Why We Love Tower Defense

Orc bits -- bloody and numerous -- filled the air. Acid coated the mine floor. Archers let loose a hundred arrows against a lumbering threat. While playing Orcs Must Die 2 a strange thought came to me as I hurriedly reinforced my defenses: why do we love tower defense games so much?

We often call tower defense a "genre," but it's more accurately grown and evolved alongside preexisting types, from shooters to strategy games. It's touched every platform in the video game space and returns time and time again, perhaps in different forms but always with the same core principles.

How do we explain this infatuation? Games like Orcs Must Die 2 have immediate appeal. They make sense, not only because we've seen the formula before but because the fundamental actions we take resonate with something deep inside us. Tower defense plays off of our need for security, ownership, and a desire to protect the people closest to us. Like children building forts, we build defenses against the denizens of the digital dark.

If you were anything like me as a child, you built forts. They came in many shapes and sizes, and were crafted with various materials. The cushion fort was an affordable and easy-to-access classic, but the legendary cardboard fort was a rare treat. Did your parents give you the box to the new refrigerator? The stuff of dreams!

While I can't and won't offer a professional, psychological deconstruction of this behavior, we as amateurs can recognize some obvious themes. We build forts to feel safe. We put up walls to repel our fears and insecurities, be they real or otherwise. In a world much bigger than our childhood selves, we design our defenses and -- at the same time -- satisfy our common need to create.

We can say the same for tower defense. In Orcs Must Die 2, as a recent example, the War Mage and Sorceress build defenses to repel the dangerous orcs as they rush in from other worlds. There's nothing quite like the feeling of watching a host of invaders fall before your defenses, keeping you safe from tooth and claw. In Orcs Must Die 2, I favor small, narrow spaces to concentrate my efforts. Such areas not only offer strategic advantages but also satisfy my need to feel safe.

We never see the inside of the house. But we know it's important.

We also build forts to create personal space that we can call our own. We desire ownership over things. This not only gives the fort intrinsic value, but makes it feel like home. This, again, plays right into the design of tower defense. Many games present levels as obstacles; they're challenges to overcome. In tower defense, they're your home turf. For the period of that level/stage/chapter/whatever, your play space requires care and consideration. You make it your own.

And of course, we build forts to protect our loved ones. How often did we invite our friends, even our parents, into the ramshackle concoctions hanging from the side of the living room sofa? We brought people in to share our safety and gain a sense of companionship. No one wants to fend off the darkness alone.

Once again, the core principles of tower defense echo this desire. By definition you defend a point of interest, precious person, or vulnerability in every tower defense game. What made PixelJunk Monsters so compelling? The adorable villagers -- defenseless and needy -- that scuttled about in fear as monsters came crashing through their woods. Your mighty plants and flowers, smiling in the sunlight, protect you (the player) in the essential Plants vs. Zombies.

There's always something familiar, something vulnerable, behind those defenses you build. And, in most circumstances, the ghastly invaders represent the "other." Perhaps the aforementioned orcs, or pulsating insects. Name something scary and it has very likely invaded a tower defense game. This urge to protect and preserve fuels our need to keep playing. And it drives us to play well.

Not all tower defense games follow the exact same formula, but these themes of safety, ownership, and protection pervade the "genre." We gladly defend our mines and dungeons and forests and cities for hours on end, and we've been doing so for a long time. We have to -- it's in our nature. And we'll likely keep on building for many years to come.

So when you see a child building a fort, just remember: you're looking at a future tower defense champion.

Ryan Clements writes for IGN. He spent many afternoons as a child inside various boxes... for better or worse. Follow him on IGN or Twitter. Or both!

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