I've been living in the north of Stockholm since late 2013, and so the region features pretty heavily in my day-to-day photography. I find my stomping ground of Rinkeby-Kista to be particularly interesting for its contrasts between the glass-and-concrete of Sweden's technology hub, the Miljonprogrammet residential blocks, and the cultural- and nature reserves on Järvafältet.
I’ve started drawing maps for fun again, and have only now begun to truly appreciate their relevance to other forms of design drawing. Whilst I have been an indie and freelance game designer for 7 years now, the times I spent drawing complex flowcharts have almost never overlapped with transit projects like these, which constitute my lifelong hobby. Now that I’ve caught myself re-arranging flowcharts for readability in a manner more akin to that of my transit maps, I reckon it’s a good time to try and unpack what’s happening in this form.
What follows is a series of articles on that topic, beginning with an exploration of transit maps in isolation.
4 Countries, 2570 Stations, 1? Map
My cartographic meditation for this past month has been an ongoing network map of the UK’s passenger railways. As with most of my transit map projects, this one attempts to plug a gap which is otherwise not quite fulfilled by transit agencies — nor indeed, by many other enthusiasts.
National Rail Enquiries publish a series of abridged maps (below), and they also include a valiant effort by Andrew Smithers/Project Mapping. However, it quickly becomes apparent that Britain’s stations are too numerous to be viewed comfortably at once — especially given the contrast in visual density between areas like rural Scotland and Manchester.
Maps of regional railways are somewhat easier to come by — partly because they’re easier to design and to read, but also because they allow the individual, privatised companies to showcase their services in isolation of others. South Western Railways, for example, are afforded the opportunity for an effective diagonal map, anchored between London Waterloo and the lines’ southwestern termini. These do, however, offer a distorted view of the bigger picture, as their priority lays in encouraging travel via specific lines or companies. They also represent disparate range of graphics styles.
A UK National Rail Map Project
My solution, has been to develop a Train Operating Company (ToC)-agnostic series of regional maps which could form a whole, but don’t, in order that they may also remain visually pleasing. Thus far only Scotland has been completed — as a series of three maps — but it’s been sufficient proof of my graphics scheme for those map segments yet to come.
That development of a graphics scheme — the details of which I won’t linger on too much here — is what started me thinking back to design diagrams in general. It’s an essential part of most transit authorities’ visual presentation, as guidelines for enforcing visual consistency and clarity. The enjoyment I derive from developing such schemes is matched only by that I derive from the naming conventions and game/UX flows I handle in my day job.
Counter-intuitive though it may sound, these design guidelines needn’t be all that complex. My own for this project revolves around a ‘magic value’ of 5pt — the width of every railway line on the diagram. Stations are represented by a circle half that diameter, labels are 5pt in height (for full-height characters, like a capital ‘W’) and are spaced 2.5pt away from the edge of the line, curves begin at 20pt radius, and so on. All of these are straightforward multiples of that same magic number.
As well as all that, I took a couple of visual cues from some of my favourite transit maps: namely those for London Underground, and Storstockholms Lokaltrafik. Like the ‘Tube map’, my maps are octolinear — in particular contrast to Project Mapping’s one — both on the grounds of personal taste, and a tested belief that this makes a sprawl of hundreds of stations much easier to read. The eye can follow the flow of lines more easily if we don’t have to anticipate many changes to their direction. I also believe this makes it easier to disregard the rest of the map whilst focusing on smaller sections therein.
45-degree angles do cause problems of their own, and many of these are documented in Mark Ovenden’s fascinating book, Underground Maps After Beck. They can be visually dominating, and may force hefty distortions of the maps’ underlying geography — issues which escalate when a system is set to expand.
Fortunately for railway lines built on the world’s oldest network, expansion is rare and relatively easy to account for. New or revived lines tend to serve new areas, as in the case of the Borders Railway from Edinburgh to Tweedbank (formerly Waverley Line, reopened in 2015). My maps do also contain information on ToCs, and these can change over the course of years, but as their bounds rarely change I believe that may be handled by changes to line colour in most instances.
In railway diagrams, as much as diagrams made as part of a design process, the chief tasks are to display a mostly-known quantity of related information, and ensuring that those relationships can be read as easily as possible — to allay confusion, and to prevent fellow developers and passengers alike from getting stuck at the wrong destination.
In the next article I’ll explore the kinds of flowcharts and relational diagrams I create in my roles as a game designer.
I’m stepping into a blogging trope here, but what follows is an article in which your humble author has to apologise for having been quite busy lately. I’m starting up a business, annual meetings have been held, and talks have been given – it’s all dragons, democracy and diversity. To summarise, starting with the biggest news first:
For the past couple of months, myself and Delia Hamwood have been collaborating to found a games studio. We’re keeping most of the details hushed-up until the launch of our debut title, but I can say that the games and tools we make will pay close attention to inclusivity and accessibility. Delia and I last worked together on A Planet Wakes, as part of Antholojam; this whole new venture will see us working with the business incubator at Sweden Game Arena.
I’ve also begun spreading awareness and tips regarding inclusive game development at conferences, primarily through a talk entitled The Art of Letting More People Play Your Game. A summary version debuted on the fast track at this year’s Nordic Game Conference (below left), and a more detailed version will follow at Castle Game Jam in July. I also spoke at Gotland Game Conference, on a panel discussing games’ past and future (below right).
A few annual meetings have come and gone too, and as I step up to chair TjejHack for 2016, I’ve stepped down to the position of vice chair at Diversi. Both organisations have a focus on expanding their networks this year, and the latter is set to institute an exciting new membership scheme, to help better fund its activities.
LadyCADE has also been busy recently, as once again I hosted the women-friendly fika at southern Sweden’s Creative Coast Festival. We were invited to run a booth during the festival as well, and so across a span of three days, visitors were invited in to play a variety of women-made games – including TjejHack’s #GemmaHat.
Looking forwards, the next couple of months contain some pretty solid development time as we work towards an early access/prototype game release in late August. The intention is to maintain a development blog during this; articles will be posted at our studio website (link to come soon).
I’ll also be a proud host to this year’s Lyst Summit in Hamar, Norway – acting as conferenciér to a typically marvellous array of talks and interactive experiences on the subject of love, sexuality and romance in games.
As long-form writing proves to be a bit more challenging of late, I would humbly invite you to follow these and further exploits of mine on Twitter until normal service can be resumed!