I’ve wanted – intended – to write this piece for a long time. Yet I couldn’t, because the subject matter seems so reducibly simple. That barrier comes from conceptualization: once a conclusion has been reached, the mind focuses on that conception and buries the supporting conceptions to increase future efficiency. My mind is constantly refusing to deduce, desiring instead to use this conception as part of future inductions. Yet yielding to that barrier would allow mistakes, for I would leap to new conclusions without tracing and examining the evidence for my earlier conceptions. Any error would go unidentified and would be magnified many times over as my web of conceptions grows.

The only guard against such an outcome is rigorous examination of the original evidence – always a challenge, since a completely rigorous trace would take incredible time and effort. This piece is a more limited trace, sufficing to examine and explain the immediate preceding conceptions. As such it will appear deductive, unlike the original inquiry’s inductive pattern – don’t mistake the pattern of a trace for the pattern of an initial inquiry. It’s taken me a long time to comprehend that difference.

Left 4 Dead depicts classic authoritarian rhetoric. The basis for this statement comes from a combination of rhetoric and game studies. The game creates the type of environment that authoritarian rhetoric has always relied upon, an environment that players cannot reject without avoiding the game entirely.

Authoritarian rhetoric has a number of well-defined features, one of which is the metaphor of the jungle. To persuade others to accept obedience without question, an authoritarian rhetor will depict a hostile and malicious world. The audience lives in a world that will consume them at the slightest sign of weakness, for enemies on all sides beset them. Response to threats must be immediate, for the predators do not suffer from delay or hesitance. There is no time for debate; the best chance of survival comes from obedience to the strongest among the group.

Game studies couples the model of authoritarian rhetoric to the conception of procedural framing. Games create an imagined space governed by specific rules that constrain and regulate behavior, dealing out rewards and judging failures. This phenomenon becomes most apparent when considering goal rules. Goal rules are those rules that dictate what procedures the player must follow in order to “win” the game (the ultimate reward within the confines of a game). The representation of goal rules is the most blatant element of a game's rhetoric.

Left 4 Dead uses its goal rules and representation to re-create the jungle of authoritarian rhetoric. A small team of players is thrust into the role of survivors in a completely hostile world. In Left 4 Dead’s zombie apocalypse, everyone is out to kill the survivors. The enemy is everywhere, unflinching, unhesitating, and oblivious to reason or rapport. The players’ only contact with allies comes at the end of the game, when the survivors reach a rescue point. Until then, enemies constantly require immediate and unified response from the team of survivors to avoid the failure state of death.

The critical piece of Left 4 Dead’s rhetoric is its deployment of tempo. There is no time for the team to debate when confronted with a sudden tank or horde attack, which the game is programmed to unleash if the players move too cautiously. The demands of tempo vary depending on game mode (with versus being the most demanding), but in all cases fast paced decision-making is required. If no clear command is given in a moment of crisis, or if a player ignores commands, then members of the team will be picked off individually – culminating in a failure state for the entire team. I’ve been part of teams that, when faced with an unexpected tank spawn, fail to stay unified or fight in poor terrain with no leadership. Usually the entire team dies. I’ve also been part of teams where one member dictates a simple strategy, like retreating to favorable terrain, and the team follows without question. Usually the challenge is easily overcome. Even a poor strategy, when carried out in unison, is better than no unified strategy at all. In order to win – to fulfill the goal rules – the players must accept a top-down mode of decision and action, acting out the role of either leader or follower.

In this way, Left 4 Dead demands acceptance of authoritarian political structure. It contains both a representation of a fundamentally hostile reality and rules that channel play through authoritarian procedures. Ultimately, it creates situational acceptance of authoritarianism in those who play to win.

Earlier this quarter I was interviewed by a fellow student for a documentary on Focus Groups, as one of several people interviewed (the others being graduate students). I don't show up until the end, but the documentary is now up on YouTube and is quite striking. I think that it shows both an explanation of the strengths and an illustration of the potential weaknesses of Focus Groups.



I terribly wish that I could have participated in Ed's focus group on LARPing. That looks like way too much fun and, though it doesn't necessarily show visually, I know that they covered substantive theory as well as experiential experimentation.

The final takeaway message, of course, is that I definitely need a haircut.

Yahtzee made my week.

Though you won't get the full point if you don't keep up with gaming news, it's astounding how accurate Yahtzee is.

And no, I'm not dead. Just buried.

[This piece was originally an example reflective commentary for the participants in Actions Speak Louder, the focus group that Terry and I are running.  For those unfamiliar with the game mentioned, Fallout 3 is a post-apocalyptic roleplaying game played from a first-person perspective.]

So there I am, inching my way down a derelict train tunnel riddled with booby traps, when I see a strange object in a side tunnel.  The safest way to deal with booby traps in Fallout 3 is to shoot them, so I put a bullet into the object.  It doesn’t explode.  It’s just a baby carriage facing a gate on the other side of the tunnel.  Some useful items are behind that gate, so I go to open the gate and collect them.  As I reach the gate, there is a loud crying noise behind me – I whirl around just in time to see a baby in the carriage before it explodes!  As the dust settles my mind is spinning, trying to process what happened.  The explosion was just far enough away to avoid seriously damaging me, so the intent wasn’t to kill me.  I can’t imagine that this was anything but a completely mechanical booby trap – there’s no way that could have been a real baby – but what sort of mind would devise that trap?  What purpose does this psychological trap serve?

This is where Bogost’s idea of the simulation gap helped me isolate at least one reading of the above game sequence.  He claims that a game can be examined as a series of enthymemes (Bogost, 43), so it should be possible to find the overt and “omitted” procedural statements included in the game.  One representative statement is that Fallout’s world is mostly devoid of civilization.  Procedurally, towns were relatively few and far between, and most of my equipment in the game came from scavenging.  Another representative claim was that the inhabitants were often dangerous and devoid of what we’d consider civilized norms.  Indeed, procedurally, pretty much anyone or anything that I met outside of town was competing with me for resources at the best, or trying to loot my corpse at worst.  In particular, they were the type of people who’d set up a baby carriage bomb just to mess with my head.  Fallout 3 is a harsh environment with harsh people.

With that context, the “omitted” claim made thought my gameplay experience seems to be that the environment molds people in its harsh image.  The world of the game had succeeded in altering my behavior, shifting it away from my previous norms in at least one particular way: I put a bullet through a baby carriage without thinking about the object under my crosshairs.  The procedures of survival in the Fallout 3’s environment altered my procedures of behavior within the game world.  This molding process was mentioned fleetingly in the game’s representation, but never made palpable until this moment.

Well, Fallout 3 already managed to unnerve me.  How?  Three words: baby carriage bomb.  With moving, crying, baby.  The fact that I think it was a fake baby - yet I can't be sure! - somehow makes it even more unsettling.  I expect to be writing more about this scene once I've sorted it out better.

In the meantime, I leave you with the words that I uttered when my vocal capacity returned: "who the fuck thinks this stuff up?!"

[For a definition of "diegetic," see this post]

I'm impressed by Fallout 3's interface.  It's the most diegetic-focused RPG that I've ever played.  The three-dimensional real-time nature of the engine makes it very immersive, but what really gives the game an advantage over titles like the Elder Scrolls games is the pip-boy.  The wrist-mounted pipboy serves as your character sheet, inventory, map, quest list, and probably more.  Aside from time pausing when you bring it up (a necessary feature for control), interacting with it is diegetic.  It makes the game flow quite well.

The combat system also works well.  If Fallout 3 was a shooter, I'd hate it simply because of console controls.  But it's an RPG, and shows it with VATS, another semi-diegetic system that essentially lets you pause, queue up attacks, and then execute them.  It's almost turn based, and seems very true to the previous Fallout games.  No twitch here, thank goodness.  VATS' time-stopping nature does slightly damage flow and reduce immersion, but for a console game I wouldn't have it any other way.

So, I get up, hop online, and start browsing the news.  What I stumble across are very good and very bad articles about Resident Evil 5 (RE5) and the surrounding racism controversy.  Not exactly my normal fare here, but what I read this afternoon pertains precisely to what I'll be covering next quarter in Actions Speak Louder (the seminar I'm teaching).

One article is a video game review in the New York Times.  The other is a semi-rebuttal on Chrispygamer.  One of them is positive that the game isn't racist.  The other understands how media images work, and thinks the issue is more complex.  Guess which is which?  Let me quote a paragraph from the NYT review:

Tonight, the order was placed for an Xbox 360 and Fallout 3.

This is a significant commitment, because it means that I'm going to seriously pursue games writing and analysis.  Otherwise that chunk of resources would be a waste.  I'm going to be writing more on this blog, with greater consistency, in the future.  I'm also going to try to play and write about newer games, like the upcoming Final Fantasy (yes, it's a JRPG, but I haven't actually played a modern JRPG).  I welcome any specific game suggestions that my friends and/or readers would like to offer.

I expect to vary stylistically at first.  Technical review from a game studies perspective is one thing that I'll do, but I also want to experiment with more experiential reviews as well.  Both are linked, but I'll have to sort out a balance.  It may also depend on the particular game.  First, of course, will be Fallout 3.  After that, who knows?

I'm not going to nail down a writing schedule until I get a taste of next quarter's work load.  If I can't get into the class on political rhetoric that I want to take, then I'll devote more time to games writing.  Either way, I intend a weekly or biweekly posting schedule, depending on how the workload and post length looks.

Updates will begin after I've gotten all the hardware running and have had time to start playing.  That probably means a couple of weeks, since the opening of the quarter will take some getting used to (particularly due to the seminar I'm leading).

I've decided to write down the maxims that have the most efficacy to my life. These are statements by which I attempt to live, with emphasis on "attempt."  Hopefully, recording them will make it easier to recall them when they are most needed.

• It's easier to change thoughts with actions than it is to change actions with thoughts.
• Logic alone will not give life meaning.  A logical search for meaning must begin with an assumption of value, or else be futile.  (My assumption is that human beings intrinsically have value.)
• Motivation comes from ends, not means.

Expect extension of this post over time, as I recall and accumulate maxims.  Feel free to comment with your own.

See here.  Not a bad representation of the CGP.  There's always an element of apprehension about talking to the press, since they pick and choose soundbites, but it's great to talk to a friendly (as opposed to hostile) reporter.  I don't envy politicians.

Speaking of points in the article, I'd also note that the focus group that I'm teaching next quarter with Terry is on the books: Tuesdays, 3:30-5:20 pm in Parrington hall.  As mentioned, the title is Actions Speak Louder: Discussing Procedural Literacy in Digital Games.

[edit] Now linking to the online article, rather than pdf of the print version.

In order to keep up, hardware-wise, with newer games and their requirements, I've been considering purchasing a console.  The XBOX360 is certainly the one that I'd get, but there are multiple versions and I'm not sure if there's anything in the undocumented features that might turn around and bite me if I go cheap.  I'd appreciate any advice.

What happens when you set the alarm for 6 in the morning in order to register for classes on time, assuring that you'll get your pick, only to find out that an undocumented feature of 90% of the classes is that they only allow majors to register for them yet?

Well, apparently, a highly frustrated LJ post.

Prince of Persia’s conclusion made me rethink my own values in a way that few games are sophisticated enough to pull off.  So much so that I'm compelled to explain why, particularly since the game has gotten so much flack from fans of the Sands of Time trilogy.

However, writing about it obviously contains spoilers, so you'll find it below the cut.  I assume some basic knowledge of the game on the part of the reader, and if there's any possibility that you'll play the game then do so before reading this.  It's not that the story is difficult to anticipate, it's the experience of the implementation that matters.  Plus it's an easy game, so no excuses for difficulty or time.

( [SPOILERS] Read more... )

Here is my final paper for the autumn critical gaming course that I took.  I analyzed Final Fantasy 7 as a piece of persuasive media, using Ian Bogost's book Persuasive Games as a (incomplete) basis.  The paper seems topical for this blog.  It's long though, so it's below the cut.

( Read project paper... )

UPS are complete weenies.  They haven't delivered anything for a week, despite package tracking showing the stuff being in Seattle.  FedEx, on the other hand, has been delivering packages all but the worst days of the snowstorm.  Heck, even the regular mail got through fine.  Come on UPS, I understand that it's ugly weather, but delivery is your job.

In other news, there's at least 8" of snow out there with 6" more in the process of falling.  Plus the layer of ice.  I'm not going anywhere significant for a while.  Which is a huge bummer for me, because I miss everyone badly.

A review should focus on only the most important elements of a game.  The problem with reviewing Prince of Persia (PoP) in this way is that every element is important.  It’s not readily apparent at first, but every major element of gameplay and representation has been carefully crafted to focus the play experience of PoP.  I could write an article four times the length without capturing the true key to the game: that it is supremely focused on conveying some fundamental values questions to the player.

( Read more... )

Yesterday was the day of the tree.

The family got up early (for break, 10 am - not so easy on me since I was still awake until ~5 am) and walked down the street to Hiroki's, the fantastic little tea and dessert place about a block from our house.  We had some nice family discussions there, drinking warm beverages and consuming some of the best quiche and pastry on the planet.  Thankfully, during this time Dad and I convinced Mom that it would be a bad idea to attempt to drag a tree home from the local lot on foot.  Toting a tree twelve blocks uphill in icy conditions might build character, but it would also build medical bills.

So we drove instead.  We didn't find a tree that worked at the local lot though, since we don't have enough space for a big one in our current house.  Once upon a time, in a previous house, we were able to splurge on a twelve-foot tree due to ceiling height and open construction.  That was a memorable tree.  The cat loved it too - tons to space to hide under the branches.  This year we settled for a very nice 4.5' tree at the second lot we encountered.  It was probably the most painless tree hunt we've ever been on, particularly since we could fit it in the van rather than having to struggle with tying it to the top.

We also went shoe-shopping since they weather lately has exposed shortcomings in our foot-ware.  I now have winter-grade boots, and we got two pairs of warm slippers for Dad and I.

Then we had a late lunch/brunch at Roxy's in Fremont.  Good food, good company, good times.

We finally went home and set up the tree.  We had to get a new base, since our current one is too big to work with a tree this small, but it's all worked out.  As I write this, there's a beautiful 4.5 foot pine sitting on the low bookshelf next to me.

Unfortunately, after all the running around in the cold on short sleep, I've woken up today with a cold.  I hope that it passes soon.  Purely wishful thinking, I'm sure.