agency – Interactive Digital Narratives

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/

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 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.

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.

In the end, it was just for a slice of Cake

A game log about the video game, Portal Before taking this FMS class, I had never even heard of Portal before. The concept took a while to understand: imagine having the ability to transport through walls. That’s what defines Portal as a new video game genre which converts 3D spaces into puzzles. Although this was my first time playing Portal, I found myself frustrated with its “appearance […]

A game log about the video game, Portal

Before taking this FMS class, I had never even heard of Portal before. The concept took a while to understand: imagine having the ability to transport through walls. That’s what defines Portal as a new video game genre which converts 3D spaces into puzzles.

Although this was my first time playing Portal, I found myself frustrated with its “appearance of choice.” In this conext, I define this term as the illusion that provokes immersion and a sense of agency over Chell, the character. Yet, when the player may believe that they are discovering a new way to solve the puzzle, it’s the opposite because almost every move has already been strategically placed by the game designer. If each player were to draw out the game maps and the moves necessary to advance in the game, I wouldn’t expect them to look much different from the game designers’. The game lacks alea, the term coined by Roger Callois for chance (Man, Play, and Game). Although this may not be seen as a bad thing, the game does not convince me to replay it.

The story of Portal is interesting, but not as thought-provoking as I would have liked it to be. After having advanced 19 stages of puzzles and destroying the AI, Gladys, the player is awarded with cake. Solving the puzzles was a more rewarding experience than earning cake. The ending is rather sarcastic and almost confirms how Chell, did all of this for nothing nor can it be labeled as a heroine’s odyssey in Henry Jenkins’ terms (“Game Design as Narrative Architecture,” page 6). Although Portal embeds narrative elements within the mise-en-scene, it would be wrong to expect more plot development than spatial exploration from a video game like this. Because there was not much plot in the game, I found it hard to relate to my life. Maybe that’s the point; maybe Portal is meant to only survive in its own magic circle.

References:

Henry Jenkins, “Game Design as Narrative Architecture”

Roger Caillois, Man, Play, and Games, 1961.