CSS: General | Presentation
CSS: General | Presentation
November 19, 2005
Course: AL 890 Independent Study
Instructor: Janet Swenson, PhD
Michigan State University; East Lansing, Michigan, USA
Kym Buchanan (Email: buchan56 AT msu.edu | Web: http://KymBuchanan.org)
Ink is a complex intersection of many of our goals, as a game, world, and project. These goals include quality gameplay, useful learning, and insightful research. These goals are linked, just as the relevant phenomena are interconnected. For example, a goal may describe a learning outcome, but it's inevitably tied to design and research issues. Here are five such goals:
I'll discuss each goal, and conclude with some broader implications.
1. Players will be better able to improvise.
Improvisation is responding to unforeseen circumstances in deft ways. It's is a valuable ability: almost every aspect of life frequently demands some improvisation. Improvisation isn't superior to careful analysis and planning, but sometimes improvisation is the best or only course of action.
Recently, I've attended several conferences that included sessions on improvisation. Improv is closely associated with theater, but it has important lessons for communication, teamwork, and creativity. One of my favorite principles is "Yes, and...." Within an improv game or scene, participants are encouraged to accept the ideas of others and build off them, rather than trying to take the action in a different direction. Imaginative leaps are encouraged ("the first thing that comes to mind"); improvisation depends on intuitive ways of thinking. One of the best ways to develop intuition is practice, hence improv actors rehearse just like other actors, but without scripts.
Improvisation is the core feature of role-play. It's part of what draws me to study, create, and play role-playing games. Role-play privileges an unusual mix of knowledge and skills. Actually, it privileges several possible combinations of knowledge and skills, including vocabulary and grammar, imagery, quick thinking, negotiating rules, and keyboarding (at least online), but also creativity, turn-taking, empathy, and a sense of humor. Above all, role-play invites/urges a player to make imaginative leaps, to act in the moment without extensive analysis or planning. A role-player must balance clever words and actions with the fleeting patience of his partners. An inexperienced or inconsiderate player will try to script a scene (including others' choices!) rather than let it emerge through give-and-take. Some players refer to this as "frustrated novelist syndrome."
Role-play has the appearance of narrative, but since it lacks an omnipotent, omniscient author, this appearance is actually very misleading. In the absence of an Author, Playwright, or Director, a player may think someone must fill the void. But just as improv is something different than traditional theater, role-play is not narrative. There is no script (or nascent novel) in role-play. Rather, role-play depends on emergence.
Emergence, in game design, is the spontaneous development of complex events from simpler elements. "Spontaneous" is a slippery description, since a designer can select elements intended to produce specific kinds of emergent events. In Ink, for example, the scarcity of ink and the constant drain of entropy should produce competition for ink and conscientious investment. Hopefully these elements are numerous and varied enough to produce unpredictable obstacles and opportunities for players. Our design includes the one element best suited for creating emergence: other players.
Improvisation and emergence are closely linked. If emergent events are sufficiently unpredictable, improvisation the best or only action for players to take. In Ink, for example, a candidate could drop out of a race days before the election. A player who's been monitoring the politics will be well-prepared to take the candidate's place. But the limited time frame will demand improvisation.
If Ink challenges players using emergence, they will only succeed by becoming better able to improvise.
2. Players will be better able to compare different experiences.
Experiential play has at least two possible aspects. The first aspect is a focus on play over end states; in other words, experiential play can be about the experience of play itself, not whether a player wins or loses. Role-play is one of the best examples of such play. In most "tabletop" role-playing games (e.g., Dungeons & Dragons) there is no end state; players may play for years, simply for the pleasure of the activity.
A second aspect of experiential play focuses on novelty: experiences a player doesn't or can't have outside the game. Here, experience refers to immersion and identity-play, not merely sensorimotor novelty. Many game offer novel experiences: exploring dangerous spaces, battling fantastic creatures, thwarting great evils, etc. If a game is sufficiently vivid, these can be memorable, satisfying experiences. Any satisfaction is related to player fantasies.
A game can satisfy fantasies of heroism and valor. A game can also satisfy fantasies much closer to daily experience. For example, I don't have the time to learn a musical instrument, but a game like Donkey Konga lets me experience some of what would happen if I did. These fantasies can be more appealing because of their proximity to "real" life; there's a lower threshold of willing suspension of disbelief. This proximity may also make the game experience compelling beyond itself. I am unlikely to become a space marine, but I might decide it would be worthwhile to learn a musical instrument.
These two possible aspects of experiential play illustrate the power of games to be about more than winning and losing. When role-play denies a player an end state, he must learn to take pleasure from the activity (or else not play). The journey is its own meaning. In Ink, this means learning to enjoy writing, interacting, and reflection, rather than focusing on a single text or achievement. A focus on experience over end states also means becoming more at ease with the activity. In other words, all our learning goals could be edited: "Players will be more comfortable and better able to...."
The two forms of experiential play are related to transformative play, which is using play as a tool for growth. As with Donkey Konga, Ink offers experiences proximal to players' "real" lives and abilities. Writing a letter to the editor, organizing a petition, joining a political action group -- these activities are possible in Ink and beyond. If the simulation's fidelity is sufficiently high, many of the relevant skills are transferable (e.g., audience consideration).
Transfer begins with context awareness: a learner must accurately recognize the cues that mean it's felicitous to apply previous learning. Hence, the learning outcome here is a humble one: Ink should improve players' ability to compare experiences. Comparison start with description, including identifying relevant elements of a context. These elements become transfer cues when generalized. Ink does many things to call players' attention to contexts and elements, including prompting them to write reflective entries in their journals. ("What strategies did you use for this piece? Why did you chose those strategies?") Thus, our learning goals above could all end with "in and beyond the game."
Ink foregrounds the very experience of its play. Unlike video recording or 3D modeling, all players enter with some skills in Ink's core technology of representation and communication: writing. They can reflect on the experiences they have as readers, and directly experiment in the same space. They should become better at describing experiences, as they try to create compelling experiences for others (e.g., marketable texts). Ultimately, this is the route to the transformative play experience at the center of Ink: becoming better writers beyond the game.
If Ink challenges players to craft satisfying experiences for others, they will only succeed by becoming better able to compare different experiences (in order to move toward optimal experiences).
3. Players will be better able to use writing to construct their identities.
Transformative play is related to identity construction. If a game has the power to change players' abilities beyond the game, then who they pretend to be in the game affects who they become beyond it.
Identity construction is a central element in role-play. Players often invent complex backstories, motivations, and personalities for their characters. In doing so, they may borrow ingredients from their own identities, from people or characters they admire, and from their ideal (or idealized) selves. As Sherry Turkle writes, "people don't just become whom they play, they play who they are or who they want to be or who they don't want to be" (2001, p. xi).
Ink allows players to directly represent themselves in the game, or as anyone or anything else (within reason and propriety). Notably, even if a player decides takes his own name into the game, he's still engaged in identity (re)construction. For instance, every character has a physical description, so the player must create a self-portrait in text.
Role-play can be a powerful crucible for identity construction. The improvisation and relatively-fast pace can force a player to confront aspects of his identity he may not have perceived or explored. For example, a player may perceive himself as kind, but find himself joking at the expense of others. As a playful space, role-playing games also support identity construction through identity experimentation. If a player is unhappy with how his character has evolved, he can dramatically reinvent the character, or start a new character. Conversely, if a player represents himself and receives unfavorable responses, he may consider reconstructing his "real" identity.
More broadly, players construct their identities in Ink through texts that persist and circulate: their characters are diffused as discourse, influence, and inhabitable metaphor. Many elements of Ink support thoughtful identity construction, including paths, journals, publication forums, and elections. Throughout, players use writing to construct their identities: publicly, privately, and introspectively, directly and by extension, in the game and beyond.
If Ink challenges players to represent sophisticated identities, they will become better able to use writing to construct their identities.
4. Players will be better able to share writing with others, including processes and products.
Performative play involves acting with an awareness and perhaps consideration of an audience. Almost any game can support performative play, but some elements are especially powerful. These elements include high stakes (e.g., a large amount of capital or reputation), a fast pace, upsets (e.g., seizing the lead), and especially opportunities for demonstrating extraordinary skill (e.g., a combo of successive moves). Ink supports performative play with these elements and more, including conflating capital and reputation, public venues of play (e.g., the government, the marketplace), and persistence (e.g., successes and failures endure, which goes to stakes).
Much of the writing in Ink is potentially very performative. The design privileges collectivism, especially the pooling of resources and influence in groups. Players have incentives to work, vote, and write together. This should mean that players share many of their processes and products with their groups (e.g., strategies for organizing a text, getting feedback on drafts). The design fosters entrepreneurship, especially the dissemination of writing as rooms and in publication forums. Popular rooms and publications yield additional ink and publicity for their creators.
A successful writer can also sell processes (e.g., "10 Steps to a Popular Room"). Within his group or as a "how to" pundit, a player should develop better abilities at articulating his writing processes to himself and others. Even players who don't join groups or publish in the most public spaces have to share their writing, since players review each others' writing. Players want to participate in the review process, since its a source of income.
If Ink challenges players to write and spend carefully, they will become better able to share writing with others, including processes and products.
5. Players will be better able to be positive, contributing members of a community.
Performative play depends on confidence; players are more willing to take the risks inherent in play in a welcoming, supportive atmosphere. A community can offer that atmosphere.
Community is difficult to design, because it's emergent. It's as much about management as systems and content. As Amy Bruckman writes, "explicit rules and mission statements can only go so far" (2001, p. 22). It's hard to design coherent experiences for groups of people, especially experiences in which everyone feels involved, and especially for people who don't get along. Critical elements are mostly beyond the control of either design or management. In Ink, for example, the group leaders will have considerable influence in the community, yet eventually these will be players, not staff. Ink should attract enough players that they won't all get along. Egocentrism, feuds, and rivalries are inevitable (cf. Dibbell, 1998).
Disagreement is good, if it fosters vibrant political discourse without compromising a higher, unified sense of community. The design tries to regularly remind the players of their common cause. They share one world, with the power to govern themselves, manage entropy, and even change the game's rules and systems. Hopefully this power conjures responsibility and some degree of unity. As residents, players should feel a sense of ownership of the world. Hopefully they remember their initial experiences, and try to welcome and involve newcomers.
Plurality is incentivized; new players bring new ideas and grow the size of the economy, to the benefit of all. The story of Ink is not any one person's story: Ink is larger and longer than any character. Ink should be a compelling space/place in which the story is about Ink itself. By design, groups should recruit new members, path advancement should involve informal mentoring, and experienced players should mentor their juniors. In return, junior players should learn ways to get involved and give back.
Ultimately, this is the most difficult learning outcome to design for: we have too poor an understanding of community in general, so this is as much a process of discovery as design. "Any system that must regulate its discourse by social pressure and convention rather than by clearly defined regulations is more than a game -- both more real and more perilous" (Aarseth, 1997, p. 145).
If Ink challenges players with problems that can only be solved collectively, they will become better able to be positive, contributing members of a community.
Amy Bruckman writes "...if virtual communities are buildings, then right now we are living in the equivalent of thatched huts" (2001, p. 23). Ink is a bold attempt to provide compelling, educative experiences. It involves issues can only be fully explored in context and by experimentation, especially community. Nevertheless, at the outset, these learning outcomes seem feasible and worthwhile:
Recall that for all these goals, we can interject "more comfortable" and append "in and beyond the game."
Game design is marvelously complex and messy activity, especially in persistent alternate worlds (PAWs) like Ink. The technical details are challenging enough, but designers also have to articulate what kinds of experiences they want players to have. With Ink, there is a fortuitous symmetry between an existing game structure (PAWs) and desirable experiences in writing education. The ways in which Ink supports our goals may not be easy to translate to other structures or experiences.
Rather, the process through which we juxtapose gameplay, learning, and research is worth explicating (e.g., how we resolve conflicting priorities), as part of an ongoing, interdisciplinary dialog. Like many game developers and researchers, I feel like we've only just begun asking the most interesting and important questions. The answers can only be solved by developing and studying games like Ink.
Aarseth, E. J. (1997). Cybertext. Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press.
Bruckman, A. (2001). Finding one's own in cyberspace. In C. Haynes & J. R. Holmevik (Eds.), High wired: On the design, use, and theory of educational moos (2nd ed.) (pp. 15-24). Ann Arbor, Michigan: University of Michigan Press.
Dibbell, J. (1998). My tiny life: Crime and passion in a virtual world. New York: Henry Holt and Company.
Turkle, S. (2001). Foreword: All moos are educational - the experience of 'walking through the self'. In C. Haynes & J. R. Holmevik (Eds.), High wired: On the design, use, and theory of educational moos (2nd ed.) (pp. ix-xix). Ann Arbor, Michigan: University of Michigan Press.
Created by Kym Buchanan | http://KymBuchanan.org | This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
