Dopamine and the anticipation of reward

Nir Eyal’s Hooked has an entire chapter dedicated to variable reward and how our brains form habits by seeking them out. It’s becoming a really big deal in neurobiological research and is stirring up quite a few controversies about the ethics of manipulation.

In a video game called Team Fortress 2, the player receives supply crates randomly. If the player wishes to open it, they must purchase a key for $2.49 (or just ignore the crate). Upon opening the crate, there’s a six-second countdown with a background audience cheer slowly building up towards a climax over the clinks and clanks of a key being inserted into a lock, which eventually turns and produces a satisfying click. The crate then opens and the player finds out what they received inside it, which could be anything from a rare weapon to a common cosmetic hat.

There’s a very good reason for that six-second timer before the actual crate is opened. The anticipation of a reward releases the same concentrations of dopamine in our brains as those released when we fall in love. If the crate simply opened as soon as the key was used, the player is likely to be more disappointed with his or her reward — and is consequently less likely to purchase crate keys in the future.

In Fallout Shelter, the player receives lunchboxes that contain a collection of random item cards, with one guaranteed rare item card. The player flips through all the regular cards normally, but immediately before the player finds out what their rare card is, there’s a four-second animation of the card shining brightly and flipping rapidly before unveiling itself in a dazzling display of light and color.

Again, it’s the same principle at work. It doesn’t matter what the card actually is. In fact, it could be a completely worthless card. The fact that the reward was delayed enough to get the player to release dopamine is enough to keep the player coming back for more. It’s a subtle yet enormously powerful design element.

Even real-life product unboxing experiences try to embody this. Have you unboxed an Apple Watch? There’s an outer plastic covering which you take off, open the outer case, take off the inner leaflets, take out the inner case from its container, open the inner case, take out the soft-covered cloth pouch, open it, and inside lies the Apple Watch in all its glory.

The more time you spend unboxing the product, the more effort you’re investing into the product. The longer it takes for you to get to the physical product, the more dopamine you’re releasing in anticipation of the reward. It’s a delicate balance between overdoing it with box-ception and doing it just enough that the user will put up with it without ever realizing that they’re subconsciously triggering their pleasure receptors.

This applies to all facets of design, and you’ll notice it too. Next time you win something in a digital game, watch the prolonged animation before the trophy or award is actually presented to you. It will likely be accompanied by confetti, sound effects, and delightful cheers. It will be more obvious in games that have rewards which aren’t that rare. You’ll receive something crappy, but you won’t be less upset because of it. If anything, your dopamine release would have been so effective that you’ll try the gamble yet again.

Watch this trend catch on within mobile apps and gaming experiences within the next year or so. It’s a great way to drive repeat engagement for a product and get the user hooked on the “just once more” gambling approach. It’s obviously better to use this for social good than for devious profits. The most difficult part, however, is that even though you’re now aware of it, you’ll still find yourself prey to these traps in everyday products without even realizing it, which just goes to show how powerful it really can be.