I just got back from Downtown Disney with my family. We visited their five-story arcade complex there, and played a variety of games, very few of which the average gamer would have in their home. One of these, and I forget the name, was the one where you're in a inflatable raft, and you're sent to a river in the distant past to go see dinosaurs just before the extinction-level event occurs.
There's no score to keep, but it actually is a video game and not just an "interactive experience", whatever that difference might actually be. There are meaningful in-game decisions to make: the path branches at several points, each with different dino-events occurring for you to gape at. There are obstacles, mostly the cliff-walls of the river, and there are consequences to your in-game actions - you can be "splashed" by actual jets of water, and the raft is constantly bucking from the action on-screen. There's even a goal, in that the faster you go through the river the more you get to see before time runs out (and from the map displayed at the game's end, it looks like there are a few large areas at the end that my family didn't get to in time); however, I don't think the goal is the point, given how low-key its existence is.
But what's most salient about this game/ride is the controller. Instead of buttons, D-pads, or analog sticks, you have an oar. It has skateboard wheels attached to the end of the blade, so that when you row, the wheels contact the airbag that supports the raft, and you get some resistance to your movement - the motion of the wheels is what the game registers, and it moves your raft down the river accordingly. Now, this is a control scheme that might be familiar to people who go canoeing, rafting, or are otherwise regularly on the water without engine or sail... But for the average person, gamer or no, it's completely new and different.
My father doesn't play video games, I've played them for years and years, and my siblings play less than I but more than my father. But they all enjoyed the experience immensely, at least in part because of the new controls, because it leveled the playing field and made the game an experience where my father wouldn't be frustrated at the technology and want to quit. In short, because we all sucked equally, it was more enjoyable for all of us.
(Now, to be fair, other things are at work here: the game has a very simple and understandable premise, with whatever limited gameplay mechanics it has hidden from player view completely, which aids the new controls in leveling the field from gamers to non-gamers, for one. For another, the physical feedback of the raft bucking and the oars getting resistance on the 'water' made it more intuitive. Thirdly, it was a completely co-operative game, which generally helps ease frustration. And so on.)
So, I would argue that the Wiimote does something similar for people who are new to gaming: because it was, at its release, so new and different from what the average gamer had years of experience with, we all sucked pretty much equally at it. Being at the same (low) skill level made co-operative and competitive play more fun for people new to the system, who would then go out and buy their own, to either get practice in or simply to share the newbie experience with others.
Obviously, not the main reason the Wii exploded into money, opening up a new segment of the gaming market. But I'd say it was at least a contributing factor.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Let's Play: For Professors
Note: Consider this a "first draft". There won't be many citations in this essay, at least not at the moment. But I'm hoping that eventually I could whip it into a more promising shape... Right now, though, this is just an idea I've had for a while that needed to get on paper.
Definition time. Do you know what a "Let's Play" is? It's someone sharing their experience of a video game, with their own commentary on top of it. They can include radical new takes on a game, information on content that was cut from the game, or just thoughts and observations (not always on the game in question). They can be either recorded video of gameplay with audio commentary, or screenshot reproductions of important moments with textual additions.
You can check them out here.
Definition time over. Thesis time now!
Now, the "Let's Play" format (hereafter, "LP", or "LPs" in the plural) is fun to read, but that's not why I'm writing this post. The point I'd like to make is that LPs represent a crucial step in the acceptance of video games as a critique-able, interpret-able art form. Rather than simply being a run-through of the game for experts, or a walkthrough for those stuck in playing a game, they offer a few things that have been available for more conveitonal art forms for years, but have been lacking from gaming: a way to experience the work in general without putting in inordinate amounts of time, a way to provide additional information about a work in context, and a format to provide and foster artistic interpretation of a work.
Consider a book, movie, or a piece of music. In all of these cases, it does not take someone a large amount of time to experience the work once; however, it will of course take many such experiences to truly digest the work and know it well enough to discuss it in a scholarly fashion. This is also true of video games. The difference, however, is that unlike the majority of books, movies, and pieces of music, they can require upwards of 80 hours for a single playthrough, a single experience. In addition, most games have multiple paths to take, all of which may be necessary to see the work from all angles and begin to know it well enough to discuss in a scholarly manner. This does not even include those games that have no well-defined (or, rather, have a user-defined) end-point, for which there can be no approximation of play-time beyond the statistical.
Now, a Let's Play does not substitute for experiencing a game first-hand. In either its video or text-and-image format, it cannot convey the feel of the actual gameplay, much as a video of a play does not convey the emotions of performing in the same play. What an LP can do, however, is greatly shorten the time it takes to experience a game the first time, from that typical of video games to that more typical of movies or books. When an LP covers the salient plot points, items of interest, and background information of a game (not to mention material that might not be included in the game itself, such as cut, exclusive, or paratextual content), it allows a scholar to experience a game for the first time. This, in turn, allows a scholar to more quickly dive into the game-as-text itself, now being at least familiar with its important parts, and not having sunk half of a month of work into simply reaching and defeating the final boss - and this allows a scholar more time to work on a scholarly view of the work, and lowers the bar for entry, allowing more scholars "in".
As has been stated, a Let's Play allows a scholar to see not only the text of the game itself, but also material that, while not part of the game proper, may provide further elucidation on a game's themes, or perhaps information as to the author's intentions. When an LP splices in cut content, they allow a scholar to see that cut content as it "could have been", in the context of the game as a whole. When they add official information that is not included in the game ROM, such as passages from instruction manuals and strategy guides, they not only can clear up things made unclear in bad translations or the LP writer's choice of path, but also provide a quick reference for further investigation; that is, more sources to investigate.
And when a Let's Play includes the LP writer's commentary, silly or scholarly, they perform the work that critiques of literature and textbooks on art have done for decades: interpretation of a work, which is itself a foundation on which one can build further critiques and investigations of a piece of art. While a typical LP covers the entire length of a game, from beginning to end, this means that, while comprehensive, they often leave plenty of room for further work: interpretations of individual scenes, game mechanics, and other portions of games as unconnected from the rest of the text. An LP writer often invites others in his or her community to contribute to the work, in the form of their own commentary, or interpretive artwork, or even competing LPs; in this way, each LP is itself a boiling stew of jumping-off points for further work. Finally, a good LP is always a fascinating read on its own merits, apart from the game it examines - and as a good read, it is itself a text that could prove worthy of interpretation and examination.
Since a Let's Play produces the foundation, support, and even the simple interest and time to invest in a scholarly work on a video game, it seems that they are, in fact, a critical step in the acceptance of video games as an art form, as they provide so much towards the experiencing and interpreting of games.
Definition time. Do you know what a "Let's Play" is? It's someone sharing their experience of a video game, with their own commentary on top of it. They can include radical new takes on a game, information on content that was cut from the game, or just thoughts and observations (not always on the game in question). They can be either recorded video of gameplay with audio commentary, or screenshot reproductions of important moments with textual additions.
You can check them out here.
Definition time over. Thesis time now!
Now, the "Let's Play" format (hereafter, "LP", or "LPs" in the plural) is fun to read, but that's not why I'm writing this post. The point I'd like to make is that LPs represent a crucial step in the acceptance of video games as a critique-able, interpret-able art form. Rather than simply being a run-through of the game for experts, or a walkthrough for those stuck in playing a game, they offer a few things that have been available for more conveitonal art forms for years, but have been lacking from gaming: a way to experience the work in general without putting in inordinate amounts of time, a way to provide additional information about a work in context, and a format to provide and foster artistic interpretation of a work.
Consider a book, movie, or a piece of music. In all of these cases, it does not take someone a large amount of time to experience the work once; however, it will of course take many such experiences to truly digest the work and know it well enough to discuss it in a scholarly fashion. This is also true of video games. The difference, however, is that unlike the majority of books, movies, and pieces of music, they can require upwards of 80 hours for a single playthrough, a single experience. In addition, most games have multiple paths to take, all of which may be necessary to see the work from all angles and begin to know it well enough to discuss in a scholarly manner. This does not even include those games that have no well-defined (or, rather, have a user-defined) end-point, for which there can be no approximation of play-time beyond the statistical.
Now, a Let's Play does not substitute for experiencing a game first-hand. In either its video or text-and-image format, it cannot convey the feel of the actual gameplay, much as a video of a play does not convey the emotions of performing in the same play. What an LP can do, however, is greatly shorten the time it takes to experience a game the first time, from that typical of video games to that more typical of movies or books. When an LP covers the salient plot points, items of interest, and background information of a game (not to mention material that might not be included in the game itself, such as cut, exclusive, or paratextual content), it allows a scholar to experience a game for the first time. This, in turn, allows a scholar to more quickly dive into the game-as-text itself, now being at least familiar with its important parts, and not having sunk half of a month of work into simply reaching and defeating the final boss - and this allows a scholar more time to work on a scholarly view of the work, and lowers the bar for entry, allowing more scholars "in".
As has been stated, a Let's Play allows a scholar to see not only the text of the game itself, but also material that, while not part of the game proper, may provide further elucidation on a game's themes, or perhaps information as to the author's intentions. When an LP splices in cut content, they allow a scholar to see that cut content as it "could have been", in the context of the game as a whole. When they add official information that is not included in the game ROM, such as passages from instruction manuals and strategy guides, they not only can clear up things made unclear in bad translations or the LP writer's choice of path, but also provide a quick reference for further investigation; that is, more sources to investigate.
And when a Let's Play includes the LP writer's commentary, silly or scholarly, they perform the work that critiques of literature and textbooks on art have done for decades: interpretation of a work, which is itself a foundation on which one can build further critiques and investigations of a piece of art. While a typical LP covers the entire length of a game, from beginning to end, this means that, while comprehensive, they often leave plenty of room for further work: interpretations of individual scenes, game mechanics, and other portions of games as unconnected from the rest of the text. An LP writer often invites others in his or her community to contribute to the work, in the form of their own commentary, or interpretive artwork, or even competing LPs; in this way, each LP is itself a boiling stew of jumping-off points for further work. Finally, a good LP is always a fascinating read on its own merits, apart from the game it examines - and as a good read, it is itself a text that could prove worthy of interpretation and examination.
Since a Let's Play produces the foundation, support, and even the simple interest and time to invest in a scholarly work on a video game, it seems that they are, in fact, a critical step in the acceptance of video games as an art form, as they provide so much towards the experiencing and interpreting of games.
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