particularly when people tell them in front of a group. We don’t just guess
randomly, we fill in numbers or information to make us look good rather
than inept. The fish doubles in size. The baby didn’t wake just twice during
the night—that wouldn’t be remarkable enough—she woke seven times and
required skillful parenting each time to soothe her back to sleep.
It’s just like a game of telephone. As the story gets transmitted from
person to person, some details fall out and others are exaggerated. And it
becomes more and more remarkable along the way.
—————
The key to finding inner remarkability is to think about what makes
something interesting, surprising, or novel. Can the product do something
no one would have thought possible (such as blend golf balls like
Blendtec)? Are the consequences of the idea or issue more extreme than
people ever could have imagined?
One way to generate surprise is by breaking a pattern people have come
to expect. Take low-cost airlines. What do you expect when you fly a low-
cost carrier? Small seats, no movies, limited snacks, and a generally no-
frills experience. But people who fly JetBlue for the first time often tell
others because the experience is remarkably different. You get a large,
comfortable seat, a variety of snack choices (from Terra Blues chips to
animal crackers), and free DIRECTV programming from your own seat-
back television. Similarly, by using Kobe beef and lobster, and charging one
hundred dollars, Barclay Prime got buzz by breaking the pattern of what
people expected from a cheesesteak.
Mysteries and controversy are also often remarkable. The Blair Witch
Project is one of the most famous examples of this approach. Released in
1999, the film tells the story of three student filmmakers who hiked into the
mountains of Maryland to film a documentary about a local legend called
the Blair Witch. They supposedly disappeared, however, and viewers were
told that the film was pieced together from “rediscovered” amateur footage
that was shot on their hike. No one was sure if this was true.
What do we do when confronted with a controversial mystery like this?
Naturally, we ask others to help us sort out the answer. So the film garnered
a huge buzz simply from people wondering whether it depicted real events
or not. It undermined a fundamental belief (that witches don’t exist), so
people wanted the answer, and the fact that there was disagreement led to
even more discussion. The buzz drove the movie to become a blockbuster.
Shot on a handheld camera with a budget of about $35,000, the movie
grossed more than $248 million worldwide.
The best thing about remarkability, though, is that it can be applied to
anything. You might think that a product, service, or idea would have to be
inherently remarkable—that remarkability isn’t something you can impose
from the outside. New high-tech gadgets or Hollywood movies are naturally
more remarkable than, say, customer service guidelines or toasters. What
could be remarkable about a toaster?
But it’s possible to find the inner remarkability in any product or idea by
thinking about what makes that thing stand out. Remember Blendtec, the
blender company we talked about in the Introduction? By finding the
product’s inner remarkability, the company was able to get millions of
people to talk about a boring old blender. And they were able to do it with
no advertising and a fifty-dollar marketing budget.
Toilet paper? Hardly seems remarkable. But a few years ago I made toilet
paper one of the most talked-about conversation topics at a party. How? I
put a roll of black toilet paper in the bathroom. Black toilet paper? No one
had ever seen black toilet paper before. And that remarkability provoked
discussion. Emphasize what’s remarkable about a product or idea and
people will talk.
LEVERAGE GAME MECHANICS
I was short by 222 miles.
A few years ago I was booking a round-trip flight from the East Coast to
California. It was late December, and the end of the year is always slow, so
it seemed like a perfect time to visit friends. I went online, scanned a bunch
of options, and found a direct flight that was cheaper than the connecting
ones. Lucky me! I went to go find my credit card.
But as I entered my frequent flier number, information about my status
tier appeared on the screen. I fly a decent amount, and the previous year I
had flown enough on United Airlines to achieve Premier status. Calling the
perks I was receiving “Premier” seemed like a marketing person’s idea of a
sick joke, but it was slightly better treatment than you usually get in
economy class. I could check bags for free, have access to seats with
slightly more leg room, and theoretically get free upgrades to business class
(though that never actually seemed to happen). Nothing to write home
about, but at least I didn’t have to pay to check a bag.
This year had been even busier. I tend to stick with one airline if I can,
and in this case, it seemed it might just pay off. I had almost achieved the
next status level: Premier Executive.
But the key word here is “almost.” I was 222 miles short. Even with the
direct flights to California and back, I wouldn’t have enough miles to make
it to Premier Executive.
The perks for being a Premier Executive were only slightly better than
those for Premier. I’d get to check a third bag for free, have access to
special airline lounges if I flew internationally, and board the plane seconds
earlier than I would have before. Nothing too exciting.
But I was so close! And I had only a few days left to fly the required
extra miles. This trip to San Francisco was my last chance.
So I did what people do who are so focused on achieving something that
they lose their common sense. I paid more money to book a connecting
flight.
Rather than take a direct flight home, I flew a circuitous route, stopping
in Boston for two hours just to make sure I had enough miles to make it
over the threshold.
—————
The first major frequent flier program was created in 1981 by American
Airlines. Originally conceptualized as a method to give special fares to
frequent customers, the program soon morphed into the current system of
rewards. Today, more than 180 million people accumulate frequent flier
miles when they travel. These programs have motivated millions of people
to pledge their loyalty to a single airline and stop over in random cities or
fly at inopportune times just to ensure that they accrue miles on their
desired carrier.
We all know that miles can be redeemed for free travel, hotel stays, and
other perks. Still, most people never cash in the miles they accumulate. In
fact, less than 10 percent of miles are redeemed every year. Experts
estimate that as many as 10 trillion frequent flier miles are sitting in
accounts, unused. Enough to travel to the moon and back 19.4 million
times. That’s a lot of miles.
So if they’re not actually using them, why are people so passionate about
racking up miles?
Because it’s a fun game.
—————
Think about your favorite game. It can be a board game, a sport, or even
a computer game or an app. Maybe you love solitaire, enjoy playing golf, or
go crazy for Sudoku puzzles. Ever stopped to think about why you enjoy
these games so much? Why you can’t seem to stop playing?
Game mechanics are the elements of a game, application, or program—
including rules and feedback loops—that make them fun and compelling.
You get points for doing well at solitaire, there are levels of Sudoku
puzzles, and golf tournaments have leaderboards. These elements tell
players where they stand in the game and how well they are doing. Good
game mechanics keep people engaged, motivated, and always wanting
more.
One way game mechanics motivate is internally. We all enjoy achieving
things. Tangible evidence of our progress, such as solving a tough Solitaire
game or advancing to the next level of Sudoku puzzles, makes us feel good.
So discrete markers motivate us to work harder, especially when we get
close to achieving them. Take the buy-ten-get-one-free coffee punch cards
that are sometimes offered at local cafés. By increasing motivation, the
cards actually spur people to buy coffee more frequently as they get closer
to their tenth cup and claiming their reward.
But game mechanics also motivate us on an interpersonal level by
encouraging social comparison.
A few years ago, students at Harvard University were asked to make a
seemingly straightforward choice: which would they prefer, a job where
they made $50,000 a year (option A) or one where they made $100,000 a
year (option B)?
Seems like a no-brainer, right? Everyone should take option B. But there
was one catch. In option A, the students would get paid twice as much as
others, who would only get $25,000. In option B, they would get paid half
as much as others, who would get $200,000. So option B would make the
students more money overall, but they would be doing worse than others
around them.
What did the majority of people choose?
Option A. They preferred to do better than others, even if it meant getting
less for themselves. They chose the option that was worse in absolute terms
but better in relative terms.
People don’t just care about how they are doing, they care about their
performance in relation to others. Getting to board a plane a few minutes
early is a nice perk of achieving Premier status. But part of what makes this
a nice perk is that you get to board before everyone else. Because levels
work on two, well, levels. They tell us where we are at any time in absolute
terms. But they also make clear where we stand relative to everyone else.
Just like many other animals, people care about hierarchy. Apes engage
in status displays and dogs try to figure out who is the alpha. Humans are
no different. We like feeling that we’re high status, top dog, or leader of the
pack. But status is inherently relational. Being leader of the pack requires a
pack, doing better than others.
Game mechanics help generate social currency because doing well makes
us look good. People love boasting about the things they’ve accomplished:
their golf handicaps, how many people follow them on Twitter, or their
kids’ SAT scores. A friend of mine is a Delta Airlines Platinum Medallion
member. Every time he flies he finds a way to brag about it on Facebook.
Talking about how a guy he saw in the Delta Sky Club lounge is hitting on
a waitress. Or mentioning the free upgrade he got to first class. After all,
what good is status if no one else knows you have it?
But every time he proudly shares his status, he’s also spreading the word
about Delta.
And this is how game mechanics boosts word of mouth. People are
talking because they want to show off their achievements, but along the
way they talk about the brands (Delta or Twitter) or domains (golf or the
SAT) where they achieved.
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