Shaping Thought | 2419

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Shaping Thought

Do you know about micro mouse competitions? Teams build robotic mice to solve a 16×16 maze as fast as possible.

While the competition has been around since the 1970s, the concept of a maze-solving mouse dates back to 1950.  

Invented by Claude Shannon, the father of information theory, the Theseus mouse—a mechanical object—would, through trial and error, learn the shortest path through a maze.This invention wasn’t just a curiosity; it was the first artificial learning device of its kind, inspiring an entire field of artificial intelligence.

This episode isn’t about mazes per se, but I lead with this idea because Shannon said something profound: it’s the maze that solves the mouse. Not the other way around. This notion is crucial because it applies to any techno-social system. The environments we interact with—whether digital, physical, or cognitive—shape our actions and behavior more than we realize.

Philosopher C. Thi Nguyen, in his book Games, argues that agency is the primary medium of any interactive media.

The ‘art’ of game design, then, is ultimately – the poetic manipulation of agency.

If we combine this idea with Shannon’s notion that the puzzle that solves the player, we arrive at a key concern of the world runner. The construction and maintenance of cognitive architectures in worlds of all kinds. 

Let’s start with a simple type of puzzle that requires thought rather than movement: Sudoku. The rules are straightforward—complete a 9×9 grid with the numbers 1–9, ensuring no repetition in any row, column, or 3×3 box. Because there is only one correct number for each square, your agency within the Sudoku world is very limited. As you fill in the numbers correctly, the puzzle essentially ‘solves’ you. Guiding your actions almost mechanically toward the solution.

A similar but more complex example is a crossword puzzle. The rules for a crossword are also strict: a grid of blank squares with words arranged horizontally and vertically, intersecting at common letters.  However, solving a crossword isn’t purely mechanical; it requires discovering the correct words based on clues provided. Agency is manipulated at a higher level of abstraction—you must think like the puzzle’s creator. To solve it, one has to re-shape their own thought process and model the mindset of the setter – who is often trying to mislead or challenge you.

At the other end of the spectrum are solo RPG journaling games—a topic I’ll be exploring in depth in issue 12 of Start Select Reset. A solo RPG journaling game is a narrative-driven role-playing game where a single player creates and explores a story by writing journal entries based on prompts, random events, or game mechanics. It’s a form of play that allows for deep personal reflection and creative expression.

In a SoloRPG, the game space is almost limitless, as the substrate is the unconscious mind of the player. Unlike Sudoku or crosswords, there’s very little mechanical manipulation. Instead, the game focuses on shaping the psychic environment of the player—their mindset.  

The designer seeks to influence the structure of thought. Manipulating the kinds of thoughts the player thinks while playing the game.

When we look at techno-social systems, whether it’s Sudoku, workplaces, train stations, social networks, or journaling games, they can generally be classified into one of two types: Contractive or Expansive.

Contractive & Expansive worlds

A contractive world is one where the level of agency decreases as the world unfolds. Every move or decision you make reduces possibility within the game space, bringing you closer to an end state or win condition. Crossword puzzles, chess, and airports are all examples of contractive worlds. Agency exercised reduces the number of available options, guiding you toward a specific outcome.

On the other hand the mechanics of expansive worlds allow for more possibilities to emerge as you interact with the system. Dungeons and Dragons, social networks, improvisation, online MMOs, and SoloRPGs are all examples. In these environments, the possible possibilities grow as the world unfolds.

The real world is expansive, but certain ‘worlds’ we move between inside it can be contractive. For instance, once you’ve entered the world of a train station, your possibilities contract until you get off the train at your destination.

Open Worlds

However, we must not confuse expansive worlds with open ones. Open world games like Fallout or Zelda give you a vast world to explore and interact with from the start. You can build things, create things, and so on. But as you explore the world, you encounter mechanisms that restrict your possibilities. As you complete quests and level up, the possibility space within the world contracts, propelling you toward the game’s win condition.

This is why open world games on completion dump you back out into the world before you started the final quest. The end of the game is the end of the world. The physics of a contractive world demand that if you fully explore its possibility space, it has solved you, so it ends.

Shaping Thought

We’ve come a long way from the maze solving the mouse, but it explains how we learn to navigate worlds and the cognitive frameworks we develop in them. It also raises ethical questions about world design. As the more expansive a world is, the more it relies on shaping the thoughts of those who inhabit it. The design of worlds, and the cognitive architectures they create, can profoundly influence how we think and act.

As Dame Marilyn Strathern wisely said “It matters what thoughts you think other thoughts with.”