On Zero-Player Games | De minimis non curat Lex

On Zero-Player Games

15 May, 2026

As part of my experiments in the zero-player space, I've compiled the following thoughts and observations. I intend them as field notes for those who wish to follow me into the under-explored and under-theorized world of zero-player games. Lumped together like this, they're somewhere between an inquiry and a manifesto: staking out (according to my tastes and judgment, anyway) what a zero-player game is, what it involves, and what its poetics might be.

Note

I initially aimed to assemble a book proposal on this topic – and may yet – but, in the spirit of building a critical commons, I figured it's best to release what I have written so far as a public blog post. Please contest anything I say here! I'd appreciate the opportunity to calibrate or hone my arguments.

Contents

Introduction

Zero-Player Experiences

Consistent Threads Among the Aforementioned Zero-Player Experiences

Splitting Some Hairs: Existing Terms, Definitions, and Descriptions for Zero-Player Games and Where They Err

Zero-Player Phenomenology

Zero-Player Design

Modern Examples of Zero-Player (or Zero-Player-Adjacent) Games

Notes

Introduction<br>If you have been following my game dev doings on Itch or in general, you may have noticed that I released a few zero-player games this year:

EscarGoGoGo!!, a snail racing simulator.

Wunderball, a cartoonish Russian roulette showdown.

Vinequish, a digital greenhouse and procgen plant plaything. (Which I am hoping to submit to Game Poems, so am keeping it under wraps until then.)

Fly Fight, a previous project where I went back and added an optional zero-player mode.

I developed the first of these for a game jam, in which one of the selectable themes ("enemy-controller") inspired me to try making a controller-free game (i.e., where the controller is treated as an enemy). But, to be honest, I also made the game for myself, in order to meet a personal need that games were not fulfilling.

At the time, I had felt rather burned out with playing games. They didn't help me unwind (from work, from the march of fascism and climate change, from my own perfectionist tendencies, etc.), and playing them felt neither rewarding nor relaxing. I wasn't looking for escapism, exactly – I merely wanted an activity that would let the tensest parts of my brain disengage while still providing enough novelty to hold my interest.

The dictum in the epilogue of Jane Friedhoff's Games, Play, and Joy was something I'd long ago taken to heart: "[W]hat is the experience people like you need now?" I therefore decided to create a form of randomized entertainment that I could tune in to instead of play, like a television program or live sporting event. I sought a game where I could watch the action unfold while remaining unable to predict what would happen, and be pleasantly surprised by the outcomes – along with the narratives and drama that emerged. Since questions of "success" or "failure" or "ability" never figured into the proceedings, there was no pressure or frustration involved. The approach struck the balance between relaxing and engaging that I was after.

Hence, my fascination with zero-player games took root.

In the meantime, these weird little zero-player endeavors have enjoyed a rather warm reception. People who try them have consistently responded along the lines of "What the fuck is this?" followed by "Huh, I like it!" Their reactions – which are not unlike Ted Berrigan's reply to Aram Saroyan's minimalist poetry – lead me to believe that zero-player games represent a worthwhile creative niche.

I now code such games whenever I have a suitable idea for one – and I am always on the lookout for moments and experiences that conjure a zero-player mindset.

Zero-Player Experiences<br>The following common life experiences, by my reckoning, capture the zero-player essence:

Hoping the bouncing DVD logo will hit the corner.

Observing the Windows 95 3D maze screensaver.

Watching leaves race down a stream.

Anticipating when or whether automobile turn signals will synchronize.

Predicting when a drop of water will form or fall from a faucet.

Tracking an insect's progress along a wall or ceiling.

Waiting for a campfire flame to consume a certain part of a log or branch.

Guessing which bird will remain longest at the feeder.

Predicting which raindrop will slide all the way down the window or windshield first.

Watching other people play games that you yourself do not (i.e., the "Let's Play" phenomenon).

Spectating at any kind of sporting event, at any level.

Consistent Threads Among the Aforementioned Zero-Player Experiences<br>What do those experiences have in common? Isolating their shared qualities furnishes a starting point for determining what constitutes a zero-player game.

To that end, I venture that the aforementioned zero-player experiences all possess the following properties:

No player input : There is nothing that...