It is quite natural that we should tend to conceive music as lying within the sphere of play […]. Making music bears at the outset all the formal characteristics of play proper: the activity begins and ends within strict limits of time and place, is repeatable, consists essentially in order, rhythm, alternation, transports audience and performers alike out of "ordinary" life into a sphere of gladness and serenity, which makes even sad music a lofty pleasure. In other words, it "enchants" and "enraptures" them. In itself it would be perfectly understandable, therefore, to comprise all music under the heading of play.
A manual wargame demands that the players understand far more of the designer’s intention and work, through the simple fact that they must work harder to make sense of it, through reading and interpreting the rules, shuffling the cards, moving the bits and rolling the dice. I believe the very tactility, the fact of physical engagement with the game and its components, promotes a different understanding and processing of the information the game offers.
For every 100 game ideas I have, maybe 10 of them make it to the prototype stage, and only 1 of them ends up being a game I actually pursue. It’s just part of the process—sometimes it’s good to know that something just isn’t all that compelling so I feel good spending my time elsewhere.
I like to think about my board game purchases in terms of more than "how much plastic, wood, and cardboard did I get for X dollars?" I'm paying for the passion, talent, and experience that informed every aspect of the design. I'm paying for the idea. I'm paying for the experience.
If you’re playing a game with a theme, you have to feel it in the gameplay. You should be presented with the same problems and situations as those who experienced that theme first-hand. In addition, you’ll very often come up with mechanics that you otherwise would never have thought of.