Introduction to Pearce

Communities of Play and the Global Playground (Chapter 1)

Pearce introduces her book by asserting that play and communities are not new to the Internet. Pearce, similar to Gee’s “play is inherently social” idea, continually refers to “social play” and “play communities” (3-4). She then defines “play” and “community” separately (an interesting tactic, since she asserts elsewhere that games cannot be dissected and defined by their individual parts because the whole equals more than the sum-but she applies this ‘dissection’ here). The title of the book “communities of play” is meant as a counter to the anthropological term “communities of practice” (5). Her intended focus for the book seems to be about adult play, specifically something called the “Uru Diaspora” (or the group of ‘refugees’ without a ‘home’ after the game Uru was shut down, twice).

Before looking at virtual multiplayer games, she gives a brief history of multiplayer games from 3500 BCE to the 21^st century. One interesting note is H.G. Well’s title Little Wars (which implies in the title that only intelligent girls-and those seem few-are interested in “boy’s games”). She makes sure to mention table-top role-playing games, such as Dungeons and Dragons (from this point on, she makes frequent mention of Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings). Pearce seems to suggest that fantasy and sci-fi genres have the corner on the MMOG and MMOW market.

Virtual Worlds, Play Ecosystems, and the Ludisphere (Chapter 2)

The most striking section of this chapter “Playing with Identity: The Rise of the Avatar” examines player’s bonds with their avatars, and how players will often refer to themselves as “real-life avatars.”

A large portion of the chapter is dedicated to the difference between ludic and paidiaic (or fixed synthetic and co-created) worlds. Fixed synthetic worlds tend to be more ludic, with examples being World of Warcraft and Uru. The creators of the game have absolute control, over narrative, over the world rules, over the world’s design. Paidiaic worlds are open-ended, co-created, primarily an “environment designed for spontaneous play and creative contribution” (32). The game platforms we are using for this course, Second Life and Minecraft, seem to be apt examples of this type of environment. These types of games can also be referred to as “sandbox” games.

Emergence in Cultures, Games, and Virtual Worlds (Chapter 3)

It isn’t until the third chapter that Pearce brings in her idea of ‘emergence’ in general and then in video games. Something Pearce takes care to mention is that “historically, emergent cultures can take hundreds or even thousands of years to develop” (38). With the invention of the Internet, this time has exponentially decreased. She waits until halfway through this chapter to define ‘emergence,’ which I find an odd approach. This is where she believes that the sum of a game equals more than its individual parts. She lists several properties that can lead to emergence within a game: discrete (a closed system with a particular set of consistent rules), open-ended (no definitive win-lose conclusion), persistent (allows for cumulative, building action), synchronous and asynchronous (this sounds contradictory, and isn’t really explained by Pearce), long-term (one player’s behavior builds on another, or similar to the 3 minute, 3 hour, 3 month deadlines we discussed in previous class discussion), accelerated (everything, relationships, etc seems to move at a faster pace, even though tasks can take longer than in the physical world), networked (populated by people, easily connected), and finally diverse (this allows for many types of behaviors. Pearce notes that homogenous groups will tend to perpetuate similar actions, preventing emergence.)

In order to examine the “Uru diaspora group,” Pearce made certain that they met all criteria for emergence. There are six components Pearce considered when making her choice: emergent behavior (the patterns exhibited by the Uru group were evident even outside the realm of the game), events over time (Pearce decided to study this group for eighteen months, more than enough time in this accelerated environment), scale (a large enough group to study-the Uru group contained upwards of 10,000 members, but 160 to 450 were enough to adequately complete Pearce’s study), components versus system (emergence outlines any of the elements within the system, which is true of the Uru game and group), system versus environment (the Uru network ‘traversed’ several different virtual worlds, contacting different ecosystems each time), and lastly method (three components-system, parts and ecosystem- must be able to be viewed concurrently).

Discussion Questions

1. Since many of us have no background in sociology or anthropology, how would we define the term 'emergence'? How does that relate to the medium of video games?
2. How does a virtual diaspora differ from a physical diaspora? Why?
3. Do the properties that apply to 'emergent games' apply to 'emergent cultures (physical ones)'? If some do and some don't, explain why.

“Learning from Bogost”

The 831 class has been learning a lot from Bogost for the last week, but Bogost finally reaches the topic of “Learning” and video games in this final section.

The first chapter (8) addresses the question “Are videogames educational?” (233). There are three approaches to education covered by Bogost: behaviorist, constructionist, and constructivist. As far as applying these educational theories to video games, Bogost begins with Flight Simulator and SimCity; these both take the behaviorist perspective, teaching the ‘basics’ of content through experience. He uses the examples of Ninja Gaiden and Grand Theft Auto as ‘negative’ behaviorist games (or ones that may be construed negatively through a behaviorist view). Sim City also contains constructivist learning principles, teaching “about complexity and other approaches to the general operation of dynamic processes” (240).

In the section “From Programming to Culture,” Bogost brings up the term “procedural literacy” (244). Two programs, LEGO Mindstorms and RAPUNSEL, (one designed for boys and the other for girls) teaches students about procedures and how to read them. Mateas’s definition says that procedural literacy is “the ability to read and write processes, to engage procedural representation and aesthetics…” (245).

Bogost also gives a brief “procedural history” using Jared Diamond’s Guns, Germs, & Steel (book). Games that couple a procedural rhetoric of ‘material accident’ with a procedural view of history are Civilization (a game we’ve looked at in class) and Europa Universalis.

 To conclude this examination of “procedural literacy” I’d like to use Bogost’s words, “Procedural rhetoric is a type of procedural literacy that advances and challenges the logics that underlie behavior, and how such logics work” (258).

Chapter 9, “Values and Aspirations,” seems in a different vein than the previous one; it doesn’t make use the defined educational theories in relation to video games but examines topics like consumption, work values, morality and faith. Bogost first applies “consumption” (which sounds like a disease) to principles taught to students through American public education. Students are taught how to be effective consumer, mindless drones in society, acquiring possessions and debt. (Here he brings up the difference between schooling and education.) The first game he discusses as ‘consumptive’ is Mansion Impossible, a game which reveals an effective real estate strategy to be investing in one area and “keeping as much capital as possible” invested in the market (266).

Nintendo Gamecube’s game Animal Crossing also effectively displays the issue of consumption (and ‘affluenza’). Some features of the game (Tom Nook’s store, the HRA, etc.) successfully mount a procedural rhetoric of debt, or affluenza (the spiritual emptiness and guilt that accompanies wealth). Other features, such as the animal’s disdain of Tom Nook, the ‘portability’ or evanescence of material possessions (the fact that even large items can be ‘compressed’ into the size of a leaf for transportation), and the museum can cause “increased deliberation about the player’s need for his virtual possessions” (271).

The games Shadow the Hedgehog and Deus Ex return (from Gee) in a section on morality and faith.  For Shadow and Sonic the Hedgehogs, Bogost poses that morality is attempted within the game through ‘arimethic logic.’ Like the more recent Fable series (1, 2 and 3) America’s Army, Black and White, and Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, good and evil are the only two choices; the player/character’s morality is the sum of good and evil deeds or actions. Deus Ex attempts a different strategy; according to Bogost, it “mounts a procedural rhetoric of moral uncertainty” (286).

Oddly, in the section on ‘Learning,’ a chapter discussing exercise is included. Unfortunately, this book was published in 2007, before the Wii, Xbox Kinect, and PlayStation Move really became functional accessories for current game consoles. He relies primarily on “dance pads” like the Power Pad and the Dance, Dance Revolution pad to make his arguments concerning exergaming. An interesting thing to note is that Bogost uses sports and dance games for the prime examples of exercise games. Even with the advent of the Wii (and the prospective Project Café/Wii U), the Kinect sensor and the PlayStation Move, games that utilize these accessories are either sports, fitness or dance-related. The only example I can find that seems to break out of this pattern is Ubisoft’s new Child of Eden, but even then this game relies heavily on music to push the game forward (as a dance game or possibly even a fitness game would). I also failed to understand what exergames teach players (other than how to dance, exercise, or manipulate controls to get the best results).

Discussion Questions

1. What do exergames teach players? Why do they belong in the “Learning” section of this text?
2. What other educational theories apply to video games? Do the ones mentioned in this section have the “right” to categorize video games (does it fit to categorize video games through these theories)?
3. The idea of procedural literacy is interesting. Is there a way to incorporate it into the games we are creating in Second Life and MineCraft?

Bogost Chapter 5-7

Advertising Logic

Advertisers are “quick to colonize media” (148). This includes television, outdoor (billboards, posters),

A ‘trend’ advertisers are now having to deal with is known as “cynicism,” where consumers resist the simulation of freedom and the colonization of advertising in media. Also, with the popularity of technologies like TiVo (DVRs), Netflix & Hulu, and video games advertisers must ‘change tactics’ to reach the prime demographic (18-34 year old males).

Bogost spends a significant portion of Chapter 5 defining the three types of advertising, demonstrative, illustrative, and associative. Demonstrative is ‘the original,’ the type that provides direct information and is necessary to be effective within the realm of video games. Traditional demonstrative advertising features a lot of text and highlights functionality. Illustrative advertising focuses on indirect information. Associative advertising, the final kind, also focuses on indirect information, but in an intangible way. Bogost associates (pun intended) this type of advertising with “lifestyle marketing” (156).

It’s at this point that Bogost discusses the state of ‘advergames’ (advertising games). Associative games are the most common, the most prevalent, but demonstrative advertising most closely correlates with the “procedural properties” of video games (158). Two examples he gives of associative games are Mountain Dew Skateboarding and Chester Cheetah: Too Cool to Fool. Games like Coca-Cola Kid and Coke’s Sportstron TV game don’t “perform procedural representation” but attempt to associate the brand with video games. The company hopes that by associating their brand (in this case, Coke) with a niche market, ie video games, then members of that group will fall prey to their advertising strategies. “Whew. That was a really hard level; I’m thirsty. I need a Coke.” Or “Coke spends money on video games because they think they’re cool. I think video games are cool. Coke and I have a lot in common.”

Licensing and Product Placement

In Chapter 6, the author addresses (not in a comprehensive sense, but enough to introduce and persuasively argue) the connection between licensed products (television, film, etc.) and video games. Unlike “branded lunch-boxes” or stickers or folders with images of the licensed products on them, video games must incorporate in some new way the operational rules, become a procedural representation of the product. An a propos example used in the text is the Harry Potter series (it will be interesting to see how this particular market transforms now that the books and films are complete). For the game Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (and many of the other games closely following the cinematic version) allows the player repetitive actions, or minor actions like collecting cards (simply the “accrual of virtual property” (177)) intermingled with rendered cinematics for “unplayable” sections.

One thing learned from this game is that although the player has the choice of playing as Harry, Ron or Hermione, Harry is the focal character. The game seems to be supporting the idea of teamwork, but in ‘reality,’ Harry is who the books and movies center around (the opposite of teamwork). A game that perhaps unintentionally reveals this discrepancy as well is Quidditch World Cup. Quidditch is a combination of the sports soccer and basketball, but in both these real life sports, the emphasis is truly on teamwork (sports stars like David Beckham must still be team players). The added component of the golden snitch and seeker (which can automatically win a game) highlights the value of one person over the group.

Advergames

One of the most notable advergames (a Bogostian term) from Chapter 7 was Johnson and Johnson’s Tooth Protectors. This ‘sophisticated’ game (given its constraints) prompts the player to think of tooth/dental care as a “logical system rather than a moral one” (203). (“I brush my teeth to keep them from decaying and protect them from plague and gingivitis” instead of “I brush my teeth because Mommy says it’s good for me”)

Bogost also discusses the games Stow ‘n Go Challenge and Xtreme Errands (a game designed and developed by Bogost’s studio). The two games focus on “the procedural configuration of abstract space” or operationalizing “limited time and resources” (213). The games developed by beer and soft drink companies also interestingly present the idea of procedural representation of a licensed product.

This section on advertising concludes with a short address of ‘anti-advergames.’ In The Sims Online, players that oppose corporations such as McDonalds are encouraged to actively work against it through the medium of the game. Games like Coke is It! reveal the absurdity of advertising and its invasion of all forms of media.

The final kind of anti-advergame Bogost is more subtle than the aforementioned (example: Book and Volume). His studio’s Disaffected! examines FedEx Kinko’s dysfunctionality and inefficiency. The game effectively ‘lives out’ the problems encountered at this business in a way that writing a letter of complaint is unable.

Discussion Questions

1. If advertising must move from a visual rhetoric to a procedural rhetoric in order to be effective in video games, how can this be realized? Instead of placing billboards in Need for Speed games, how can advertisers incorporate products in a ‘believable’ way?
2. How could a licensed product/company create a game with the ‘correct’ procedural rhetoric? Look at the comparison of the Stow ‘n Go Challenge with Xtreme Errands. The former fails to truly present the player/potential buyer with the features and functionality of the product; how could this game be changed to accurately portray the Stow ‘n Go Seating?
3. In what ways could video games be used to reveal and demonstrate idiosyncracies and ideologies of licensed products (for example, movies and books-in this section, the Harry Potter franchise)?

Bogost Chapter 2

Political Processes

The chapter opens with a comparison of the game BioChemFX with the real life catastrophe of Hurricane Katrina. The game is meant to present a hypothetical disaster, showing what can happen (in an accurate way) and leaving the ‘ethical’ decisions of whom to save up to the player. When faced with these decisions in reality after Hurricane Katrina, everyone failed.

In order to continue a discussion of politics and videogames, Bogost must define ‘ideology,’ which he illustrates through the Irish potato famine. He borrows definitions from Plato (although it wasn’t called ‘ideology’), de Tracy, Marx, Gramsci, Althusser, and finally Zizek. Bogost seems to prefer Zizek’s idea of “’false consciousness’ of a social being but this being in so far as it is supported by ‘false consciousness’” (74).

(Wow this is way harder than I thought. I can’t do it in 800 words!)

He focuses on the game America’s Army, noting its ‘realism’ but also its ideology. Since the game features a multiplayer component where 2 teams battle each other, yet both are the US Army (while the other appears in guerrilla outfits). America’s Army is (was) a recruiting tool of the United States Army, but it (perhaps unintentionally) revealed ‘policy’ “don’t think, just do.” It also portrays the opposition as just that, the villain or the enemy (a nameless, faceless bad ‘thing’ that is a threat). Vagueness is the key to keeping situations controlled/ maintained.

A Force More Powerful, a ‘pacifist’ game, has a similar ideology. It features nonviolent resistance, but the historical, social, and economic (to name a few) contexts are not factored into the equation. The idea of overthrowing a regime is made to seem easily transplantable.

The next example Bogost uses is the Antiwargame. Some interesting things of note in this game are that “Military/Business” is one of three categories of possible spending. Military spending is “the same” as business spending. The game is about controlling and manipulating resources, money, people, situations. This reveals the game’s actual opposition to war “by claiming that a broken logic drives post-9/11 conflicts” (84).

Bogost briefly discusses the “rhetoric of failure” through the games New York Defender and Kabul Kaboom. There is no “winning condition” for either game; they are meant to show how things don’t work (85). Another game, September 12, which we’ve discussed in class presents a similar rhetoric. These games reveal how the logic of certain political processes is broken. For example, the “war on terror” ‘s use of strategic bombs was called “surgical,” but by nature, bombs are indiscriminate. If a bomb is dropped on innocent civilians or trained terrorists, it will explode and kill both. There is nothing “surgical” or “clean” about this (87).

The next ‘set’ of games discussed by Bogost could be categorized as “political election simulators” (90). There are President Elect, Power Politics, The Political Machine, President Forever and Power Politics III. The common procedural rhetoric of each of these is that “elections are won by electioneering, not by politics” (91). Several of these games focus on political strategy instead of policy; some even suggest that politics themselves means “election strategy, not public policy” (92).

He brings up a game he helped develop called The Howard Dean for Iowa Game, in which “political symbology, imagery, or verbiage” is used but it does not really show political life (and its processes). (He discusses this game in more detail in Chapter 4, but it doesn’t look like I’ll get that far.)

The games Bush v. Kerry Boxing and Darfur is Dying are proved to be simply skinning recognizable games/ processes and making a weak copy. These games may make “visual arguments” but they lack procedural rhetoric.

Darfur is Dying does not attempt to explain why the suffering is happening in this area; this is where the lack of procedural rhetoric is revealed. The game abstracts the circumstances, which makes ideas or solutions abstract (versus concrete) as well. (This game seems to have made little difference if it was new during the creation of this text in 2005 and the conflict in Darfur is still continuing 6 years later.)

His one page conclusion to this chapter succinctly brings his examples and points together. In a short example, he shows how the games White House Joust and Bush v. Kerry Boxing “appropriate political image” for commercial reasons (where are the politics?). True political videogames should have procedural rhetorics that “make claims about” the relationships of political processes, “why they work, why they don’t work or how society might benefit by changing the rules” (98). Political videogames fail when they simply answer the questions of how these processes work or what they look like or who is involved in them.

Discussion Questions:

1. Does the rhetoric of failure apply to reality? How? (Where did it come from- I mean, it had to exist before video games, right?)
2. What other ideologies (hey kids that took Renaissance Lit last semester!) can be found in the games mentioned in this chapter? Bogost discussed their political ideologies, but surely there are more than just these.
3.  Are these ideologies intentionally placed in these games or are they just present, always underneath the surface of the game? Who is aware of them? How does one become aware of them?

Bogost's Procedural Rhetoric

Bogost’s first chapter of Persuasive Games: The Expressive Power of Videogames is an extremely heady (theoretical) one. (On a side note: I’m curious why he spells “videogames” as one word and not 2.) The book opens with an explanation of (an ancient) videogame called Tenure, made in 1975, where the goal is to complete a year of teaching and be offered a contract renewal. The strategies for reaching this goal are not strictly teaching the students quality material in a quality way; here Bogost introduces his concept of “procedural rhetoric.”  But due to these terms’ ambiguous natures, he defines each separately. Procedurality places emphasis on the “expressive capacity afforded by rules of execution” (5). It is characterized by “symbol manipulation, the construction and interpretation of a symbolic system that governs human thought or action.”

He spends a section on procedural figures, forms, and genres; two things that fall into these categories are graphical logics and textual logics. As an example of a textual logic, he mentions the game Zork; an interesting game that made a resurgence in the newest Call of Duty game. In Black Ops, when the player enters the screen to choose which mode to play in (Multiplayer, Campaign, Options/Settings, etc.) the character is depicted as in a chair surrounded by television screens in a torture chamber. The character has the ability to get up out of the chair, walk around the screens and in the corner is an old computer that has recreated the game Zork. Neat huh?

Bogost admits that despite all the technological advances that have been made, rhetoric is still associated most commonly with oration and writing (with the privilege placed foremost on speech, then writing, then images. But where are video games?)

Throughout the sections, I have noticed that Bogost does a great job of including both sides of issues. For example, when describing visual rhetoric, he takes the time to discuss the virtues of this subdomain, but confesses that the field has not “lived up to” these possibilities. He does the same with the idea of “digital rhetoric,” explaining that much criticism of this type of rhetoric still focuses on superficial, surface things like “writing on the computer” through blogs, message boards, and email. 

On page 34 Bogost introduces Charles Hill’s “comprehensive continuum of vividness.” I (and Bogost) noticed that video games or anything related to them are not located anywhere on this spectrum. Bogost downplays any significance of the vividness spectrum in relation to video games however, because if a game is very vivid, there is a chance it lacks any rhetoric behind it (take for example Crazy World).

Bogost states on page 40 that “procedural representations do not necessarily support user interaction.” He gives the example of Balance of the Planet, in which the player primarily moves scrolling bar to facilitate changes and then respond. As discussed in class, a game may allow the player to “do anything” but that is not true in the sense that it is only within the parameters of the game. The game “procedurally expresses” itself through these “limitations” (43).

“Persuasive games” is a term Bogost came up with, which he explains deftly in the following section. He must differentiate his idea, though, from previous similar concepts, such as serious games. After providing various definitions of serious (all of which fall short of being applicable to “serious games”) and even attempting to defend (by finding suitable definitions for the word “serious”) the idea of “serious games,” he concludes that serious games undermine the expressive power of video games (59).

Persuasive technology is the next concept on Bogost’s hit list. Also known as captology, Bogost renames this study pioneered by B.J. Fogg “manipulative technology” (62). Fogg’s seven types of persuasive techonology may not explicitly line up with existing institutions (“the Man”), the only way these technologies can function is within these existing structures to serve the organizations’ ends. He accuses Fogg of being unaware of the irony/ideology he lives in and promotes in his study, an ideology where the existing institutions define what is ethical and desirable.

His last real topic is entitled “Black and White Boxes.” Here he explains “black-box analysis,” which is “to watch a program’s effects and extrapolate potential approaches or problems” (62). White or glass-box analysis watches “a program’s effects and identif[ies] actual approaches or problems” within the code (62). He mentions a critic that desires the availability of a game’s code so that players will develop a deeper critical understanding of the game, but Bogost points out that this may not happen. However, video games are too often only considered in a “black-box” format.

Overall, the chapter seems to be an offensive defense. Bogost must defend his idea of “persuasive games” while at the same time putting forth an offensive attack (offense) against all other similar or opposing theories (like persuasive technology or serious games). He seems to criticize every game he uses as an example; he takes on video game critics and anyone else mentioned in his book. Why is he so defensive?

Discussion Questions:

1. Gee seemed to support a form of interactivity in Chapter 7 (The Social Mind). Does Bogost’s opinion of interactivity counteract Gee’s theory?
2. I’m going to return to my conclusion of the blog post. Why is Bogost so defensive?
3. What does Bogost mean when he suggests that “vividness comes not from immersion, but from abstraction” (45)?

The Social Mind & Conclusion

These two chapters were shorter than the others so maybe the 800 word limit won't be so hard.
Gee's interesting subtitle, How do You Get Your Corpse Back After You've Died?, is connected to the games EverQuest and World of Warcraft. These and many more games are socially oriented (It's interesting, in fact, that "reviewers tend to criticize games that can only be played in single-player mode" (180). If that was true in 2007, it is even more augmented in 2011, when a large complaint of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 is its lack of split-screen capabilities, which is available in the now hugely popular Call of Duty: Black Ops. Games that also have no online multiplayer component fall in this category.)


He explains that games like World of Warcraft derive strength from offering players multitudes of choices. With several available races, professions, skills/ abilities, guilds, religions, etc., the player can create a unique character, and work together with a group of different players (with different abilities, professions and such) to conquer game objectives. The amount of choices and variety as well as the way players “level up” but can still find things to do within the game guarantees that these kinds of games “never end” (182).

A large portion of Chapter 7 is devoted to the idea of retrieving the player’s body/corpse after death. How do game developers handle this without making the process too difficult (seems like a punishment and can be overly frustrating) or too easy (there’s no repercussions so it’s really no big deal)?

Gee addresses in a small way some issues related to the social mind like “editing” or modifying games, cheat codes, strategy guides, hacking, forums, and more. All of these contain a social component that relates to but doesn’t necessarily take place inside the world of the game.

Play is inherently social, in many ways. Players can play in groups/ teams. Players can be members of a larger group (often called a guild). Players can communicate with other players within and outside a game. But beyond simply social thinking, knowledge is “distributed.” This distribution ranges from other players or the player him/herself, but also includes tools (strategy guides) and technologies (cheat codes) available to the player.

Gee asserts also that thinking is developed according to patterns, but these patterns are socially determined and governed. He proves this point using a bird-watching example. He returns to video games through Half-Life. Gee recounts his experience fighting the alien “boss” of Half-Life, going through the difficult process to get to that stage only to realize he did not have enough ammunition, and turning to chat rooms and forums to help him complete this task.

The next section of the text focuses on his lengthy parallel of video games to a science classroom. He borrows the theorist Jean Lave’s idea that learning is not just about gaining mechanisms (changing practices) but changing identity (203). Brown and Champiogne’s “communities of learners” exemplify this concept. Gee calls this form of learning as “the jigsaw method,” where there is no single leader or center, but roles and responsibilities are evenly distributed. Gee also briefly defines Vygotsky’s “zone of proximal development,” a concept used so often it was referred to as “ZPD” in my undergraduate education courses.
 

Here I’d like to take a second to explain 6 points Gee derived from this type of learning and affinity groups:

1. Members bond through a common endeavor, then affective ties.
2. This common endeavor revolves around a whole process.
3. Members have extensive, not just intensive, knowledge. (This can range from involvement in several stages of the process or overlapping functions.)
4. Members also have intensive knowledge, deep and specialized in one or more areas.
5. Knowledge within the affinity group (much of it) is often tacit (embodied within mental, social & physical coordinations between members) and distributed (spread across members, practices, tools and technologies) and dispersed (networked across several different sites).
6. Affinity group leaders should design the group, resource them and help members turn tacit knowledge into explicit knowledge.

The final topic of the chapter is entitled “Learners as Insiders & Producers,” and it discusses things like modifications. Players, after mastering the skills of a particular game, are often encouraged (although not in some cases) to participate more with the game by creating their own add-ons, sometimes leading to a different game altogether. Players move from consumers soaking in the game, playing through the campaign to game designers themselves, producing new material and joining the “elite” group of “insiders.” This chapter concludes with the final four learning principles Gee believes constitute or are included in a “good” video game.

Discussion Questions:

1. Gee talks about things like hex editors, cheat codes and strategy guides. We've already discussed "cheating" in class, but is it possible that video games are redefining the idea of 'cheating?' If Gee's method of using a cheat code just as a way to get to the boss isn't cheating, where is the line?
2. In a related note to the cheating idea, I was struck by the idea of modifying the game. (Like when Adrian changed the end credits to say that he created the game, then played through the whole game again. That's devotion.) Does allowing players a stake in the game, the ability to change/ modify the game create a bond between the producers and the players? (Don't know if that makes any sense.) 
3. The birdwatching example shows that thinking in patterns is social. Is there a video game that exemplifies this concept? (I ask this question because I'm struggling to apply it to a video game I've come in contact with.)

Telling & Doing and Cultural Models

Chapter 5, Telling and Doing: Why Doesn't Lara Croft Obey Professor Von Croy?, begins with a juxtaposition of overt learning and "immersion in practice," an idea Dr. Holmevik introduced in class yesterday (immersive learning). Students/learners, Gee asserts, need a certain balance of both overt information and immersion. Throwing a player into a game with no direction or guidance at all will only frustrate the player and cause a meltdown or something similar. Overloading a learner with huge chunks of overt information (sound like public school, anyone?) also turns the student away from learning because there is no practical application. A method of providing only overt information will prevent the student from being able to visualize (apply) the material.

Gee focuses on three video games to explain the necessary balance of immersion and overt information: Tomb Raider: The Last Revelation, Return to Castle Wolfenstein, and System Shock 2. All three games introduce the player to the controls using a mix of virtual and real-world language to help them learn the game but remain silent on some issues to allow the player a stake in the learning process. For example, in Tomb Raider Professor Von Croy, the vehicle used by the game to teach the player the necessary controls, tells Lara to stay close to him, but it is only through exploration and “disobeying” the computer that the player finds certain elements, like the golden skulls (that turn out to serve a purpose in following episodes). The blend of statements like “Press and hold forward” (to jump) and the freedom to discover the game environment in a less challenging, more exploratory sense is the balance Gee desires for all learners.

Another idea Gee covers in this chapter is the idea of “transfer,” when one strategy, method, or generalization does not function within given contexts and other strategies must be transferred from another location (in the brain). Here he explains the method he typically used to kill Nazi Super Soldiers in Return to Castle Wolfenstein, and how this method failed for the “boss” character. He needed to “transfer,” and then tweak/invent, a method from a game he had already played (Alice).

System Shock 2 is the focus of the last half of the chapter, a game that reminds me of the Bioshock series (probably because they both have “Shock” in the title). Gee uses this game to explain how earlier episodes of video games are easier because the player needs to learn the controls and create “fruitful patterns and generalizations” (138).

Here's a screenshot of System Shock 2. Kill the zombies!

 

 And here's a shot of Bioshock. With an update in graphics, a change of scenery and slightly different looking enemies, it could be the same game. Goal: Kill the zombie-like creatures, often using a shotgun-type weapon.

Chapter 6, Cultural Models: Do You Want to be the Blue Sonic or the Dark Sonic?, introduces the idea that "content in video games either reinforces or challenges players' taken-for-granted perspectives on the world" (146). Like all other chapters, Gee discusses several games, starting with Sonic Adventure 2 Battle, where the player has the choice to play as the blue (good) Sonic or the dark (evil) Sonic look-alike, Shadow. Even though the player associates the character he/she uses to play the game as “the hero,” the character in the game world may be identified as “evil.” When the player is given a choice between, for example, good or evil, the player is simply asserting their real-world perspectives and beliefs.

Gee continues the chapter with a look at the controversial (in the United States) game called Under Ash. The main character is a young Palestinian named Ahmed, whose mission is to kill Jewish enemies (occupation forces, settlers, and soldiers but not civilians) and support the Palestinian/ Islamic cause. This is an appropriate cultural model in the Arab/ Middle Eastern community because it is in line with their accepted belief system, but in the United States, this game was extremely controversial because it went against the accepted parameters of a war-based video game.

The author contrasts two “war-based” video games to see how “real” these games are. Return to Castle Wolfenstein grants the player a super-human like strength, the ability to take a large amount of damage from bullets and other weapons without dying. On the other hand, the game Operation Flashpoint is a much more “realistic” portrayal of war. One bullet is usually enough to kill you (the player), and the pace ranges from largely uneventful and slow to a huge adrenaline rush. A game like Operation Flashpoint is often not as popular as Return to Castle Wolfenstein or Call of Duty: Black Ops because players are already vulnerable to things like bullets in the “real” world (even if they don’t come in contact with them often) and these games are a way to fell more powerful and in control.
Gee concludes Chapter 6 with 3 useful learning principles of good video games that relate to cultural models.

Sources for photos:
http://www.2kgames.com/bioshock/html/screenshots/screenshot_03_xl.jpg
http://www.gamerevolution.com/review/pc/system-shock-2