Author: Tien Le

The more you know, the more you don’t know

Even though we were free to write about any theme about any videogame, I found 5 themes that submerge that interested me the most. Representation of Gender and Identity Returning to the blog posts about Portal,  I was surprised that not more classmates wrote about Chell as a woman and how that influenced game play. During […]

Even though we were free to write about any theme about any videogame, I found 5 themes that submerge that interested me the most.

Representation of Gender and Identity

Returning to the blog posts about Portal,  I was surprised that not more classmates wrote about Chell as a woman and how that influenced game play. During one of the game labs, Jasmine and I both expressed our satisfaction and increased motivation for playing Portal upon discovering Chell’s gender. Emi wrote about how the FPS prevented Chell from being viewed as a sexual object. After having a conversation in-class with another classmate who is male, he expressed how it didn’t matter to him that Chell was female; it didn’t change his game play. I think that feminist arguments have to solid and not victimizing, especially when it relates to gender respresentation in videogames.

Matt didn’t focus on the visual representation of gender, but instead talks about how “the design of GLaDOS’s voice allows her to emulate a human expressing emotion, and works to convince the player that non-biotic beings have feelings and should be regarded as humans.” It’s possible that the game communicates that a woman’s voice is better at expressing emotions than a male voice. 

Narrative Linearity

In FMS321, we discussed the relationship between story, narrative, and architecture in videogames. In my blog post about Final Fantasy X, I discussed my frustration with the linearity of the game plot, and the desire for more game mechanics and use of the controller. Miso proposed an interesting way to analyze the role of Chell’s portal gun, pointing out that it’s linear fashion is dictated not only by GLaDOS, but by the game designers. When skimming over the blog posts over the past semester, there was no doubt that the narrative of video games resurfaced as a popular theme. Some ludologists wouldn’t be so happy with our online class discussions.

Video games and the Cinema

There’s no doubt that Alexander Galloway considers cinema the birthing grounds for video games. That tension still exists today. In my second blog post about Final Fantasy X, I discussed the difference between “playing” and “watching” the game. Most of my game play comprised of embedded videos to advance the storyline. During these videos, there was no way to skip them nor control the character. The passitivity of these videos made me feel like I was watching the “game” but not playing it. On the other hand, I found Desmond’s experience in The Last of Us not much different, but he considered not clicking buttons during shots still a part of playing the game because the player gains information about the characters.

I think the difference lies in what a game is: a set of rules. To play the game, one must understand the rules. Understanding the story, in most cases, is not necessary. I didn’t need to learn about my character’s story  in FFX to play. I’m sure that although the information that Desmond got from the shots was important, it wasn’t necessary to continue playing The Last of Us. The video game as a medium, although mature, still needs a clearer definition. I’m not sure what it will take for this medium to be truly divorced from cinema (if that’s even the goal). Maybe it will never fully mature, in the same way that art has an ever-changing meaning.

The relationship between Hardware and Software

Many people noted the difference between playing Portal on a laptop versus the console game. Each medium has its own set of affordances  that affect game play. I was interested at comparing Aaron’s and Alec’s interpretation of video games on different hardwares because Aaron mentioned the role of pricing of games and consoles, while Alec focused more on digital authorship and the threat it had on identifying the “original” Portal. 

I was a bit surprised to not see more people talk about other games and their relationship with the medium. The only person I saw talking about the medium explicitly was Patrick, who argued against the misconception that all mobile games are casual. “Mobile” refers specifically to the medium a game is being played on, while “casual” is the genre.

Our relationship as players with game designers

The title of this blog post was inspired by seeing how each person wrote blog posts about a variety of topics. Although we still face a a lack of knowledge about many games’ algorithmic allegory, there’s a sense of satisfaction that comes with writing these blog posts. I not only felt like I better understood the game, but felt like I was uncovering an aspect of the videogame that I hoped the game designers hadn’t thought of before.

It’d be naive to continue thinking that way. After reading other classmates’ blog posts and designing a quick video game for the final project, I firmly believe that there’s no way that videogame designers haven’t thought about what we’re writing about before. Videogames are one of the purest forms of procedural rhetoric, meaning that they have thought about almost everything. The game has been coded for everything, from the way a light reflects upon a character’s face to the way the virtual environment responds to the ‘x’ button being pushed.

That’s what makes “pranks” so satisfying: it’s a moment in which the game designer feels a bit more human to the player. In his blog post, Alec shared his reaction to an intentional glitch in Dragon Quest V:

…while I couldn’t spin around to find the game’s developers giggling at my struggle (or just grinning vindictively, more likely), I’d like to imagine they had a similar, preemptive satisfaction when they added the glitch to the game’s code.”

This class was a great way to study video games using a variety of labs, readings, and class discussion. Unfortunately, I don’t think anyone of us was able to write a post that could make its designer say “Hmm, I hadn’t thought of my game that way before.”

How a video game designer might sum up our semester

 

The many “things” you can do in your Second Life

I decided to go back and explore “Social Island” because it felt safe for someone like me who was still learning how to play (use the controls and understand the interface well). While I continued exploring the space ‘Social island,’ I ran into a museum of tutorials. I found this space similar to what is […]

I decided to go back and explore “Social Island” because it felt safe for someone like me who was still learning how to play (use the controls and understand the interface well). While I continued exploring the space ‘Social island,’ I ran into a museum of tutorials. I found this space similar to what is traditionally considered a museum because information was presented in a passive manner, showing what players can do in other worlds in Second Life. Tomas Brown wrote an article about the four main roles that museums can fall into within videogames: the story-driver, the social space, the political/historical device, and the identity exploration. Second Life’s museum tutorials would mostly likely fall into identity exploration. While they ensure that the player is educated about in-game mechanics, the embedded videos constantly focused on the liberty that Second Life grants its players to be and do whatever they pleased. These museum-like spaces share many characteristics of the identity role of museums in videogames, because in these spaces, the player is better informed about how the virtual world enables total control and exploration of one’s identity.

Once I felt more comfortable with the controls, I I decided to do some intentional exploration in other game maps for my last session of gameplay in Second Life. The game world is huge, and requires portals to move from map to map. When I was exploring, I discovered an activist organization that created their own world to support their cause. The world had embedded images with hyperlinks to their Facebook page and Flickr accounts. Second Life is a 3D space that allows you to do almost every ‘thing’ that Ian Bogost defines in his book, How to do Things in Videogames. In Second Life, you can take snapshots (chap 10) and people have created portfolios of their avatars in Flickr. The game is art within art (chapter 1). Players are encouraged to create and sell their own creations. There’s even worlds completely built on the idea of titillation (chapter 15) because their are objects, apparel, and worlds that fall under “adult.”

While many other videogames focus on one or two of Bogost’s “things,” Second Life intends to be a self-contained, expansive virtual environment. I did not have the time or knowledge to explore all of the world map, The infinity of freedom in this game has allowed for players to find their various niches and expand on each of Bogost’s “things.” It does a great job at replicating (and sometimes enhancing) real-life events, actions, and activities. Almost anything that can be done in real life can be done in Second Life.

 

ReFerences:

Tomas Brown, “The Role of the museum in Video Games,” Play the Past, (2014). See http://www.playthepast.org/?p=4717

Ian Bogost, How to Do Things with Videogames, University of Minnesota Press (2011).

 

Creativity in videogames enables self-expression (which looks the same, anyways)

In “All the Slender Ladies: Body Diversity in Video Games,” Anita Sarkeesian critiques videogame designers for relying on the same body type for female characters, but I found Second Life to not be much different. Even when players are able to fully customize their characters, in my one hour of game play, I found only […]

In “All the Slender Ladies: Body Diversity in Video Games,” Anita Sarkeesian critiques videogame designers for relying on the same body type for female characters, but I found Second Life to not be much different. Even when players are able to fully customize their characters, in my one hour of game play, I found only one female avatar that had body dimensions different than the norm.

No matter who is designing an avatar for a videogame, Sarkeesian’s argument fails to consider the magic circle that exists in videogames. People use the videogame environment to portray their “projective” identity. She considers this default, slender-shaped woman avatar a “limitation to creativity.” I think players in Second Life take advantage of the opportunity to be creative in this 3D environment to explore an identity that does not have to be one of their own.

The only time I felt like my personal freedom of identity was threatened was from chatting with a male character. He started to comment on my virtual appearance. At this point, I had not personalized my avatar at all. He said I would look better, with a different hairstyle and a smaller head. To my surprise, he sent me packages of fully customized women avatars. You can put these ‘outfits’ on, and your clothes, accessories, and even height will change. This relationship of exchanging and controlling my physical characteristics was a learning experience, but made me feel uncomfortable. The power dynamic was clear; he could customize me or any other character in whatever way he pleased. The appearance of my avatar became “playable,” and I myself became a sexualized trope in his gameplay. Videogames are spaces where agency can be isolated, shared, manipulated, or threatened.

 

ReferenceS:

Anita Sarkeesian, “All the Slender Women: Body Diversity in Video Games” (2016). See https://feministfrequency.com/video/all-the-slender-ladies-body-diversity-in-video-games/

Learning is fun, Learning is social

I’ve been in many classes that reference Second Life, an expansive 3D virtual world built for socializing. So I decided to try it out! This blog post is about the tutorial and my reflection of its educational value. In videogames, the tutorials are usually a solo-venture. In Second Life, after choosing a sim character, you are immediately […]

I’ve been in many classes that reference Second Life, an expansive 3D virtual world built for socializing. So I decided to try it out! This blog post is about the tutorial and my reflection of its educational value.

In videogames, the tutorials are usually a solo-venture. In Second Life, after choosing a sim character, you are immediately placed in a virtual world with other new players. Some of them look just like you, because there are about 10 model sims to choose from. This immediately gave me the sensation of community, knowing that other people were learning the basics and might fail a few times. This initial stage also set the tone that Second Life is a social experience, whether it’s an adventure towards self-exploration or interaction with other players.

As I continued through the tutorial, I learned that we were in “Learning Island.” After the lessons which teach you the basic mechanics, you are encouraged to explore before going to “Social island,” since there’s no way to return.

I initially got frustrated, thinking that the game implied that learning is an isolated event. After some reflection, I think this was intentional and fits well with the purpose of Second Life.  This separation communicates that learning emerges from interaction with others (learn more about Social Pedagogy here). Although Social Island doesn’t provide many opportunities to socialize directly with other players, I was free to explore the virtual space and learn through challenges.

There were two moments where my suspended belief was broken. There were times when, ironically, I felt alone in Social Island. I tried to chat with other players, and found myself assuming that each sim accurately represented their real world identity. How hypocritical of me! I was playing as a pear-shaped redhead – characteristics that in no way embody my real life identity.

As I was exploring, I happened upon a tablet that outlined the rules for game play. It was made very clear that although Second Life is a virtual world, the same social rules from the real world apply. You aren’t allowed to harass anyone. You will be punished for being rude or performing non-consensual behavior among another person. Second Life developers acknowledge that many players may want to take advantage of the magic circle that videogames traditionally embody. These rules are made clear so that people understand that there is little difference between the magic circle of real life and the one in virtual life. It is made more clear that the game establishes a safe space for all, and tries to democratize the experience for every player.

 

Lumosity is a lie

In my previous blog post, I spoke to how the design of Lumosity’s game and interface was heavily influenced by the “projected identity” of the player. This is not to evaluate the effectiveness of these brain games, but highlights the dynamic a desire to become intelligent and trust in technology to satisfy this goal. Lumosity’s […]

In my previous blog post, I spoke to how the design of Lumosity’s game and interface was heavily influenced by the “projected identity” of the player. This is not to evaluate the effectiveness of these brain games, but highlights the dynamic a desire to become intelligent and trust in technology to satisfy this goal.

lumosity_1_1
Lumosity’s marketing targeted consumers who felt a need to become smarter. The “real world” identity of its consumers included people with serious medical conditions, older adults who were experiencing age-related cognitive decline, and students. The “virtual identity” was a concrete profile that Lumosity provided with age comparisons, self-evaluations, and etc. The “projected identity” of these targeted consumers drove Lumosity’s marketing, but was never backed up by scientific research. According to Jessica Rich, Director of the FTC’s Bureau of Consumer Protection, “Lumosity preyed on consumers’ fears about age-related cognitive decline, suggesting their games could stave off memory loss, dementia, and even Alzheimer’s disease.” Lumosity not only used the “projected identity” as their key marketing aspect, but highlighted how the games were co-designed by game designers and scientists. This raises some key issues about the human behavior: what makes science and research so ‘promising’ without question? What makes a piece of technology a qualified evaluation tool? Maybe their clients got tired of “traditional” ways of training their cognitive abilities, and found the appealing brain games more trustworthy.
When I reflect on my experience with the game, I have to ask: Do I believe that they made me smarter? I had fun, which is why it’s a casual game according to Juul’s definitions. As an educator, I did not find the games effective because the content is not situated, and therefore not translatable. The game designers focused so much on the procedural style of learning skills that they failed to create content that was contextualized in real-world experiences and isolated these skills to their steps and not their application. My “projected identity” is being developed in other ways, and without the need to rely on brain games that tell me I’m smart.

 

References:
Lumosity to Pay $2 Million to Settle FTC Deceptive Advertising Charges for Its “Brain Training” Program
Mind the gap: What Lumosity promised vs. what it could prove
“Brain training” with Lumosity — does it really work?

Problems of Identity in brain games

During the initial tutorial stage in which Lumosity accustoms you to the interface and gameplay, the game uses statistical data to compare you against other players in your age range. Your performance is represented on a bell curve. When you performed poorly, the game’s text remains “juicy” by directly rewarding your intent and ignoring the […]

During the initial tutorial stage in which Lumosity accustoms you to the interface and gameplay, the game uses statistical data to compare you against other players in your age range. Your performance is represented on a bell curve. When you performed poorly, the game’s text remains “juicy” by directly rewarding your intent and ignoring the game score. When I see that I have performed better than the majority, it was an ego boost and bar that was raised for myself. On the other hand, when I performed under the average, I was determined to better myself and more importantly, beat them. Once the tutorial is over, the game no longer compares you to other players, but instead measures your high scores and encourages you to be better than your ‘previous’ self. The design is meant to invoke competitive game play, and creates a difference experience when the competitor is oneself. This type of priming is intentional, and feeds into what James Paul Gee defines as the “projected identity.” This identity bridges the “real-world” identity with the “virtual” identity. According to James Paul Gee, the projective identity is to:

“project one’s values and desires onto the virtual character and seeing the virtual character as one’s own project in the making, a creature whom I imbue with a certain trajectory through time defined by my aspirations for what I want that character to be and become.” (page 55)

Lumosity continues to feed and prime my “projected identity” through a variety of ways. The juiciness is always encouraging of any progress that is made. When I don’t perform as well as I hope to, it never communicates that negatively. The explanations of games and their purpose prime me into believing that the game will help me develop a certain skill. Lumosity has the illusion of unmasking the ‘black box’, although I, as a player, have no idea how tapping on train tracks or swiping on the screen makes me a better multitasker.

394735-lum

In my third blog post, I will discuss more in depth the effectiveness of these brain games and the role of the “projected identity” in Lumosity’s marketing and design.

 

References:

Gee, James Paul. 2003. What video games have to teach us about learning and literacy. New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

When casual games become ‘fruitful’

Lumosity is marketed as a game that was co-designed by game designers and scientists to improve the player’s cognitive functions. This simple wording already forms the basis of their conditioning, but it definitely works. The app has a mini-game that opens explaining what cognitive function it strengthens. The games are ‘scientifically’ broken down into five […]

Lumosity is marketed as a game that was co-designed by game designers and scientists to improve the player’s cognitive functions. This simple wording already forms the basis of their conditioning, but it definitely works.

lumosity-home-page-image-11

The app has a mini-game that opens explaining what cognitive function it strengthens. The games are ‘scientifically’ broken down into five different modes: velocity, flexibility, resolution of clues, attention, and memory. I play each game with these goals in mind (sometimes not always understanding exactly how the mini-game is designed for these goals). The game mechanics are simple, which usually require just a touch to the screen. Because the game rules themselves are sometimes difficult to grasp the first time, Lumosity does a great job at scaffolding with short, easy tutorials. When I get combos or correct answers, the sounds are pleasant. When I mess up, the game makes an unpleasant, yet gentle sound and sometimes allows the player to correct their error. Failure is just as accepted as it is in Lumosity as it is in any other game. The game is so ‘juicy’ with encouraging text after each game, lots of in- and out-of-game compliments, no matter how well or bad I performed.

As a response to the exclusivity of hardcore games, Jesper Juul has defined casual games as a game for all ages that have the following five characteristics: fiction, usability, interruptibility, difficulty, and ‘juiciness.’ In the table below, I will judge Lumosity according to Juul’s characteristics for a casual game.

Doesn't he just look so much smarter?

Doesn’t he just look so much smarter?

 

References:

Jesper Juul, A Casual Revolution, chapter 2

Graphics should not be the only concern for videogame designers

In my last blog post, I spoke about how my generational experience might influence my expectations for Final Fantasy X; I’m glad to say that I’m not alone. An editor for Playstation Lifestyle named Heath Hindman provides a reflection that compares his thoughts on the game in 2002 (when the game was recently released) with […]

In my last blog post, I spoke about how my generational experience might influence my expectations for Final Fantasy X; I’m glad to say that I’m not alone. An editor for Playstation Lifestyle named Heath Hindman provides a reflection that compares his thoughts on the game in 2002 (when the game was recently released) with a post in 2014 (when the newer, HD version of the game came out). In his 2014 piece, Hindman talks about his frustration with the “high encounter rate” which is defined by a shattering of the screen or wavy distortion that opens to a fight scene. A guest commentator, Dark Anima, wrote a post for GameCentral of Metro, and considers the battle system in FFX to be the best in all RPG. This reader comments on the slow-paced, turn-based mechanic that allows for more strategic game play. Unfortunately, I am still in agreement with Hindman: I prefer few, quick battles to resume the story than leveling up my character.

ffx_random_encounter_7451

These constant fights interrupt the player’s ability to explore, which the player is left yearning for after just 5 minutes of game play. In 2002, Hindman considered the “linearity” of the game to be its biggest flaw. The game teases the player with its graphic game world scenery, but the character is still extremely limited in where he can move. According to Hindman, the game rewards those players who do explore all the terrain by placing treasure chests with useful items in far corners of the map. In certain parts of the story, the player is not allowed to re-visit an unexplored path, which can be considered a game-over with consequences.

Overall, I enjoyed the game for its story, but would not consider this RPG a good videogame for 2016. As a player, I craved more exploration and less film-like scenes.

References:
Heath Hindman, “Final Fantasy X Then And Now: Has The Game Changed, Or Have I?” Playstation Lifestyle, 2014. See http://www.playstationlifestyle.net/2014/02/09/final-fantasy-x-then-and-now-has-the-game-changed-or-have-i/
Heath Hindman, “Final Fantasy X Review,” RPG Land, 2002. See http://rpgland.com/games/reviews/final-fantasy-x/
“Dark anima,” “Final Fantasy X is the best game ever – Reader’s Feature” Metro, 2016. See
http://metro.co.uk/2016/07/09/final-fantasy-x-is-the-best-game-ever-readers-feature-5995861/

‘Video’ + ‘Game’ = the transition from theater screens to the TV screen

Henry Jenkins, in his article “Game Design as Narrative Architecture,” highlights how “the experience of playing games can never be simply reduced to the experience of a story.”(page 2) The story of Final Fantasy X dominates in such a way that ludologists would be disappointed. Neither the game mechanics nor the rules present enough complexity […]

Henry Jenkins, in his article “Game Design as Narrative Architecture,” highlights how “the experience of playing games can never be simply reduced to the experience of a story.”(page 2) The story of Final Fantasy X dominates in such a way that ludologists would be disappointed. Neither the game mechanics nor the rules present enough complexity for me to engage deeply in game play (maybe that’s because it’s 2016 and my expectations are generation-specific). There was more game play during my second session but the lack of player freedom to explore the game world frustrated me. Because the character is only allowed to walk in certain directions, the map is not only unnecessary but causes tension between the diegesis and non-diegetic world. Playing Final Fantasy X made me appreciate Portal for a variety of reasons: Portal is an interactive, puzzle-based game whose evoked meaning about institutional confinement is best delivered through game play while Final Fantasy X does not offer the same level of player engagement. Although Jenkins encourages us to regard game consoles “as machines for generating compelling spaces” (page 4), I think Final Fantasy X took advantage of the PlayStation 2 console to better market its game. Would it have survived in theaters? Probably not. But for a video game to advertise “stunning 3D graphics” and “enhanced facial motion system” allows it to flourish in the game market and beginning divorcing the medium from film.

http://www.mobygames.com/game/ps2/final-fantasy-x/cover-art/gameCoverId,262201/

There were not spaces being generated often, but I would consider my game play analogous to pressing fast forward while watching a DVD; it gets the character where he needs to be and advances the narrative. The game is great at environmental storytelling by providing the staging ground for narration, but the diegetic text that pulls me from the the diegesis and montages that supposedly pull me further into the diegetic presence is a continuous tension that prevents me from being simultaneously immersed and engaged during game play.

 

References:

Henry Jenkins, “Game Design as Narrative Architecture”

When there’s too much narrative in a video game

Other than briefly watching friends play Final Fantasy X, this is my first time playing it from the beginning. It was originally released for the PlayStation 2 in 2001. The game has text and voice to drive the plot forward, which I found exciting at certain times and distracting during other moments. During the first […]

Other than briefly watching friends play Final Fantasy X, this is my first time playing it from the beginning. It was originally released for the PlayStation 2 in 2001. The game has text and voice to drive the plot forward, which I found exciting at certain times and distracting during other moments. During the first 30 minutes of the game, the player is not allowed to skip any film nor save, but at times, is allowed to pause the game while the “background” music continued. In films, the music is always synchronized with on-screen action. But during the cinematic interludes of Final Fantasy X, pausing the game did not pause the music, which not only confused me but gave its game music a fluid identity between the diegetic and nondiegetic world. Another aspect that had a flexible identity was deciding the character’s name; there is a scene in which the character must talk to a group of AI. They ask the character for his name, and a menu pops up to give him a name. The game imitates many features in film, from the camera angles to the montages used for transitions. They were so integrated with one another, that sometimes it was confusing to know when the player should move the character!

The game introduction included more of the player  “watching” than “playing.” That difference is the same distinction that exists between engagement and immersion in video games. Immersion (or spatial presence, as it has been termed by Jamie Madigan) needs the player to believe in the world and its context. On the other hand, engagement is similar to the feeling of “flow” (a psychology term for undivided attention and involvement during an activity). While playing Final Fantasy X, the game created a feeling of immersion but I found myself bored – almost frustrated at times – with how unengaging it was. The narrative drove so much of the immersion that I began to feel bored. Frustration built as I yearned for more game play and not so much watching the cinematic storyline. The characters didn’t help, because they drilled in the plot by saying phrases like “listen to my story” and “this is your story, it all begins here.”

The session ended when the game provided me a “Traveller’s Save Sphere,” which stores the character’s HP and MP and allows the player to save game play. The sphere wants to be a diegetic machinic part of the game, although I did not feel so comfortable with the game’s decision to integrate the nondiegetic with the diegetic. I’m excited to continue, although I hope this time, I hope I can expect more “play” time.

 

References:

Galloway, A. “Gamic Action, Four Moments,” from Gaming, pp. 1-38.
Madigan, J. “The Psychology of Immersion in Video Games” The Psychology of Video Games. Web. 2010.