while caring for family, to continuously expanding and revising the same world—Reuss's pursuit is not to turn all questions into simple answers.
He makes an island a place that can continue to be thought about from different directions.
Imagine us putting this game away again. Next time we see a card that says "Explore," perhaps we will pause a little longer: on this map, besides our plans, whose lives are also here?
This question does not need to wait until the next game begins to be worth answering.
【chengcheng's Interactive Topic】
Is there a game that, because it changed the role you play, made you notice a blind spot in a familiar theme again? When playing cooperative games, do you enjoy precise division of labor more, or exploring new coordination together?
I am chengcheng, see you next time in Creator Story!
#CreatorStory #REricReuss #SpiritIsland #SpiritIsland #CooperativeGame
Sources and Further Reading: R. Eric Reuss's design Q&A and life arrangements Elevation Games interview with R. Eric Reuss 2017 creative starting point interview preview Nature Incarnate official project interview Reuss responds to the question of Dahan autonomy Reuss: Showing my work