Week 4 reflections
From CTIN482
Just to warn you, I’m going to extend Henry Jenkins’s argument, not address it. Therefore, this will probably sound like the self-righteous rant that it is.
As a game design major, it would be an understatement to say that this isn’t the first time I’ve seen the feud between ludology and narratology erupt. In fact, as a game design and creative writing double major, this feud breaks out in my own head more than I would like to admit. Over the years I’ve come to personally believe that though narrative isn’t necessary for games, its implementation usually makes the experience of games much richer. I have a much stronger emotional attachment to Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, a game with narrative, than tiddlywinks or Monopoly.
I’m not certain that games that lack narrative can be considered art. Art, I believe, is about emotion and communication. Tetris, for all its perfection, never leaves the realm of performance. But at the same time, I recognize that cutscenes and exposition aren’t the best way to make games an artistic medium. Like Henry Jenkins, I think the best solution is to find the middle ground, a way to make the mechanics of the game expressive.
Look at the small web-game September 12th, for example. It uses the procedural aspect of games (player input, if-then algorithmic response) to communicate something; it models just how stupid responding to terrorism with violence is. Or the AAA title Bioshock—it reinforces its narrative theme, lack of control, by actually taking control away from the player at a key moment, randomizing his powers at another, and obscuring the story by spreading it throughout the environment. Jenkins’s discussion of narrative as space is another way to think about how games can communicate and thus evoke, incite, inspire, all the verbs we ascribe to art. Great advice for us as we build a space ourselves.
--David Slagle
I'm writing this in response to David's post, and specifically to his musings on whether or not games that lack narratives can be considered "art." I counter this by saying that, frequently, a much more satisfying and artistic story can emerge by NOT explicitly giving the player a narrative. All that needs to be done is set a tone and let the player infer whatever story they can come up with. You know the common piece of advice that leaving something up to the imagination is more potent than giving a straight up answer? This works for interactive media as well.
The best possible example I can find of this is an indie game called Passage (here's the link[1]). Without ruining too much (I'd really prefer you play it), the only text in the game is the title screen. Nothing is ever explicitly stated, and yet by the end of it, I was outrageously depressed.
To close, I feel that a rich narrative can exist without the player being given one. I wish I can remember who told me this, but someone told him, "You don't think chess is an emotional game? Imagine a game of chess. Now imagine the 2 kings are brothers."
--Erik Gieszelmann
The Jenkins article on game narrative suggests that creating interesting spaces and choices is the way to go. I don't disagree! I think some of the most memorable experiences that I've had in games are those that weren't directly constructed or written by a game designer. Whether it's going with our short-lived all-druid guild snuck deep into Allied territory and ganked lowbies like it was going out of style, or messing with the AI in TES, there's a lot to say for game experiences that stem from a rich, open world. SL certainly is an open world--but part of what makes things fun and memorable as narratives is exploiting and dodging the existing rules. Perhaps the rules we choose to give our educational space will result in interesting rule-breaking--and thus more memorable learning experiences?
While it would be easy to completely disregard pre-written content and rely solely upon the gamespace to inspire narratives, another part of the Jenkins article that I liked was the discussion of atmosphere. I think it is silly to disregard writing entirely. The goal may be to create a space that encourages narrative--but I think too many designers ignore writing as a means of creating atmosphere. How are we going to create an interesting atmosphere in the space? Will we use writing as an atmospheric tool? What sort of atmosphere will it be, anyway? Will it be varied or cohesive throughout the island? --Melissa Niiya
Locker Rooms and Virtual Spaces?
So this weekend I was in Seattle for the Seahawks home opener (it was a heartbreaking loss). This relates to the article because my mom and I took a tour of the stadium the day before the game. Twenty minutes in, we were shown the away team's locker room. The tour guide explained that the room was built in a U shape while the home team's locker room was built in a large circle. The Seahawk players could all see each other, while any given player on the opposing team was cut off from half the team.
This type of spatial design perfectly embodies Jenkin's description of game designers creating spaces that conform the player to a certain type of experience while not completely inhibiting the player. If we were to design a classroom space that was an empty blank sphere, that as the class progressed people could post screen shots of memorable class moments on the wall of the sphere we would accomplish 2 possible goals that I think may fall within the goals of this class. 1: Breaking out of the restrictive lecture hall set up that I personally hate for a round (sphere?) table style structure and 2: Allowing the participants to have some creative control over the space they inhabit, and hopefully will become increasingly invested in.
--Ben Reese
As someone who has played a number of first-person shooters and adventure games, I certainly agree with Henry Jenkins assertion of designing worlds as narratively compelling spaces. A common characteristic that first-person shooters and adventure games share is the use of spatial organization to create immersive narrative experiences. My favorite example of a game that utilizes environmental storytelling is Wolfenstein 3D (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z856WOKLlJY&feature=related). Unlike modern games, there is no lengthy exposition that serves to establish characters and plot. Instead, players are seemingly placed inside the world without prior explanation as to why they are there. As players progress, their comprehension of the story improves based on seeing the organization of iconographic imagery in the game’s environment. By knowing the meaning of various signs and symbols in the game space, players are able to piece together information in a narrative context. For instance, at the beginning of the game, I gathered that I was inside a castle because of the inclusion of suits of armor, tapestries and stone corridors. While, the incorporation of guard dogs, gold treasure, and weaponry suggested to me that I was in a structure of significant importance to my adversaries.
As we move forward with the design of our virtual campus, I feel it is important that we question: How will players understand the setting of our world, What are the implications of using symbolism and other iconographic imagery, Will there be events and if so how will they be structured, and How will the embedded narrative be affected by the emergent actions and outcomes of players?
--Warren Post
Drew Harry tells us we do not need to 'directly translate' the physical world when we create virtual spaces. His Agree/Disagree continuum is a good example to follow. In a real lecture hall it would be difficult to create a space where people could move around to show their opinions and still be physically comfortable. In Second Life not only is this feasible but the anonymity of avatars makes it easier for people to be open about their opinions. What sold me on Harry's space was how well it catered to the needs of the user. The 'todo' item dispenser, the scoreboard, and the 'timing cylinder' are awesome uses of the technology. They enrich the meeting and contribute to the discussion, rather than just providing us with something to look at.
Harry says, "It's not clear to me yet that [virtual worlds] are actually useful.(Technology Review)" In his opinion they will be useful when extract ourselves from the need to recreate the physical. However most games and online worlds being made today are focusing on recreating the 'real' world. For example we look to LivePlace, it is attempting to be a direct visual copy of the physical world: I ask, what does this world have to offer that the 'real' world does not? In Second Life some of the most popular videos and mainstream touted sites are beautifully recreated copies of physical places. These places don't use the lack of limitations to do anything new.
If we're not using the medium to do new things why not just go have a meeting in the real Library or over video conferencing. I can see how the casual user might be more attracted to representational spaces but I feel for this project -- since we are creating a learning space -- we should try to explore the possibilities. I do understand the concept of using these worlds to connect people but we want to stay away from becoming a glorified chatting program. Make the space an integral part of the lecture as Drew Harry has in his Continuum. -- Claire Tenscher
In his writing, Jenkins addresses a key problem in the "games as art" argument. And that is the insistence of many people on discussing games from perspectives of other media. Much of the discourse that exists in this discussion is focused on comparing a video game's capacity to tell a story in contrast to storytelling in film, or a book. Jenkins argues that this sort of dialectic is problematic because a video game is a unique media form that has unique capacities, separate from other more traditional storytelling modes. More specifically, spatial storytelling in games is an incredibly unique potential for the medium.
In relation to Second Life, it is akin to the traditional use of 3D space by several universities in Second Life. As we have discussed in class, many schools have invested resources in creating a Second Life space that directly mirrors the physical appearance of their campuses. While this may provide a visual model of the schools, it does nothing more to tap into Second Life's potential as a digital medium. These models essentially turn into vast auditoriums where avatars can only chat with each other.
In the same way that narrative in video games is fundamentally different than other narrative modes, the capacities of 3D space in Second Life must be looked at as unique from the capacities of a physical 3D space. The agree/disagree space, for example, provides a fantastic example of how Second Life can be used to explore interactions (in this case, voting, argumentation, and persuasion) that would be difficult to capture in a real physical space. It represents a physical acts and practices, but in a way that can only be achieved in a digital 3D space.
Jeffrey Pfingsten
>>Ben Chang
With the advent of emergent narratives and dynamic gameplay, I always wonder about the future of cutscenes. Do sandbox, free-roaming, non-goal driven, MMOGs truly the end for cutscene?
I've personally always been a fan of narrative driven gameplay. I still remember the days when my ITP professor criticized my elaborate cinematic sequences and disorienting flashbacks I snuck into my game design documents. He was certainly a Ludologist in that sense, and he subscribed to many other views against fixed narratives in game design.
That said, Metal Gear Solid 4 was a breath of fresh air for me -- a game that was 1/2 gameplay, 1/2 cutscene! Even though it's not a game for everyone, I think Kojima has proven (in our day and era) that the cutscene is NOT dead. All things considered, I am not a fanboy for cutscenes nor am I opposed to emergent narratives, and I intend to use this class to force me out of my predefined concepts to plot/narration in games.
>>Ben Chang
