Fun Things are Fun: Exploring the Games & Life of Karl Rohnke

That’s me jumping into a pond in Vermont in February. There was supposedly a costume contest, but only Bryan Vitale and I dressed up. We won.

The gentleman right below me is Karl Rohnke. This was one of the many times we met, and it happened to be the day he officially retired.

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The first time I encountered permadeath was standing in a parking lot with 400 people. I was assisting an adventure education facilitator along with a couple of friends. At the time, I thought I was the master at group facilitation and knew a couple dozen go-to games for large groups. However, this was my first foray into a world I didn't know existed.

Commonly miscategorized as “team-building” exercises, adventure education is an engaging and valuable set of activities and behaviors that enhance physical education and promote character development and group cohesion. Like all successful things, adventure education has a range of qualities, with the stereotypical image being the least successful—a bunch of corny, feel-good non-games followed by a stirring rendition of Kumbaya. The reason that image exists is that the movement was very successful - and that meant that many institutions, including the YMCA I worked for, threw a ton of money at building a ropes course and buying various bizarre props that only work for specific games. The money was also spent to train one or two facilitators at a location, with the idea that they too would be able to train others - and continue learning about new games and participating in the larger community.

As you can expect, over time, ropes courses and the props outlasted the facilitators and the institutional knowledge about how to run an adventure program properly. The institutions would still need to legitimize the investment, so adventure programs would continue with whoever was available—and that’s why, on a chilly October morning, I was standing in a parking lot with 400 middle school students and teachers.

The game was simple. We used this fantastic, retired climbing rope as a jump rope. The goal was to get the entire group from one side to the other. The rules were: Only one player may enter the rope at a time; each player can only jump once (and has to jump once); and once the group started, they were not allowed to miss a single beat of the rope—that is to say, the stream of jumpers could not be broken. Oh, and most importantly, if any player messes up in any way, including touching the rope, the game is over.

Yes, we were playing 400-player Flappy Bird.

As facilitators, we were brutal. About a half-hour into many, many attempts, some of the students and teachers were just about ready to murder us. Then, a breakthrough—a new organizational technique- got over half of the group through. Then more the next time. Positive momentum took over. Within 15 minutes, they did it—400 people through perfectly. There was a huge celebration.

It’s hard to forget a moment like that as a new facilitator. My games didn’t create that stress and release. They were never so daring to have such an intense fail rate. My games were light. And fun. And, it turns out, dull.

As a buildup to this fantastic moment, there were a handful of games I had never played before: Tank, Asteroids & Anklebiters, and Star Wars. All different and unique. I was determined to learn them all and become a master. And it turned out that almost everything I encountered came from one author.

Karl Rohnke was a pioneer in gaming. Humble and unknown to most, his contributions to experiential education have and continue to echo through the hallways of schools and camps worldwide. Karl never played a video game, knew little about Kickstarter, and had no cell phone. When I told him about the modern gaming scene, it took a couple of tries to get him to see what I see—to get him to realize the world that he helped open up, the world we are standing in now.

Outward Bound is an independent outdoor education organization that has been serving challenging physical adventures since the 1940s. In the 1960s, Karl became a facilitator within the organization. His energy and spirit were notable. His ability to motivate groups and willingness to work with even the most demanding visitors made him a legend.

A small group of former Outward Bound employees, including Karl, founded Project Adventure in the early 1970s. The goal of the new non-profit was to expand the learning principles of Outward Bound into schools and push the limits of experiential education. Karl was one of the two facilitators, basically the guy who focused on fun (a recurring theme in his work). He spent over 20 years with the organization, where he authored dozens of books and manuals and helped spread Project Adventure to hundreds, if not thousands, of schools worldwide.

In the 90s, he helped found High Five Adventures, a small adventure education firm that has worked with thousands, from the Boston Bruins to the Alaska National Guard. They also host an annual winter symposium for adventure educators, at which I met Karl for the first time (it was also his retirement farewell).

Karl was the king of fun. Or the Godfather of fun. Or something similar. His mastery of molding game mechanics is apparent from the moment he starts talking. He was not a theorist or a researcher, however. A lot of his work was isolated from the poking and prodding of scholars looking to reproduce or explain his success.

That’s worth explaining.

When Karl went to Project Adventure, he was not tasked with proving that he was right - there was someone on staff whose entire purpose was to feed the grant with research. Karl didn’t pay any of that much mind. He knew the kids and groups he worked with were having a good time. He was there in place of physical education. Kids flocked to his period - even when they weren’t supposed to (they were called the J-Birds). He had incredible participation numbers and was constantly pushing the envelope in the context of the experience, whether using crazy props or standing in two feet of snow. He had the freedom to explore and enough confidence in his actions that he didn’t need to stop as long as no one gave him a hard time.

And no one ever did.

In essence, he wanted groups to have fun and get along. That was his goal. There were other structures around him, but he was focused. As long as they are having fun, the job is done.

Karl’s half-century of game creation is vital. He left a massive body of work, documenting hundreds of live-action games and modifications of games through a dozen or so books. These collections are standards in the world of education, meaning that many people reading these words have played a Rohnke game before—or, more specifically, a game that Karl inspired.? This work includes games with many props (or no props), group sizes spanning 1 to 200, and goals from light group starters to heavy trust builders. And that is just the game part of his tome. Karl was also responsible for most of the high and low rope elements found on adventure courses today and the activities surrounding them. If you’ve ever attempted the Heebie Jeebie or Pamper Pole, you know what I’m talking about.

One trick Karl used frequently was holding a person or group’s preconceived notions about their ability against them. We can call this deception - but the good kind. Everyone has experienced this in video games: you look at a level and decide there is no possible way to get through. Think Super Meat Boy. Then, gradually, you can solve the puzzle - to create the muscle memory to succeed.

Imagine a 4 x 4 square platform sitting in the world about 6 inches off the ground. The game is All Aboard. You and 19 other people need to stand on that and sing Row Row Row Your Boat. There are no loopholes, no tricks. There’s no secret exploit. It’s just a significant challenge that appears impossible, becomes improbable, and then is solved.

Note - Inspired by Karl after a High Five event, I invented a low-ropes element called the Snake Ladder. The group had to maintain physical contact while weaving above and below each rung of a horizontal rope ladder. It was challenging but effective!

This style of play comes from a bond between the facilitator and the group. If a challenge appears impossible, what’s the point in trying? A skilled facilitator will take the group to a place of trust, getting them to look past hesitation and embrace the impossible.

Karl’s facilitation style was unmatched. I would love to liken myself to him on many levels: I ran experiential education programs. I was very successful at getting 400 people to attempt the impossible. However, my height and booming voice give me a distinct advantage—so much so that I'm always called out in my years of training people how to run games.

“It’s unfair, I’m told. I’m not as loud as you.”

Karl wasn’t a loud person. He rarely shouted, let alone had to. He is tallish and skinny but never grabbed the room in the same “pay attention to me” way that I constantly rely on. Instead, his work was fluid. He brought you along on a journey. Everyone was a member of the facilitation team. He quietly invited every participant into his world but allowed everyone to join at their pace.

Note - Bryan and I saw Karl facilitate multiple times, but one standout performance was between sessions at the American Camping Association’s conference. He had a massive crowd in a relatively noisy hotel hallway, all falling over themselves to hear his next direction. It was magical.

Perhaps you’ve heard the saying, “Challenge by choice.” Karl coined that phrase. It responded to everything else in a student’s life - “Participate because I say so.” Challenge by Choice means that you can opt in at any time. And it’s kind of brilliant. The facilitator empowers you to play along… and more often than not, you do.

Karl would start like a magician: "Let me show you something small, something silly, something interesting. Let me show you something that will pique your curiosity." That little something would get everyone involved—because everyone is curious. Once the group is hooked, they’re in. That doesn’t mean the job is done—it just means they’re willing to listen to and play the next game. And then again. And then again.

Karl’s style was one of sequencing and building. He was like an incredible DJ, building toward a climax—except the participants ultimately helped make the music.

He motivated people to become participants. He shared new games and encouraged them to do things they would never do—pushing through sly suggestions. A session would start with the least motivated group that could never “not look cool” and end up dancing around like chickens. That’s just the kind of work he performed.

These games were not just about simple participation. The audience were co-facilitators - partners in crime. The group would leave with a shared understanding of the rules and the capability to teach others. And that would be encouraged. When you were with Karl, he let you know his process - he wanted you to learn his tricks. There was no secret to facilitation - it’s all transparent in purpose:

“This game will get you talking to one another.”

“This game is about trust.”

For many, this style was empowering. He wanted you to take the games and make them yours. Nothing was “his.” He even advised mods, “When you play this with others, maybe try it this way…”

Read Quicksilver, authored by Karl Rohnke and Steve Butler. Right now.

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You’ll immediately discover just what I mean about Karl’s teaching style. The book isn’t simply a list of games with rules and variations—it’s a guide to leading and facilitating. He wants everyone to become an excellent debriefer and understand why certain games work and others don’t. He tried to inspire educators to become experts in following through and creating a safe place for processing and discussion.

This inspires experimentation, exploration, and game creation. Some of us may have a hard time remembering (or imagining) a time when game creation wasn’t even a conversation - but that was the world he lived in… No one thought there was a better version of tag - or even challenged the already established conventions of schoolyard play. Karl challenged the rules and threw them away if they interfered. Working with Karl was an exercise in game modding. He explained the gameplay in such a way that it raised questions:?

“Should it be this way?”

“Should we use a ball or a rubber chicken?”

Sometimes, he introduced a mechanic—he isolated a moment of delight and then asked the group how to make that into a game. It’s a constant collaboration that continues from group to group. He acted as the breadcrumb trail of game development—a stream flowing for a long time. Groups leave with permission to design their games. They are taught a process by which they, too, can create fun experiences. They take the games they’ve learned and mod them. They find moments of delight and build games around them.

Imagine that. All of these indie game developers, long before Unity and Unreal. All were creating new ways to interact in large groups.

What is the process?

I asked Karl for his rules for making a game. Here’s what I got:

1. Drink two cups of coffee before entering the sauna (alone), then center your thoughts on what you need to create (game, ropes course element, initiative problem).

2. You are not creating the game for a pat on the back; leave your ego at home.

Great advice, although not necessarily for everyone - in New York, empty saunas are hard to come by… Maybe if I lived in Finland?

Note - I spent a week in Finland and have yet to invite anyone to a sauna. I feel ripped off.

I believe there are three keys to Karl’s success - at least at first, and three rules for creating new games (that don’t necessarily involve a sauna).

Key #1 - The Freedom to Explore

Karl was never given restrictions on what he could do. He was given a high-level task (get everyone to have fun). Something is fantastic about that. When have we ever been given an open invitation?

Key #2 - The Time to Experiment, Iterate & Improve

Karl had as much time as he wanted and used that time to improve his games. There was never a hard deadline—anything and everything was constantly in flux.

Key #3 - The Constant Stream of Active Participants

Karl was competing with traditional physical education classes at a time when the negative stereotypes of medicine balls and dodgeballs were at their height. The audience loved any alternative, and it just so happened that his alternative was dripping with fun.

One morning, Karl decided he wanted to go hang gliding. He asked the head of Project Adventure for a hang gliding kit and spent two weeks in class assembling it with the students, learning about aerodynamics and construction along the way. Then, they went down to the beach and used it while jumping off dunes.

That’s pretty awesome. Maybe I should get a hang gliding kit.

These keys are all just “right place / right time,” as we have deadlines, strict clients, and bills to pay. Or maybe we do. I told Karl that I make games—mainly live-action games. Some of these games are played at festivals, and many cost a bundle to put on.

He said, "You’ll never make money that way."

I know.

Karl knew his work had a purpose—something worthwhile to sustain a business or two. That is to say, he was intentional. Although I’m portraying the work as free and loose, that was merely his style. There was change. More people participated. People left having new, unique experiences. Daily, players challenged themselves and, through those challenges, made measurable leaps in character development.

The purpose of this work, according to his book Cowtails & Cobras:

To increase the participant’s sense of personal confidence

To increase mutual support within a group

To develop an increased level of agility and physical coordination

To develop an increased joy in one’s physical self and in being with others

To develop an increased familiarity and identification with the natural world

He was part of a revolution in outdoor education - at the center of that movement. His fluid style allowed exploration and discovery, but he was well aware of what he was doing. So perhaps it wasn’t simply the right place at the right time. Those ingredients helped fuel a man with few peers in his facilitator and creator skills.

Here are three pieces of advice I imagine Karl would give to game creators:

1. Use what you’ve got.

2. Don’t get in the way of fun.

3. No game is ever finished.

Use what you’ve got

Karl didn’t necessarily plan what would happen in class - he looked around for inspiration.

The basket at the bottom of the ski poles kept falling off. The piece looked like a Frisbee. Instead of throwing them away, he threw them at the students! They responded by playing a keep-away-like game, and Asteroids & Anklebiters was born—in its most primitive form.

Don’t get in the way of fun

Karl watched the players and helped push them in the right direction, but he didn’t stop them. Some groups like to play outside the boundaries—does that mean that group suffers? Or should we remove the boundaries?

No game is ever finished

Everyone probably knows that—except we experience it through DLC and constant updates. Karl let games evolve with the groups—he let the context dictate the exact flavor of the rules. And the successful games live on—Asteroids & Anklebiters is a viral and widespread game, though nothing resembling?Keep Away?with Ski Pole Baskets.

It’s worth experiencing these games because fun things are fun. Many will say that field games are not video games, not board games. Sure, there are differences, but at the end of the day, fun things are fun—and there are probably only a few truly fun things. We remix this handful of things in millions of different ways, sometimes digitally, sometimes not.

Karl was a master remixer who shouldn’t be ignored because of the lack of digital content.

Some folks know how great it feels when 400 people do the impossible in the real world. When that happens, it’s electric. Every day, over 350,000 more humans are on the planet, and here we are, making games that bury us in our palms or collaborating through wires.

The future of play is not sitting alone in a room wearing a helmet. It involves eye contact—and high fives.

I’m not suggesting a non-digital future, but a world where the best games include eye contact with strangers and tagging and transforming reality into a shared magic circle for positive social interactions. The indie world is amazing on screens, but that’s only halfway there. When you play a game with a dozen people or a hundred people in the same space, genuine people you can see, smell, and hear, that takes a simple game session to a new place. A place where the impossible becomes improbable… and we all become human.

From Cowtails & Cobras:

“The course and the risks involved are in many ways uncompromising. For students, the experience is both stressful and joyous. Ideally, as they dare to try, they begin to experience physical success and recognize that the seemingly difficult is often quite possible. Their struggles are often the beginnings of maturity which we believe entails, in part, having real experience with a wide range of natural human reactions - fear, joy, fatigue, compassion, laughter, pain, and love.”