Headshot! [Dissecting Galloway's Analysis of the First-Person Shooter]

Galloway's second chapter, Origins of the First Person Shooter, is the weakest essay in his book. The chapter does contain interesting and thought provoking ideas, but the overall essay is plagued by problems. Despite the title, Galloway veers off into discussions about gaming in general and its cinematic antecedents at several points. These digressions would not be an issue if He tied them more concretely to the evolution of the first-person shooter from other models of video gaming, but instead, he seems more concerned about illustrating the dichotomies between gaming and cinema. Furthermore, in making his arguments, Galloway hinges some of his points on fallacies, which in turn weakens the argument as a whole.

To be fair, there are still relevant theories to be found in the chapter. Galloway points out that the use of the first-person subjective camera acts as both a unifying and divisive aspect of video games and it's older media cousin, film. His argument is that while both mediums use the first-person subjective, each uses it to different effect.

Film, on the one hand, uses the technique not to create a sense of immersion and empathy with a character, but to establish alienation, detachment, fear and violence. Galloway delineates between the first-person subjective shot and the point-of-view shot to firmly establish his argument. It is at this point that the holes in his theories start to arise. He suggests that the first-person subjective enters the diagesis of the film, piercing the screen by showing 'exactly' what the character sees, as opposed to the point-of-view shot, which simply aims the camera in the general direction of a given character's line of sight. The main contention here is one of the experience of cinema viewing itself: the screen. Galloway argues that first-person subjective pierces the screen, but the screen remains present and therefore restricts what the viewer can see, not in fact offering 'exactly' what the character sees, but boxing that vision and containing, or limiting, it.

Secondly, Galloway argues the difference between first-person subjective and POV shots by way of the phenomena associated with a subjective view, such as blinking, tears, jostling head movements, and the like. Judged by these criteria, most first-person perspective shots in films and virtually all first-person shooters fail, thus rendering their classification of 'first-person subjective' problematic. While many of these shots in film, and most first-person games contain aspects such as 'pitch and lurch' (the bobbing during movement in games; the shakiness present in 'anti-steadicam' shots) and the now ubiquitous blinding and lens flare effects (especially in video games, as of the mid 1990s), other facets, such as tears and blinking are almost completely absent from the presentation. It is due to these exacting criteria, however, that Galloway makes claims such as the idea that first-person subjective is used in films primarily to illustrate abnormal mental affect, or that Lady in the Lake fails because it is not fully subjective (the character/camera acts and sees itself acting, resulting in an unintentional disembodied dream sensation).

The aspect of this argument which makes the most sense is that first-person subjective in film engenders a feeling of helplessness, as illustrated by the film Being John Malkovich. When the characters are shown first inhabiting Malkovich, it is always from the first-person subjective, and it is always portrayed as overwhelming and out of control. This is an excellent example, as this description is the exact effect this technique in films: the viewer is seeing out of a character's eyes, but is unable to turn the character's head, or even aim the eyes at different focus points within the frame. Further, Galloway parlays this notion into usage of this technique in horror films, where the first-person is paired with the predatory gaze of the film's antagonist. The viewer is aware of what the antagonist is seeing, and can anticipate the actions to come, but is completely helpless to prevent them.

From this use of the technique in horror films, it is a logical progression, Galloway argues, to take that sense of alienation and extend it into the realm of machinic vision. He posits that when the first-person subjective is used for the 'computer vision' of the Terminator or Robocop, the technique is more naturalised. He argues for this natural affinity because of a conflation between how the character sees and how the image is shown (ie. the mechanical apparatus of the camera/projector). Due to aspects of this presentation (such as Robocop's HUD, which displays not only environmental information but also mission objectives), it is a simple step to move from machinic vision in film to first-person vision in video games.

The main difference, in Galloway's opinion, is that the use of first-person subjective in video games becomes more about moving in space, as opposed to its use in films, where it is more about movement in time. His supports for this thought are another area where he commits fallacies in order to further his argument. For instance, he argues that, due to this difference, 'gamic vision requires fully rendered, actionable spaces' as opposed to movie sets, which are at best incomplete environments. The problem with this line of reasoning is that it is simply incorrect. First-person shooters, or first-person games of any genre, contain a litany of doors and windows which are present but do not open into anywhere, as the developers have deemed that room/area to be unnecessary to the game. While there are no walls missing to accommodate the apparatus of the camera and sound equipment, the space created is hardly fully rendered.

This problem leads Galloway to commit the second fallacy in his line of reasoning. He asserts that player agency cannot be controlled by the programmers, and therefore the entire environment must be made available to the player. Again, this notion is simply incorrect. The reasoning behind not rendering the rooms behind certain doors is, in fact, to guide the player in a specific direction, and the main complaint about first-person shooters is that they guide the player, rather than let the player explore (the Call of Duty series receives a large amount of criticism for this very issue). Furthermore, the programmers limit the experience through methods such as dictating what movements and controls are possible within the environment, or preventing the player from returning to previous areas in the game (rendering the door the player went through to reach that point yet another door without a room).

With these flawed premises, Galloway is led to a flawed conclusion. He puts forth the idea that, because of this (supposed) continuous space, montage has largely been discarded by video games, both first-person and third-person. The problem with this premise is one of medium interpretation. Montage is understood easily enough in film at this point, but how does it become a uniquely gamic technique? The simple idea of game levels, which are broken up by time and space, may be considered a form of actionable montage. Further, the mini-game collection allows for the sort of montage by attraction which Eisenstein felt was fundamental, and Bazin disparaged. While I agree with Galloway's thought that first-person gaming is possible because it does away with fragmented ways of seeing, that notion can only be taken so far before you encounter the division between levels.

The Four Elemental Crystals [Galloway's Four Moments of Gamic Action]

The first chapter in Alexander Galloway's Gaming: Essays on Algorithmic Culture, Gamic Action, Four Moments, clearly serves as both an introduction to the book and an introduction to the serious study of video games as a medium and art-form. The chapter is dense with easy to grasp ideas, which act as a springboard for the more complex concepts introduced in the later chapters (in my opinion, these ideas are especially helpful with the notions Galloway puts forth in chapters 3 and 4).

From the start, Galloway makes it clear that he is examining video games as a medium, specifically, and not tackling the more all-encompassing task of examining play as an overall concept. He then sets about delineating video games from other, older media, as follows: photographs as images; film as moving images; games as actions. The idea of games as actions is one on which the entire book turns, as he argues that until games are played, they are simply inert code. The possibilities for what games may enact is present in that code, but until the code is actively engaged, those possibilities remain academic (pg. 2,3).

From this idea, he establishes a feedback cycle description of gaming: player (via input device) – game (hardware and software registering input and interpreting it) – player (receiving feedback from hardware/software via output device) (pg. 1,2). While he does define machine actions from operator actions, one being performed by the hardware/software and the other by the player, respectively, he argues that these actions are ontologically the same, working symbiotically to create the whole experience of 'video game' (pg. 5). This cycle, taken in combination with the idea that all games are code, establishes the seeds for the arguments Galloway will make in chapter 4 about games as data, and thus informatic, systems.

Galloway then proceeds to offer his categorizations for the four types of actions which he feels occur in the experience of a video game. In order to do so, he adopts and adapts the filmic ideas of the diagetic and non-diagetic. He argues that the diagetic acts as Callois' 'second reality', the world of the game itself. The counterpoint is the non-diagetic, which, in gamic terms, is still part of the game but not of the game world, such as menus, heads-up displays, etc. (pg.7,8).

In adopting these concepts, Galloway is able to introduce his first category of gamic action: diagetic machine acts. He discusses 'at-rest' states in games such as Shenmue and Grand Theft Auto III, in which the player does nothing but the game world continues around him/her. An important clarification he offers is that the game world is not simply moving on without the player, but rather that the game world is moving around the player. The game world is in a form of stasis where nothing important happens without the player's input. Instead, ancillary characters proceed with their motions, clouds drift by, waves lap on shores, etc.

The main issue with this categorization is that he makes a hard division between at-rest states and pause states, citing micro-movements as the dividing line. The problem is that many pause states feature these micro-movements: the river continuing to flow in the first level of Vice: Project Doom; machinery continuing to whir away in the background (Castlevania III; Sonic the Hedgehog); avatar-characters blinking (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles IV). Galloway offers a better delineation between pause and at-rest states in the idea that they are inverses of each other; at-rest states are where the game keeps functioning but the user is on hold.

Also included in the diagetic machine act category are in-game cut-scenes (or cinemas). His reason for this inclusion is that these scenes are diagetic, taking place in the world of the game, and also require no input from the player (an idea obfuscated by the introduction of Quick Time Events (QTEs) in games like Shenmue or God of War). The main difference with these cut-scenes is that they are important, moving the story of the game forward and providing motivation for the player beyond the simple win/lose binary.

The second categorization Galloway offers is the non-diagetic operator act. He defines the category as any act made by the player which takes place outside the world of the game, such as pausing, cheats, menu interaction, etc. This category is broken up into two distinct aspects: set up acts (eg. setting game preferences, loading/saving, entering cheat codes) and gameplay acts (eg. role-playing game battle menus, real-time strategy game on-screen interfaces). This is an important aspect of gaming in that, as Geertz argues, action is a text, making play a form of text and subject to textual analysis. Therefore, menu-based play is symbolic of the larger cultural transition to an information-based society. Galloway supports this idea by citing the notion discussed by both Huizinga and Callois that play as culture and culture as play are one and the same.

Third in Galloway's list of categories is the diagetic operator act. Simply, this idea is any action the player affects within the game world proper. These acts can be framed as move acts (any change in physical position or orientation of the environment) or expressive acts (eg. shooting, interacting with objects, opening doors). The interesting point to take from this category is that these acts take two forms simultaneously: the in-game enactment by the player-avatar, and the physical act of the operator, either by way of standard controller button presses or the more expressive Wii or Kinect-based motion controls.

The final category is the exact opposite of the diagetic operator act, the non-diagetic machine act. These actions are performed by the machine, are integral to the game experience, but are not contained within the world of the game. There are two components to this last category: enabling acts and disabling acts. Enabling acts are aspects of the game which assist the operator in the playing, such as power-ups and heads-up displays. Disabling acts, on the other hand, as as an opposition to the player's success, either by design (game over state) or instability (network lag; glitches). Galloway does suggest a possible third compnent: machinic embodiments. These embodiments are the restrictions on design imposed by the technical capabilities of the machine itself (eg. pixel capacity/polygon processing) as well as the location/social function of these selfsame machines (arcade games are social, short, pay-per-play; home consoles are more individual, longer, one-time purchases).

Perhaps the wisest rhetorical move Galloway makes in delineating these four categories of gamic action is recognizing that these are not hard divisions, but instead exist on a continuum. He acknowledges, by way of Derrida, that the diagetic and non-diagetic may interplay and even blur with one another (eg. The menu and HUD in the Assassin's Creed series is integrated into the fiction and world of the game). This allows for an exploration not just of the game world or mechanics, but of the entire experience. These categories merely offer a base structure as a starting point.

It's Dangerous to go Alone

Storytelling has always been at the forefront of my mind since I was a child. I have read plenty, wrote plenty, but also played countless hours of Campbellian narratives within the RPG genre via several of the first-generation consoles.

I have always wanted to be a writer and have been training as such for the past nine years in post-secondary institutions (eight years of which I spent at the University of Winnipeg in the English and Film departments, the most recent year spent in York University's MFA program).

As I got to know Chris Alton through York University's Graduate Film program and discovered that he held the same passion for interactive media that I did, I knew I had found a partner to critically explore a medium I have always been extrememly fond of but handled with kid gloves. 

Over the next few months, Chris and I will be reading several articles and books which will increase our analytical ability concerning the medium of video games. Also, in an attempt to make practical use of our findings we will attempt to create our own game.

My writing for the most part has consisted of a few feature length screenplays, some short fiction, and several short scripts (one of which was a featured on CBC's Short Film Faceoff). Despite having little experience with writing for video games, my goal is to obtain a strong foundation of structure, that will help me in the upcoming years.

Welcome to Videoland!

I'm a second-year Cinema and Media Studies grad student at York University, specialising in video games and new media.  I have been a media student for the past nine years, and have been a video gamer for the past twenty five years.  Video games have clearly always captivated my interest, and when the medium started being taken seriously academically, an opportunity presented itself for me to merge my hobby with my discipline in a newly emerging field of study.
I am, admittedly, a console gamer, not having played PC games exstensively since the '80s.  However, I am interested not only in the games themselves, but the culture which has sprung up around them.  I am currently working to get a video game section added to the Sound and Moving Image Library at York University.  I look forward to the readings ahead, as well as the developments sure to come over the summer.