Over on ihobo, Dan Cook defends game metrics from my lambast. Check it out!
I dislike the absolutist nature of the argument, and prefer the more nuanced version. As a creative person, I still like things like food, a roof, and perhaps air conditioning when the temperature and humidity get high outside. But, I think it is important to realize that there is a decision to be made. One can choose to pure creative energy to create experiences on one extreme, pandering to tastes and maximizing for profit on the other, and a lot of room between the two extremes. And, as much as we might lionize the indie iconoclasts, the reality is that sometimes it takes a lot of work and understanding what people actually want to survive as an indie.
The argument Brian refers to here is art vs. commerce. Personally, I don’t accept a significant divide between art and commerce here… the vast majority of art is commercial in the sense that this term is used today: music recordings and performances are sold, paintings are auctioned, theatre and cinemas charge an entry fee. Knowing that games are artworks doesn’t mean the people who make them don’t deserve to be fed. I absolutely agree with Brian that game developers are no different in this regard: part of my argument in The Craft of Game Design Cannot Be Measured By Any Metric is precisely that indies, in rejecting commercial design considerations, are gambling on their livelihood.
So I accept Brian’s point that metrics can be used responsibly, at least in principle. My argument is only that there is a tension between the craft of game design, and engineering systems for commercial exploitation. Developers who can use metrics to assist their game design practices ought to make clear how this can be achieved without it becoming exploitative. I welcome the discussion here – it is this discourse that I feel is substantially missing.
Cross-posted from ihobo.com.
While I primarily teach aspiring game designers in the UK for University of Bolton’s School of Creative Technologies, I also teach Game Narrative for the fantastic Art of Game Design MFA programme at Laguna College of Art and Design (LCAD) in the US. This inventive MFA programme offers benefits to industry professionals looking to buff up their career, academics with an interest in Game Studies, and recent bachelor’s graduates who want to stand out from the crowd. It is also a point of personal pride for me, having argued for many years for the status of games as artworks, to be teaching on a Master of Fine Art degree in Game Design.
Building upon an established BFA programme that is one of the Top 10 ranked in the United States, the Art of Game Design MFA is perfect for strategic career growth. LCAD BFA programme covers Game Art, 3D Character, and 3D Environment, and is supported by innovative trans-university partnerships including USC’s GamePipe Laboratory, as well as boasting a placement record in excess of 94%. On the Masters programme, candidates work closely with some of the top names in game design and game studies, including taking my own world-class module in Game Narrative (also available in a Bachelor’s version at University of Bolton), and hone practical skills and business acumen while developing a critical, theoretically-informed framework for understanding games.
The deadline for submission for the 2016 Fall semester is June 1st. If you have any questions, contact LCAD Art of Game Design MFA Founder and Chair, Sandy Appleöff Lyons, who will be happy to discuss your career goals and educational objectives.
Cross-posted from ihobo.com.
Excluding young children, all players come to every game with their own pre-existing player practices already well-established. Defender (1981) was difficult for arcade players to learn because it’s control scheme was nothing like the other arcade games of the late 70s and early 80s. The computer strategy game Steel Panthers (1995) uses a hex map because thirty year's earlier Avalon Hill’s second edition of Gettysburg (1961) established the benefits of these over square maps. DOOM (1993) and Quake (1996) used arrow keys rather than WASD because movement in most Western RPGs up to then had been controlled that way, with mouse-look simply creeping in as an optional alternative interface for games mounted on the Quake engine. Changes were incremental, not revolutionary, because utterly innovative practices become a barrier to play, creating negative word-of-mouth, high risk of bad reviews, and thus no eventual community.
One of the ideas I considered and discarded for this piece was calling it Evolutionary Game Design. Under this title, I would have emphasised the way player practices are conserved but new successes come from variations in these maintained practices, in a manner directly parallel to the way organisms succeed. This would have been closely related to contemporary theories descended from Cuvier’s ideas about evolution and life that I discuss in The Mythology of Evolution. John O’Reiss, who I chatted with at length for that philosophy book, calls this the conditions for existence, and by necessity they must be primarily conserved, or else there can be no life – I learned a lot from talking to him. In the end, I decided I was playing a dangerous game: I might distract from my ideas by making the parallel to the evolutionary sciences. It felt, well, a little tacky. But the point remains.
What makes something a role-playing game? The Essence of RPGs was a serial in three parts running here at ihobo.com that offered an answer to this question by tracing the essence of these games to two sets of player practices, rule-play and role-play . Each of the parts ends with a link to the next one, so to read the entire serial, simply click on the first link below, and then follow the "next" links to read on.
Here are the three parts of The Essence of RPGs, each of which begins with a link to the corresponding part of the source serial:
Over on ihobo today, the final part of the serial looking at the differences between dramatic role-play and its brutal alternative, often misleadingly called ‘Old School’ role-play. Here’s an extract:
From the earliest days of the tabletop role-playing game, there were two main camps for how the story-play would operate, two different sets of player practices for role-play neither of which was specified by the game itself. The first, and the one I was involved in right from the start, could be called dramatic role-play, a form that takes its influence from storytelling and mythology – the kind of psychological patterns identified by Joseph Campbell as the heroic monomyth (or ‘hero’s journey’). In dramatic role-play, what is most interesting is how characters inter-relate to one another, and as a result those of us engaged in dramatic role-play very quickly realised that the dice were a liability more than they were an asset. We learned to fudge dice roles for dramatic effect, and never regretted it. Characters in our games still died, but they died as a consequence of their actions, not as a result of mere random chance.
Joseph Garvin AKA Dapper Anarchist has written some additional notes on game tutorials and their problems. Check it out!
Over on ihobo today, my reply to two missives from Jed Pressgrove and Chris Billows examining the role of the tutorial in videogames in terms of different motivating ideals of politeness. Here’s an extract:
The challenge in creating an adequate tutorial is the complete absence of knowledge we possess of the actual people who will be learning to play our game. Pitch the level of detail too low, and there will be players confused by what is expected of them. Provide too much detail and those players who are skilled in figuring things out will be irritated... What is particularly bemusing about creating tutorials is that if you watch a player learn to play a game from over their shoulder, you might not need to say more than a sentence or two in order to put them on the right track. But this is because we have the intelligence to interpret the problems a player encounters and provide appropriate guidance: there is no adequate way to transfer this skill to a computer!
Over on ihobo today, a new blog letter addressing Miguel Sicart and Douglas Wilson. Here's an extract:
Treachery has long been an important aspect of competitive boardgames, but in videogames there seems to be far less betrayal between players. When treacherous play occurs in digital games, it is more likely to occur between the game designer – who presumably enjoys imagining the schadenfreude they would experience if they could watch their future player! – and the eventual ‘victim’. Except, as the two of you stress in your wonderful paper Now It’s Personal: On Abusive Game Design, certain players will actively enjoy and seek out the challenge this represents. There seems to be something of a paradox here, since not every way of increasing challenge will be welcomed even by those players who happily endure betrayal of this kind. Is it solely the pursuit of victory that makes treacherous play entertaining, or is there a strange pleasure to be taken from the act of being betrayed? My sense is that this goes beyond the desire to pursue conventional challenges and into the social dimensions of play.
In an interview, the legendary film director John Ford made this remark:
It is wrong to liken a director to an author. He is more like an architect, if he is creative. An architect conceives his plans from given premises - the purpose of the building, its size, the terrain. If he is clever, he can do something creative within these limitations.
Even though it is a dangerous mistake to think of games designers as architects given the necessarily iterative aspects to software development, this idea applies equally well to commercial videogames. What we still seem to lack, alas, are visionaries like Ford or Kurasawa who can marry the challenges of the technologically-yoked commercial games industry with Ford's creativity-within-limitations.
Cross-posted from ihobo.com.