Mr. Scratch

The final chapter we decided to cover from Computer Games: Text, Narrative and Play is written by one of the other authors of the book, Andrew Burn. Burn spends this chapter discussing the relationship between player and avatar and how it is constructed, using the example of Squaresoft’s classic RPG Final Fantasy VII (FFVII). Burn focuses mainly on one player’s account (Rachel) of a playthrough of FFVII to engage with his arguments.

Burn begins with a short discussion of “social semiotics” from a perspective stemming from Hallidayan linguistic analysis:

“When social semiotics is applied to visual media... it proposes a ‘grammar of images’ which adapts Halliday’s framework of three overarching functions of all language...”

Burn utilizes these “three overarching functions”, (representational, interactive, and organizational) to attempt a social semiotic analysis that would further reconcile the relationship between the ludic and narrative elements of games (as discussed in earlier chapters). To culminate Burn’s basis for his analysis of FFVII and player-avatar relations, he refers to “a further development of social semiotics, multimodality theory”.  He contests that this theory also begets ideas of “transitivity” (another aspect of Genette’s theories regarding narrative discourse, that involve “action” being the centre of narrative discourse which, in turn, “produces a semiotic system”).

Burn uses the aforementioned narrative theory to dive into how FFVII deals with the avatar-player relationship. Referring to Rachel’s account of gameplay, Burn argues that Rachael’s use of pronouns when describing Cloud (FFVII’s protagonist) provides a clear depiction of how the player shifts between different “roles” (the idea of “mobility” as earlier presented by Carr in previous chapters).

Burn next further describes Genette’s ideas concerning “mood” within narrative (“traditionally organized under three headings: indicative... interrogative... and imperative.”). For Burn, game narratives also incur “mood” by forcing player-avatar relations through gamic decisions/achievements which progress game narrative.

Having laid the previous ground work, Burn spends the next few sections of the chapter describing the different roles of the “avatar” and “protagonist” and how they function in regard to developing the relationship with the player. Burn once again goes back to Rachel’s account of the “character” Cloud and uses her lexicon as a stepping stone to discuss the formation of Cloud as a “hero” in the traditional sense. Comparing Cloud to classical heroes like Achilles (who Burn qualifies as a “fairy tale” hero rather than a “mythological” one), Burn justifies Cloud’s archetypical nature as congruent to the type found in most heroes of “oral” tradition. Burn then delves into a discussion on heavy heroes of oral tradition, paralleling Cloud with the offered elements of that notion.  This alignment allows for a connection to be made between the “emphatic” and “performative” qualities of oral tradition and the gamic-narrative qualities of videogames. Burn further asserts Cloud’s conception as a “heavy hero” by likening him to modern pop-culture superhero archetypes (which Burn asserts are an extension of oral heroes, via Ong’s contentions on “‘secondary-orality’ of high-technological societies”).

In the next portion of the chapter, Burn begins his discussion of Cloud as puppet/”digital dummy”, and how this form of Cloud blends with and helps the player shift between the aspects of Cloud as “heavy hero”. Through descriptions of the various actions and limitations of Cloud as an extension of the player, Burn illustrates how Cloud serves as “a bundle of semiotic resources that facilitate the player’s engagement with the game’s systems.”   

Burn then turns to the form of Cloud as “avatar”, which he feels is a comfortable spot for the concept of symbolic “player ambiguity” (which he bases off the different noun descriptors Rachel uses when describing Cloud’s actions in her recount of playing FF7). At this point, Burn delves into Rachel’s experience with the battle sequences within FFVII. Her use of pronouns is again the focus as the main form of representation of Burn’s ideas on player-avatar relations. However, to support his observations of Rachel’s account, Burn returns to a discussion of the multimodal function within FF7. Burn dissects the aesthetics of the battle sequences, terming their qualities as “demand” qualities of the “text” which he connects to “representational” structures within the battle sequences’ gameplay (a clear example of gamic and narrative elements working together to create the ambiguous player-avatar relationship). Finally, Burn delves into the aesthetics of the other aspects of the game (i.e. music, background, exploration) to further the idea of modality confirming the ambiguity of the player-avatar relationship.

Burn concludes the chapter by stating that the experience of player-avatar is in constant “oscillation” between Cloud as protagonist and Cloud as dummy/puppet. However, this relationship is also dependent upon player values and what preconceptions they have before play is initiated.

For the most part, Burn’s theoretical approach for discussing player-avatar relations is well founded. I highly agree with his concepts of “heavy hero” serving as formation for Cloud’s relative “archetypical” nature. In fact, I find that the interactive quality of oral storytelling could have been used to further reinforce Burn’s ideas. Also, game analysis according to semiotic theory seems like a feasible fit and despite readily (and sometimes loosely) jumping between points of discussion, Hallidayan concepts of narrative theory (the “verb” being a central focus of narrative) fits well with gamic theory.

The final note I wish to make about this chapter concerns Burn’s constant use of Rachel’s account of playing FFVII. I find it rather unnerving. Why did Burn not reference other players’ accounts? To reinforce the theoretical connections he makes, Burn should be using statistical analysis to compare gamers from all aspects of the spectrum (casual to hardcore). A hardcore gamer (hardcore, in terms of time/emotional investment) might be consciously aware of the distinction between player and avatar making the use of pronouns within their descriptions much different from Rachel’s account. Rather than harming Burn’s argument, this concept would strengthen it because recognition of the use of different pronouns would further clarify the avatar-player relationship.

Move, move, move!

The fourth chapter of Computer Games: Text, Narrative and Play is again authored by Diane Carr and is titled Play and Pleasure. Carr picks up right where she left off with a discussion on why she thinks Baldur’s Gate is a compelling play experience: the game offers various possibilities for a player to be “mobile” between “attentive states” of “immersion, engagement and flow”. The remainder of the chapter is focused on “what the game invites players to do” that offers a fusion of “pleasure” and “play”.

The first part of this chapter extensively describes the character creation process. Not much is to be noted here, as Carr does not spend any time in critical analysis of any of the options. Rather, she only lists the various possibilities of class, race, aesthetic, moral compass, attribute distribution, and those benefits/consequences behind particular choices.

Carr then describes the difficultly in prescribing characterization of game protagonists/avatars.  Despite being a partial construct according to a set of preordained parameters, player action also largely informs characterization. However, Carr also contests that the consequences for particular narrative and gamic choices limit and govern the game narrative; certain moments of gameplay are only made available because of a particular set of criteria having been met. Therefore, Carr asserts that the ability to “assign traits to characters... is a continuing collaboration between game and player.”

Next, Carr delves into a discussion on the various forms of player mobility between different “attentive states”. Carr describes the process of the player internalizing the game systems and subsystems management “engagement”, which in turn evolves into the gamic concept of “immersion” and “flow” (via seamless transition between such systems, thus culminating in a process that results in quicker reaction times that makes gamic action innate). Carr then concludes that pleasure from play resides within “the player’s slide between more or less conscious moments of attention.” The final point that Carr makes in regard to continual pleasure of mobility involves the “gradient” quality of play (the game increases in difficulty and requires particular parameters to be met in order for progression to be made.)

Carr’s concepts of ludic action informing narrative and vice versa from her previous chapter play quite well into her discussion on how compelling gameplay comes to fruition in Baldur’s Gate; “mobility” between psychological attentive states of “engagement”, “immersion”, and “flow” is made possible because of the interconnectedness of gamic and narrative elements. Although this argument is logical in nature, Carr’s examples from Baldur’s Gate and the narrative and psychological theory she draws from create rather tenuous connections. Also, claiming that “immersion” within gameplay mechanics stems from the interconnectedness of gamic and narrative options, which in turn regulates “flow” and develops “engagement”, appears rather circular in its logic. Despite feeling rather engaged with Carr’s attention to detail in describing the particular gamic and narrative options of Baldur’s Gate (in fact, I am so enamoured with them that I plan to purchase the re-release of the game this September once it is released), I would have preferred a more detailed analysis of why “immersion” occurs rather than just defaulting to the fluidity repetition. Perhaps the “flow” involved with navigating between systems and subsystems occur because of practicing informatics, as Galloway discusses.      

decrypter toolkit

The first chapter I will cover from Computer Games: Text, Narrative and Play, is Diane Carr’s chapter titled Games and Narrative. Carr takes the chapter to extensively cover the narrative functions of Baldur’s Gate, a PC game of the RPG genre first released in 1998. However, Carr’s purpose in analyzing the elements of narrative within Baldur’s Gate is not to reconcile narrative theory as a cohesive possibility to analyze videogames, but rather to show that traditional narrative theory is flawed for analyzing games and needs to be rectified with gamic concepts.

Carr begins by asserting that the “story”/”narrative” element in Baldur’s Gate matters, even if it, from a “ludic” perspective, “remains secondary to pleasures, activities and demands of gameplay.” Carr then makes a very important observation about avatar creation and the beginning of the game.  Once the player “creates” his/her avatar (according to a set of particular attributes and aesthetics), the game narration refers to the protagonist as “you”. This proverbial “you” is further certified by inducting the player to the specifics of game mechanics, gameplay, interface, and sequential cut sequences. Through these observations, Carr asserts that “you” at times refers not only to the player and game protagonist as separate entities, but also as a third, hybrid quality-a player-avatar creation-that “clarif[ies] how this storytelling coexists with the playable nature of the game.”

At this point, Carr spends a few pages defining narrative theory, and the approach to going about critical analysis through narrative theory, in order to lay ground work for a discussion on why “Computer games, even those that contain substantial amounts of storytelling, do not reside comfortably within existing models of narrative.”

Carr argues that “key elements” of narrative, those sequences within the story that are consistent despite player interaction, are only some of the storytelling elements of Baldur’s Gate. The remaining elements of storytelling rely heavily on player choices in gameplay. Carr notes that the elapsed time between story events is in control of the player (direct line between each event is possible but the choice is what separates computer games from conventional narrative theory). Carr even discusses the in-game commentary box which, although appearing as an area capable of narrative theoretical discourse, is a response/narration of the player’s actions via the avatar. However, Carr does note that these events do partially fit comfortably within traditional narrative theory (within concepts of simultaneous narrative as discussed by Genette).

Next, Carr delves into narrative theories concepts on implied author and reader, the narrator and narratee. Carr brings up Aarseth’s Cybertext to clarify notions of sending and receiving positions. Carr conflates the implied reader with an implied player and notes this position to be difficult to pin down because of the frequently changing roles of the player within gameplay. From a detailed examination of the gameplay of Baldur’s Gate as example for her thesis, Carr then turns toward the game system (or possible implied author) which she redefines as an implied Game Master.  This implied Game Master is a re-defined version of the tabletop role playing term GM/Game Master or DM/Dungeon Master, the person who controls the narrative and ludic portions of play for such tabletop RPGs as Dungeons and Dragons. Carr’s concept of the GM (based off traditional concepts of the position) serves as a much better descriptor for the position of implied author, in that “the implied GM can issue ludic as well as narrative transmissions”, an idea with which I wholly agree.

Carr concludes her chapter with a short recap of examples which, for her, prove that gameplay and narrative are so tightly interwoven within Baldur’s Gate. This interweaving shows that conventional theories of narrative do not suffice for analysis. She describes this lack of theoretical ability as a concept of “mobility”, which she claims she will explore further in the next chapter.

Carr’s concepts within this chapter remind me very much of my fellow peer Chris Alton’s academic paper Cinematic Gameplay: A Discussion of the Divide between Cinema Representation and Ludic Action in Video Games. In his paper, Alton attempts to find common ground in the narratological/ludological debate which has clogged video game study for the past decade by analyzing Metal Gear Solid via a hybrid lens concentrating on a narrative/gameplay blend. In this light, Carr also appears to have created a bridge from which to view a common ground between the two areas of videogame study. Carr’s arguments for the needed change in narrative theory, in order to correctly analyze videogames, is very strong, logically sound, and well represented through sources and her examination of Baldur’s Gate. I found myself highly enthralled with this chapter and am really only concerned with when the author claims that perhaps her idea of the implied GM will most likely not work with all games. I highly disagree with this statement and would rather give Carr credit for articulating something that could very well be used to help describe Galloway’s ideas of informatics structures within videogames. Utilizing the idea of an implied GM as an architect for the informatics in place within the game would yield an organic allegorical analysis of those systems. The implied Gm is therefore an extension of the development team resulting in a background negotiation between “author” and “player”.  

      

The next text being covered through these blogs is Computer Games: Text, Narrative and Play by Diane Carr, David Buckingham, Andrew Burn and Gareth Schott. Only three chapters will be covered, two by Diane Carr and one by Andrew Burn. Cohesively, the three chapters fit quite well into an understanding of how gamic and narrative elements actually work in tandem with each other to bring forth qualitative gameplay experience.

The writer's position

The 9^th chapter in Christy Marx’s book is titled Writing vs. Design, and concentrates on a more practical guide for what to expect when looking for writing positions. The chapter also touches upon some theory on writing for games.

Marx starts off by differentiating the role of “designer”, as opposed to the role of “writer”. In the past, designer/writer was a synchronous role. However, as videogames progressed, these jobs became separated, allowing a release from the creative pressure of holding the dual position. Marx comments that the best way to truly discover where you fit in terms of the market is to look at job postings and check their requirements, then compare the required skill set to your own. She also asserts that although it is not required of game writers to be programmers as well, having some programming knowledge is beneficial for communication between the two positions.

Next, Marx delves into the writing specific position within the industry.  Possible credits for these positions could include, but are not limited to, “Writer, Story Writer, Scenario Writer, Scriptwriter, Dialogue Writer, Content Designer, Story Designer, Narrative Designer, Writer/Designer, or something else invented on the spot.” Marx makes it clear that if you feel particular creative elements might be better for the designer rather than the writer, that you should say so and receive due credit for that work as well.

Marx then goes on to discuss particular industry standard terminology and compares the lexicon used to that of Hollywood (making sure to make evident the distinction between the definitions of certain terms, i.e. “development” in Hollywood refers to “mainly the writing process” where as in the game industry it is considered “the process of making the game.”) She also points out the difference in the term “scripting” (as opposed to scriptwriting, this refers to programming) and “world building” (which refers again to design work rather than writing). The most interesting claim Marx makes is the collation between the hyphenated and slashed job descriptions (in Hollywood the hyphen is preferred where as the game industry prefers the slash, i.e. writer-director vs. writer/designer). Following this, Marx provides eight pages of definitions of selected terms she feels are well to know as a game writer. Most of the terms are familiar to anyone who considers themselves a part of videogame culture (NPC, PvE, Spawning, Power-Up, etc). However, some phrases such as “Trigger, Flag, Hook” (a programming term “that indicates a piece of code that checks for specific conditions and activates the correct response depending on those conditions”) were unknown to me.

After the definitions, Marx delves into a discussion of Linear vs. Nonlinear narratives. Marx notes that traditional linear storytelling can appear to be nonlinear, but that it is really more non-chronological. Some videogames, however, contain nonlinear narrative, which refers to a story where the player organizes the narrative events according to how they experience it rather than a reorganized telling from an implied author. To serve as examples, Marx brings up her own games where player choices had direct effects on the narrative outcome of the game. Throughout the market, particular jobs will adhere more to one model than the other (such as console, as Marx claims, which has more linear narrative driven elements than PC MMOGs).

The next section of the chapter discusses “Game Structure”, divided into two sections titled “Story Structure” and “Game Parameters”. Marx discusses games with story structure as utilizing the basic three act structure of set-up, complications, resolution. However, she makes a clear distinction between those games which rely on story to engross a player (Max Payne) and those which don’t (Myst). For those games that do rely on story, Marx proposes that a games “resolution” will depend on how satisfying the payoff is for the player via “how thoroughly the player has gotten involved in the story and the characters.”

In the section titled “Game Parameters”, Marx clearly states that the term “parameters” and the “typical examples” she uses are her own terminology. By “parameters”, Marx refers to those limitations set forth by the design world. The following are the examples she touches upon:

1) Zone

-concept of a restrained area with parameters concerning movement and accessibility

2) Time or phase

-a particular amount of game time, or when a particular place is accessible because of gameplay time.

3) Player level

-a particular value placed on the player’s avatar advancement through the game

4) Player Race, Faction, or Class

-that particular options for gameplay will only be available to particular avatars that meet certain criteria

5) Acquisition of Game Objects

-game progression or certain game experiences require a particular parameter to be achieved first before moving forward

6) Predetermined Events

-events that take place throughout gameplay despite player interaction (they exist with or without the player but will not be experienced unless progressed toward through gameplay)

In the final section of the chapter, Marx discusses “More Things You Need to Know” (as the section is aptly titled). She mentions the proverbial “What if...” writing statement and offers some writing advice on how one should approach a story through videogames and how different “what if”s can affect gameplay.

Marx then goes on to talk about “variables and flexibility”. Variables consist of how making particular game choices based on previously set parameters will affect how you write the following sequences. Flexibility refers to your ability as a writer to work with and around certain parameters given to you while also being capable of making changes to story according to last minute changes in design and/or programming code.

Briefly, Marx discusses “Gradients” (the concept of difficulty progression as the game story progresses) and how they should be kept in mind when writing particular sequences (i.e. more aggressive NPCs could later have affected dialogue because of this factor).

Next, Marx discusses the idea of “choice” within gameplay and how it affects “linearity and storytelling.” Choice requires a greater account for the variables and parameters as the player is given more opportunity to experience and, in turn, mould the story narrative. These “choices” must also be balanced within game design so that the player can make “meaningful” choices that will progress or affect gameplay. For Marx, keeping in mind the idea of choice involves a balanced and well organized narrative.

“The Interface” is Marx’s next topical point. She argues that although interface is not technically a writer’s job, understanding the “interface” itself will affect “precisely how story and dialogue are implemented in the game.” Although this serves better for some games and not so much for others (Assassin’s Creed would be a good example of this, Uncharted would not), Marx’s final question in this section “how... would you try to convey story elements using the interfaces you encounter” directly ties in with her ideas of simulating narrative through gameplay as much as possible. This idea, of blending narrative into/with gameplay, has been a hot topic throughout my research on game development over the period of this course. I find Marx’s advice concerning this topic highly solid; understanding the interface and those elements like it will give you creative boundaries to work with as a game writer.

Marx concludes the chapter with a note on “The Player’s Mindset” where she describes coming to the revelation:

“Players are the Forces of Chaos. They will do anything in any order, whether it makes sense or not. They use trial and error rather than figure out your clever clues. They throw logic out the window.”

I found this chapter of Marx’s book highly enlightening. Her concepts on writing narrative for videogames works well as a basis for how to go about work-shopping story elements, narrative arc, character bios, and creation. This chapter also works quite well as an overall basic understanding of the process of writing for all games that contain narrative. Marx makes quite clear that to write for videogames means knowing “parameters” and working with those boundaries rather than against them. Much like any other writing field with creative restrictions, videogames are no exception. However, the interactive element that separates videogames from classical storytelling is an understanding that classical narrative boundaries (performed via audience or reader participation) must be redefined because of interactivity (the actual playing/experiencing of events via an avatar). Therefore, the same narrative boundaries that affect watching a movie are only part of the narrative boundaries that affect a game. As a writer, I find this idea fascinating because it forces me to think of new ways in which I could tell stories. 

Links to the past...

The first of two chapters which I will be covering from Christy Marx’s book Writing for Animations, Comics, and Games is chapter 8, History/Evolution of Videogames. Marx takes a very PC-centric view of the progressive history of the medium. Actually, her lack of discussion concerning the console systems is rather peculiar to me seeing as how Nintendo was making vast evolutionary leaps with games like Ninja Gaiden, which contained some of the first in-game cut sequences (thus having cinematic script and should be note-worthy for this chapter).

In Marx’s introduction to the chapter, she discusses that all forms of “computer entertainment” have two things in common: their existence is made possible because of the advancement in technology and they are all forms of “interactive...computerized entertainment.”

The next section of the chapter gives a short description of the concept of “game” which Marx follows up by comparing NFL video gaming with that of Dungeons and Dragons tabletop role playing games. Marx then delves into her own ideas in “The Evolution of the Videogame”, where she divulges a brief history “from [her] perspective as a writer, rather than detailing the march of technological development.” This section is interesting in that Marx here makes a clear distinction concerning the industry: the job as “writer” is becoming more and more a separate position unto itself within the production world of videogames, rather than being meshed together with “designer/programmer”. As such, the central part of her discussion is focused on her own perspectives as a writer, and more so, a storyteller, within the videogame industry.

Marx first discusses Zork, one of the earliest text based games.  She describes the job of the writer as someone who had to be multifaceted with the storyline capable of predicting a player’s actions/choices (much of which sounds like narrative theory concerning an implied author and reader).The next evolutionary step for story-based videogames according to Marx is graphics, for which she brings up Mystery House, a 1980 text based adventure game with simple pictorial graphics. Then Marx delves into the use of the “mouse” as controller and the “user [on-screen] interface” which again necessitated writer/designers to think of new and more interactive ways in which a player could be immersed in the narrative.

Point-and-click interfaces evolve into minimal or no interface at all for Marx.  Her main examples are Myst and The 7^th Guest, which force players to interact in a seemingly “organic” way with the narrative, by locating “hot-spots” on screen with the mouse pointer. At this point, Marx makes a clear distinction between the designer and writer roles of the industry, stating that the narrative of a game like Myst would be limited to the “design document”, given to the writer, which contains the puzzles and other gamic actions performed by the player.

At this point in the chapter, Marx takes a few detours in her linear timeline and discusses particular game genres (she later classifies as “categories”) which bypass the story elements to concentrate on gameplay/ludological elements. SimCity is the first of her references in which there truly is no win/loss scenario, thus the writer’s position is non-existent. I did find this point unsettling because, despite SimCity not having a particular narrative, the scenarios themselves could be seen as episodes of literary/social critique (i.e. one scenario references the bombing of Hamburg, Germany in WWII).

Marx also discusses the FPS and, in turn, Doom, which she claims has a virtually “non-existent” storyline.  She claims this, despite containing elements of narrative included not only in the backstory within the instruction manual, but also between levels and through gameplay instructions. Marx then concludes her FPS discussion by acknowledging the significant amount of work presently in the industry is for FPS writers.

The last part of this deviation from the topic at hand revolves around console games and the concept of the cinematic being a major narrative crutch for heavily controller-based console systems.

Next, Marx touches upon MMOs and the plethora of writing job opportunities associated with them, because of the expanding universes of these games. Marx concludes this section informing the reader that the industry is taking a clear turn towards professional writers becoming more and more a necessity, rather than an afterthought.

In the next section of this chapter Marx outlines videogame categories according to their platform, which “dictates how extensive or complex the gameplay can be.”

Major Platform Categories:

1) Console

-i.e PlayStation, Xbox

2) Handhelds

-i.e Game Boy, PSP

3) Mobile

-i.e cellphones, PDA

4) PC

-i.e Windows, MAC, Linux

5) Web-Based

-i.e games that use the internet, accessible through any computer

From here Marx jumps directly into a list of “major videogame categories” which I have summarized as follows:

     -action adventure (Prince of Persia)

     -arcade (arcade machines)

     -casual (Bejewelled)

     -educational (Zoo Tycoon)

     -FPS (Halo)

     -MMOG (Massive Multiplayer Online Game, World of Warcraft)

     -RPG (Role Playing Game, Final Fantasy VII)

     -RTS (Real Time Strategy, Starcraft)

     -Sandbox (open world to explore, Grand Theft Auto)

     -sims (simulators, Railroad Tycoon)

     -Sports (Fifa 2012)

The final section of this chapter discusses “Alternative Markets” which could be seen as another one of Marx’s “major videogame categories.” ARG or alternate-reality games are a very “niche” corner of the market. Marx describes the position of the writer in this context as being more akin to traditional writing rooms within the television industry, where the product becomes a process of collaboration. Some forms of this work exist within marketing campaigns for feature films (giving away added portions of story not found in the film, which can be associated with other merchandise, i.e. shirts, toys, etc). Marx then lightly touches upon what she dubs “Serious Games” like America’s Army (previously mentioned in Galloway’s book) and Food Force which are used as tools to teach or recruit.

Finally, Marx shortly mentions “Virtual-Reality Worlds”, gaming which she claims has nothing to do with the videogame writer, but is interesting to note nonetheless as it is becoming a vastly growing market (think the 2009 Hollywood blockbuster Gamer).

In this chapter, Marx presents an interesting perspective from her own experiences as a writer within the game industry. For the most part, her evolution/history of games from her personal writing perspective seems well informed. However, I found that when she moved away from her linear argument on the development of writing, I was slightly confused. Her “non-narrative” examples take away from her progressing concept of the role of “writer” within the gaming industry. I would have been more satisfied if she had maintained her own perspective on narrative storytelling and its development, rather than delving into game “categorization” through her discussion of Doom and SimCity.

Speaking of Marx’s “categories” for “platform” and “videogames”, I suppose these are industry-based (or possibly standard?), although I am not quite sure on either. I would argue that Marx has these categories wrong, however, as I am unsure of what criteria she uses for these classifications. In general, this chapter makes claims that are not supported by anything other than what Marx gives us. I don’t have a problem with this, but I find that I need better reasoning for particular classifications or I could have difficulty categorizing certain games, i.e God of War: Ghost of Sparta which appears as both a download from the PlayStation Network for PS3 and for PSP.   

Writing Mentors

The next couple of blog posts pertain to Christy Marx’s “Writing for Animation, Comics, and Games.” Although this book falls more under the “how to” section of your local bookstore, we felt it related to the process of making our own game. We covered only chapters eight and nine because we felt that those chapters were the most essential chapters in the book for our learning process.

Marx is an experienced writer and, as I recently discovered, she was a prime source for many of the Saturday morning cartoons I used to watch as a child. I found the readings engaging overall and her advice to be sound. Marx’s direct experience with the game industry clearly shines through her writing and her discussion on game “parameters” (as she coins the term) in chapter 9 is creatively enlightening.

Brütal Legend [Understanding Video Games, Chapter 10]

The tenth and final chapter of Understanding Video Games, entitled Video Games and Risks, sees the authors end their overview of video game studies by looking at a controversial subject: the potential harmful effects of playing video games.  While the binary offered, that of the Active Media perspective versus the Active User perspective, is treated in a relatively even-handed manner, the authors do give their stance on the issue away, based on their wording.  They use the phrase ‘alleged harmful effects of video games’ as opposed to ‘possible harmful effects’, taking a more accusatory tone with the notion of the harmful effects of video games.

Regarding the two perspectives examined by the authors, the division is an artificial one established by the authors in order to allow for discussion of contrasting methods and opinions.  To that end, the authors first define the perspectives they have delineated.  The Active Media perspective is categorized as media (more specifically, video games) actively having an influence on an essentially passive recipient (the player/players).  This perspective is mainly influenced by social psychology and behaviorism, and, as the authors point out, offers problematic research due to a lack of interest and/or basic knowledge of video games and video game culture.  This research typically consists of two groups, a test and a control group, in a laboratory and is designed to measure levels of aggression using various methods both before and after gameplay, looking for significant changes.  The Active User perspective, conversely, emphasizes that players are actively interpreting and filtering during the experience of playing games.  The main influences cited for this perspective are anthropology, cultural studies, and media theory/studies.  The typical research approach of this perspective follows a group of subjects in a natural setting over a longer period, observing any changes in behavior and how the subjects discuss the games themselves, with a larger focus on context-sensitivity.  The main difference between these two perspectives is that Active Media is concerned with what video games do to a player, while Active User is focused on what players do with a game.

Each perspective is then examined in more detail, starting with the Active Media perspective.  Due to its roots in behaviorism, the methodologies employed in research for this perspective are more traditional psychological approaches, such as experimental studies and cross-section correlation, with experimental studies being the most common practice.  The major assumption carried across these studies, however, is that a given medium has one particular, uniform, effect on all people exposed to it.  The main theories associated with the Active Media perspective, as given by the authors, are as follows:

-          Catharsis theory – the notion that experiencing depictions of violence in media reduces aggression by reducing internal tension.  This theory is widely dismissed at this point.

-          Cultivation theory – the hypothesis that media may lead to distorted perceptions of social reality through practices such as stereotyped depictions.

-          Social learning theory – behavior is cultivated through imitation of attractive models with attached rewards.

-          General arousal theory – a player’s arousal level and, by extension, the energy and intensity of his/her actions increase through the act of playing video games.

-          Cognitive neo-association model of aggression – Violent media breed hostility and aggression due to reinforcement of related association nodes in the brain of the subject.

-           General aggression model – violent media content increases aggressive behavior by teaching how to perform aggressive actions, influencing underlying aggressive and cognitive schematas, increasing arousal, and creating an emotional and aggressive mental state.

It is interesting to note that, in regard to the general aggression model, there is an acknowledgement of underlying aggressive and cognitive schematas pre-existent.  The logical progression of this idea is that this influence media is supposed to have only occurs with subjects who are already disturbed in some way, a notion which goes against the all-people-one-effect theory of the Active Media perspective.  The authors do not touch on this notion whatsoever.

Moving past the theories, the actual research conducted in the Active Media mold is then discussed.  The authors point out that most of this research conducted in the ten years prior to the book’s publication has been meta-analysis: an examination of the findings of earlier studies, in order to build a stronger case for the risks of video games.  A cross-section of experimental studies conducted between the years 2000 and 2002 is also offered, with an interesting set of conclusions.  These studies did find the increased aggression typical of Active Media expectations, but discovered that benefits were also possible, although the authors never mention the exact nature of those benefits.  A recent trend in Active Media towards more sophisticated statistical analysis is then brought up.  This trend has revealed a flaw in much of the earlier research: increased violence was equated with violent video games without consideration of other factors, such as parental involvement and teacher interest (or lack thereof), perceived gender differences, and so on.  Further, the inconclusiveness of meta-studies is illustrated via a cross-section of opinions by psychologists on the matter which take a wide range of stances on the subject.

The main criticisms of the Active Media perspective are then offered.  These criticisms are as follows:

-          Laboratory experiments do not simulate everyday video game use.  Therefore, important variables in the actual effect of video games on the subject are excluded.

-          Establishing correlations is not the same as establishing causation

-          Definitions of aggression are not absolute, and vary greatly from study to study.  As a result, measuring aggression is likewise variable.

-          Video games are treated as a violent/non-violent binary, without taking into account the widely varying content and styles of the medium, as would be done with any other medium.

-          Basic assumptions based on classism, conservatism towards children and youth, and the truths of positivism and behaviorism are widespread.

The authors have observed that these criticisms have increased over the ten years prior to the book’s publication.

The discussion is then shifted to the Active User perspective.  This perspective consists primarily of humanities academics and has a preference for research methods such as interviews and field observations.  This preference exists because the Active User perspective posits that players are competent and selective, rather than passive, recipients of media-based information.  Simply put, the player is the one with agency, not the game.  As a result, this perspective hesitates to correlate content with behavior changes, as context dictates how media is consumed.  The authors offer the main theories associated with the Active User perspective:

-          Reader response; Reception – readers create meaning through various ways of engaging with texts.  Taken further, texts have no meaning other than what is assigned by interpretive communities.

-          Play as meta-communication – the meaning of a given activity depends on the person or persons involved, as well as the level of involvement of each person.

-          The Children’s Perspective – children construct a frame around their play and culture which is virtually impenetrable to adults, due to a vastly different frame of reference.

The problem with this last theory, shared with many of the theories and ideas expressed in regards to this issue, is the assumption that children are the primary audience for video games.  This assumption reveals a bias on both sides towards viewing video games as toys rather than a respectable medium, whose main demographic age is actually 18-40 years old.  In fact, the authors point out that most studies from this perspective focus on how children perceive video game play, along with the notion that adults have a limited understanding of video games.  The Active User perspective, however, rarely attempts to address the perceived dangers of video games and the possible increase of aggression due to video games.  The reason for this aversion is that it is impossible to generalize the range of video games and of player contexts.  The main criticism against Active User research is that this perspective challenges the reliability and validity of Active Media research results yet does not apply the same rigorous demands on Active User research, which results in a ‘limited scope of results’ and weak documentation.  Further, the data from Active User research may be stretched in order to make generalizations.

Moving beyond the Active Media versus Active User debate, the authors discuss three additional concerns about video games.  Video game content is the first of these issues, as there are concerns over whether games offer a stereotyped, possibly discriminatory, view of the world.  The authors offer no opinion one way or the other about this topic.  Next, is the question of whether women, children, and social under-classes (due to systemic inequality) are more susceptible to potential harmful effects of video games.  This particular discussion is the epitome of the classism and conservatism, mentioned earlier as a criticism of the Active Media perspective, along with sexism and elitism.  One has to wonder why it is even mentioned as a serious issue.  Finally, the issue of addiction is mentioned and found to be problematic as definitions of video game addiction vary, as do categorized effects of said addiction.

In the final remarks for the book, the authors call for more academics to start examining the realm of video game studies.  Given the missteps, biases, and contradictions in the book, I strongly agree: more academics are needed in video game studies, so that a better overview text may be written.

Would you Kindly? [Understanding Video Games, Chapter 9]

In the ninth chapter of Understanding Video Games, entitled Serious Games – When Entertainment is Not Enough, the authors move to broader questions about the phenomenon which is the success of video games as a medium.  In particular, the concern in this chapter is exactly what players glean from video games, beyond mere entertainment.  It must be asked how ‘mere entertainment’ is defined, as any piece of media carries inherent social codes and ideas.  What is defined, is the notion of serious games as video games produced, marketed, and used for purposes other than pure entertainment, such as edutainment, advertisement, health, or political games.  Given this definition, the authors do recognize that any game may be considered ‘serious’, but that designation is dependent on actual use and player perception.  I am unsure what is meant by ‘actual use’ as the authors do not elaborate further, and all previous discussion of the use of video games is to engage with them through play.  It is also made clear that the research of serious games is of a cross-disciplinary nature, encompassing psychology, literacy and learning principles, socio-cultural theory, and the education discipline. 

Definitions of two phrases used in relation to serious games are offered next.  The first term is ‘advertainment’, which is defined as a fusion of advertisement and entertainment, used for marketing purposes.  This fusion may be accomplished through the themes of the games themselves, or through simple product placement in game worlds.  Either way, the goal is to encourage active participation which, in turn, increases exposure to the advertised brand.  The other phrase is ‘political games’, which are described as games actively trying to push a political agenda.  The authors state that political gaming has made a resurgence since 9/11, and that there is significant overlap with the concept of newsgaming, which tries to illustrate current events through video game experiences.  It could also be argued that political gaming never actually ebbed, but that post-9/11 political games have simply become more overt.

Most of the chapter, however, concerns itself with games used for educational purposes.  To this end, the discussion starts off with a look at ‘traditional’ (read: non-electronic) games used for educational purposes, from 1959’s Inter-Nation Simulation onward.  It is noted that extensive research into the use of these educational games was conducted, with the conclusion that the games are a viable alternative to traditional learning.  Furthermore, the potential is present in these games for better retention of knowledge over time.  What is not discussed is that, if children enjoy the game, it is likely that they will willingly memorize and internalize the rules, much like more popular board games, such as Monopoly or Scrabble.  On that note, the studies did discover that teacher-led debriefing after playing one of these games is important, as students may make incorrect assumptions based on in-game experiences.  The problems inherent in the use of these traditional games in a classroom setting are also touched upon.  Classroom size, available time during the school day/week, and a lack of teacher experience and/or openness to alternative teaching methods are all factors working against these traditional educational games. 

Because of these factors, and due to the rise of computers in schools, electronic games have by and large taken the place of these traditional games as educational tools.  This new position has given rise to a distinct genre of video game: edutainment software.  The definition offered for this genre seems too broad, as the authors categorize it as any educational computer game, along with the use of computer games for education.  The issue with this definition is that, as with the concept of serious games, any game may be considered educational, depending on the nature of the perceived education being imparted.  For example, it could be argued that the Grand Theft Auto series, or any open world game, teaches map-reading and extrapolation abilities; or that the Assassin’s Creed series offers the chance to explore historically accurate locations in a way that actual modern-day trips could never hope to do; or that the Portal games are highly engaging physics simulators.

The authors do offer three categories of educational-use video games, to try to delineate this issue.  The categories are

-          Edutainment – Consisting of commercial educational software designed to teach specific skills under the veneer of playing a video game (eg. Mathblaster).

-          Commercial Entertainment Software – traditional commercial video games used for educational purposes, but without carrying the stigma attached to edutainment software (eg. SimCity)

-          Research-Based Edutainment – Unlike regular commercial edutainment, this software results from extensive research, providing new approaches and strong documentation for learning outcomes (eg. The Oregon Trail)

Of these three, the commercial edutainment category is the most visible example of video games used for education.  This category is not without problems, though.  First and foremost, is the fact that much of this software adheres to the behaviourist model first attempted in the 1970s and 1980s.  Under this model, the game sections of the software are treated as a reward for completing the learning sections, rather than creating a meaningful integration of the learning and game experiences.  The other, more insidious, problem with much edutainment software is that it is commercial software which is more concerned with moving units than either educating or entertaining.  As a result, much of this software is marketed to parents, often with an appealing license, such as Mario or Disney characters, and is, at best, rudimentary and quickly slapped together.

The authors are even able to go so far as to outline the formula used for commercial edutainment games.  That formula consists of the following:

-          Little intrinsic motivation – the software offers rewards, rather than the satisfaction that comes about from mastery of the game mechanics/lesson principles.

-          No integrated learning experience – learning and gameplay are clearly divided experiences, with little to no crossover.

-          Drill-and-practice learning – the experience is designed to encourage rote memorization over concept comprehension, offering little explanation for the reasons behind the learning tasks set forth for the user.

-          Simple gameplay – the game sections are similar to early arcade games, such as Pac-Man or Space Invaders, or a simplified point-and-click adventure game.

-          No teacher presence – the assumption inherent in the software is that students will learn the intended content and skills through use of the software alone, requiring no debriefing afterwards.

The problems with this formula have been recognized, and the ‘instructive approach’ to edutainment has slowly emerged.  This approach combines behaviourist and cognitive theories to arrive at the notion of ‘exercise and effect’ (repetition and reward), which integrates the complexities perceived by cognitive theory.  As a result of this synthesis, movements like Thomas Malone’s drive to integrate education with gameplay to establish the intrinsic motivation lacking in commercial edutainment titles have arisen.  Malone offers several ways to encourage this intrinsic motivation, such as establishing and enforcing the fantasy of the game, encouraging control and curiosity, and offering sufficient challenge.

Another, recent, approach to educational games is the constructivist stance.  This approach encourages player freedom and the process of constructing knowledge in a personally meaningful way.  These notions lead to open-ended ‘microworlds’ which offer a simulation of a system, such as urban planning for a city or a heavily physics-based environment, inviting the player to explore and experiment with the simulation at will.  Another way in which this approach has attempted to teach outside knowledge is through the game design process, itself.  As students create their own games, the information necessary to make these games is integrated in a meaningful way.  Evidence that this approach works can be seen in the success of Dr. Nichole Pinkard’s programs involving junior high and high school students engaging with game design, social, and other digital media.  Having personally had a chance to speak with her, it is clear that her programs encourage not only personal intrinsic motivation via creativity, but also group motivation through the use of social media.

Further to this, the authors present James Paul Gee’s five main interest areas in regard to video games (any video game) used for educational purposes.  These interest areas are:

-          Semiotic domains – Video games are a realm of signs and symbols.  These signs and symbols may also act to direct the player to other realms, such as science or history (see my earlier mentions of Portal and Assassin’s Creed).

-          Learning and identity – Video games are good at establishing agency and identification, encouraging a sense of control, but also identification with others.  This idea is interesting, as it implies that player-avatars may, and in fact should, have strong personalities as a way of encouraging this identification with others, in contrast to the attitudes to this subject discussed in chapter 8.

-          Situated meaning and learning – The player is immersed within the game world, and is thus able to learn about and understand it from the inside.  This immersion allows for a larger context perspective of a given topic.

-          Telling and doing – As video games are virtual worlds with concrete and meaningful audiovisual environments, correlation between information learned in the game world and the same information in the real world becomes easier.

-          Cultural models – game content, as with any other media, represents particular ways of seeing the world.

The authors also present some problems associated with this concept.  The main issue to be explored is that of playing versus learning, wherein the rules and goals of the game contradict and, more immediately, supersede the learning experience.  This problem is most clearly endemic of edutainment titles which divide game and learning sequences, and the more the two are integrated in meaningful ways, the less this problem is a concern. 

The problem of player expectation is also of concern.  Students may be unsure whether to approach a game as play or as a learning experience when presented in a school environment.  This problem is the result of a lack of direct educational interventions, such as post-game debriefings.  As a result, this situation may cause either blind belief in everything presented in the game, or else complete denial and rejection of any new information on the part of the student-player.  Further to this issue, if the student is unaware that the game is supposed to be a learning experience, there is the potential for an inability to transfer knowledge learned in the game to other contexts.  A problem also arises in the practice of studying the effectiveness of video games as educational tools.  Many studies are focused merely on whether video games can teach, rather than how much they do teach comparative to traditional educational methods.  This problem is exacerbated by the fact that it is hard to measure learning outcome of video games, especially given the wide range of topics and knowledge contained in the breadth of games available.

In the closing discussion, it is acknowledged that studies have proven that, if nothing else, gameplay does improve cognitive skills, such as hand-eye co-ordination, spatial relations, and problem solving ability.  Given this evidence, the concern mentioned earlier of an inability to transfer knowledge learned in-game is called into doubt, as these skills are improved almost without the player’s knowledge.  The issue of video games being widely accepted as useful educational tools is far from resolved, even five years after the book’s publication, but initiatives such as Dr. Pinkard’s are moving acceptance forward.