Why Tom Sawyer's Island Rocks
At first glance, when you compare Tom Sawyer's island to the other attractions at Disneyland it seems kind of boring. There isn't a ride to ride on, or amazing animatronics, or music, or even any normal playground equipment. It's just some paths through the woods, a few caves to explore, a treehouse, and a fort. All very low-tech and low-key.
It's my seven-year-old son's favorite part of Disneyland.
What's going on here?
Nothing at Disneyland happens by accident. Particularly not TSI, which is the only attraction in the entire park that was designed by Disney himself. TSI isn't poky by accident, it's poky by design. And, if my son is any indication, it's a design that works really, really well.
When trying to understand why a design works or doesn't work it's often useful to put yourself in the original designer's shoes and try to imagine what you would do in his situation.
The most important question we can ask about Disney's concept for TSI is: Why didn't he make it a ride? It's easy to imagine an alternate reality version of TSI that would be something like Pirates of the Caribbean. Guests would board river rafts and drift through scenes from the books. There would be animatronic versions of Injun Joe and Huck and Jim. The thing practically designs itself.
So why didn't Disney do it that way?
The answer I think, is wildness. The Tom Sawyer books are infused with a feeling of wildness and freedom, particularly when Twain writes about Huck. They're part of a deep current in American culture that values authenticity and nature over the forces of civilization and sophistication. It's the force behind western movies and rock 'n roll and American ideas of what it means to be a man.
The genius of TSI is that instead of telling kids a story about wildness, it just encourages kids to run wild.
It starts from the moment they board the raft to get there. It's an island. There's only one way on and one way off. Unlike in the rest of the park, parents don't have to worry about kids getting lost, which means that they can relax and let them off the leash. It's the one part of Disneyland that little kids can experience on their own.
Second, it's packed with secrets. Random exploration is encouraged and rewarded. Poke around in the caves and you'll find a cavern with hidden treasure. Climb to the top of the fort and you'll find a spyglass that shows a burning cabin. The island itself isn't that big but it feels like its filled with mystery and adventure.
Third, it's a wonderful stage. It doesn't impose any particular narrative on your explorations, but provides lots of hints at fun stories to tell yourself. There are places to hide, places to defend, places where you can pretend you're driving a car or a ship, places where you can pretend you're climbing a mountain.
And finally, it has terrific flow. This is something that I've become very sensitive to from desgining shooter levels. Paths on TSI always lead somewhere. You never hit a dead end or a dull spot. Sightlines are long enough that you don't get lost, but short enough that you always have new vistas opening in front of you. There are plenty of landmarks to keep you oriented, but plenty of inbetween space as well so that when you get to a landmark like the treehouse you feel like you've arrived at a place.
(The only other real-world space that I've ever been in that come close to TSI as a good shooter level is the new Getty Museum in LA. Man, I'd love to have an afterhours paintball game there ... .)
I think ultimately the thing that impresses me so much about TSI is that it does such an incredible job of structuring the visitor's experience while still providing him with complete freedom of movement. It's a beautiful example of good freeform level design.
It's my seven-year-old son's favorite part of Disneyland.
What's going on here?
Nothing at Disneyland happens by accident. Particularly not TSI, which is the only attraction in the entire park that was designed by Disney himself. TSI isn't poky by accident, it's poky by design. And, if my son is any indication, it's a design that works really, really well.
When trying to understand why a design works or doesn't work it's often useful to put yourself in the original designer's shoes and try to imagine what you would do in his situation.
The most important question we can ask about Disney's concept for TSI is: Why didn't he make it a ride? It's easy to imagine an alternate reality version of TSI that would be something like Pirates of the Caribbean. Guests would board river rafts and drift through scenes from the books. There would be animatronic versions of Injun Joe and Huck and Jim. The thing practically designs itself.
So why didn't Disney do it that way?
The answer I think, is wildness. The Tom Sawyer books are infused with a feeling of wildness and freedom, particularly when Twain writes about Huck. They're part of a deep current in American culture that values authenticity and nature over the forces of civilization and sophistication. It's the force behind western movies and rock 'n roll and American ideas of what it means to be a man.
The genius of TSI is that instead of telling kids a story about wildness, it just encourages kids to run wild.
It starts from the moment they board the raft to get there. It's an island. There's only one way on and one way off. Unlike in the rest of the park, parents don't have to worry about kids getting lost, which means that they can relax and let them off the leash. It's the one part of Disneyland that little kids can experience on their own.
Second, it's packed with secrets. Random exploration is encouraged and rewarded. Poke around in the caves and you'll find a cavern with hidden treasure. Climb to the top of the fort and you'll find a spyglass that shows a burning cabin. The island itself isn't that big but it feels like its filled with mystery and adventure.
Third, it's a wonderful stage. It doesn't impose any particular narrative on your explorations, but provides lots of hints at fun stories to tell yourself. There are places to hide, places to defend, places where you can pretend you're driving a car or a ship, places where you can pretend you're climbing a mountain.
And finally, it has terrific flow. This is something that I've become very sensitive to from desgining shooter levels. Paths on TSI always lead somewhere. You never hit a dead end or a dull spot. Sightlines are long enough that you don't get lost, but short enough that you always have new vistas opening in front of you. There are plenty of landmarks to keep you oriented, but plenty of inbetween space as well so that when you get to a landmark like the treehouse you feel like you've arrived at a place.
(The only other real-world space that I've ever been in that come close to TSI as a good shooter level is the new Getty Museum in LA. Man, I'd love to have an afterhours paintball game there ... .)
I think ultimately the thing that impresses me so much about TSI is that it does such an incredible job of structuring the visitor's experience while still providing him with complete freedom of movement. It's a beautiful example of good freeform level design.
posted by Brian Upton at 10:41 AM
1 Comments:
Good grief -- no comments on this post? I know it was a few years back, but I really appreciated this analysis, Brian. This is clear real-world example of design that engaged my inner designer.
I'm still enjoying fiddling with design and storytelling in my D&D games. I've spent the better part of the past two years in NY and haven't been running a D&D game but I spend a lot of time thinking about design for my next gameworld and how to make it work in all the ways that a good game and good story should. This post and the one describing the flaws of TSI connected some dots for me in my thinking. Thanks!
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