I talked with Juan today about our video game usage. We both found the experience of playing Diner Dash to be a pleasurable one. I found a certain comfort in the simplicity of the interface, which allowed me to quickly improve and gain some level of mastery in short time frame. Juan also found lining up Flo's actions to be pleasurable; however, he also found the game to be too repetitive after a while.
While discussing our gaming history, I stated that I preferred role playing games (RPG's) because they allowed for a finer degree of control under pressure. I disliked first-person shooter games because they required me to act immediately whereas with RPG's I could take my time and select an action before executing it.
Juan, unlike me, is an avid gamer and has played everything from first-person shooters, to RPG's, to MMO's like World of Warcraft. He noted that playing so many games has allowed him to acquire a level of game fluency in which he is easily able to relate one game's grammar of action to another game.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
The Ian Slater & Araceli Mendez Gaming Experience
Today I met Ian who happened to be in the hardcore gaming side of the room. I was on the Diner Dash side. However, Ian was one of the Diner Dash volunteers that moved. I had very few gaming experience in comparison to Ian. Upon talking we realized that we were both into interactive games like Wii Sports that involve physical action. We liked the feeling of freedom that we got when physically interacting with the game. Neither of us were fond of games that had unrealistic story lines. Well not that a lot of games have realistic story lines, but fighting a dragons to save a princess is not really our thing. Even games that can be played on the Wii like Legend of Zelda wasn't a really interesting option. We realized games like Halo make us feel imprisoned. Sometimes hardcore games can connect online to a bigger community and provide a feeling of freedom. However, we don't want to live our lives through our avatars. I guess its part of the generation we live in to want instant satisfaction.
As someone who worked as a hostess in a busy restaurant, it was weird for me to play Diner Dash, a game in which the user plays as a waitress who has to manage her time serving customers. I had the same sort of obsessive compulsive desire to serve the customer as quickly as possible to get points/tips, and I had the same feeling of relief when I had a few seconds with no immediate tasks at hand. It struck me as a weird way to relax and have fun.
The idea of waiting as Soderman describes in his paper reminded me of the tendency to pull out a cell phone while alone in public, perhaps during a lull at a party or when waiting for someone to meet you outside. To deal with the discomfort of being seen alone in public I often find myself looking at my cell phone even though I do not have a new text message and am not particularly expecting one. As professor Chun said in class, the state of waiting is both vulnerable and free. You're not tied down by any specific social obligations and you can move around freely, but there is also the insecurity of being alone in a public space, perhaps being seen as unsocial or not cool. That's why its common at parties to see people (and it seems to me that the majority of the time it is females who do this) "deny the emptiness by filling it. Those who wait treat the emptiness as an opening into possibility, a clearing in the dense forest of modernity where one sets up camp and lies in wait for what may arrive." Looking at one's phone is a perfect example of one opening up possibilities - perhaps someone they know is going to come to the party, or they may be texting about another party elsewhere.
never escaping, never leaving
I got kind of stuck playing Diner Dash in lab this week - if the timer on the demo hadn't run out, I'm not sure I would have left until asked to do so. I have this tendency with games generally - to hold on a little too long and play with a little too much intensity, and I was thinking about why this is on my way home. For one, unlike television, there is no obvious exit point to the game, unless you win. When McPherson writes about the transition from the flow of television to the scan-and-search experience of web searching, she identifies precisely the factor that kept me from hitting 'quit' when I was playing Diner Dash - "the fear of missing the next experience or the next piece of data." I usually keep watching television in order to not miss a key plot point or upcoming feature, but eventually the show ends and I have an opportunity to move on with my life. With Diner Dash, not only was I stuck within each shift out of the fear of failing to seat someone or making someone wait too long, I was stuck within the game as a whole out of a feat of missing out on the next upgrade or the next progression to a new venue. Every progression within Diner Dash is part of the same narrative of Flo's rise to the top, and that made it difficult to escape from the game.
I'd like to complicate Soderman's analysis of Diner Dash as an "allegory for our post-industrial experience where continuous multi-tasking leads to the erosion of concentration," however. My personal experience with the game marks anything but an erosion of concentration - I was concentrating very hard. I think the new methods of engaging with media - the scan-and-search experience - marks not so much the end of concentration, but its redefinition. Diner Dash, like the structure web media as a whole, asks the user to focus on many things, and thus to concentrate in a decentralized way.
I'd like to complicate Soderman's analysis of Diner Dash as an "allegory for our post-industrial experience where continuous multi-tasking leads to the erosion of concentration," however. My personal experience with the game marks anything but an erosion of concentration - I was concentrating very hard. I think the new methods of engaging with media - the scan-and-search experience - marks not so much the end of concentration, but its redefinition. Diner Dash, like the structure web media as a whole, asks the user to focus on many things, and thus to concentrate in a decentralized way.
Conversation between Emily Martin and Jelena Jelusic
Jelena posted our conversation earlier on the blog...
Neither if us had much experience with gaming; I was on the 'hard-core' side because I really identified with the Kirschenbaum reading. However, though both of us were relatively inexperienced, I found it really interesting that Jelena had worked in an arcade, surrounded by people that spent a huge amount of time playing [and paying for] video arcade games. Though an arcade is different from a personal computer game, it can have the same consuming and addicting effect, and a user must actually move to a localized physical place in order to play. Perhaps the fact that she was surrounded by these games turned her off of playing them.
We did have very similar experiences playing Diner Dash; it was both completely stressful and hard to stop playing.
Neither if us had much experience with gaming; I was on the 'hard-core' side because I really identified with the Kirschenbaum reading. However, though both of us were relatively inexperienced, I found it really interesting that Jelena had worked in an arcade, surrounded by people that spent a huge amount of time playing [and paying for] video arcade games. Though an arcade is different from a personal computer game, it can have the same consuming and addicting effect, and a user must actually move to a localized physical place in order to play. Perhaps the fact that she was surrounded by these games turned her off of playing them.
We did have very similar experiences playing Diner Dash; it was both completely stressful and hard to stop playing.
Blog Post #8
Playing Dinner Dash was pleasurable. Pleasure arises especially when I the restaurant gets busiest and I am forced to quickly discern the tasks needed to be done while rapidly clicking at the raised hands, etc. as well as trying to make chain actions. As this happens I enter a state where all my attention was captured by the game and I was able to forget about who I was and where I was – for a few moments the flow of the gameplay became the entire world. And as Flo the avatar followed the clicking of my mouse and one by one brings the little crisis to a temporary resolution, I felt in control and satisfied. According to Soderman, the pleasure was at least twofold: in being completely absorbed by the flow of the game, I was temporarily detached from the troubles and stress I was facing in my real life; in resolving the crisis one by one and succeeding in the time management tasks, which are essentially what I am constantly confronted with in real life, I enter a kind of rehearsal/training experience which intensify the sense of satisfaction brought by my success because of its resemblance of real-life experience.
This is the typical kind of games which I sometimes find myself playing in the middle of writing a paper, a way through which I seek some sort of resting, to temporarily get away from the complex and stressful paper-writing task. My 15-munite break, according to Soderman, is the typical kind of leisure time enjoyed by women, much more fragmented than that of men’s. The emergence and growing popularity casual games could be read as adjustment made in accordance with the needs of female gameplayers. But then, as the whole society is moving towards the tendency of having more fragmented leisure time and having to “snatch” a break, it could also be read as that the society is undergoing a process of feminization. Moreover, the efficacy and effects of taking breaks through playing games such as Dinner Dash needs to be questioned. Instead of relaxing between my paper writing, the intensity of the game tires me so much that by time I get out of the game I am actually deeper in need of a rest. And then there is the risk that one might be so absorbed into the rehearsal of time management tasks in the game and the pleasure brought by it, that he/she spends too much time on the game and fails to manage time well in the real life. Additionally, as Soderman points out, if all we do for the “third shift” is to engage in games like this and try to enter a state where self-consciousness is lost and thus thinking is excluded, we would deprive ourselves of the ability or channel to contemplate and make possible changes in real life which will truly improve our conditions.
Qian
Anna's section
Internet Illusion
“Reload: Liveness, Mobility, and the Web” by Tara McPherson really expanded my thoughts about the Internet and how it interacts with the user/uses the user. I started thinking about personalization and customization of the Internet during Monday’s class when Professor Chun showed us her Amazon page. It said things like “New For You” and “Coming Soon For You.” I thought that this way of showing products sounded way too personal and it made it seem as if Amazon was making these products specifically for the user and adding the user into the Amazon family. By integrating the user into the website/business, a company gives the impression that they care for their users when, in reality, we are just numbers in a database with our credit card numbers and other information attached.
McPherson goes on to elaborate about the illusion of the Internet when talking about web surfing. She gets “immediate gratification” (p. 3) when she participates in an MSNBC live-vote with the “promise that…[she] can impact the news in an instant” (p. 3.) This tricks the user into interacting more with the site, giving the user what he/she wants, but also the company. People often forget that the Internet is just an illusion. You have the illusion of shopping when you are on Amazon, the illusion of being, say, a robot unicorn, when playing Robot Unicorn Attack on adultswim.com (I recommend it, it’s a fun game, here) and McPherson reminds us that the Internet’s “‘breaking news’…is no more instant than the news…watch[ed] at 6:00 p.m.” (p. 4;) however, it is the illusion that we are dealing with something that we have power over that makes the Internet so appealing. To back up this point, McPherson also reminds us that when we use Google, or any other search engine, we have the illusion that we are surfing the entire Internet, and that there are limitless opportunities to find what we are searching for; however, this is not the case, as we’re really just moving “through fairly limited databases” (p. 8.)
These are just a few of the things that McPherson talks about in which I am interested. Aside from more examples of the personalization/customization of things on the internet, she also talks about many other things which illustrate the illusion of the internet and how it’s changed media, so I hope we can talk about this article more in section tomorrow.
McPherson and Liveness
“Indeed, many Web sites display a marked inability to keep up with the present, recycling
older stories in order to take advantage of the vast databases which underwrite the Web, old content repackaged as newness” (McPherson 202). When McPherson refers to the Web has having an illusion of liveness due to her idea of volition of mobility, it occurred to me how static the information on the web really can be. While a Breaking News story on CNN is up-to-date, a news program on television at the exact moment will be just as up-to-date as the web article. In fact, while the web offers freedom of movement and choice for the user, the television feels more real in certain situations. For example, during calamities such as the earthquake in Haiti or the recent explosion in the mines, breaking news displayed on television seems to be more “current” in a sense. Content online may be updated with more facts and figures (on the more reputable sites anyway) constantly, but updates are only in the forms of text and images. Often there are clips of television interviews, but they are not exactly “live.” It was interesting to think of Facebook’s Live Feed, and how the webpage does not need to be refreshed for continuous updates of statuses, comments, and friendships. While that feels to be as live as one can get, a friend commented that she finds herself “watching the computer screen” while the Live Feed continually updates. In this case, this liveness acts like a television screen. What brings this back to Web is the freedom the user has to click on each update (statuses, comments, etc.), much like McPherson refers to the web TVs in which she could buy Jennifer Aniston’s sweater after watching an episode of Friends. It brings to light the recent buzz of converging internet and TV, as recent TV advertisements show how to use Twitter on TV, or DivX entering the television market. I wonder whether this convergence will be too complex for consumers, or if it will truly eliminate antiquated media.
older stories in order to take advantage of the vast databases which underwrite the Web, old content repackaged as newness” (McPherson 202). When McPherson refers to the Web has having an illusion of liveness due to her idea of volition of mobility, it occurred to me how static the information on the web really can be. While a Breaking News story on CNN is up-to-date, a news program on television at the exact moment will be just as up-to-date as the web article. In fact, while the web offers freedom of movement and choice for the user, the television feels more real in certain situations. For example, during calamities such as the earthquake in Haiti or the recent explosion in the mines, breaking news displayed on television seems to be more “current” in a sense. Content online may be updated with more facts and figures (on the more reputable sites anyway) constantly, but updates are only in the forms of text and images. Often there are clips of television interviews, but they are not exactly “live.” It was interesting to think of Facebook’s Live Feed, and how the webpage does not need to be refreshed for continuous updates of statuses, comments, and friendships. While that feels to be as live as one can get, a friend commented that she finds herself “watching the computer screen” while the Live Feed continually updates. In this case, this liveness acts like a television screen. What brings this back to Web is the freedom the user has to click on each update (statuses, comments, etc.), much like McPherson refers to the web TVs in which she could buy Jennifer Aniston’s sweater after watching an episode of Friends. It brings to light the recent buzz of converging internet and TV, as recent TV advertisements show how to use Twitter on TV, or DivX entering the television market. I wonder whether this convergence will be too complex for consumers, or if it will truly eliminate antiquated media.
Conversation - Adam and Gianna
At the end of today's class, I was partnered with Gianna for a discussion on hardcore vs. casual gaming. While I started on the hardcore side and she was on the casual side, we ended up being pretty similar gamers. Our discussion of Diner Dash was pretty quick - we both found it to get a bit boring and repetitive - but we ended up on the topic of hardcore games in general.
Our question about hardcore games vs. casual games is where the boundary line is drawn between the two. What are the essential characteristics of a hardcore game, for example, and how many of these characteristics must a game possess to be considered truly hardcore? We talked about a few different games to try to figure it out, including both Halo and World of Warcraft, generally considered to be hardcore, and The Sims, which seems more casual. Halo and World of Warcraft might be seen to have more obvious "progression" built into the software - levels progressing, avatars progressively gaining characteristics/abilities - whereas The Sims' progression relies more on the player's creation of narrative. We thought that maybe it was the creation of a concrete gaming community that made a game hardcore, but a quick search online shows that The Sims has a well-developed community as well. What, exactly, then is it that qualifies a game as hardcore? While Gianna and I both agreed that Diner Dash is casual, we weren't sure what it would need to add/change, exactly, to become hardcore.
Our question about hardcore games vs. casual games is where the boundary line is drawn between the two. What are the essential characteristics of a hardcore game, for example, and how many of these characteristics must a game possess to be considered truly hardcore? We talked about a few different games to try to figure it out, including both Halo and World of Warcraft, generally considered to be hardcore, and The Sims, which seems more casual. Halo and World of Warcraft might be seen to have more obvious "progression" built into the software - levels progressing, avatars progressively gaining characteristics/abilities - whereas The Sims' progression relies more on the player's creation of narrative. We thought that maybe it was the creation of a concrete gaming community that made a game hardcore, but a quick search online shows that The Sims has a well-developed community as well. What, exactly, then is it that qualifies a game as hardcore? While Gianna and I both agreed that Diner Dash is casual, we weren't sure what it would need to add/change, exactly, to become hardcore.
In-Class Conversation between Monica DeSantiago and Adi
During class, I had the pleasure of meeting Adi. In our pair, I was the self-labeled casual gamer and Adi had more experience in the realm of hardcore gaming.
I admitted that my experience with video games is limited to Diner Dash and other casual games. For me, I found in these games stability and comfort that I never cared to venture away from.
This type of stability that I mentioned though is exactly the reason my partner (Adi) enjoys hardcore games. He has played all types of video games but finds himself drawn to those games that challenge him and provide the possibility of a different gaming experience every time. He doesn’t like the routine and monotony in casual games that don’t allow for much progression such as the endless shift in Diner Dash. When one runs out of lives in Diner Dash, it is possible to start over, but the player starts back at Level 1. It is not possible to continue and build upon previous success. Adi explained that even in games such as Tetris he must start around level 7 to avoid those levels that he already mastered. I found this reaction to stability and routine the most intriguing part of our conversation.
Conversation between Emily Martin and Jelena Jelusic
Jelena: You like "hardcore" games?
Emily: Not really, I was in the "casual" games group initially. (Emily switched groups after the second question, I forgot what it was)
Jelena: So, how did you like Dinner Dash?
Emily: It stressed me out, but in a passive way, cause I was sitting down all the time.
Jelena: Did it annoy you? It really annoyed me after a while...
Emily: Yeah, I hated that the customers kept coming in and I couldn't deal with all of them, but, at the same time, I was just sitting down all the time.
Jelena: I felt the same way. I was getting really annoyed, but into it at the same time, so I felt I had to stop after a while.
Emily: I also felt I really needed to stop at one point.
Jelena: Have you ever tried a "hardcore" game though?
Emily: No, but I played Myst a lot.
Jelena (being completely uninformed about computer games): What exactly is it?
Emily: It is a computer game that is kinda like a puzzle. It's hard.
Jelena: Oh, ok. Why do you think you never played "hardcore" games?
Emily: I don't know, i just never did.
Jelena: I was always afraid of them, in a way. I worked at an arcade once and I tried playing Counter Strike with some guys, but they just killed me immediately.
Emily: It might be the reason I never played, I would be too bad at it.
Jelena: Haha, same thing, I was really too bad.
Emily: Even the racing games, I would just wonder: "Wait, what is this control for?"
Jelena: Same thing, I would always arrive last or die on the way.
Emily: Not really, I was in the "casual" games group initially. (Emily switched groups after the second question, I forgot what it was)
Jelena: So, how did you like Dinner Dash?
Emily: It stressed me out, but in a passive way, cause I was sitting down all the time.
Jelena: Did it annoy you? It really annoyed me after a while...
Emily: Yeah, I hated that the customers kept coming in and I couldn't deal with all of them, but, at the same time, I was just sitting down all the time.
Jelena: I felt the same way. I was getting really annoyed, but into it at the same time, so I felt I had to stop after a while.
Emily: I also felt I really needed to stop at one point.
Jelena: Have you ever tried a "hardcore" game though?
Emily: No, but I played Myst a lot.
Jelena (being completely uninformed about computer games): What exactly is it?
Emily: It is a computer game that is kinda like a puzzle. It's hard.
Jelena: Oh, ok. Why do you think you never played "hardcore" games?
Emily: I don't know, i just never did.
Jelena: I was always afraid of them, in a way. I worked at an arcade once and I tried playing Counter Strike with some guys, but they just killed me immediately.
Emily: It might be the reason I never played, I would be too bad at it.
Jelena: Haha, same thing, I was really too bad.
Emily: Even the racing games, I would just wonder: "Wait, what is this control for?"
Jelena: Same thing, I would always arrive last or die on the way.
Conversation between Rohan Thakur and David Paesani
(awkward search for partners)
Rohan: Hey!
David: I kinda know you. We were in the cave together.
Rohan: No you don’t.
David: Haha ok. So tell me, what did you think of Diner Dash?
Rohan: It felt a bit strange being a waitress and serving people and stuff. But gradually, as I got into it, I realized that I prefer these casual games to hardcore games which require your undivided attention at all times. I feel as if not having a social life is a prerequisite to being a hardcore gamer.
David: I don’t necessarily agree with that. Being part of the social culture of a hardcore game makes all other social obligations secondary, but that does not necessarily mean that hardcore gamers have no social life.
Rohan: What kind of hardcore games have you played?
David: I’ve played a lot of games like World of Warcraft, Starcraft… What about you? What kind of games do you play?
Rohan: I prefer the miniclip kind. However, when I do get seriously involved in a game, I find that it’s on a console rather than the PC.
David: I see what you mean. The PC has become more of a personal workstation and since it has all my work on it I tend not to play on it as much. However, a console is purely built for gaming and as a result, it is much easier to get deeply involved in a game on the Xbox or PS3. My uncles have an Xbox and they play Halo all the time and I can see why they would prefer to play on a gaming console.
Rohan: I totally agree with them. Games like Call of Duty are simply more captivating on a large screen rather than a computer screen. Anyway, it’s getting late and I have another class. So should I post this online?
David: That would be great. Thanks.
Rohan: Hey!
David: I kinda know you. We were in the cave together.
Rohan: No you don’t.
David: Haha ok. So tell me, what did you think of Diner Dash?
Rohan: It felt a bit strange being a waitress and serving people and stuff. But gradually, as I got into it, I realized that I prefer these casual games to hardcore games which require your undivided attention at all times. I feel as if not having a social life is a prerequisite to being a hardcore gamer.
David: I don’t necessarily agree with that. Being part of the social culture of a hardcore game makes all other social obligations secondary, but that does not necessarily mean that hardcore gamers have no social life.
Rohan: What kind of hardcore games have you played?
David: I’ve played a lot of games like World of Warcraft, Starcraft… What about you? What kind of games do you play?
Rohan: I prefer the miniclip kind. However, when I do get seriously involved in a game, I find that it’s on a console rather than the PC.
David: I see what you mean. The PC has become more of a personal workstation and since it has all my work on it I tend not to play on it as much. However, a console is purely built for gaming and as a result, it is much easier to get deeply involved in a game on the Xbox or PS3. My uncles have an Xbox and they play Halo all the time and I can see why they would prefer to play on a gaming console.
Rohan: I totally agree with them. Games like Call of Duty are simply more captivating on a large screen rather than a computer screen. Anyway, it’s getting late and I have another class. So should I post this online?
David: That would be great. Thanks.
S0.3 What is the relationship between gender, hardcore gaming, videogames and (sexual) violence?
Screen shots from RapeLay, a Japanese computer game where one's aim in the game is to rape a woman
I hope we can discuss the following article in section on Friday: http://www.cnn.com/2010/WORLD/asiapcf/04/02/rapelay.japan/index.html
Gaming: Keeping it simple
Blog Post #8
Matt's section - Friday 11 AM
I admit I chuckled when I saw Diner Dash assigned on the syllabus. My familiarity with this game extends back to high school when I played it briefly during my high school years. I tried many of the games on AOL games but kept finding myself attracted to the arcade and then-called “lifestyle” games (now Diner Dash is listed under time management games). Soderman pinpoints the very reasons I enjoyed these games: “they are less time-consuming overall and play time is broken into shorter segments; they have simpler game mechanics and thus are easier to pick-up, play, and advance through” (14).
While this week focused on the relationship between labels and gender, the division of games into hardcore and casual reflects society’s perspective as a whole. By calling a game casual, it implies that it doesn’t require much effort or commitment. If a person is classified as a casual gamer, a similar sentiment is evoked. This person perhaps plays recreationally or basically whenever there he/she has time. The game isn’t a main focus in life. Yet, even though casual gamers might be laughed at by hardcore gamers in the world of video games, in society the hardcore gamer is an oft-ridiculed persona. Casual is the way to go. Simplicity is key. The fascination with the casual and its move to dominate the mainstream draws a parallel to other popular modes of behavior such as casual dating.
I had never categorized myself but based on the definitions provided, I would be a casual gamer. When asked about video game usage in the past, I always said I enjoyed video games. I don’t understand the need to label. For example: Are you only a hardcore gamer if you play hardcore games? That is, can one be a hardcore gamer of a game that is classified as casual? Where is the line drawn between hardcore and addiction? Professor Chun shared the story of her friend who was failing because he couldn’t stop playing Tetris. Would we call him a hardcore Tetris player or a Tetris addict?
Class Blog Assignment: Limits of the Hardcore
Today's class assignment introduced me to Alp. After some discussion we both realized that we had similar tastes and interest in the field of video games. Particularly we noted that we both have played games that are noted as those belonging to the hardcore gamers. These games had indicluded but were not limited to platform RPGs as well as MMORPGs like World of Warcraft.
While Alp had gone to the side of hardcore gamers (and although I felt some compulsion to do so) we both agreed on our complicated position as "soft" hardcore gamers. Whereas I always felt that it was the representational and aesthetic features of a game that made me compelled to merge on the level of "hardcore," Alp agreed. His "perfect game," Final Fantasy X, was one that was appreciated for a variety of elements that would degraded by ludologists: story, voice-acting, music, graphics. Beyond these elements aspect of Final Fantasy X that received criticism including the fighting and upgrade system were not as important to Alp.
This lead me to question what are the stakes and limits of hardcore in "hardcore gaming?" Is it what you are playing the game for or is it how you are playing the game?
In addition to appreciation for Square-Enix Final Fantasy series we noted a similarity in our appreciation of Dinner Dash as we both immediately chose the Story mode, and were both frustrated with our inability to get past the fifth level.
I hope that we can speak to such "limits" and complications of the binary of hard/soft in section this week.
-Sean Feiner (partnered with Alp)
While Alp had gone to the side of hardcore gamers (and although I felt some compulsion to do so) we both agreed on our complicated position as "soft" hardcore gamers. Whereas I always felt that it was the representational and aesthetic features of a game that made me compelled to merge on the level of "hardcore," Alp agreed. His "perfect game," Final Fantasy X, was one that was appreciated for a variety of elements that would degraded by ludologists: story, voice-acting, music, graphics. Beyond these elements aspect of Final Fantasy X that received criticism including the fighting and upgrade system were not as important to Alp.
This lead me to question what are the stakes and limits of hardcore in "hardcore gaming?" Is it what you are playing the game for or is it how you are playing the game?
In addition to appreciation for Square-Enix Final Fantasy series we noted a similarity in our appreciation of Dinner Dash as we both immediately chose the Story mode, and were both frustrated with our inability to get past the fifth level.
I hope that we can speak to such "limits" and complications of the binary of hard/soft in section this week.
-Sean Feiner (partnered with Alp)
wednesday 2pm Section
Soderman writes: "the gameplay of Diner Dash is seemingly about temporal pressure, multitasking, and attempting to extract order from chaos, again and again, shift after shift" (16). And though Soderman himself seems to shy away from utilizing a version of psychoanalysis in his analysis (he finds the Oedipal schema "problematic", probably with good reason), I wonder if analyzing Diner Dash in terms of the Lacanian distinction between desire and drive could be productive in this instance. The very activity of repetition in casual games seems to bear marked similarity with the drive, the continual looping close but never finishing action of our drives in psychoanalysis designed to initiate a kind of jouissance outside of our sensible minds. And yet, purely repetitive casual games (like Tetris, Bejeweled, and pretty much any internet-hosted repetitive level based game) all end up being vaguely dissatisfying, but enormously time-consumptive. I don't even like Diner Dash, and I have played it before, and yet I still kept playing the game for 45 minutes in lab.
Soderman notes: "what struck me as strange when looking at the visual appearance of Flo was precisely this mixture of boredom, fatigue and indifference which is repeated for most of the game—especially when the narrative inscribes a new excitement with her career change" (29). And indeed, it is here, with the introduction of the persona of Flo that identification could be enabled, and with it, our mechanism of sense, human progress and law that is instantiated with desire at the formation of our subjectivity. I wonder if this foregrounding in DD of the absolute failure of any satisfactory narrative progression is a prioritization of the drive over desire, of jouissance over sense. Flo's progress in the world of ratings, point scores and economic gain is certainly a manifestation of the social milieu in which we all must navigate our own lives as symbolically initiated desiring subjects who 'do things' in the real world.
To that extent how could we use this distinction to play at itself in relation to games; or, more specifically, how can a game like World of Warcraft which combines highly repetitive elements like resource collecting ("farming") and monster slashing ("grinding") with the narrative of personal progression through level advancing quests which enable your character to dynamically change and accumulate new abilities be understood as being successful precisely by negotiating this desire/drive axis to its own advantage. And in what ways does this analysis fail? And, an afterthought, how can we understand those people who perpetually create new characters for RPGs or make Sims characters over and over again without actually engaging in repetitive gameplay as privileging desire over the drive? Does this work, and if not how could we understand a means in which desire, or identity, or economic/personal progress can exist in a game independent of any drive-related repetition?
Blog 8: Flo(w) and Diner Dash
In his paper, Braxton Soderman draws on Csikszentmihalyi's concept of flow to inform his critique of Diner Dash. According to Soderman, an important aspect of the computer game is that it generates flow for its users. For Csikzentmihalyi, flow is a state of mind when a person is totally immersed in what he/she is doing (in sports this state is typically referred to as 'in the zone'). I'm interested in reviewing the relationship between flow, leisure time, and the 'third shift'.
Soderman writes that women typically work three 'shifts': first is their job, then their responsibilities at home, and finally the 'third shift' ("the brief segments of time which women can truly call their own are then killed by anxiety concerning the negotiation of the first and second shifts" (19)). By offering women an opportunity for flow and distraction from anxiety, computer games would appear to improve the quality of the third shift, and of women's lives in general.
From my perspective, the third shift is very important, as it gives meaning and clarity to the states of distraction and hyperactivity that are increasingly a part of contemporary, post-industrial life. They provide a brief period for reflection and contemplation about our lives, which - while anxiety inducing - is important for charting our own path in the control society. I worry that casual games, like Diner Dash, take away from these moments, to the detriment of our cognitive faculties and emotional/psychological well-being. I wonder, is the best mechanism for regaining the 'third shift' being in 'waiting', or is it in becoming the modern skeptic, the denier of technology?
Wed section:
On page 23, Soderman discusses the self-reflection of daily life and its involvement in the role video games can play for the "casual gamer". He introduces Bolton's idea of the "third shift". Following the work shift and the home shift, the third shift are the lulls in the day that precipitate "relentless self-critical attitude", a constant questioning of one's use of time during the day. The question arises whether casual games provide a release from the third shift, allowing the mind to focus on something else other than self-critical thought, or whether the third shift is positive, and is being sacrificed by gaming. I find this critique most interesting.
First, let me say that I do not buy into the idea of "time-management" games having any positive effect on time-management in real life. Instead, for games to be considered positive (besides a fun hobby), I think they must serve some purpose akin to Bolton's idea.
Second, I think that this issue being raised provides a more accurate distinction between casual gaming and hardcore gaming. Personally, I had difficulty buying into the casual/hardcore distinctions that involved primarily appearance vs. software. The idea that the hardcore gamer is (almost) only interested in the gameplay, rather than graphics or storyline, seems exaggerated. For example, I think most would agree that Halo has become a popular game for many hardcore gamers. A large part of this, I would argue, is the graphics and storyline improving from sequel to sequel. Similar arguments could be made for the majority of first person shooter games that have many hardcore gamers obsessing over.
Furthermore, I suggest looking at the original game Donkey Kong. In the documentary King of Kong, two individuals are featured in their quest to be the Donkey Kong champion (with a committee and everything). I would argue that for the most part, Donkey Kong fits the description of a casual game. It is very simple: avoid the barrels and fireballs to reach the top of the level. At the end of the levels, you save the girl. The mechanics of the game are quite simple as well; the barrels will fall at different places depending on the character's location, fireballs chase you, and there is a small degree of randomness. However, after seeing the film, I am convinced Donkey Kong gaming is one of the highest levels of hardcore gaming (I mean they made a movie about it). The player's understanding of the mechanics allowed them to make the game much more than casual.
Because of these examples, I would suggest that the issue Bolton brings up should be an important consideration for distinguishing between casual and hardcore gaming. When the game is used as a break from "third shift", the game seems very casual. When the game does much more than this, consuming the player for hours on end, the gaming seems hardcore. With the altered distinction, I think the feminine/masculine relationship is also more appropriate, and could be discussed in section.
WS: Those Who Wait
One issue that Braxton Soderman provocatively brings up in his discussion of causal games and gender, but which seems to fall somewhat by the wayside is the role of waiting. Waiting, using Kracauer’s theory of waiting as that which is emptied of space produced through modernity, becomes structured as a active passivity where “those who wait” attain a positive openness, where uncertainty or waiting is a site of possibility.
These signs of decay and possibility, which Soderman reads in the causal game, Diner Dash, offers grounds from which he makes a known a certain weariness in the move away from the value of critical engagements with representation. What is at stake in this shift away from representation in gaming, according to Soderman, is the representation and in the case of gender, the study and portrayal of women in gaming becomes a superficial and institutionalized mode of representation. Rather than solely a matter of gameplay, a critical engagement with gaming requires both an inquiry into gameplay as well as representation.
Causal games, for Soderman, marks an emergent visibility among women gamers and a couple ascription femininity to mass culture that poses a threat to “hard-core” gaming culture, a culture ironically already marked as mass culture. This feminization and role of gender, however, is negotiated through technology and science, sites where erasure of such negotiations occur within the image of the woman. Soderman writes,
“Representation in general is attached to the arguably most blatant problem concerning the representation of women in games and subsequently pushed aside in the same stoke as this troubling issue.”
In what does this in general become a means of containment for other articulations of women that are possibly through digital technologies and avatars? Referencing Harraway, technology facilitates “femininity as an automation, a coded masquerade,” where the cyborg emerges as a multiplicity of categories and indeterminate grounding. What kinds of representations is Soderman pointing to?
In Diner Dash, Soderman posits that the player is always expectant for an arrival of an event – the end of the rush. He compares this state to the state of the viewer of soap operas, subjects who “lie not ‘at the end of expectation,’ but in expectation, not in the ‘return to order,’ but in (familial) disorder” (17). The series of endless shifts for Soderman are driven by a complex relationship between desire and fulfillment, an endless third shift that becomes “a symptom of late capitalism which points toward an unresolved problem which can only be solved socially and not in terms of the individual.”
Rather than passing time, Soderman argues that it needs to be embraced, invited in, using Bejamin’s phrasing, “a valorization of expectation of some resolution, ‘positive’ or ‘negative.’” This expectation, which is always uncertain is reminiscent of Ien Ang’s discussion of the stakes of postmodernity and late capitalism in his essay, “In the Realm of Uncertainty: the Global Village and Capitalist Postmodernity.” In Ang’s text, it is capitalist postmodernity that is a “true realm of uncertainty”, with the mixture of “resistance and complicity occurring within it” (171). How can we think of waiting, especially the woman who waits in these terms? How do women, as figured in videogames, function in this paradigm? Can we see Soderman’s reading of video games and their relation to gender as still a modernist problem as an argument that complicates Ang’s theory or vice versa? In his reading, does Soderman performa similar kind of waiting as one who “engages with reality, the everyday – not necessarily dismantling it and dymystifying it into abstraction nor fleeing from it through the embrace of its illusions, but “reading” it, discovering within it signs of both possibility and decay” (2)? What seems to offer more possibilites for Ang, seem to offer something else for Soderman, an issue that I would like to further address in section.
Soderman-how women are excluded from hardcore gaming
While reading Soderman’s chapter I agreed with many of his points, especially about Diner Dash, but could not shake the feeling that while he was trying to dissect gender inequalities and differences in gaming he was himself succumbing to the very essentialism that he was criticizing. His conceptualization of women appears to be simply middle aged women with children. He constantly gives examples of women taking time to game while their children are napping or playing. Where are the young women, the single women, or women without children, or even more shocking the women whose husbands take care of the children? I am a gamer, and not just of casual games, where do I come in? Judith Butler would argue that Soderman is inadvertently strengthening the “great divide” between genders in gaming by ignoring the multiple identities of women and their differing roles and needs in the world of gaming. By creating a norm of what kind of women participate in gaming he is shutting off the many options they could have, effectively pigeonholing them into the realm of casual gaming.
I also nearly had a fit when Soderman failed to criticize the argument that women’s brains are just not as well suited to complex hardcore games than men’s are. I am a prime example, as a female hardcore gamer, of how ridiculous that is. I argue that the reason women do not participate in such games as much as men do stems from being raised within social structures of acceptability and assumed domain. Boys are often raised with video games while girls are encouraged to pursue more social activities so as not to be a tomboy. This creates three barriers between women and complex games: first is the negative social stigma that can be attached to female gamers for operating in a male dominated field, second is the void of knowledge that the games are even there and that they could be pleasurable, and third is the fear of failure due to inexperience with intricate controllers and game rules. Without being able to learn gaming while young, when failure is not an embarrassment but a step on a path, women enter the world of hardcore games set up for failure and dissapointed. In order to avoid this aversive experience women turn to casual games which are designed for quick mastery and satisfaction. I believe this is the case because I have experiences it. I learned to play games such as Counter Strike when I was rather young and eventually became very good at them, which made them extremely diverting and a source of pride. However when I attempted to play Halo last year I became extremely frustrated because I couldn’t use the controller effectively and was constantly dying. After about 10 minutes I vowed never to play again. However, the experience I had of playing Diner Dash was the complete opposite. It was easy to learn while still being challenging and it was an effective way to zone out and remove stress, which is why I game in the first place. Viewing gender and gaming through my own personal lens the reasons for gender discrepancies become clear.
I also nearly had a fit when Soderman failed to criticize the argument that women’s brains are just not as well suited to complex hardcore games than men’s are. I am a prime example, as a female hardcore gamer, of how ridiculous that is. I argue that the reason women do not participate in such games as much as men do stems from being raised within social structures of acceptability and assumed domain. Boys are often raised with video games while girls are encouraged to pursue more social activities so as not to be a tomboy. This creates three barriers between women and complex games: first is the negative social stigma that can be attached to female gamers for operating in a male dominated field, second is the void of knowledge that the games are even there and that they could be pleasurable, and third is the fear of failure due to inexperience with intricate controllers and game rules. Without being able to learn gaming while young, when failure is not an embarrassment but a step on a path, women enter the world of hardcore games set up for failure and dissapointed. In order to avoid this aversive experience women turn to casual games which are designed for quick mastery and satisfaction. I believe this is the case because I have experiences it. I learned to play games such as Counter Strike when I was rather young and eventually became very good at them, which made them extremely diverting and a source of pride. However when I attempted to play Halo last year I became extremely frustrated because I couldn’t use the controller effectively and was constantly dying. After about 10 minutes I vowed never to play again. However, the experience I had of playing Diner Dash was the complete opposite. It was easy to learn while still being challenging and it was an effective way to zone out and remove stress, which is why I game in the first place. Viewing gender and gaming through my own personal lens the reasons for gender discrepancies become clear.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
[Wednesday] Interrupting Flow
In thinking through the navigation of the Web, I wonder if the pleasure experienced in navigating from site to site is not unlike those memorable moments within video game in which "the computer seems to be totally responsive" (Jenkins). On the Web the cursor responds to our click, our need to move. In both arenas the user is in complete control of what happens next. As McPherson describes it, "Just click. Immediate gratification" (201).
However, this pleasure is posited on a perpetual state of user control, the interface must always respond to the user's desires. McPherson describes Web surfing as similar to televisual flow in which "flow unites disparate bits of information...into a seamless whole" (204).
Recently, I've been thinking about how the interface of the Web interrupts this flow. Google, for example, will warn the user if a malicious site is clicked on. Whitehouse.gov notifies its users anytime they click on a link leading away from the site. These interruptions usurp the user's control over navigation. They take the user away from the moment of complete responsiveness and serve to separate user from cursor.
However, this pleasure is posited on a perpetual state of user control, the interface must always respond to the user's desires. McPherson describes Web surfing as similar to televisual flow in which "flow unites disparate bits of information...into a seamless whole" (204).
Recently, I've been thinking about how the interface of the Web interrupts this flow. Google, for example, will warn the user if a malicious site is clicked on. Whitehouse.gov notifies its users anytime they click on a link leading away from the site. These interruptions usurp the user's control over navigation. They take the user away from the moment of complete responsiveness and serve to separate user from cursor.
Wednesday section: Gaming and the Return
I cannot express how fascinating I find Braxton Soderman's chapter "Killing Time, Gender and Causal Games." The level of skill he exhibits in passing from modern theoretical and historical texts to contemporary media objects (Dinner Dash) and to the contemporary debates in the emerging field of video game studies is to be admired.
Perhaps one of the most fascinating aspects of his analysis is his insistence on videogames as the site of what he calls "the 'return' of discourses of modernism" (13). This return is clarified in his parenthetical alignment of "the hardcore vs. the causal as a reinscription of the high vs. the low." The reading of this return in video games is fascinating because video games can be seen as the quintessential medium (I agree with Soderman that the video game should be studied as more than just a game and rather as a media that can be opened to analysis) of post-modernity. Soderman's problematization of the "post" of post-modern is also incredibly valuable while he continues to maintain the useful distinction of the this academic term.
It is especially interesting to conceive this "return" and the notion of "high vs. the low," in relation to the gendered distinction in contemporary games. I find it extremely interesting that Soderman maintains his analysis Dinner Dash in relation to this notion of the return while problematizing the distinction of hardcore vs. casual to high vs. low, respectively, noting that "Hardcore and causal games are both undoubtedly 'mainstream.'" The adherence to video games as the site of the return opens the possibility of a new emergence of feminist discourse surrounding the gendered media. While I do not want to ascribe the immediate celebration of new media objects as the representations or sites of theory there seems to be in video games the opening of a possibility for feminist and other radical theoretical readings that do not simply fall into stasis (as I feel one can note in studies of spectatorship and cinema). I hope we can address some of the issues in lecture and discussion tomorrow.
Perhaps one of the most fascinating aspects of his analysis is his insistence on videogames as the site of what he calls "the 'return' of discourses of modernism" (13). This return is clarified in his parenthetical alignment of "the hardcore vs. the causal as a reinscription of the high vs. the low." The reading of this return in video games is fascinating because video games can be seen as the quintessential medium (I agree with Soderman that the video game should be studied as more than just a game and rather as a media that can be opened to analysis) of post-modernity. Soderman's problematization of the "post" of post-modern is also incredibly valuable while he continues to maintain the useful distinction of the this academic term.
It is especially interesting to conceive this "return" and the notion of "high vs. the low," in relation to the gendered distinction in contemporary games. I find it extremely interesting that Soderman maintains his analysis Dinner Dash in relation to this notion of the return while problematizing the distinction of hardcore vs. casual to high vs. low, respectively, noting that "Hardcore and causal games are both undoubtedly 'mainstream.'" The adherence to video games as the site of the return opens the possibility of a new emergence of feminist discourse surrounding the gendered media. While I do not want to ascribe the immediate celebration of new media objects as the representations or sites of theory there seems to be in video games the opening of a possibility for feminist and other radical theoretical readings that do not simply fall into stasis (as I feel one can note in studies of spectatorship and cinema). I hope we can address some of the issues in lecture and discussion tomorrow.
Wed. 2pm section, Diner Dash is Awesome
I liked this bit from Soderman's paper:
I'm not a housewife, but this was the same feeling I got when playing Diner Dash. I was juggling a bunch of tasks and trying to do them all well, but there really wasn't enough time to make the decisions I needed to do them all in the most successful way. That's school. I think Diner Dash was so fun because it was a simplified version of life. Instead of having to work really hard for four years, get a degree, and find a job, I just played through level 1 and beat it. Then it was on to level 2. The immediate satisfaction of success after only a few minutes of playing was great. It wasn't easy to manage Flo's shift, but the chaos was fun, and overcoming it felt good. It was a dumbed-down, fast-paced, abstraction of life.
The point I'm trying to get at is that the reason this game was fun for me was that it offered the chaos and time-trials of real life, but in a way that I could accomplish seemingly long-term goals (like restoring a restaurant) in a half-hour. And more importantly, when I failed on level 6, I got a change to do it again, so there's no sense that you can really fail. I can't say that about life. There is true stress in life when something goes wrong.
I hope I didn't just reiterate what Soderman was saying. I don't think either one of us had a very solid point.
In any event, the temporal structure of women's daily lives—whatever shift they may be in at the time—lends itself to the gameplay dynamics found in a game such as Diner Dash. Whenever a moment of leisure can be snatched—be it while a child is napping, on a work break at the office, or on a bus headed to work or back to home—a casual game such as Diner Dash can fill the interstices of everyday life. The rhythms of reception of casual games align with the working women “in her real situation.”
I'm not a housewife, but this was the same feeling I got when playing Diner Dash. I was juggling a bunch of tasks and trying to do them all well, but there really wasn't enough time to make the decisions I needed to do them all in the most successful way. That's school. I think Diner Dash was so fun because it was a simplified version of life. Instead of having to work really hard for four years, get a degree, and find a job, I just played through level 1 and beat it. Then it was on to level 2. The immediate satisfaction of success after only a few minutes of playing was great. It wasn't easy to manage Flo's shift, but the chaos was fun, and overcoming it felt good. It was a dumbed-down, fast-paced, abstraction of life.
The point I'm trying to get at is that the reason this game was fun for me was that it offered the chaos and time-trials of real life, but in a way that I could accomplish seemingly long-term goals (like restoring a restaurant) in a half-hour. And more importantly, when I failed on level 6, I got a change to do it again, so there's no sense that you can really fail. I can't say that about life. There is true stress in life when something goes wrong.
I hope I didn't just reiterate what Soderman was saying. I don't think either one of us had a very solid point.
Visibility vs. Invisibility
Soderman refers to an interesting dialectic: “visibility vs. invisibility.” Soderman argues that women and “casual games” are becoming more and more visible in mainstream culture. Yet, I am not convinced that visibility is as “good” as Soderman suggests. Scholars have argued that patriarchy stems from the privilege of invisibility. That white men can go unnoticed in society, without demarcation, is a testament to their power over women and people of other races (ie. “It’s not easy being green.”). You can also see how visibility might have an inverse relationship with freedom. If you are invisible, then you cannot be “captured” or even “mapped.” In my mind, the push for representation by women in games is an attempt to assert themselves in an already existent structure of male hegemony.
Oh, and Diner Dash sounds ridiculous.
Also, what is the difference between kitsch and cliché?
Oh, and Diner Dash sounds ridiculous.
Also, what is the difference between kitsch and cliché?
GAMING!
GAMING
One of the most interesting things I noticed while I was reading the Soderman excerpt, “Killing Time, Gender and Casual Games”, was the positive tone gaming was described in. When I was younger, my parents would always reprimand me for playing video games for too long, for spending all my time online finding cheat codes and guides to the video games, and for ‘wasting my time’ with video games that had no benefits. What Soderman seems to be saying, though, is that video games are not that black and white. They seem to have no auxiliary purpose besides killing time and having a good time with friends, but if one looks past the colorful graphics and cute sound effects, there is much more to video games. There is an educational aspect of gaming, not in the traditional sense of education as in math, science, and English, but educational in terms of life skills. In his essay, Soderman describes how Diner Dash teaches the players how to manage their time, how to be responsible, and how to allocate their attention so that they are absolutely efficient. Indeed, gaming allows players to train a mode of thought that few other mediums can offer. Instead of having to sit in front of a book, the player can learn important life skills while having fun. Perhaps this is the beauty of gaming.
I remember seeing a presentation about how gaming can save the world and how in order for that to happen, there must be more gaming, more often. The claim that the speaker (I have already forgotten who it was) was making was that games train the players to embody certain characteristics that are absolutely key to saving the world and succeeding in life. Among these characteristics were the desire to win, as in the desire to strive for that epic win, that next level-up, or next boss fight, and the ability to concentrate on one task and not lose concentration. Taken out of context, any other medium that could train just these two characteristics would be hailed as revolutionary, yet people don’t do that for gaming. The speaker even said that gaming had to increase something like one hundred fold in order for gaming to reach its full potential. As Jenkins says in his essay,
“…Progress will be driven by the most creative and forward thinking minds in the industry, those who know that games can be more than they have been, those who recognize the potential of reaching a broader public, of having a greater cultural impact, of generating more diverse and ethically responsible content and of creating richer and more emotionally engaging content. But without the support of an informed public and the perspective of thoughtful critics, game developers may never realize that potential.”
Indeed, the benefits of gaming are there, all that’s left is for gamers and pedestrian citizens alike to realize these benefits, and maximize them.
One of the most interesting things I noticed while I was reading the Soderman excerpt, “Killing Time, Gender and Casual Games”, was the positive tone gaming was described in. When I was younger, my parents would always reprimand me for playing video games for too long, for spending all my time online finding cheat codes and guides to the video games, and for ‘wasting my time’ with video games that had no benefits. What Soderman seems to be saying, though, is that video games are not that black and white. They seem to have no auxiliary purpose besides killing time and having a good time with friends, but if one looks past the colorful graphics and cute sound effects, there is much more to video games. There is an educational aspect of gaming, not in the traditional sense of education as in math, science, and English, but educational in terms of life skills. In his essay, Soderman describes how Diner Dash teaches the players how to manage their time, how to be responsible, and how to allocate their attention so that they are absolutely efficient. Indeed, gaming allows players to train a mode of thought that few other mediums can offer. Instead of having to sit in front of a book, the player can learn important life skills while having fun. Perhaps this is the beauty of gaming.
I remember seeing a presentation about how gaming can save the world and how in order for that to happen, there must be more gaming, more often. The claim that the speaker (I have already forgotten who it was) was making was that games train the players to embody certain characteristics that are absolutely key to saving the world and succeeding in life. Among these characteristics were the desire to win, as in the desire to strive for that epic win, that next level-up, or next boss fight, and the ability to concentrate on one task and not lose concentration. Taken out of context, any other medium that could train just these two characteristics would be hailed as revolutionary, yet people don’t do that for gaming. The speaker even said that gaming had to increase something like one hundred fold in order for gaming to reach its full potential. As Jenkins says in his essay,
“…Progress will be driven by the most creative and forward thinking minds in the industry, those who know that games can be more than they have been, those who recognize the potential of reaching a broader public, of having a greater cultural impact, of generating more diverse and ethically responsible content and of creating richer and more emotionally engaging content. But without the support of an informed public and the perspective of thoughtful critics, game developers may never realize that potential.”
Indeed, the benefits of gaming are there, all that’s left is for gamers and pedestrian citizens alike to realize these benefits, and maximize them.
Wed Section, Feminizing Gaming
Soderman's chapter on Gender and Casual Games draws an interesting parallel between the changes and "improvements" made to traditional video games and femininity. These changes have made games "fun, quick to access, easy to learn, and require no previous special video game skills, expertise, or regular time commitment to play" (Casual Games Market Report 2007). The changes were made possible by improved capabilities of gaming hardware and software; where there once as a wall blocking a gamer's intentions from being transmitted into the game, now a player's every move can be instantly transmitted through controllers such as the Wii.
These "casual games", in sum, are "video games developed for the mass consumer, even those who would not normally regard themselves as a “gamer.” The trend towards mass consumption has heightened the tension between hard core gamers and casual ones. The tension is caused by the changing types of hardware (such as abandoning old, complicated controllers for new, simpler ones) as well as a trend towards simpler graphics and animation. Fewer skills are needed to be mastered, since companies are aiming for mass-use and easy-adaptation. Soderman connects the "dumbing down" of video games to feminizing the culture--but he doesn't give the simple controllers the credit they deserve!
The new niche is literally removing the barrier between the player and the screen. We no longer need to understand controllers to express our thoughts and intentions, but instead perform the same physical motion we would have when actually put in the situation. An interesting analysis of the presence of a "sixth sense" (the controller) triggers the emotional areas of the brain-- he concluded that "the player's emotional investment in a game, their level of immersion, and enjoyment, may all be considerably enhanced if gameplay comprises dynamic and meaningful physical actions" (Shinkle 2008, 912). So in reality, though hard core gamers may be upset, game developers and hardware production companies have molded together the findings of emotional psychology and video gaming.
Shinkle, E. (2008). Video games, emotion and the six senses. Media, Culture & Society. 30, 907-915.
Soderman, B. Chapter 2: Killing Time, Gender and Casual Games.
S03 - blog post #8
I know it might seem a little early to be posting this week’s blog entry for Friday, but I wanted to get some thoughts down about Soderman’s analysis of Diner Dash before playing the game in lab tonight. While I found Soderman’s discussion of the visual representations at stake in Diner Dash, as opposed to simply the gameplay, to be fascinating, I couldn’t help but feel as if his ultimate conclusions about gender within the video game community were a bit off target.
First of all, while I grant that the visuals of the game are important to analyze, I do believe that these are the more “ethereal” aspects of the game, to use a term Soderman later brings up, and should not have been given as much importance as they were given. He writes, “I certainly would not deny the important contribution of studying games and gender outside the framework of representation” (38) and yet does, in his analysis of Diner Dash, seem to largely dismiss such a method of study. Because of the inherent interaction and ultimate goal of creating pleasure that are central to video games, looking mainly at visual representation seems a bit misguided. The visuals are central to something like film, but when user participation is so much a part of the medium, as with video games, the visuals cannot function solely at the level of metaphor that Soderman tries to make them function at. When discussing Flo’s shrugging and yawning during the “waiting” portions of the game, Soderman looks at these actions mainly as a representation of the boredom and ultimate inability to enact “exciting” change faced by women in a modern business setting. What about viewing such actions within the context of gameplay as cues to the player that Flo is inactive and could/should be moving around to various tables and attempting to please customers in order to garner a higher score? When Soderman looks at gender in the context of the creation of casual games as a subgenre of the gaming community, I think his conclusions are far more applicable to the actual social situation we have today with regards to gender roles. Yet to ignore the gameplay component behind Diner Dash’s choices of visual representations to the extent that Soderman does creates, in my opinion, a skewed analysis.
My major qualm with Soderman’s analysis of Diner Dash is that while ostensibly meant to point out and subvert the conceptions of gender roles that are at play in the game in order to call for a video game that uses visual representation to empower the female gamer community, his analysis simply places such stereotypes back out into the world for consumption. Soderman seems willing to accept the gender binary that he sees being reinforced in Diner Dash so much so that his analysis at times verges on the absurd, in my opinion. Does he really need to discuss the opening narrative sequence, in which Flo says, “Man! There’s GOT to be something better than THIS!” (26) in terms of the underlying gender assumptions potentially being made by the use of the term “man”? It seems to me that such an exclamation is simply a part of common discourse that has come to be used almost automatically – whatever its gendered origins may be, they are rarely of importance to those who use such a phrase in practice. Soderman is so keen, though, on emphasizing the male/female rift within the video game community that he jumps on this otherwise innocuous term. It is almost as if he wishes for female gamers to feel empowered in his dismissal of anything even remotely masculine in Diner Dash – as if, for a game to be truly successfully marketed at the female gamer, it must exist solely within the realm of current conceptions of the role of the female.
I think that perhaps the most successful way to create a market for female gamers is to create games with gender neutral visual components. Rather than pandering to a female audience by reinforcing outdated gender roles (and never truly subverting them), game producers should seek those aspects of casual gameplay that can be enjoyed by all people. While females in today’s society might have more desire to play such games because the casual game format is aligned with current time management trends among females, such games could also hold sway over females and males alike who do not fit simply within the framework of gender stereotypes.
First of all, while I grant that the visuals of the game are important to analyze, I do believe that these are the more “ethereal” aspects of the game, to use a term Soderman later brings up, and should not have been given as much importance as they were given. He writes, “I certainly would not deny the important contribution of studying games and gender outside the framework of representation” (38) and yet does, in his analysis of Diner Dash, seem to largely dismiss such a method of study. Because of the inherent interaction and ultimate goal of creating pleasure that are central to video games, looking mainly at visual representation seems a bit misguided. The visuals are central to something like film, but when user participation is so much a part of the medium, as with video games, the visuals cannot function solely at the level of metaphor that Soderman tries to make them function at. When discussing Flo’s shrugging and yawning during the “waiting” portions of the game, Soderman looks at these actions mainly as a representation of the boredom and ultimate inability to enact “exciting” change faced by women in a modern business setting. What about viewing such actions within the context of gameplay as cues to the player that Flo is inactive and could/should be moving around to various tables and attempting to please customers in order to garner a higher score? When Soderman looks at gender in the context of the creation of casual games as a subgenre of the gaming community, I think his conclusions are far more applicable to the actual social situation we have today with regards to gender roles. Yet to ignore the gameplay component behind Diner Dash’s choices of visual representations to the extent that Soderman does creates, in my opinion, a skewed analysis.
My major qualm with Soderman’s analysis of Diner Dash is that while ostensibly meant to point out and subvert the conceptions of gender roles that are at play in the game in order to call for a video game that uses visual representation to empower the female gamer community, his analysis simply places such stereotypes back out into the world for consumption. Soderman seems willing to accept the gender binary that he sees being reinforced in Diner Dash so much so that his analysis at times verges on the absurd, in my opinion. Does he really need to discuss the opening narrative sequence, in which Flo says, “Man! There’s GOT to be something better than THIS!” (26) in terms of the underlying gender assumptions potentially being made by the use of the term “man”? It seems to me that such an exclamation is simply a part of common discourse that has come to be used almost automatically – whatever its gendered origins may be, they are rarely of importance to those who use such a phrase in practice. Soderman is so keen, though, on emphasizing the male/female rift within the video game community that he jumps on this otherwise innocuous term. It is almost as if he wishes for female gamers to feel empowered in his dismissal of anything even remotely masculine in Diner Dash – as if, for a game to be truly successfully marketed at the female gamer, it must exist solely within the realm of current conceptions of the role of the female.
I think that perhaps the most successful way to create a market for female gamers is to create games with gender neutral visual components. Rather than pandering to a female audience by reinforcing outdated gender roles (and never truly subverting them), game producers should seek those aspects of casual gameplay that can be enjoyed by all people. While females in today’s society might have more desire to play such games because the casual game format is aligned with current time management trends among females, such games could also hold sway over females and males alike who do not fit simply within the framework of gender stereotypes.
Wed. Section, Time and Illusion
In Soderberg’s chapter on Diner Dash, what seemed the most interesting concept was the contradictory or simultaneous nature of the way in which the game works. With reference to time, Soderberg argues:
This comes up again when Flo reaches her nirvana-like state, while at the same time, “it means more things to balance at once, an intensification of the multitasking form of gameplay.”
Perhaps these contradictions that are found within the games point towards an adaption to the new multitasking environment, the “change” or “transformation” that is discussed in the beginning of the chapter, and also in MacPherson’s chapter that talks about a “convergence” of TV and Web, in that it changes the “flow” of information. The Web is streamlined and we “feel we help create or impact it,” (204). This kind of agency is very linchpin to why videogames are entertaining. There is an empowerment inherent in “killing time,” as it suggests a direct action on the part of the person—action is required. Thus, action presents itself as something to be prized in the work world, yet also in one’s leisure time—the convergence of the two modes of time reflects the convergence of media.
Or, does this contradiction speak more to the “illusory status of the promises of transformation” on the Web (McPherson, 205)? Flo is in a “meditative” state, transcending the hassle and stress of her job, but really, she has more to do, and, in truth, we, the players, are not in this meditative state, but rather will have more to manage, more to multitask. Additionally, Soderberg suggests that Flo leaving a corporation to work at a restaurant, to “wait” on people, is a regression of the role of the woman, a step back, so is the feeling of exuberance Flo feels at running a restaurant enforcing the illusion of transformation, and are simply old norms being dressed up as something new and exciting? In a sense, a parallel could be drawn to McPherson’s argument that the Web does not promise as much choice as we would believe.
Of course, at the end, I was tempted to say “it’s just a game!” but I think what’s more important than the game itself is why people play the game. The way our culture divides time, and, particularly, what I find most interesting is the hint at nostalgia that a game like this implies. One is tempted to feel that running restaurant, waiting on customers, is a simpler life, a form of escapism. While multitasking within the game, one is singly focused on the game.
“I’ve got too much time on my hands.” When what we have on our hands is time, it is time that manages us, pulling us into the abyss of our own boredom, forcing us to feel the draft of its endless passing which is out of our control; when it is other things than time on our hands, it is we that must manage time in order to control these things. Gameplay elements in time management games engage our pleasure in being able to manage a multiplicity of events that demand our attention, but these games are often ridiculed in the popular press as insignificant games that are played because we have too much time on our hands and need to kill it.
This comes up again when Flo reaches her nirvana-like state, while at the same time, “it means more things to balance at once, an intensification of the multitasking form of gameplay.”
Perhaps these contradictions that are found within the games point towards an adaption to the new multitasking environment, the “change” or “transformation” that is discussed in the beginning of the chapter, and also in MacPherson’s chapter that talks about a “convergence” of TV and Web, in that it changes the “flow” of information. The Web is streamlined and we “feel we help create or impact it,” (204). This kind of agency is very linchpin to why videogames are entertaining. There is an empowerment inherent in “killing time,” as it suggests a direct action on the part of the person—action is required. Thus, action presents itself as something to be prized in the work world, yet also in one’s leisure time—the convergence of the two modes of time reflects the convergence of media.
Or, does this contradiction speak more to the “illusory status of the promises of transformation” on the Web (McPherson, 205)? Flo is in a “meditative” state, transcending the hassle and stress of her job, but really, she has more to do, and, in truth, we, the players, are not in this meditative state, but rather will have more to manage, more to multitask. Additionally, Soderberg suggests that Flo leaving a corporation to work at a restaurant, to “wait” on people, is a regression of the role of the woman, a step back, so is the feeling of exuberance Flo feels at running a restaurant enforcing the illusion of transformation, and are simply old norms being dressed up as something new and exciting? In a sense, a parallel could be drawn to McPherson’s argument that the Web does not promise as much choice as we would believe.
Of course, at the end, I was tempted to say “it’s just a game!” but I think what’s more important than the game itself is why people play the game. The way our culture divides time, and, particularly, what I find most interesting is the hint at nostalgia that a game like this implies. One is tempted to feel that running restaurant, waiting on customers, is a simpler life, a form of escapism. While multitasking within the game, one is singly focused on the game.
wed. section
“I believe that between utopias and these quite other sites, these heterotopias, there might be a sort of mixed, joint experiences, which would be the mirror. The mirror is, after all, a utopia, since it is a placeless place. In the mirror, I see myself there where I am not, in an unreal, virtual space that opens up behind the surface; I am over there, there where I am not, a sort of shadow that gives visibility to myself, that enables me to see myself there where I am absent: such is the utopia of the mirror” (Of Other Places, Foucault).
“Programs like flash allow our cursors to activate lively sequences of motion before we even click. Again, the cursor seems to embody our trajectory, an expression of our movement and our will. We are increasing aware of ourselves as database, as part and parcel of the flow of information” (203, McPherson).
“Other, ‘hardcore’ games often require extensive use of keyboard and mouse or utilize a modern, complex controller with a plethora of buttons, directional interfaces, motion control, etc.”(Soderman, 48)
When you look at yourself in PhotoBooth, the screen essentially acts as mirror, a heterotopia, a placeless place. Yet in the program and on your computer, you have a mediating tool between this digital mirror and your bodily being – the cursor. In PhotoBooth, you are able to employ various effects like X-Ray, sepia, dent, stretch, etc. In a mirror, Foucault posits that you are able to see yourself where you are not that, in an unreal, virtual space. In a mirror we only exist as the literal world, but now we (or the cursor we control) has allowed us to command the mirror. The computer has provided viewer a set of tools to distort, enhance and really just change the output of the digital mirror. The cursor, of course, acts as a mediator between reality and virtuality – a command-able, useable interface tool in the placeless place.
I’m interested in exploring how this related to the above Soderman quote. How can “causal games” be so addictive and with respect Csikszentmihalyi’s theory, allows players to enter the “flow zone” while only have the cursor as your desires and/or virtual actions embodied. It seems that the more connected with your computer during a video game, the more control you have, and the more “sucked” in you become. Having more mediators between a player and his/her play seems ideal to get people to “lose time.” Soderman might argue that women’s lives revolve around interruptions, and thus they may not have enough uninterrupted time to learn a whole new grammar of action; yet they can grasp the easy world of “Diner Dash” as the cursor is the only necessary element/tool to achieve the objective. I guess I wonder what is going on as you place more and more elements in which to mediate the virtual-you, and why this is associated with “hardcore”/ boy games.
On a different note, Braxton references Faith from Mirror’s Edge who is pictured below as “evidence that critiques of sexist avatar design have had some positive impact on actual game development” (10). The main point of his article is that the “re-emergence” of “regressive discourse” and sexist content is simply a symptom of “historical invisibility.
As a non-gamer, I am simply fascinated by these video games and the video game scholarship. I also never thought that videogames should be considered an art-form and something that is worthy of academic scholarship. Yet it certainly is a popular media and its effect on society is certainly worthy of investigation. I’m still in disbelief that games like “Diner Dash” exist nevermind that is in the top 5 best sellers in downloadable games.
In a New York Times article (http://www.nytimes.com/2005/06/27/technology/27casual.html?ex=1277524800&en=9fb9da1047557d35&ei=5090&partner=rssuserland&emc=rss) , the co-founder of GameLab is cited as saying "We wanted something that people can easily relate to. There is something about very simple play that gives pleasure. You can just click on it and enjoy the game." In a USATODAY.com column (http://www.usatoday.com/tech/columnist/marcsaltzman/2005-08-01-diner-dash_x.htm), the author begins his review with:
The latest heroine on the video game scene isn't a scantily clad, acrobatic adventurer who blasts away bad guys with a ridiculously powerful arsenal of weapons. Instead, Flo wears a plain blue apron, relies on a pen and paper instead of a pistol, and her spatula-wielding sidekick sports a dirty undershirt.”
I’m so disturbed by the storyline of Flo. I am all for people created their own restaurants and casual games… but why did she have to feel so overwhelmed with her business career? It seems as though the co-founder is much more interested in ludology than narrative, but this narrative is riddled with so many cultural implications and historical regressions – Flo made it in the male-dominated business world yet she missed “being in the kitchen” and “serving people” so she creates her own restaurant – an individual “regression” for herself. It seems absurd that the two female avatars that exist are hypersexualized or utterly rendered domestic. What would happen if the creators of the game decided that Flo was a man? Following ludologist logic, I might say that it would have a big effect as the rules and grammar of action is the same. Or does the gender of the avatar really matter to the player? What’s at stake when the gender of the player and the character is not the same? Do men feel feminized and in danger of losing their masculinity if they were to play with a female avatar?
The diner-dash does not provide the player with the choice to stay at the super-stressful business job – players are forced to submit to Flo’s actions…. We have to read that she left the male-dominated world to retreat and work in a restaurant as a waitress, a stereotypical female job. While I am pretty offended that this game was made and disturbed that it is consumed, I would be more OK if there wasn’t any mention of Flo’s background and she’s just a woman that wants to create a restaurant. Why include that she hated her business career? Is this to encourage more women to not enter male-dominated sectors? I would be happier if there were games that promoted women into players in the business world. Why not Banking Dash? Or Consulting Dash? I’m sure you can think of very similar actions that must be done in these sectors like the restaurant… but we don’t have a regressive situation on our hands.
I want to focus more on the hypersexualized female avatar now, which I find interesting that Soderman does not focus any attention. I’d like to focus your attention to the video game Bayonetta. In an article “Bayonette: empowering or exploitative,“ Leigh Alexander confesses that Bayonetta is “hardly a realistic woman.” Alexander writes:
“Bayonetta takes the video game sexy woman stereotype from object to subject, and it's tremendously empowering. The title character uses the mantle of her sexuality as a power source. Between Bayonetta and her equally fierce rival, Jeane, it's a women's world -- the boys just play in it. The Umbra Witches aren't to be messed with. With this unique theme, the game itself is an artistic representation of the concept that female sexuality is its own kind of weapon. This stylized love letter to femininity is signed and sealed with all of the game's tiny details, from the kiss-shaped aiming targets to the subtle grace of Bayonetta's butterfly-shaped shadow.I am really interested in the (re)claiming identities and finding power within that. I believe that Alexander argues that this avatar is certainly hypersexualized, she is not rendered helpless and a mere object to be objectified. Rather, she embraces and accepts her sexuality and displays it on the screen in her own way and on her own terms -- like killing enemies with fashionable, gigantic purple heels.
For years, video games have struggled to define what constitutes a positive portrayal of women. We've learned what isn't, over our checkered history of anime panty shots, gratuitous cleavage and breast physics. And thanks to the likes of Half-Life 2's Alyx Vance, Beyond Good & Evil's Jade, Silent Hill 3's Heather Morris, and Portal's Chell, we've got some idea of what is.”
Finally, while on break, I met someone who writes narratives for videogames. She told me that it is very difficult to find a job because the game companies don’t usually have full-time writers for their videogames. Instead they just hire a few freelance writers for a certain videogame. Therefore, in the debate between which paradigm is more important to study: ludology vs. narratology, I think that they are both equally valid. This is because the videogame producers are obviously placing more of emphasis on the technical aspects of a videogame and almost no money to the narratology of the games. I think it is really interesting that this is how the videogame industry has progressed…. What would happen if they concentrated on narratology and less on ludology? And as Jenkins writes:
“We need critics who know and care about games the way Pauline Kael knew movies. We need critics who write about them with that same degree of wit, wisdom, and passion. Early film critics played vital functions in documenting innovations and speculating about their potential. As a new media, computer games demand this same kind of close critical engagement.”
So when are writers and theorists going to take control of these new media and hopefully shrink the historical blindness of the industry?
Wed. Section; vulnerability of digital media
“[A]ffordances are all about possibilities for action, which determine how human beings interact with the physical things in their environment. Computer storage media also have their affordances, but as storage in general has become more capacious and less immediately tangible it is easy to overlook them. (USB thumb drives are perhaps the best examples of a recent storage innovation whose affordances have changed the way we interact with data: they are small and light-weight but also rugged, more like an accessory or gear than the flatter, flimsier profile of media like CD-ROMs or disks, whose vulnerable surfaces must be sheltered.)
Attention to the affordances of various kinds of storage media can reveal much about computing in different contexts, allowing us to reconstruct salient aspects of now-obsolete systems and the human practices that attended them” (32).
What Kirschenbaum places in parentheses was the most fascinating part about this piece. I am constantly wondering about the enclosures, the houses, the casing of digital media and how this affects our experience or colors it in some way. Before when the disks had “vulnerable surfaces [that] must be sheltered,” did we view digital data/information as vulnerable and something that needed shelter? And furthermore, it seems that we treat hard-drives as “hard” or durable and immortal, but they crash. And when they crash, we “lose” everything and perhaps we’ll buy a backup hard-drive. So I’m interested in our interaction with digital media as we think (or not think) about its container.
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