Table of Contents
Design ImplicationsIf someone thinks an experience they had was better than it really was, is that a bad thing? The implications of the colonoscopy study suggested to doctors that designing for a better remembered experience should take precedence over designing for a better moment-by-moment one. This seemed reasonable because, in the medical case, designing for better memory leads to greater wellbeing in the long term and greater compliance with repeat visits. Creating a memory-erasing device would probably be taking this logic too far, but in most cases of technology design, designing to optimize remembered experience seems to make a great deal of sense. Indeed, Don Norman (2009) argues that seeking a good remembered experience is more important than seeking a perfect moment-by-moment user experience and points to Disneyland, iPods, and trips to Thailand as perfect examples. Neither endless lines nor poor usability nor squat toilets can keep these experiences from turning rosy in retrospect. In his article for the journal Interactions of the ACM, “Memory Is More Important Than Actuality” (2009), he points out that “[when we remember] events, some things fade from the mind faster than others. Details fall away faster than higher-level constructs. Emotions fade faster than cognitions.” Our reflective ideas about an experience will last longer than the fleeting frustrations that formed part of that experience at the time. “So, make sure the beginning and the end are wonderful,” he concludes. “Make sure there are reminders of the good parts of the experience: Photographs, mementos, trinkets. Make sure the experience delights, whether it be the simple unfolding of a car’s cup holder or the band serenading departing cruise-ship customers. Accentuate the positive and it will overwhelm the negative.” Entries and ExitsBringing together the peak–end rule, Norman’s notes on serenades, and what we know about the importance of first impressions, we can only conclude that designers, like good playwrights, need to attend to their entrances, their climaxes, and their exits. In terms of entries to experience, there’s already plenty of design research and experience to show how powerful first impressions can be and therefore how much care is put into homepages and openers, but do we carefully consider the way users exit our experiences? When someone leaves our website, do we send them off with a release of balloons and applause, a fond farewell, or a carefully unfolding denouement? Probably not. To better conceptualize our digital exits is to, as Tom Stoppard’s Player suggests, “think of every exit as being an entrance somewhere else.”4 This not only better serves the peak–end rule but takes into consideration the reality of the user’s continuous experience. In order to embrace our exits, we need to better understand where our users go after they interact with our product. We might ask ourselves how a memory of the experience can be retained and shared with others. Many digital interactions designed for children already allow kids to print their creations, or show evidence of their achievements in the form of, say, certificates or trading cards. Amazon’s Kindle app detects when you have reached the last page of the book you have been reading and uses this moment of near closure to offer you exit options. You can rate the book with one tap, share that you’ve finished it on a social media site, or choose from a list of books by the same author or on the same topic. Of course, this design decision is about generating business, not wellbeing, but it does show how we can begin to do more with our exits. It’s worth noting that acknowledging the importance of remembered experience should not be mistaken as disregard for the importance of present-moment attention. We’re looking at how remembered experience can impact design decisions, which does not mean we discourage the user from a mindful experience—the two are not in opposition. And, of course, mindfulness is not an approach to the design of technology, but a state of mind and a practice that we look closely at in chapter 10. Of course, we don’t argue that the remembered experience is the only important thing (otherwise we’d be focusing on developing that memory-erasing stick). Remembered experience is simply an aspect of our wellbeing worth taking into consideration, and doing so is a useful antidote to seeking a flawless user experience, which is both impossible to achieve and sometimes overvalued in terms of longer-term benefits. Kahneman’s (2000) method for measuring what he refers to as “total utility” aggregates moment-by-moment assessments, conducted over a period of time, and he deliberately includes those moments spent reflecting about a past experience as part of the measure of that past experience. Indeed, one’s method of measuring wellbeing will have an impact on how one designs for it. If positive recollection is of importance to your wellbeing measure, you will probably choose to invest in supporting recollection in the design of a digital experience. Still, simply attending to peaks and exits is unlikely to be the only answer to cultivating positive emotion for wellbeing. Designers have been reveling in the hedonic quality of digital experience in its own right for years, both because it’s fun and because it’s smart business. Design for EmotionDesigners love to think and talk about how their designs might elicit delight, fun, playfulness, happiness, calm, excitement, pride, or even awe. After all, we’re a playful bunch who want to make the world more enjoyable. It is arguably because Apple has triggered so many of these emotions so consistently that its series of mobile devices has become so wildly popular. And as Norman (2009) points out, it is also for this very reason that its many usability problems get consistently overlooked by loyal users. The frustration that might lead to rage with other computer technologies has been sealed out for Apple devices by a thick resilient buffer of positive emotion. Less obvious perhaps are the many ways designing for positive emotions can have useful cognitive consequences. How often do we design for positive emotion specifically to affect other task goals such as productivity, learning, and problem solving? Many research studies have shown in contexts as varied as boardrooms and doctor’s offices that positive emotion increases creativity and problem solving. In his book Emotional Design (2005), Norman points out that “emotions, we now know, change the way the human mind solves problems—the emotional system changes how the cognitive system operates. … Positive emotions are critical to learning, curiosity and creative thought. … [B]eing happy broadens the thought processes and facilitates creative thinking.” Norman’s framework for understanding the different levels at which we react emotionally to design divides our experience into the visceral, behavioral, and reflective. The visceral includes aesthetics and first impressions and engages our senses. Visceral design alone can make us feel excited, relaxed, anxious, or wary. At the behavioral level, it is what we do, how we move, the activity we engage in, how we control and interact with a product, and how it gives us feedback that can be satisfying, joyful, or aggravating. Finally, the reflective level engages our intellect, our values, our opinions, and our judgments. At this level, we consider how a product reflects our values, supports our goals, adds to our identity or status, how it contributes to a more sustainable or more just world, how it represents family or connectedness—all of these webs of concepts that we build about a product or experience come with emotions such as pride, confidence, motivation, affection, and so on, and, as mentioned earlier, it is the reflective level that is most persistent. Marc Hassenzahl and Andreas Beu (2001) have emphasized that we ought to understand the nature of hedonic quality as a software requirement, citing its importance to product satisfaction, credibility, and usability as well as the potential effects it can have on the quality of the work being done with that software: “in certain work positions (those requiring ‘emotion work,’ such as a call center agent or hotel receptionist), enjoyment might have an important effect on work quality instead of solely serving a therapeutic purpose.” And they propose a number of techniques, including a repertory grid and interview techniques, for measuring the hedonic quality of software. Clearly, emotion occurs at many levels of a user experience, and the more we can understand about these levels, the better we can apply this knowledge in the service of wellbeing. We have now seen the potential for increases in positive emotions to trigger an upward spiral of flourishing and have noted that affiliative positive emotions are essential to creating the balance that defines that flourishing. But positive emotions alone are not enough to complete the positive-computing picture. Positive emotions co-occur with other factors such as mindfulness, compassion, motivation, engagement, and flow, which is where we head next. In the following chapter, we look at when digital experiences motivate people to connect, take action, and change, which, when considered en masse, can have strikingly powerful implications. | Design ImplicationsIf someone thinks an experience they had was better than it really was, is that a bad thing? The implications of the colonoscopy study suggested to doctors that designing for a better remembered experience should take precedence over designing for a better moment-by-moment one. This seemed reasonable because, in the medical case, designing for better memory leads to greater wellbeing in the long term and greater compliance with repeat visits. Creating a memory-erasing device would probably be taking this logic too far, but in most cases of technology design, designing to optimize remembered experience seems to make a great deal of sense. Indeed, Don Norman (2009) argues that seeking a good remembered experience is more important than seeking a perfect moment-by-moment user experience and points to Disneyland, iPods, and trips to Thailand as perfect examples. Neither endless lines nor poor usability nor squat toilets can keep these experiences from turning rosy in retrospect. In his article for the journal Interactions of the ACM, “Memory Is More Important Than Actuality” (2009), he points out that “[when we remember] events, some things fade from the mind faster than others. Details fall away faster than higher-level constructs. Emotions fade faster than cognitions.” Our reflective ideas about an experience will last longer than the fleeting frustrations that formed part of that experience at the time. “So, make sure the beginning and the end are wonderful,” he concludes. “Make sure there are reminders of the good parts of the experience: Photographs, mementos, trinkets. Make sure the experience delights, whether it be the simple unfolding of a car’s cup holder or the band serenading departing cruise-ship customers. Accentuate the positive and it will overwhelm the negative.” Entries and ExitsBringing together the peak–end rule, Norman’s notes on serenades, and what we know about the importance of first impressions, we can only conclude that designers, like good playwrights, need to attend to their entrances, their climaxes, and their exits. In terms of entries to experience, there’s already plenty of design research and experience to show how powerful first impressions can be and therefore how much care is put into homepages and openers, but do we carefully consider the way users exit our experiences? When someone leaves our website, do we send them off with a release of balloons and applause, a fond farewell, or a carefully unfolding denouement? Probably not. To better conceptualize our digital exits is to, as Tom Stoppard’s Player suggests, “think of every exit as being an entrance somewhere else.”4 This not only better serves the peak–end rule but takes into consideration the reality of the user’s continuous experience. In order to embrace our exits, we need to better understand where our users go after they interact with our product. We might ask ourselves how a memory of the experience can be retained and shared with others. Many digital interactions designed for children already allow kids to print their creations, or show evidence of their achievements in the form of, say, certificates or trading cards. Amazon’s Kindle app detects when you have reached the last page of the book you have been reading and uses this moment of near closure to offer you exit options. You can rate the book with one tap, share that you’ve finished it on a social media site, or choose from a list of books by the same author or on the same topic. Of course, this design decision is about generating business, not wellbeing, but it does show how we can begin to do more with our exits. It’s worth noting that acknowledging the importance of remembered experience should not be mistaken as disregard for the importance of present-moment attention. We’re looking at how remembered experience can impact design decisions, which does not mean we discourage the user from a mindful experience—the two are not in opposition. And, of course, mindfulness is not an approach to the design of technology, but a state of mind and a practice that we look closely at in chapter 10. Of course, we don’t argue that the remembered experience is the only important thing (otherwise we’d be focusing on developing that memory-erasing stick). Remembered experience is simply an aspect of our wellbeing worth taking into consideration, and doing so is a useful antidote to seeking a flawless user experience, which is both impossible to achieve and sometimes overvalued in terms of longer-term benefits. Kahneman’s (2000) method for measuring what he refers to as “total utility” aggregates moment-by-moment assessments, conducted over a period of time, and he deliberately includes those moments spent reflecting about a past experience as part of the measure of that past experience. Indeed, one’s method of measuring wellbeing will have an impact on how one designs for it. If positive recollection is of importance to your wellbeing measure, you will probably choose to invest in supporting recollection in the design of a digital experience. Still, simply attending to peaks and exits is unlikely to be the only answer to cultivating positive emotion for wellbeing. Designers have been reveling in the hedonic quality of digital experience in its own right for years, both because it’s fun and because it’s smart business. Design for EmotionDesigners love to think and talk about how their designs might elicit delight, fun, playfulness, happiness, calm, excitement, pride, or even awe. After all, we’re a playful bunch who want to make the world more enjoyable. It is arguably because Apple has triggered so many of these emotions so consistently that its series of mobile devices has become so wildly popular. And as Norman (2009) points out, it is also for this very reason that its many usability problems get consistently overlooked by loyal users. The frustration that might lead to rage with other computer technologies has been sealed out for Apple devices by a thick resilient buffer of positive emotion. Less obvious perhaps are the many ways designing for positive emotions can have useful cognitive consequences. How often do we design for positive emotion specifically to affect other task goals such as productivity, learning, and problem solving? Many research studies have shown in contexts as varied as boardrooms and doctor’s offices that positive emotion increases creativity and problem solving. In his book Emotional Design (2005), Norman points out that “emotions, we now know, change the way the human mind solves problems—the emotional system changes how the cognitive system operates. … Positive emotions are critical to learning, curiosity and creative thought. … [B]eing happy broadens the thought processes and facilitates creative thinking.” Norman’s framework for understanding the different levels at which we react emotionally to design divides our experience into the visceral, behavioral, and reflective. The visceral includes aesthetics and first impressions and engages our senses. Visceral design alone can make us feel excited, relaxed, anxious, or wary. At the behavioral level, it is what we do, how we move, the activity we engage in, how we control and interact with a product, and how it gives us feedback that can be satisfying, joyful, or aggravating. Finally, the reflective level engages our intellect, our values, our opinions, and our judgments. At this level, we consider how a product reflects our values, supports our goals, adds to our identity or status, how it contributes to a more sustainable or more just world, how it represents family or connectedness—all of these webs of concepts that we build about a product or experience come with emotions such as pride, confidence, motivation, affection, and so on, and, as mentioned earlier, it is the reflective level that is most persistent. Marc Hassenzahl and Andreas Beu (2001) have emphasized that we ought to understand the nature of hedonic quality as a software requirement, citing its importance to product satisfaction, credibility, and usability as well as the potential effects it can have on the quality of the work being done with that software: “in certain work positions (those requiring ‘emotion work,’ such as a call center agent or hotel receptionist), enjoyment might have an important effect on work quality instead of solely serving a therapeutic purpose.” And they propose a number of techniques, including a repertory grid and interview techniques, for measuring the hedonic quality of software. Clearly, emotion occurs at many levels of a user experience, and the more we can understand about these levels, the better we can apply this knowledge in the service of wellbeing. We have now seen the potential for increases in positive emotions to trigger an upward spiral of flourishing and have noted that affiliative positive emotions are essential to creating the balance that defines that flourishing.
But positive emotions alone are not enough to complete the positive-computing picture. Positive emotions co-occur with other factors such as mindfulness, compassion, motivation, engagement, and flow, which is where we head next. In the following chapter, we look at when digital experiences motivate people to connect, take action, and change, which, when considered en masse, can have strikingly powerful implications. |