Emotional Design

A product can work exactly as intended and still feel bad to use.

We tend to think about design in terms of whether someone can complete a task. But people don’t experience products objectively. They bring expectations, emotions, previous experiences, and the environment around them into every interaction.

Emotional design is about understanding those responses and designing around them.

At its core, it means designing for human beings first.[1]

Understand the person before the interface

Before thinking about what a product should look like, understand the circumstances in which it will exist.

Who is using it? Where are they? When are they using it? What are they trying to accomplish?

A navigation app used while driving has very different emotional requirements from one being used while planning a vacation from the couch.

The user’s context affects what they need from the interface.

Good emotional design starts by understanding the wants, needs, and expectations of the intended user, then designing for the variations between them. IxDF describes emotional design as designing not only for functionality, but for the emotional responses people naturally have while interacting with a product.[1]

Confidence makes action easier

A useful emotion to design for is confidence.

When someone understands what is happening, what they can do, and what will happen next, taking action feels easier.

This is one reason progressive disclosure works so well. Instead of showing everything a product can do at once, reveal information as it becomes relevant.

Give someone enough information to make the current decision, then let them go deeper if they need to.

The goal isn’t simply to make an interface look minimal. It’s to reduce unnecessary uncertainty.

This also applies to feedback. If someone presses a button and nothing happens for several seconds, they start wondering whether it worked. A small loading state might not make the system faster, but it can make the experience feel more understandable.

More choice isn’t always better

We generally like having options.

But there is a difference between wanting choice and making a choice.

In a well-known series of experiments, Sheena Iyengar and Mark Lepper compared larger sets of choices with smaller ones. People were more attracted to the larger assortment, but participants presented with fewer options were, in several experiments, more likely to actually choose and reported greater satisfaction afterward.[2]

This creates an interesting design tension.

People may perceive a product with more options as more capable, while the same number of options can make deciding harder.

The answer isn’t always to remove features. Sometimes it is simply to decide when those choices need to appear.

Simplicity is emotional

Simplicity isn’t only an aesthetic decision.

Paul Jarvis argues that emotional design benefits from simplicity because it is easier to create a clear emotional response when people aren’t being pulled in several directions at once.[3]

Think about a screen asking you to upgrade.

If it contains five equally prominent actions, several paragraphs of copy, multiple pricing comparisons, testimonials, an FAQ and an animation, the user has to figure out what deserves their attention.

A simpler experience can create a much clearer feeling:

I understand this. I know what happens next. I can make a decision.

That feeling is confidence.

Value matters more than polish

There is another side to simplicity.

People will tolerate complexity when something is valuable enough.

Heckel’s Law proposes that the quality of an interface can become relatively unimportant to adoption when the perceived value of the product is sufficiently high.[4]

Photoshop is complicated. So is professional video-editing software. So are many developer tools.

People learn them because what they can accomplish with the tool is worth the effort.

This doesn’t mean usability doesn’t matter. It means usability can’t compensate for a lack of value.

A beautifully designed product nobody needs is still a product nobody needs.

The best tools disappear

In many experiences, users don’t actually want to think about the product.

They want to think about what they’re doing with it.

When someone uses a camera, their goal isn’t to operate camera controls. It’s to capture a photograph.

When someone uses a running app, their goal isn’t to navigate an interface. It’s to record their run.

The product is an intermediary between a person and their goal.

For many successful products, the interface becomes something the user barely considers while carrying out the task.[4]

This changes the question from:

How do I make people notice this interaction?

to:

How do I help them accomplish what they came here to do?

Sometimes the best interaction is the one the user never thinks about.

First impression → function → value

An emotional response develops over time.

A useful way to think about that progression is:

The first impression answers: Does this feel trustworthy? Does this feel like something made for me?

Then comes function: Can I understand what to do? Does the product behave the way I expect?

And eventually value: Was using this worthwhile? Would I come back? Would I pay for it?

Jarvis describes these as three important components of emotional web design: first impressions, function, and perceived value.[3]

A beautiful first impression can get someone through the door.

It can’t make them stay.

Products have personalities

Every product communicates something.

The typography, motion, copy, sounds, illustrations, loading states and even error messages contribute to how the product feels.

One exercise is to imagine the product as a person.

How would they speak? How would they dress? How would they react when you made a mistake?

Jarvis describes using this kind of personification to make decisions about language, typography, color, and behavior.[3] IxDF similarly notes that products communicate personality whether designers intentionally create one or not.[1]

Personality isn’t something added after the interface is finished.

It’s the accumulation of hundreds of small decisions.

Design the feeling around the task

Emotional design doesn’t mean making every interaction delightful.

A banking app doesn’t necessarily need to be exciting. A password reset doesn’t need to be memorable. A checkout flow doesn’t need to surprise you.

Sometimes the desired emotional response is simply:

Nothing went wrong. I understood what to do. I felt confident. I finished.

Our job as designers is to understand how the things we create affect the people using them, then use that understanding to improve the experience.

Who is using this?

What are they trying to accomplish?

How should they feel while doing it?

What might make them hesitate?

What can the product remove, clarify, or reveal at the right moment?

The interface isn’t the goal.

The product is the tool. The user’s task is the focus.

Notes