Who Are You?

How might we design a game that helps people navigate space through personal memory and storytelling?

Apr 2019 - May 2019 (1 Month) /

Eunjung Kim (Independent Project)

Who Are You is a card game I designed as part of a one-month class assignment. The project, which began with the theme of memory, was inspired by how freshmen at Parsons often struggle to find their way around campus—since, unlike traditional university campuses, Parsons—part of The New School—is spread across several buildings throughout New York City. I designed the game as a playful way to help new students get familiar with the layout through gamification.

At the same time, I found myself wanting to remember the buildings that held my own memories. This project became a way to do both: help others get familiar with Parsons while reflecting on the places that shaped my time there.

Adobe Illustrator

1. Framing the Design Question

It’s an ordinary class day. You’re sitting in the back of the classroom, as usual.

The professor looks around and begins counting the students aloud.

“One, two, three… thirteen.”

But wait—you’re also counting thirteen students in front of you. Including you, there are fourteen people here.

There’s a ghost in the classroom.

“Who are you?”

This strange little story came to me during class—half daydream, half observation. I was thinking about how new students at Parsons often get lost finding their way around. The campus isn’t a single location but a scattered set of buildings across Manhattan. This story became the opening of Who Are You, a card game rooted in memory, place, and mystery.

At the same time, I was reflecting on my own time at the school. With graduation on the horizon, I wanted to preserve the places that had shaped me—not through static documentation, but through something interactive and alive.

2. Research Process & Insights

Mapping Familiarity Through Personal Memory

When I started thinking about how new students experience Parsons, I reflected on my own memories. Each building—such as 2 West 13th, 63 5th, 6 East 16th—holds different memories: specific classes, people, projects, even smells. But for freshmen, those buildings often blur together. Without a central campus, finding your way around can feel like solving a puzzle with no map.

I began by identifying five key buildings where I had taken classes—each tied to a personal memory. From there, I collected sensory fragments and moments I associated with each space: the smell of the Making Center, the sound of students waiting in line for the elevator, the spooky feeling of rainy evenings in the studio, when my classmates and I would whisper ghost stories between critiques.

I started asking:

Can a game carry these associations—not through explanation, but through experience?

Can design turn orientation into storytelling?

Can personal memory become shared storytelling—something others can feel, even if they haven’t lived it?

3. Ideation & Concept Development

From Memory to Mischief

I looked into social deduction games like Mafia—games where players rely on intuition, role-playing, and storytelling. These formats create tension, interaction, and improvisation—tools I felt could help players engage emotionally with the spaces in the game.

Rather than designing a game that simply teaches facts about campus buildings, I wanted Who Are You to be about how we remember places—and how our stories shape our understanding of space. I reimagined Parsons’ campus as a space haunted by mischievous ghosts trying to blend in with students. The goal: identify the ghost before they fool you with a fake memory.

Building the Game Around Places and Stories

I began thinking about how the physical buildings at Parsons could become active parts of gameplay—not just as locations, but as characters with stories. I created three types of cards: PLACE, ACTION, and GHOST.

PLACE cards featured five real buildings where I frequently had classes or worked on projects: University Center (63 5th), 2 West 13th, 6 East 16th, 79 fifth Ave, and 25E 13th (Parsons East).

ACTION cards each described a short narrative based on memory from one of those buildings. They’re based on personal memories, but designed so that anyone familiar with the building could recognize the reference. For example: ‘Everyone lined up for the elevator… but we used the one just next door—a small secret most new students hadn’t discovered yet.’

And the GHOST card? That was the twist. The player who draws it has to pretend they’ve been to a place they actually haven’t—and bluff their way through with a believable story. That tension between truth and fiction is what brings the game to life.

4. Prototyping & Testing

From Concept to Playable Format

Once I had the mechanics and card types figured out, I began prototyping. I sketched each PLACE card based on how I remembered the buildings—emphasizing familiarity over architectural accuracy. Initially, I focused on detailed architectural sketches, but after testing, I simplified them to make the cards easier to recognize and use during gameplay. Each building had its own set of ACTION cards tied to my personal memories, and each memory had to be specific enough to sound real, but broad enough to feel relatable to others.

I then tested the game with small groups of friends. We laid out PLACE card bundles—three cards per location—and after removing one PLACE card from each bundle, I added the GHOST card before shuffling and distributing them to players. Players each picked one, then chose an ACTION card that matched their PLACE (or, in the ghost’s case, had to improvise). Everyone took turns sharing their story.

The moment someone said something like,

“I remember the rattling sound of the elevator on the way to the Making Center…”

the others would lean in, trying to guess—Are you telling the truth? Or are you the ghost?

Playtesting What Memory Can Do

The game wasn’t about winning. It was about listening closely, connecting through shared places, and telling stories that blurred the line between real and imagined.

What surprised me most during testing was how quickly players attached meaning to the places—even if they hadn’t been there. Memory became contagious. The game didn’t just teach players about campus buildings; it made them feel like part of a shared world.

5. Final Design & Reflection

Designing a Game About Space, Memory, and Belonging

The final version of Who Are You includes three card types:

PLACE cards: Illustrations of five key Parsons buildings where I frequently had classes or worked on projects.
ACTION cards: Snippets of personal memories—from elevator lines and rainy-day studios to late-night printing disasters.
GHOST card: A single wild card that turns each round into a small mystery.

Each round begins with players selecting one of the five PLACE card bundles. From their bundle, they select two cards. One GHOST card is then added to those two, shuffled, and randomly dealt to the players—so one person ends up as the ghost, and two others hold PLACE cards. The ghost doesn’t know which place the others received and must pretend they belong—telling a story that could pass for memory. The others must guess who’s faking it.

Each player—ghost included—chooses one ACTION card and tells a memory or story based on it. After hearing the stories, the players try to guess who the ghost is.

The twist? The ghost hears the same clues but must improvise a believable memory.

This meant that every round became a mix of truth and fiction—players remembering places they knew, and guessing at those they didn’t. In a way, the ghost was doing what freshmen do every day: trying to belong in an unfamiliar space.

The design goal wasn’t just to describe buildings, but to make memory something you had to perform—and interpret.

This format allowed me to turn orientation into interaction, and personal memories into shared storytelling. A ghost story, yes—but one grounded in space, identity, and the way we remember where we’ve been.

Reimagining Memory

Who Are You is ultimately about how we remember space—and how, through games and imagination, those memories can be shared, reinterpreted, and retold. It’s a playful way to document my own time at Parsons, and to invite others into that experience—even if they’ve never set foot in those buildings.