Understanding Player Motivation Through Self-Determination Theory: A Framework for Better Game Design

SDT

About a decade ago, while moderating creative workshops at Ubisoft, I was introduced to Self-Determination Theory (SDT), a psychological framework developed by Edward Deci and Richard Ryan. Though it wasn’t created for games, its insights into why humans stay motivated proved invaluable for helping teams refine their designs throughout development.

SDT emerged from decades of research on what drives genuine engagement. Instead of focusing on rewards or punishment, it looks at how people become motivated from within. When applied to analyzing player behaviour, it helped explain patterns that raw metrics or persona typologies couldn’t. It didn’t just show what players did, it revealed why they cared.

Richard Ryan, PhD, and Edward Deci, PhD

What Is Self-Determination Theory?

At the heart of SDT is the idea that people thrive when three psychological needs are met. When they aren’t, motivation weakens and engagement fades.

1. Autonomy – the feeling of acting out of personal choice and alignment with one’s own values. It’s not about independence so much as having ownership over one’s actions.

   
   

2. Competence – the sense of growing ability and effectiveness. It’s the satisfaction that comes from mastering challenges and seeing tangible progress.

   
   

3. Relatedness – the feeling of meaningful connection with others, of being part of something where you both matter and are cared for.

   
   

When these needs are fulfilled, players experience intrinsic motivation: they engage because the activity itself feels rewarding.

When the needs are blocked, motivation becomes external, driven by pressure, rewards, or fear of missing out; and engagement quickly becomes fragile.

Why this matters for games

When I began building Game Changr’s analytical approach, I used SDT as a diagnostic lens. It quickly exposed patterns that traditional playtests often miss, especially in how systems influence players' motivation.

Autonomy

Autonomy isn’t just “giving players choices.” It’s about whether those choices feel self-directed or coerced. A game might offer countless options yet still make players feel pressured into one “right” way to play.

I’ve observed testers describe feeling forced into systems they disliked. Event tasks that felt mandatory, or meta builds that dictated behaviour. For instance in one competitive shooter I've been working on, players had to complete specific daily quests to unlock high-tier weapons. They succeeded and even felt proud of finishing tasks, but their enjoyment dropped because they weren’t playing how they wanted to.

Supporting autonomy means removing unnecessary pressure and creating meaningful options.

Stardew Valley does this beautifully: nothing demands your time. You decide how to spend each day, farming, fishing, exploring, and every action feels voluntary.

Outer Wilds creates autonomy through curiosity. The entire experience is self-driven: you pursue mysteries because you want answers.

During interviews, when players describe these games, they use phrases like “I wanted to…” or “I decided to…,” revealing internal motivation rather than obligation.

Mobius Digital's Outer Wilds _ 2019

Competence

Competence is about feeling effective, not being perfect. Even when players struggle, if they sense improvement or progress, their motivation grows.

I personally logged about 400 hours in Deadlock despite being an average player (at best). My aim is slightly off, my reflexes are not what they used to be and I fail to follow on the best meta build. What kept me engaged wasn’t dominance, but the feeling that I was contributing more effectively each session, calling plays, learning maps, refining teamwork. That was growth.

Competence breaks down in two common ways:

• When games are too easy. Short-term success feels good, but without challenge, mastery never develops. Pay-to-win systems often fall here: they grant power, not skill.

  
  

• When outcomes feel random or unfair. If players can’t connect success or failure to their actions, learning stalls. For example, in one project, testers couldn’t explain how matches were won, an unmistakable sign that clarity and fairness were missing.

  
  

Competence flourishes when rules are consistent and feedback is clear.

Soulslike games achieve this by rewarding learning and persistence. Players die (VERY!) often, but always understand why.

Incontrast, Animal Crossing delivers competence through creativity and visible progress: your world evolves because of your effort, not difficulty.

Relatedness

Relatedness is the most misunderstood dimension of the SDT. It goes beyond social features. It’s about feeling genuinely connected  to people, characters, or the world.

Many games add chat, guilds, or leaderboards and assume that’s enough. But social proximity isn’t emotional connection. I’ve seen teams create elaborate guild systems that result in silent lobbies and parallel solo play. Players interact, but don’t bond.

Some games even undermine relatedness by emphasizing rivalry over cooperation, leaderboards that pit everyone against each other, or ranking systems that reward selfish play.

Even single-player games can fall short when NPCs feel purely transactional. In contrast, when objectives tie emotionally to relationships, such as helping a family member or friend, players feel more invested.

True relatedness appears when interactions feel authentic.

Journey connects strangers without words, relying on shared moments of discovery.

Deep Rock Galactic convey camaraderie through teamwork and mutual dependence.

In interviews, players who feel relatedness talk about people not systems, mechanics or features. They recall funny moments or emotional connections, not just gameplay mechanics.

Why metrics miss what SDT reveals

SDT doesn’t give design answers, it gives better questions.

When evaluating a feature, ask:

• Does this reinforce or restrict autonomy?

  
  

• Does it promote growth or replace skill with shortcuts?

  
  

• Does it cultivate genuine connection or shallow interaction?

  
  

Sometimes the features that look “good for engagement metrics” actually erode intrinsic motivation. SDT helps distinguish between systems that create short-term compulsion and those that foster long-term loyalty.

Why it's still at the heart of my work

SDT isn’t the only way to understand players, but it remains one of the most reliable frameworks I’ve found for separating real engagement from temporary attention.

It clarifies why some free-to-play titles build lasting communities while others lose players quickly,

why certain difficult games feel rewarding while others just feel punishing,

and why games that respect player agency often develop passionate fanbases.

Most importantly, SDT gives developers, designers, and researchers a shared vocabulary. Instead of saying, “I think players won’t like this,” teams can discuss whether a system undermines autonomy or fails to support competence. It turns instinct into something you can measure and improve.

Games that meet these three needs don’t just entertain, they become part of players’ lives, offering fulfillment that lasts far beyond the moment of play.