Sid Meier’s “Rule of Thirds” for sequels
A long time ago I read an interview with the legendary game designer Sid Meier in which he talked about his studio’s approach for designing sequels to their game franchise, Civilization. Namely:
Meier said Firaxis has adopted a “rule of thirds” for new Civilization entries: “one-third traditional gameplay, one-third is improved from the last version, and one-third is brand new.”
Or, more simply: “One third the same, one third improved, one third new”.
This comment has stayed with me for years now. Not just because of how well it applies to game sequels outside of Civilization, but how well it applies to sequels for pretty much anything — books, movies, plays, whatever. Every type of media, of course, has its own distinct elements unique to that media—but the idea can still be applied across those elements.
When I think about the best film sequels — The Empire Strikes Back, The Godfather Part II, Spider-Man 2 — I feel like there’s a pretty strong argument that they follow a rough version of “one third the same, one third improved, one third new” across their sequences, themes, and characters. It certainly feels more precise than Hollywood’s conventional phrase for sequels: “similar but different”.
Ultimately I think the rule also speaks to why people are attracted to sequels generally, and the related power of genre and brand: as we experience the world, we are all continuously struggling between the comfort of the familiar and the desire for novelty.
It follows that when we turn to a sequel, we’re looking for something overwhelmingly familiar — but maybe a bit better, or a little new. The rule provides a convenient model for this form, making explicit what was previously an implicit “contract with the audience” for sequels: one third will be the same as what you’ve experienced before, one third will be a (hopefully) improved version, and one third will be new. Maybe better, maybe worse — but new.
It may not be sexy, but I think Sid Meier’s “Rule of Thirds” for sequels is a useful model to think about, both for audiences and for creators. While applying formulas to art always seems reductive — and for some, offensive — a sequel is, by its nature, a tacit acknowledgement that culture can be productized. Creators always have a responsibility to their audiences, and the specific expectations of a sequel are simply part of that responsibility. And of course: “which third” of the elements will be the same as existing material, which third improved (and how), and which third new (and in what ways) — are all fundamentally artistic decisions. The rule simply provides a structure for thinking about the elements of the media in relation to the sequel form.
As we’ve seen through countless successful — and failed — franchises, navigating the tightrope of sequel expectations is practically an art in itself. Experiencing a sequel done well can be its own, unique kind of breathtaking performance: providing the nostalgic comfort of the familiar, maybe even improving it, and with just enough novelty that we’re pleasantly surprised — and will come back for the next one.
“One third the same, one third improved, one third new.”
And after all: if people didn’t want the sequel, they could always try something new.
