The PS4 Console

"How do I work this thing?"

Beauty can sometimes override design, creating usability flaws in a product designed to be used by humans.

The Playstation 4's base model is nothing short of impressive. It's appealing to look at and a sleek representation of the generation's gaming. Released in 2013, it holds up well today, still supporting AAA games people play today. Fun fact: thanks to crossplay, it also runs Apex Legends, so that's a plus for me.

The shiny asymmetrical texture difference, angled shape, and somewhat hidden ports contribute to its eye-catching, slightly mysterious nature. It reminds me of a well-dressed, fashion-forward, porcelain-faced model walking through the streets with their small cute dog.

But that's the flaw: all of those things make it difficult for humans to interact with it.

The buttons:

Let's start with the fundamental operations a gaming console should be able to do: turn on, and accept disks. It's surprising they don't do more, but a user is interfacing with a console's software more than the physical console itself. When you think about it, the more minimal design that consoles can gravitate towards, the more this makes sense.

However, if you look at the image above, do you see the power button? Do you see a button to eject a disk? Is there a light source, or in other words, something to look to for feedback that the console is on or plugged in?

In this photo, you can see the disk slot. That's nice, but it won't accept or sense disks until you turn the console on. So...where is the 'On' button?

Answer: It's a tiny sliver-sized touch-based rectangle wedged between the shiny and grainy textures. It's on the same side as the SONY label. Right below it is an identical button, the one for ejecting disks.

This is somewhat inconvenient for a human. For one, I don't intuitively see how to turn this expensive piece of machinery on. When you plug in the console, light does emit from the top, again, from the same shiny-grainy gap.

But it doesn't indicate where the power button is. In other words, when the light is on, it doesn't highlight a button, or no hidden "press here" text lights up to the user. Again, it's a sleek design, but not useful for the common user to understand at first glance.

Furthermore, similar to the XBOX One console, a cat or dog can brush by it and turn it off. This is humorous for Tik Toks, but not in the moment-to-moment experience, especially if I'm in an Apex Legends match.

The ports:

If you look at the console, you'd think the disc opening is the grainy side because it's wider. However, this is not the case. It's asymmetrically located between the sleek-grainy opening in the front, which is also a little hidden at most angles.

In this picture, you can't see the disc slot, but the USB ports are visible. But if I look at the front of this product (which many stores display at a similar angle), I don't see how to plug this in, or where the HDMI port is.

This is the porcelain-faced model design talking: it's hiding these things that make it look like an un-usable machine. It's trying to be minimal and cool. It wants people to open this bad boy up, then ooh and aah at it. It WANTS to be displayed. (Not a reference to the Lord of the Rings here...)

But consoles aren't for display, they are for running cool games. This means we need to be able to connect it to TVs, monitors, and power outlets.

On one hand, it's convenient to place the ports in the back. This means the console can face the user while the wires can run outwards against walls and be safely tucked away. I also assume that for hardware purposes, they are placed there to best interact with whatever is inside the console. However, the angled design makes plugging and unplugging the console in or out very awkward.

Have you ever reached your arm back behind something and tried to feel your way around a power source with a cord in your hand, trying to plug something in? It's difficult with the angles of the console. It's also hard when everything is located in the back of something.

It would be mitigated maybe with a light source or magnetic bindings to help users spend little time setting up their consoles, but the PlayStation does not have these features.

why any of this matters:

Let's be clear: I love the Playstation 4. I love the Xbox One. I love all consoles.

But I think it's important to remember that these pieces of hardware are still used by humans. They are used by people who may just pick up the first gaming console they see or the one that best fits under their coffee table. Not everyone does extensive research and knows how to operate these devices before even touching one. In this way, companies can and should take advantage of the strengths of an intuitive design for their hardware.

A controller is a perfect example. You hold it because the shape is designed to be held and gripped (not thrown, though this affordance doesn't stop many people). The buttons all face you and the inputs for charging are as far from your fingers as possible to prevent jostling wires or non-gaming elements of the controller. Everything is within fingers' reach and in these ways, it's intuitive by feel and appearance. While this is a controller and not a console, the principles are the same: it's intuitively designed hardware.

Consoles also cost money. If I wanted to design a beautiful thing that was also permitted and understood to be expensive, I don't want people to be confused about how to use it, let alone turn it on. When Steve Jobs and his company began designing the first computer, Steve insisted on a handle. He wanted humans to understand how to better interact with the product so that it feels safe and approachable.

While not every company has or needs a Steve Jobs, the ideas of intuitive human-centered design are still important. Consoles can be friendly and approachable too.