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The Score: How to Stop Playing Someone Else’s Game
'Lucid, entertaining and precise... a brilliant warning about the gamification of everyday life' Tim Clare,
Guardian
Is this the game you want to be playing?
Scoring systems are everywhere. Underpinning our daily lives – whether it’s the fit bits on our wrists, likes on social media, and even school rankings – they have become pervasive and increasingly dangerous, warping our desires and outsourcing our values to external institutions. Instead of encouraging us to be more playful, to take pleasure in the journey of striving towards a goal, institutions, corporations and bureaucracies weaponize scoring systems to impose their own interests. No matter what, we always seem to be playing by someone else’s rules.
In The Score, philosopher C. Thi Nguyen shows us how this newly ‘gamified’ world has fundamentally captured our value systems, turning what might be moral or personal life choices into numerical data, and forcing us to prioritise what can be measured and monetized over what is truly meaningful to us.
A life-long lover of online and board games himself, Nguyen argues that we should not stop playing games but rather take a step back and become more aware of their immersive and profound power, so that we might chart a way towards more creative and joyful lives. To start playing our own game.
Is this the game you want to be playing?
Scoring systems are everywhere. Underpinning our daily lives – whether it’s the fit bits on our wrists, likes on social media, and even school rankings – they have become pervasive and increasingly dangerous, warping our desires and outsourcing our values to external institutions. Instead of encouraging us to be more playful, to take pleasure in the journey of striving towards a goal, institutions, corporations and bureaucracies weaponize scoring systems to impose their own interests. No matter what, we always seem to be playing by someone else’s rules.
In The Score, philosopher C. Thi Nguyen shows us how this newly ‘gamified’ world has fundamentally captured our value systems, turning what might be moral or personal life choices into numerical data, and forcing us to prioritise what can be measured and monetized over what is truly meaningful to us.
A life-long lover of online and board games himself, Nguyen argues that we should not stop playing games but rather take a step back and become more aware of their immersive and profound power, so that we might chart a way towards more creative and joyful lives. To start playing our own game.
328 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 13, 2026
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February 10, 2026We 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 9, 2026
Could have been roughly a quarter of the length to get the relevant message across, and the rest just felt a bit more like the author wanted to talk passionately about the gamification and intricacies of all of his hobbies, many of which I actually share, but too many of which felt overly belabored.
February 6, 2026
Best book I’ve read in a while
February 13, 2026
Exceptional work. Engaging and useful. Essential for anyone who uses metrics in human service arenas.
February 17, 2026
I think I really identified with this book partially as a climber but mostly as an academic who also is disillusioned and slightly revolted by the tenure process and sycophantic microcosm of the academy yet still find myself forced to participate 😪
February 23, 2026
I saw Nguyen, a philosophy professor, on Pablo Torre Finds Out and his work sounded interesting, so I gave it a gander. And it is interesting.
At the heart of this book lay this cunundrum: both games people play for fun, and performance metrics that guide much of our lives are based on clear rules and fixed guidelines - but people (including Nguyen) find the former to be joyful and enriching to one's soul, while the latter often are horrible and drain away your soul. How do you explain the difference? Well, that one has a simple answer -- we play games out of choice and for fun, but the metrics are often thrust upon us.
That said, an even deeper question is addressed: if we hate metrics so much, why is our life so full of them? For that matter, you can't always blame "they're thrust upon us" as an excuse for metrics. People even follow them when they don't have to. Nguyen uses law school rankings as an example: before the rankings began, different law schools would prioritize different approaches. This one focuses more on having members of marganized communities enter, another focuses more on a particular type of law, still another on getting their students into particular law firms. It was an issue of values and students would need to do soul-searching on their own part about what sort of law school they wanted to enter. Then came rankings and everyone started just following the rankings. No soul-searching for students, and law schools themselves adjusted their missions, jettisoning their old values to score better in the areas the rankings base their metrics on. Nguyen calls this Value Capture: when you don't just have metrics, but internalize those metrics to determine your own values. And that's what really causes so much grief. Nguyen noted that in his own life, metrics that determine how his philosophy department should be run cost him so much anguish, that he at one point lost much of his interest in the field he's based his life studying.
OK, that went on too long about one example from the book, but it highlights the problems of metrics that determine sooooo many facets of our life. Nguyen identifies what he calls The Four Horsemen of Byreaucracy. These are the engines that really drive them, make them so important, and often oppressive.
The Horsemen: 1) Scale, which makes things comprehensible across wide areas, allowing for the power of portability, at the cost of paying attention to specific contexts the data came from. 2) (Mechanical) Rules, which gives us clear guidelines that everyone can follow, just like they follow the recipes in modern day cookbooks). They make it so everyone can follow along the same, but also mandate that everyone do it This Way. You trade accessibilty for adaptability. 3) (Replaceable) Parts: It makes it so that everything is a cog in the same machine - even the people being metric'd. You get interchangeability at the sacrifice of individual sensitivity and specificity. 4) Control, which Nguyen attests is the real key one. All metrics operate under the facade of objectivity, but in reality, they're always at the behest of whoever made them. They serve that person's purpose (whether the purpose is conscious or not) and with any bias baked into the concrete so deep you can't even see it. (That you can't see it makes it even better). Coordination is gained and autonomy lost. And this is how people just heard towards law school rankings and ignore any differing values law schools have (which, at this point, they don't really have any differing values due to complete Value Capture of the entire system).
So you lose adaptability, recognition of specific context, specificity, and autonomy while gaiing accessbility, portability, interchangibilty, and coordination. No wonder people often hate them.
He has no great plan of how to undo it. He argues on behalf on the spirit of play and an aesthetic appreciation of art, which doesn't just mean things you see in a museum but also anything you see around you can be appreciated like that. I'm not sure it comes up as a point in the book, but one thing I got out of the Pablo Torre interview is just how being aware of this process can help you navigate it and avoid the worst. Being aware of how you might have experienced Value Capture can help you break free of it, which seems to have helped Nguyen. (No, it's not systematic, but at least you can get a personal win out of it).
At the heart of this book lay this cunundrum: both games people play for fun, and performance metrics that guide much of our lives are based on clear rules and fixed guidelines - but people (including Nguyen) find the former to be joyful and enriching to one's soul, while the latter often are horrible and drain away your soul. How do you explain the difference? Well, that one has a simple answer -- we play games out of choice and for fun, but the metrics are often thrust upon us.
That said, an even deeper question is addressed: if we hate metrics so much, why is our life so full of them? For that matter, you can't always blame "they're thrust upon us" as an excuse for metrics. People even follow them when they don't have to. Nguyen uses law school rankings as an example: before the rankings began, different law schools would prioritize different approaches. This one focuses more on having members of marganized communities enter, another focuses more on a particular type of law, still another on getting their students into particular law firms. It was an issue of values and students would need to do soul-searching on their own part about what sort of law school they wanted to enter. Then came rankings and everyone started just following the rankings. No soul-searching for students, and law schools themselves adjusted their missions, jettisoning their old values to score better in the areas the rankings base their metrics on. Nguyen calls this Value Capture: when you don't just have metrics, but internalize those metrics to determine your own values. And that's what really causes so much grief. Nguyen noted that in his own life, metrics that determine how his philosophy department should be run cost him so much anguish, that he at one point lost much of his interest in the field he's based his life studying.
OK, that went on too long about one example from the book, but it highlights the problems of metrics that determine sooooo many facets of our life. Nguyen identifies what he calls The Four Horsemen of Byreaucracy. These are the engines that really drive them, make them so important, and often oppressive.
The Horsemen: 1) Scale, which makes things comprehensible across wide areas, allowing for the power of portability, at the cost of paying attention to specific contexts the data came from. 2) (Mechanical) Rules, which gives us clear guidelines that everyone can follow, just like they follow the recipes in modern day cookbooks). They make it so everyone can follow along the same, but also mandate that everyone do it This Way. You trade accessibilty for adaptability. 3) (Replaceable) Parts: It makes it so that everything is a cog in the same machine - even the people being metric'd. You get interchangeability at the sacrifice of individual sensitivity and specificity. 4) Control, which Nguyen attests is the real key one. All metrics operate under the facade of objectivity, but in reality, they're always at the behest of whoever made them. They serve that person's purpose (whether the purpose is conscious or not) and with any bias baked into the concrete so deep you can't even see it. (That you can't see it makes it even better). Coordination is gained and autonomy lost. And this is how people just heard towards law school rankings and ignore any differing values law schools have (which, at this point, they don't really have any differing values due to complete Value Capture of the entire system).
So you lose adaptability, recognition of specific context, specificity, and autonomy while gaiing accessbility, portability, interchangibilty, and coordination. No wonder people often hate them.
He has no great plan of how to undo it. He argues on behalf on the spirit of play and an aesthetic appreciation of art, which doesn't just mean things you see in a museum but also anything you see around you can be appreciated like that. I'm not sure it comes up as a point in the book, but one thing I got out of the Pablo Torre interview is just how being aware of this process can help you navigate it and avoid the worst. Being aware of how you might have experienced Value Capture can help you break free of it, which seems to have helped Nguyen. (No, it's not systematic, but at least you can get a personal win out of it).
February 10, 2026
I’m split on my score here, honestly a 3.5 would be my score but as fractions aren’t valid, I’m going to be generous because this book had a few questions worth pondering.
Namely that we (humans) chase numbers, but mostly we chase the wrong numbers. For example I’ve had my kids do Duolingo daily to “keep their streak”. The daily number increasing daily had hypnotized me in some way, and through this book I realized that number was meaningless. It’s the joy of learning, the engagement of using the mind that’s what I’m ultimately wanting to inspire in them. I appreciate I got to shift my focus thanks to reading this.
That said this book was kind of a rollercoaster in terms of structure. I enjoyed the quick chapters, but ultimately the weaving in of judgmental pronouncements (I.e. “if you’re playing the market to maximize your money then you’re an asshole” (paraphrasing here but curses were sprinkled in and that sentiment was echoed a few times)) made me feel it cheapened the message. Where’s the author experiencing these people? Felt like a straw man waiting in the wing.
Additionally, halfway through I got to thinking, where the hell are all the references? This one was on me, finding them in the back under a nonstandard format. Even with these reference in form of name dropping (as opposed to say, APA or some other standard format), the arguments seemed prima facie at best, non sequitur text message at worst. Statements like “(process beauty) seems less important, less meaningful than object beauty” irk me on some deeper level. Maybe Chris never read “You are here” by Thích Nhất Hạnh— statements like that feel like arbitrary judgement calls.
The main issue posed by this book was the difference between metrics and games. Why does bureaucracy drain us while games lift us up, they both score things so what’s the deal. A solution that popped to my mind and which Chris eventually mentions briefly in a paragraph (before rambling for another 50 pages before the end of the book), is to create a game that’s projected onto the metric space that maps to your goals instead of their “metric/bureaucratic” form. This allows you to avoid having metrics dictate what you’re trying to achieve, allowing for both playfulness while achieving some duller more sweeping “metric” based objective.
All in all this is a book on a subject I hold dear (why we love games), and Chris clearly feels passionately about his hobbies and the craft in his mind space they create.
Namely that we (humans) chase numbers, but mostly we chase the wrong numbers. For example I’ve had my kids do Duolingo daily to “keep their streak”. The daily number increasing daily had hypnotized me in some way, and through this book I realized that number was meaningless. It’s the joy of learning, the engagement of using the mind that’s what I’m ultimately wanting to inspire in them. I appreciate I got to shift my focus thanks to reading this.
That said this book was kind of a rollercoaster in terms of structure. I enjoyed the quick chapters, but ultimately the weaving in of judgmental pronouncements (I.e. “if you’re playing the market to maximize your money then you’re an asshole” (paraphrasing here but curses were sprinkled in and that sentiment was echoed a few times)) made me feel it cheapened the message. Where’s the author experiencing these people? Felt like a straw man waiting in the wing.
Additionally, halfway through I got to thinking, where the hell are all the references? This one was on me, finding them in the back under a nonstandard format. Even with these reference in form of name dropping (as opposed to say, APA or some other standard format), the arguments seemed prima facie at best, non sequitur text message at worst. Statements like “(process beauty) seems less important, less meaningful than object beauty” irk me on some deeper level. Maybe Chris never read “You are here” by Thích Nhất Hạnh— statements like that feel like arbitrary judgement calls.
The main issue posed by this book was the difference between metrics and games. Why does bureaucracy drain us while games lift us up, they both score things so what’s the deal. A solution that popped to my mind and which Chris eventually mentions briefly in a paragraph (before rambling for another 50 pages before the end of the book), is to create a game that’s projected onto the metric space that maps to your goals instead of their “metric/bureaucratic” form. This allows you to avoid having metrics dictate what you’re trying to achieve, allowing for both playfulness while achieving some duller more sweeping “metric” based objective.
All in all this is a book on a subject I hold dear (why we love games), and Chris clearly feels passionately about his hobbies and the craft in his mind space they create.
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.
February 10, 2026
A masterpiece from C. Thi Nguyen.
This is one of those books where I am frequently re-reading paragraphs to mentally process what I just read and try to view the idea from a different lens.
One of the main concepts discussed in this book is the idea the author coins as “Value Capture” which is when we are exposed to a simple scoring system like a ranking or a metric and let it take over our decision making.
Fitness is a good example that the author uses where what actually matters is being healthy but often we chase down goals such as a lower total body weight or a faster marathon pace. Those things can help provide context of good health but shouldn’t be the be all end all.
But the larger tie into this and a central concept that the author brings back in is games. Most games provide metrics and a clear scoring system but the author reminds us that these metrics and scoring systems help provide meaning and focus to the game.
Metrics help reduce bias which is a great thing the author mentions! Metrics give transparency and hugely benefit organizations that are operating at scale. Metrics undermine expertise.
A very public metric the author discusses is the US News & World Reports Law School ranking. This metric forces the schools to optimize for that very ranking which is only based on a few criteria such as job placement and acceptance rate. The latter criteria is to the point where schools target certain people to apply to then decline to juice that metric. This eliminates all context for programs who may be best for political lobbyist or people who want to study tech reform.
There are tons of ideas in this book discussed where it’ll take me quite some time to fully digest. Highly recommend as this is one of my most thoughtful reads in while.
This is one of those books where I am frequently re-reading paragraphs to mentally process what I just read and try to view the idea from a different lens.
One of the main concepts discussed in this book is the idea the author coins as “Value Capture” which is when we are exposed to a simple scoring system like a ranking or a metric and let it take over our decision making.
Fitness is a good example that the author uses where what actually matters is being healthy but often we chase down goals such as a lower total body weight or a faster marathon pace. Those things can help provide context of good health but shouldn’t be the be all end all.
But the larger tie into this and a central concept that the author brings back in is games. Most games provide metrics and a clear scoring system but the author reminds us that these metrics and scoring systems help provide meaning and focus to the game.
Metrics help reduce bias which is a great thing the author mentions! Metrics give transparency and hugely benefit organizations that are operating at scale. Metrics undermine expertise.
A very public metric the author discusses is the US News & World Reports Law School ranking. This metric forces the schools to optimize for that very ranking which is only based on a few criteria such as job placement and acceptance rate. The latter criteria is to the point where schools target certain people to apply to then decline to juice that metric. This eliminates all context for programs who may be best for political lobbyist or people who want to study tech reform.
There are tons of ideas in this book discussed where it’ll take me quite some time to fully digest. Highly recommend as this is one of my most thoughtful reads in while.
February 22, 2026
In C. Thi Nguyen’s world games are small tools of subversion that help you figure out when other people’s value systems are capturing your attention, control your outlook on life, and, by extension, society.
Nguyen spends a lot of time in this book on the minutiae of systems thinking, on standards, and bureaucracy. It tries to help you recognize that you are living in a maze of bureaucracy and how to break out of it.
How does Nguyen break out? He goes mountain climbing, plays yo-yo, and, it seems, a lot of video games.
He’s a teacher of philosophy and often sounds like one.
It is a self-help book of sorts disguised as a philosophical treatise.
I liked his quip that “games are quarantine zones for meaning,” ie that you get to play out scenarios in games that in real life could be disastrous, but give you leisure to think about them in the game environment.
Do gamers have better insights on the meaning of life than the rest of us? Remind me to ask my daughter that question.
In many of such books I have a little trouble identifying who the reader is or who it should be. Undergraduates? Corporate executives? The voting public?
Nguyen gets a little hung up with (presumably Republican) voters who want to do away with philosophy programs in universities.
He also wanders away from the theme with some personal anecdotes, like running down a beach late at night with one of his dates. (Too much information, bud.)
I found the book a useful corrective to 1984.
But I’m not a gamer.
Nguyen spends a lot of time in this book on the minutiae of systems thinking, on standards, and bureaucracy. It tries to help you recognize that you are living in a maze of bureaucracy and how to break out of it.
How does Nguyen break out? He goes mountain climbing, plays yo-yo, and, it seems, a lot of video games.
He’s a teacher of philosophy and often sounds like one.
It is a self-help book of sorts disguised as a philosophical treatise.
I liked his quip that “games are quarantine zones for meaning,” ie that you get to play out scenarios in games that in real life could be disastrous, but give you leisure to think about them in the game environment.
Do gamers have better insights on the meaning of life than the rest of us? Remind me to ask my daughter that question.
In many of such books I have a little trouble identifying who the reader is or who it should be. Undergraduates? Corporate executives? The voting public?
Nguyen gets a little hung up with (presumably Republican) voters who want to do away with philosophy programs in universities.
He also wanders away from the theme with some personal anecdotes, like running down a beach late at night with one of his dates. (Too much information, bud.)
I found the book a useful corrective to 1984.
But I’m not a gamer.
February 17, 2026
I think this is a must-read if you're a writer. And I think it'd be a great read even if you're not.
I've been thinking about how to redefine success on my own terms -- because # of books sold, awards won, or # of best-of lists that you're on has been feeling kind of thin. And then along comes this book at the perfect time.
"But when we precisely define the edges of what we value--when we give our values mechanical edges--we eliminate that exploratory zone. Things are either in or they're out immediately. Mechanical values have been reengineered with obvious edges, which we can apply instantly without judgment or deliberation. If you value only what's low-calorie, what gets more clicks and follows or what gets more money, you can throw out most of the world without a second thought. Mechanical values make it easier to dismiss much of the world.
And it’s easy to get stuff done when you’ve learned how to dismiss the majority of the world in an instant. We can eliminate wasted time exploring worthless garbage. We are now much more ruthlessly efficient and successful—or at least we will look successful to anybody who shares our narrowed notion of success."
I've been thinking about how to redefine success on my own terms -- because # of books sold, awards won, or # of best-of lists that you're on has been feeling kind of thin. And then along comes this book at the perfect time.
"But when we precisely define the edges of what we value--when we give our values mechanical edges--we eliminate that exploratory zone. Things are either in or they're out immediately. Mechanical values have been reengineered with obvious edges, which we can apply instantly without judgment or deliberation. If you value only what's low-calorie, what gets more clicks and follows or what gets more money, you can throw out most of the world without a second thought. Mechanical values make it easier to dismiss much of the world.
And it’s easy to get stuff done when you’ve learned how to dismiss the majority of the world in an instant. We can eliminate wasted time exploring worthless garbage. We are now much more ruthlessly efficient and successful—or at least we will look successful to anybody who shares our narrowed notion of success."
February 5, 2026
Nguyen explores games, motivation, play, and metrics with relatable examples to help the reader access the philosophy he carefully layers together in this book. For me, the writing alternated between clear language for truths I’ve felt - but struggled to articulate - and careful explanation of conceptual tools for further understanding. I’m walking away with language that helps me think about my own motivations, navigate fluctuations between ambition and ambivalence, and contextualize why I’ve often felt isolated and dejected in my career and simultaneously fulfilled when I’ve poured countless hours into a “meaningless” sport.
Throughout the book, Nguyen honors the framework he’s building by maintaining the nuance; things aren’t clean-cut or certain on the journey of gathering meaning and purpose in our lives. That’s the point!
Some friends of mine talk about how our social group thrives on “structured fun.” If that sounds at all like you, give this book a read.
Throughout the book, Nguyen honors the framework he’s building by maintaining the nuance; things aren’t clean-cut or certain on the journey of gathering meaning and purpose in our lives. That’s the point!
Some friends of mine talk about how our social group thrives on “structured fun.” If that sounds at all like you, give this book a read.
February 8, 2026
I read The Score: How to Stop Playing Somebody Else's Game through the Millions and Edioak Reader Program, and it is a highly motivating guide to taking control of your life and defining success on your own terms.
The book offers practical strategies, personal anecdotes, and actionable advice that make its lessons relatable and easy to apply. It encourages self-reflection, setting boundaries, and pursuing goals authentically rather than following societal pressures.
The pacing is smooth, with each chapter presenting clear ideas and exercises that keep the reader engaged without feeling overwhelming. The tone is empowering, direct, and inspiring, making the guidance feel both personal and actionable.
This book is perfect for readers seeking clarity, motivation, and practical tools to live life on their own terms. The Millions and Edioak Reader Program helped me discover a resource that is both empowering and transformative.
The book offers practical strategies, personal anecdotes, and actionable advice that make its lessons relatable and easy to apply. It encourages self-reflection, setting boundaries, and pursuing goals authentically rather than following societal pressures.
The pacing is smooth, with each chapter presenting clear ideas and exercises that keep the reader engaged without feeling overwhelming. The tone is empowering, direct, and inspiring, making the guidance feel both personal and actionable.
This book is perfect for readers seeking clarity, motivation, and practical tools to live life on their own terms. The Millions and Edioak Reader Program helped me discover a resource that is both empowering and transformative.
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.
February 8, 2026
Loved this. Now I need to go back and revisit and better understand what Nguyen made sound so easy and re-evaluate how our world is entangled by these four horsemen. I have to admire his ability to make understandable those very rich and complex elements that we overlook. Is it weird that I felt proud that my favorite cookbook that I go back to time and again is the very one he mentioned? I think I’m writing this review much too soon after having read the book. I need more time to process or is this disjointed overload the point? Here’s an easy metric sound bite, it’s a great read, totally worth your time.
Read
February 16, 2026In the spirit of The Score, I must decline to give this a star rating, even though it was one of my favourite books of the year. Nguyen's whole project is showing how metrics flatten the things that actually matter, and it would feel wrong to turn around and do exactly that to his work.
This is one of the most useful lenses I've found for understanding contemporary life. Value capture, the way we quietly absorb external metrics as our own values, is something I now see everywhere. But Nguyen doesn't just diagnose the problem. He makes a genuinely joyful case for play and striving that can't be reduced to a number.
Read it, then resist the urge to rate it
This is one of the most useful lenses I've found for understanding contemporary life. Value capture, the way we quietly absorb external metrics as our own values, is something I now see everywhere. But Nguyen doesn't just diagnose the problem. He makes a genuinely joyful case for play and striving that can't be reduced to a number.
Read it, then resist the urge to rate it
February 17, 2026
Ironically, I went into this thinking it could help me be less competitive in my daily life but in fact, I just ended up not liking the book and not connecting with it at all. Most of it was a me problem because I could hear myself automatically negating the arguments but the other part was I don't think the arguments were quite fleshed out. I admit, the issue the author presents is accurate and far too prevalent but there were no real solutions. The set-up was also drawn out and could have been tighter and shorter. All in all, this wasn't the book for me but I do think generally it could have been snappier.
February 21, 2026
A much needed book for a world fueled on scoring systems defined / imposed by institutions and bureaucracies.
Perhaps ten years too late after social media was created.
I stumbled on Nguyen's writing from his previous book about game design based on game play psychology and the concept of 'agency'.
The Score, reads as an expansion of the concept of 'game' to 'life', from game design to life design. Asking the question of 'what game you are playing' is equivalent to asking 'what life do you value, what life you want to live are you measuring what matters:.
Highly recommend. Read it to regain clarity on what matters, and stop playing other people's games.
Perhaps ten years too late after social media was created.
I stumbled on Nguyen's writing from his previous book about game design based on game play psychology and the concept of 'agency'.
The Score, reads as an expansion of the concept of 'game' to 'life', from game design to life design. Asking the question of 'what game you are playing' is equivalent to asking 'what life do you value, what life you want to live are you measuring what matters:.
Highly recommend. Read it to regain clarity on what matters, and stop playing other people's games.
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 15, 2026
There are a few nice ideas in here about the different styles and aims of game playing, and some ruminations on how metrics and scorekeeping have infiltrated all the nooks and crannies of modern life. The book is too reliant on light personal anecdotes and tossed-off observations about the world, drawn from the author’s unexceptional nerdy academic experience. Not totally worth a book length discussion.
February 19, 2026
Easily, an enjoyable philosophical, pedagogical discussion with plenty of Professor Nguyen's personal insights. Well-narrated by the author.
Slightly repetitive and a few weedy f-bombs seem the only distractions.
My optimum audiobook experience is to have a hardback copy for reference. There were plenty of succinct and noteworthy sentences.
Highly recommend this for all educated readers. This book will linger in my thoughts; I plan to read more.
Slightly repetitive and a few weedy f-bombs seem the only distractions.
My optimum audiobook experience is to have a hardback copy for reference. There were plenty of succinct and noteworthy sentences.
Highly recommend this for all educated readers. This book will linger in my thoughts; I plan to read more.
February 7, 2026
As I post my reading on Goodreads, I suppose I am playing my own game with my own metrics. The problem is I'm probably still playing Amazon's game instead of my own.
One weakness, team games/sports were largely ignored. The added layer of sociality and support required in team sports seems like it is an important layer that was not addressed, but overall a very satisfying read.
One weakness, team games/sports were largely ignored. The added layer of sociality and support required in team sports seems like it is an important layer that was not addressed, but overall a very satisfying read.
February 23, 2026
I found this book after watching Chi Nguyen on Pablo Torre’s podcast talking about the subjectivity of metrics and value capture. Reading The Score was an amazing way to start the year because I realized that I, too, was playing other people’s games and had lost the purpose of why I do a lot of what I do. The author definitely didn’t intend to write a self help book but it helped me a ton.
February 9, 2026
How do you measure values? Why do metrics not really capture those values, despite constantly trying to? Are we really measuring what matters in our pursuits? Can playing games help us figure out what we value? This book made me think about all of those things. I really enjoyed this one.
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
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