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The Score: How to Stop Playing Somebody Else's Game
A philosophy of games to help us win back control over what we value
The philosopher C. Thi Nguyen—one of the leading experts on the philosophy of games and the philosophy of data—takes us deep into the heart of games, and into the depths of bureaucracy, to see how scoring systems shape our desires.
Games are the most important art form of our era. They embody the spirit of free play. They show us the subtle beauty of action everywhere in life in video games, sports, and boardgames—but also cooking, gardening, fly-fishing, and running. They remind us that it isn’t always about outcomes, but about how glorious it feels to be doing the thing. And the scoring systems help get us there, by giving us new goals to try on.
Scoring systems are also at the center of our corporations and bureaucracies—in the form of metrics and rankings. They tell us exactly how to measure our success. They encourage us to outsource our values to an external authority. And they push on us to value simple, countable things. Metrics don’t capture what really matters; they only capture what’s easy to measure. The price of that clarity is our independence.
The Score asks us is this the game you really want to be playing?
The philosopher C. Thi Nguyen—one of the leading experts on the philosophy of games and the philosophy of data—takes us deep into the heart of games, and into the depths of bureaucracy, to see how scoring systems shape our desires.
Games are the most important art form of our era. They embody the spirit of free play. They show us the subtle beauty of action everywhere in life in video games, sports, and boardgames—but also cooking, gardening, fly-fishing, and running. They remind us that it isn’t always about outcomes, but about how glorious it feels to be doing the thing. And the scoring systems help get us there, by giving us new goals to try on.
Scoring systems are also at the center of our corporations and bureaucracies—in the form of metrics and rankings. They tell us exactly how to measure our success. They encourage us to outsource our values to an external authority. And they push on us to value simple, countable things. Metrics don’t capture what really matters; they only capture what’s easy to measure. The price of that clarity is our independence.
The Score asks us is this the game you really want to be playing?
368 pages, Hardcover
First published January 13, 2026
235 people are currently reading
6045 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
February 3, 2026
We like to keep score. And about many things and in lots of ways. Steps. Mile times. Splits. Max Reps. One Rep Maxes. Fran times. BMI. Runs. Batting Averages. RBI. Elo numbers. Ranks. K/D Ratios. Win percentages. Screen time. KPIs. Views. Engagement. Likes. Reach. Citations. H-index. (I could keep going, but I assume that‘s enough.) And beyond just keeping score— a lot of us like to chase high scores for some reason or another. And it’s maybe easiest to see that we like to do that when we think about games or certain sports. As Nguyen writes about so well, score chasing in those contexts can yield experiences that are novel, fun, challenging, and aesthetically significant. And the often intensive lead up or training that goes into playing well enough to reach those goals can be very rewarding, enriching, and fulfilling in their own right. In doing that very difficult thing, in jumping over that real high bar, in making it to the finish line, in executing some elaborate sequence of actions perfectly; we achieve something we might have thought impossible for us at some point. Some action that seemed to lie well outside our capacities has become part of our repertoire. Nguyen provided an interesting philosophical account of games in his last book. And there he defended games as an art form working in the medium of agency. And he reiterates that case here in a more accessible way. In both places, he spends some time dwelling on the way scoring systems can shape the experience of play in positive ways.
But, and here’s the catch, score chasing often goes well beyond games. We basically always had to chase scores when we were in school. And then, later on, we might wind up having to chase a score as part of our job. And eventually we might wind up chasing something like a score in our lives as a whole. And, in the worst case, then we chase that one thing our whole life and get it and it turns to ash in our mouth. You’ve read the books and seen the movies.
So sometimes scores are good fun and sometimes they’re not good or fun at all. Nguyen tends to use the term ‘metric’ for when he is discussing a score outside of a game—in school or work or life. And so Nguyen raises the question— why are scores in games often great and yet many of the metrics we use to direct our action in life outside of them often feel kind of wrong—misguided, shallow, hollow, or reductive as the case may be? And this book is an exploration of these thoughts and an attempt at providing a few answers to that question. It’s not exactly a simple story. And that’s reasonable enough since part of Nguyen’s point is that life and what we value in it is complex and hard to boil down. So, while it would be tempting to sum this book up as—-scores get high marks, metrics get low marks— that would just be a reductive paraphrase.
Nguyen acknowledges the usefulness, even necessity, of metrics in modern life—but cautions us that metrics might hijack our lives if we let them. We adopt a metric because we believe it to capture some important value we have. Those values are often highly intuitive and yet somewhat fuzzy. Metrics rarely fully track everything we find significant about that pre-theoretical value. Metrics may necessarily reflect our values imperfectly. Sometimes they miss what matters most about those values entirely. And so Nguyen urges us to think very carefully before adopting any given metric as a target. And calls on us to pursue any metric that we have adopted very judiciously—that is with good judgment always at our side to all the particular details along the way.
Nguyen’s first book about games is already modern classic in analytic philosophy of art. I’ve read that book three times now and could easily pick it up again. The fact that he does another pass on that material here aimed at general audiences is enough for me to recommend this book to friends, family, and probably some passersby who just seems like the sort to enjoy it. You probably need to read this if you like games or sports and happen to be philosophically inclined.
And there’s definitely food for thought in his new exploration of metrics. And we coincidentally also get quite a few thoughts about food. And the nuanced differences between different styles of cookbooks and the values they reflect.(Nguyen worked as a food critic before his philosophy professor days began.) The recipes in some classic cookbooks left things a bit vague and so asked and expected the would-be cook to have some judgment. The new recipes are like algorithms or standard operating procedures. Exact quantities, times, and temps are all specified. The smallest steps are included. Anyone can make a meal with the recipe, judgement or no.
I’m not exactly sure where I stand on these concerns about metrics and the role they play in our lives. On one hand, it’s pretty clear that Nguyen’s list of downsides that come along with making use of metrics are valid concerns and even things that are all-too common. On the other hand, Nguyen acknowledges that it’s not like we can toss the practice of relying on metrics and universal consistent standards out and still maintain a functioning modern society. His thought, at bottom, seems to be something pretty close to: we need metrics to live, but can’t rely on them too much if we really want to live well.
One last thing that has to be said: this book has one of the best concluding chapters in any recent work of philosophy. It’s possibly the most honest conclusion I’ve ever read.
But, and here’s the catch, score chasing often goes well beyond games. We basically always had to chase scores when we were in school. And then, later on, we might wind up having to chase a score as part of our job. And eventually we might wind up chasing something like a score in our lives as a whole. And, in the worst case, then we chase that one thing our whole life and get it and it turns to ash in our mouth. You’ve read the books and seen the movies.
So sometimes scores are good fun and sometimes they’re not good or fun at all. Nguyen tends to use the term ‘metric’ for when he is discussing a score outside of a game—in school or work or life. And so Nguyen raises the question— why are scores in games often great and yet many of the metrics we use to direct our action in life outside of them often feel kind of wrong—misguided, shallow, hollow, or reductive as the case may be? And this book is an exploration of these thoughts and an attempt at providing a few answers to that question. It’s not exactly a simple story. And that’s reasonable enough since part of Nguyen’s point is that life and what we value in it is complex and hard to boil down. So, while it would be tempting to sum this book up as—-scores get high marks, metrics get low marks— that would just be a reductive paraphrase.
Nguyen acknowledges the usefulness, even necessity, of metrics in modern life—but cautions us that metrics might hijack our lives if we let them. We adopt a metric because we believe it to capture some important value we have. Those values are often highly intuitive and yet somewhat fuzzy. Metrics rarely fully track everything we find significant about that pre-theoretical value. Metrics may necessarily reflect our values imperfectly. Sometimes they miss what matters most about those values entirely. And so Nguyen urges us to think very carefully before adopting any given metric as a target. And calls on us to pursue any metric that we have adopted very judiciously—that is with good judgment always at our side to all the particular details along the way.
Nguyen’s first book about games is already modern classic in analytic philosophy of art. I’ve read that book three times now and could easily pick it up again. The fact that he does another pass on that material here aimed at general audiences is enough for me to recommend this book to friends, family, and probably some passersby who just seems like the sort to enjoy it. You probably need to read this if you like games or sports and happen to be philosophically inclined.
And there’s definitely food for thought in his new exploration of metrics. And we coincidentally also get quite a few thoughts about food. And the nuanced differences between different styles of cookbooks and the values they reflect.(Nguyen worked as a food critic before his philosophy professor days began.) The recipes in some classic cookbooks left things a bit vague and so asked and expected the would-be cook to have some judgment. The new recipes are like algorithms or standard operating procedures. Exact quantities, times, and temps are all specified. The smallest steps are included. Anyone can make a meal with the recipe, judgement or no.
I’m not exactly sure where I stand on these concerns about metrics and the role they play in our lives. On one hand, it’s pretty clear that Nguyen’s list of downsides that come along with making use of metrics are valid concerns and even things that are all-too common. On the other hand, Nguyen acknowledges that it’s not like we can toss the practice of relying on metrics and universal consistent standards out and still maintain a functioning modern society. His thought, at bottom, seems to be something pretty close to: we need metrics to live, but can’t rely on them too much if we really want to live well.
One last thing that has to be said: this book has one of the best concluding chapters in any recent work of philosophy. It’s possibly the most honest conclusion I’ve ever read.
February 4, 2026
C. Thi Nguyen sets out with a genuinely compelling question: Why do scoring systems in games bring us joy while metrics at work leave us hollow? Unfortunately, The Score never really answers it. Instead, the book meanders through philosophical abstractions that romanticize ambiguity as if vagueness itself were a virtue. At times it reads less like philosophy and more like an extended shrug—celebrating the beauty of not knowing what we truly value while offering little guidance for those of us actually trying to navigate a world saturated with KPIs and performance reviews.
The structure feels scattered. One chapter dives into rock climbing aesthetics, the next into bureaucratic value capture, then suddenly we're analyzing cookbook instructions. These vignettes might have worked with grounding interviews—real people wrestling with metrics in their actual lives—but Nguyen largely stays in the theoretical ether. I kept waiting for the concrete examples that would bridge his ideas to lived experience. They never arrived.
Most frustrating is the bait-and-switch at the book's core. The premise promises insight into why game scores energize us while workplace metrics drain us. But Nguyen sidesteps the real answer: games offer voluntary constraints with immediate feedback and intrinsic rewards, while workplace metrics are imposed with delayed, extrinsic rewards tied to survival. Instead of excavating this distinction, he retreats into poetic musings about "choosing your game"—advice that rings hollow when your mortgage depends on playing the game your employer designed.
There are glimmers of insight here, particularly around how metrics flatten complex values into countable proxies. But these moments get buried under layers of academic preening and an almost willful refusal to land a point. A book about scoring systems shouldn't itself feel unmoored from any clear metric of success. The Score fails its own test.
The structure feels scattered. One chapter dives into rock climbing aesthetics, the next into bureaucratic value capture, then suddenly we're analyzing cookbook instructions. These vignettes might have worked with grounding interviews—real people wrestling with metrics in their actual lives—but Nguyen largely stays in the theoretical ether. I kept waiting for the concrete examples that would bridge his ideas to lived experience. They never arrived.
Most frustrating is the bait-and-switch at the book's core. The premise promises insight into why game scores energize us while workplace metrics drain us. But Nguyen sidesteps the real answer: games offer voluntary constraints with immediate feedback and intrinsic rewards, while workplace metrics are imposed with delayed, extrinsic rewards tied to survival. Instead of excavating this distinction, he retreats into poetic musings about "choosing your game"—advice that rings hollow when your mortgage depends on playing the game your employer designed.
There are glimmers of insight here, particularly around how metrics flatten complex values into countable proxies. But these moments get buried under layers of academic preening and an almost willful refusal to land a point. A book about scoring systems shouldn't itself feel unmoored from any clear metric of success. The Score fails its own test.
January 22, 2026
Nguyen tallies up the differences between constraint games that we choose to play versus those “games” we inherently play as part of life and shows us how the rules and metrics create very different drives in us. In doing so he highlight how real life is far more granular and nuanced, so much so that religiously sticking to some metrics of success in real life can severely veer you of your true course (purpose) in life. So it’s important to break those rules and metrics to ensure it’s serving you, instead of ruling you.
This book was a reminder not to worry too much about statistics and numbers, when at those times it’s more important to just ask yourself how you felt and if you’re heading in the right direction of your true north in life.
This book was a reminder not to worry too much about statistics and numbers, when at those times it’s more important to just ask yourself how you felt and if you’re heading in the right direction of your true north in life.
January 24, 2026
I learned a lot of of things I did not know and was able to understand them as well until the very end where they got a little too technical for me. This is an excellent read for someone looking for different ideas and their applications in the modern world. It made me look at things in ways I had not previously done and is this not the essence of what a philosophical work should do ? The examples provided by the author are very helpful in clearing up just what the ideas are and how they can be used in real life situations. From rock climbing to yo-yo mechanics and tricks as they are currently developing , from cooking with pizzazz to interacting with his students and friends in ways that explore how games in all there variations can affect what we do and say this is an important primer of just what philosophical thoughts can do for one and all. Well done with a touch of technical jargon tossed in at the end but still an exhilarating read for the layperson.
February 3, 2026
Meh. Basically metrics always serve some interest, usually a commercial one, so good to understand why the metric was created. You can also create or promote your own metrics to serve your own interests. For example, wine ratings are scored without food. As a result that has rewarded wines that have a high sugar content and can be enjoyed alone. That penalizes wine that might be better with food or that are more complex so many wine producers resort to making sugar bombs. The author loves games and encourages the reader to be playful and enjoy the pursuit, without keeping score. This book is a good companion to Carse’s Finite and Infinite Games though Carse’s book is far superior.
January 28, 2026
I heard this author on a few podcasts and liked what he had to say about the philosophy and meaning of games and why we play them. However, this book was not enjoyable at all. It's a dry slog that is written like an academic paper. I had to force myself to get through it. I gave it two stars (rather than one) because there are some interesting, thought-provoking ideas in there. But it's just sooooo boring to read.
February 1, 2026
Wow wow wow. I went in pretty blind after hearing someone call this a beautiful book, and it kind of blew me away. Serious philosophical analysis on metrics in our society and why they have such a different impact than rules/goals in games. Incredibly broad application that made me want to start over as soon as it ended. And it’s written in a super warm and approachable voice. Zero dryness. So good.
February 4, 2026
This book by my University of Utah colleague is an absolute delight for nerds. Academia and games, it turns out, share a defining feature: metrics of success that are only loosely connected to what actually matters in real life.
January 21, 2026
If not real as in provable as in here’s proof it’s real enough to believe in I see your hand moving
January 24, 2026
3 / 5 Stars
// Decent
// Decent
January 31, 2026
introduced some really good concepts.
February 3, 2026
One chapter in. Excellent.
Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews