As part of my work on the lineages of player practices, I’m beavering away on a five part serial looking at game inventories. It was originally going to be just one post entitled The Joy of Sets, but it has predictably spun out of control and has turned into a bigger project. I will be taking pairs of games and looking at the lineage connections between them, which is not simply a matter of saying what influenced what directly. For instance, Notch never played Dungeon Master to my knowledge – but the design of Minecraft inherits almost the entirety of its inventory practices from it. This will be my big serial for this year, and I hope to kick it off soon. Stay tuned!
Cross posted from ihobo.com.
In some sense, ignorance might be an appropriate word for what I’m advocating: for creators to intentionally ignore with greater diligence the pressures to be similar, to follow fashion or money or power, pressures to use objective, scientific methods of art production. And similarly, I think part of what I’m advocating for could be called dogmatism: for creators to hold firm in their values and goals in order to create works that are more distinct, more filled with themselves, more honest and interesting and worth talking about.
Please rush over to his blog to read the entirety of The Ignorant Dogmatist right away!
The original firestarter makes one of its targets the kind of self-focussed indie game design method Kevin defends here. Yet I cannot do anything but respect Kevin’s commitment to exploring his own creative vision in games. For me, what Kevin is doing is making what I call artgames, and the moment you’re committed to art you are no longer practicing a commercial craft. You’ve gone down a marvellous rabbit hole, one where money may be tight but that worthwhile things get made. Almost everything I’ve thought worthwhile in games in the past five years has been an artgame… This is largely what I choose to play these days.
Why sell out artists in The Craft of Game Design Cannot Be Measured By Any Metric, then? When I look at Kevin’s output, which includes Eidolon and The Absence of Is, I see someone pursuing their vision for its own sake, which is the mark of an artist – a way of life I greatly respect, not least because it now feels closed to me. But when I look at the indie market, I see people pursuing a similar kind of self-focussed process and making yet more-of-the-same violent, repetitive ordinariness. Such indies are, I presume, trying to make a living – and they’re doing it badly. It was these indies I wanted to lambast.
If my piece in any way discourages someone from accepting the role of the starving artist, with all that entails, I apologise unreservedly. Art is one of the greatest ways to add value to life beyond money. But most indies aren’t making art. They’re masturbating into a codebase and thinking they’ll hit big doing so. Maybe I should respect that as a kind of art, but I just see it as bad commercial practice.
With my philosopher-hat on (I wear many, conflicting hats), I can only smile with an inner warmth at this line:
I think that often, the non-mechanical components of a game are more important than the mechanical ones, and so I tend to work on visuals and writing at least as early as mechanics.
I wrote Imaginary Games in part to defend this philosophy, and next week I’ll present to a hundred game academics about how games are more than their merely artefactual machinery. Kevin describes himself as willingly ‘ignorant’… his ignorance, though, is closer to the kind praised in Jacques Rancière’s The Ignorant Schoolmaster – it is a freedom from stultifying conformity. I could never oppose this, especially not when it is done in the pursuit of art. Everyone must discover who they are, sometimes over and over again… and never let someone like me tell you otherwise.
Cross posted from ihobo.com.
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.