Designing for Players Without Designing for Yourself

By Danny Gordon, Head of Studio, DEGEN Studios

There’s a dangerous assumption many of us make in this industry, particularly those of us who grew up gaming. We assume that because we’re players, we automatically know what players want.

On the surface, that sounds reasonable. Many studio founders and designers entered this space because they genuinely love games. But designing like a player isn’t the same as designing for players, and that distinction matters more than people realise.

I’ve been a gamer my whole life, not just in slots or casino products, but across video games in all forms. I still play, watch and get influenced by what’s happening in wider gaming culture. That perspective has value because it sharpens instinct and helps you understand what risk and reward feel like from the other side of the screen. 

If you design the game you personally want to play, you’ll probably love it. A small segment of players might love it too. But that’s not the same as building something that works for a defined audience at scale.

Game design has a way of correcting your ego quickly. You can feel certain you’ve built something exceptional, only to release it and players don’t respond. Perhaps they churn early or they don’t engage with the feature the way you expected. Maybe the mechanic you thought was genius doesn’t resonate.

The real challenge is separating personal taste from player need. When I talk about being player-focused, I don’t mean asking, “What would I enjoy?” I mean asking, “What does this segment of players actually do in a session?” How does the experience feel across 100 spins, or 150? If someone stays for 300 spins, does the game reward that commitment in a way that feels earned? If a bonus-buy player takes 20 features in a row, what does that emotional curve look like?

Those questions are driven by data, segmentation and behavioural insight. Being a gamer gives you instinct, but data gives you clarity. Instinct might suggest where tension builds or excitement peaks. Data shows whether that tension is sustainable and whether that excitement translates into meaningful engagement. 

One of the most important shifts a studio can make is moving from designing around taste to designing around intention. That means defining who the game is for before defining what the game is. Are we building for high-volatility risk-takers who enjoy extended build-ups and explosive swings, or for players who prefer rhythm, readability and steady reinforcement? Those audiences may overlap, but they are not interchangeable. If you blur them together because you personally enjoy both styles, the result is often something unfocused.

There is also a subtle trap in designing “like a player” as it can become self-indulgent. You keep a mechanic because you personally find it interesting, even if testing suggests it disrupts flow. You add complexity because it excites you, even if it confuses the wider audience. You convince yourself that players just need more time to understand it. At that point, you are designing to satisfy your own perspective rather than serving the audience you claim to prioritise.

Designing for players requires humility and means accepting that you might be an outlier. Your appetite for volatility, your tolerance for risk and your preferred session length may not reflect the broader audience. Recognising that gap forces you to design around real player behaviour, not your own preferences.

It also reshapes internal conversations. Discussions move beyond whether something feels “cool” and toward whether it serves the intended audience. At DEGEN, we talk constantly about emotional journey. Not just what a feature does, but what it feels like. Where does pressure build? Where does it release? Does the volatility profile reinforce the identity of the world we’re building?

Those conversations are always grounded in behaviour. We look at how different segments engage with anti-bets, bonus buys and feature frequency. We examine what keeps players in a session and what pushes them out. The goal is not to suppress instinct but to validate it. If intuition suggests a mechanic creates meaningful tension, we test it. If data shows disengagement at a certain point, adjustments follow, even if the designer personally enjoyed that section.

The strongest studios balance perspective with evidence. Passion is useful, but projection is dangerous. There is a clear difference between building something you love and building something your audience connects with.

Ironically, designing for players often produces stronger outcomes than designing for yourself ever could. When you focus on segment clarity, behavioural insight and emotional flow, the result feels deliberate. Players sense when an experience has been shaped around how they behave rather than around a designer’s preference.

For those of us who are gamers at heart, that tension will always exist. The discipline lies in managing it. Use your experience and instinct but question them. Test them. Support them with evidence. Be prepared to remove an idea you personally value if it doesn’t serve the audience you are building for.

Designing like a player is instinctive. Designing for players takes discipline. And that discipline is what turns strong ideas into games that genuinely connect.