Why Rock, Paper, Scissors is the Perfect UX System 

Did you know that Rock, Paper, Scissors (yes, that universal game we all played as kids), actually comes from Japan? 

In Japanese, it’s called jan-ken, and while the basic rules are the same, its role in everyday life is far more embedded in the culture than in most Western countries. In Japan, jan-ken isn’t just for kids or deciding who goes first in a game. It’s a socially accepted, almost ritualized method of making decisions, used by adults, children, and even in professional or televised contexts. 

Who gets the last slice of cake? Who speaks first in a group? Whose idea moves forward in a meeting? Jan-ken decides. 

Unlike in the West, where Rock, Paper, Scissors is mostly playful, in Japan it’s a serious (yet friendly) tool for resolving small-scale conflicts, eliminating bias, or simply moving things along without debate. No hard feelings, no hierarchy, just a simple hand game and mutual agreement. 

It’s a game everyone knows, and few have ever thought deeply about it. But if you do, it turns out jan-ken has a lot to say about interaction, shared understanding, and the very nature of UX (user experience). 

The Roots 

At its core, jan-ken is a game of three hand gestures: rock (guu), paper (paa), and scissors (choki). Each beats one and loses to another in a perfect loop. Rock crushes scissors, scissors cuts paper, paper covers rock. 

This structure, known as a three-way deadlock, isn’t unique to Japan, but in Japanese culture, it resonates with traditional patterns of balance and cyclical relationships. Folk beliefs, for instance, include sayings like: “The snake defeats the frog, the frog defeats the slug, and the slug defeats the snake.” 

The modern form of jan-ken evolved from a hand game imported from China during the Edo period. Known as shou-shou or ken, the early versions featured entirely different characters, like tiger, soldier, and gun. Over time, Japan simplified the format into something accessible to all ages: rock, paper, scissors. 

What’s particularly striking is how universally intuitive this structure became, despite its symbolic roots. With just three shapes and no language, the game resolves disputes, prompts laughter, and creates agreement. 

Different Voices, Same Game 

Another fascinating feature of jan-ken is how deeply it’s rooted in local culture while still adaptable across regions. Even within Japan, the game sounds different depending on where you are: 

• In Tokyo: Saisho wa guu, jan-ken-pon! 

• In Osaka: Injan-de-hoi 

• In Nagasaki: Shisshi no shi! 

• In Kagoshima: Iikedon! 

The hand signs are the same, but the rhythm, chants, and tie-breaker rules vary. Yet somehow, every child instinctively knows how to play without needing explanation. 

Beyond Japan, jan-ken has spread to the rest of the world as Rock, Paper, Scissors. In some countries, the elements change—Elephant, Man, Ant or Stone, Cloth, Scissors—but the underlying loop remains intact. 

It’s a brilliant example of a core structure traveling through local expression. This is where UX thinking starts to kick in, and, yes, where it gets exciting (at least for us). 

Why Jan-Ken Feels So UX 

Let’s start here: jan-ken has a shared structure, but it’s not rigid. 

 
It allows for variation. Different chants. Different styles. Even different meanings depending on the setting. But the core loop stays the same, and everyone intuitively “gets it.” That’s what we call contextual flexibility in UX. 

Good UX doesn’t enforce uniformity. It enables consistent outcomes across diverse contexts. 

Jan-ken also requires no instructions. No onboarding. No tooltip. No tutorial. And yet, even a five-year-old can learn it, use it, and trust the outcome. That’s the gold standard of natural interaction. 

It’s worth asking: 

• Why does this work so well? 

• Why does it feel fair, usable, and satisfying even without explanation? 

• And how does it hold up across generations, geographies, and cultures? 

These all comes down to how humans create shared meaning. And for that, we need to bring in a little philosophy. 

The Philosophy Behind Shared Meaning 

This brings us to someone who, while not a game designer or UX expert, had a lot to say about how meaning works in human interactions: Ludwig Wittgenstein. 

Regarded as one of the most influential philosophers of the 20th century, Wittgenstein, also known as the “father of conceptual analysis,” argued that we understand words through their use in specific situations. His ideas helped shape modern thinking in linguistics, psychology, and education. 

In Philosophical Investigations (1953), he famously wrote: “The meaning of a word is its use in the language.” He challenged the idea that words have fixed meanings, and argued that meaning is defined by use, by how words are actually employed in everyday life. He also introduced the concept of language games: social activities where meaning arises from shared understanding, implicit rules, and patterns of behavior, not from dictionary definitions. 

Think about the word rock. It could mean a geological object, a music genre, or a verb. But in jan-ken, rock means “this gesture, in this moment, which beats scissors and loses to paper.” That’s not a definition, it’s a function. And it only makes sense within the context of the game. 

Jan-ken, in this way, is a nonverbal language game. There are no words, but there are rules. 
There’s no explanation, but there is shared understanding. And meaning flows naturally from how people play. 

What This Means for UX Research 

So what does all of this have to do with UX? A lot. 

In UX research, we constantly face the challenge of ambiguous language. 

Users say things like: 

“This app is easy to use.” 
“It feels safe.” 
“I like how clean it looks.” 

These phrases sound positive, but they’re vague. 
Easy because there are fewer steps? Because the layout is familiar? Because nothing broke? 

“Safe” in a banking app might mean encryption. In a medical device, it might mean clear alerts. 
In a car interface, it might mean physical buttons instead of touchscreens. The words alone don’t tell us enough. We need to explore how users use those words, what they’re responding to, what they expect, and the context they’re in. 

That’s the Wittgenstein lens. It’s not just about what people say, it’s about what they’re doing when they say it. 

Practical Takeaways 

Here’s how this perspective plays out in our research practice at Uism: 

• Interview design 
  We intentionally use open-ended, fuzzy words like “convenient” or “trustworthy”—not because we’re unclear, but because we want to hear what those words mean to each user. 
• Data interpretation 
  We don’t just count keywords—we consider what the user was doing, feeling, or trying to solve when they said it. 
• UI evaluation 
  We check whether users are interpreting the interface the way designers intended. If there’s a mismatch, we look for context gaps—not just copy issues. 

Ultimately, good UX isn’t about designing for what people say. It’s about designing for how people make meaning in real situations. Jan-ken might be the simplest possible system for resolving disagreements. But beneath its simplicity lies a miniature model of how we interact, collaborate, and create shared understanding. 

• It minimizes conflict without creating resentment 
• It allows for local variation while maintaining a global structure 
• It’s intuitive, trust-based, and requires no explanation 

It’s not flashy, but it works because it meets people where they are, not where instructions want them to be. And that’s the heart of great UX. 

Final Thoughts: When Meaning Feels Effortless 

At Uism, we spend our time observing how people interact with systems, services, and each other, and uncovering the meanings they often don’t say out loud. Sometimes, that means analyzing digital products. Sometimes, it means watching behavior in physical environments. 
And sometimes, it starts with a question as innocent as: “Why is it rock, paper, and scissors?” 

The best design insights don’t always come from cutting-edge tech. They often come from everyday habits so embedded, we forget they’re designed at all. Jan-ken reminds us that when something feels intuitive, it’s not because it’s simple. It’s because it’s culturally embedded, contextually flexible, and socially negotiated. And maybe that’s the ultimate UX challenge: 
Designing things that feel obvious without ever needing to be explained. 

We’re a team of curious UX researchers at Uism, always exploring how people create meaning through design and interaction. If this perspective resonates with you or sparks a new question, let’s talk!