My Life as a Rogue Troll

My goal was to enter the World of Warcraft, choose a character and play until I reached level 10. "It may take about 6 hours," so said our illustrious Serious Games seminar leader. I think it may take longer for noobs. Like me.

I chose to "be" a Rogue Troll, and entered the orientation area. I had played WOW briefly with my nephew, and so I had some idea of the navigation of the game. I ran into my first significant problem early on when I was greeted by another (real) player. I didn't know how to us ethe chat feature. (My nephew and I had just talked aloud to communicate, seeing as how we were sitting in the same room when we played.)

My personal experience was dominated by a sense of urgency. I felt that my newbie status was similar to being "broke." My thoughts were ruled by a "felt need" to get money. Because of this, I was focused on getting and completing missions, or "quests." I took little or no time to explore, and did not even take time to learn to chat with other players. Nor did I feel the desire to do so. However, on the more difficult quests, I did see how working in cooperation with other players would have distinct advantages. Had I been playing on a full subscription account, rather than a trial account, I think I would have taken time to understand the "networking" aspects of the game, and that I would have invested in learning the overall scope and scheme of the game. (Particularly the virtual "geography.")

Another discovery - I found that death in WOW has its benefits. In a particulary difficult scenario, I had a hard time reaching a certain lieutenant I needed to "dispatch." I was killed a couple times trying to get through his substantial bodyguard forces. However, i discovered that, when dead, I could pass by all enemies unhindered. So, I waited to resurrect until I had passed all the guards and had a direct path to my target. And so, death, in a way, loses its sting in WOW.

The Ideological Framing of Ideological Framing

From Bogost’s Persuasive Games, p. 99:

“The 2004 U.S. Election renewed world citizens’ recognition of an ideological polarization in U.S. politic.”

Really?

Bogost gives attention to the work of cognitive linguists, political strategists, and the power of framing by vocabulary… BUT…

It seems the whole idea of “ideological polarization” is also very much a construct of language and ideological framing. Imagine all the governments in the world and their political, ideological, epistemological, ontological and other-ogical frameworks: dictatorships, monarchies, socialism, communism, communalism, tribalism, gangism, democracies, republics, dominions, principalities, duchies, etc.

Now, imagine that each of these different governments are represented by a specific color: green, red, blue, fuchsia, aqua, taupe, yellow, orange, burnt sienna, grey, beige, mint, black, sand, brown, etc.

An observer from another galaxy might be surprised to find one government having such a heated debate every four years between two very similar colors.
“Burgundy!” “Maroon!”
“Burgundy!” “Maroon!”
“Burgundy!” “Maroon!”
“Burgundy!” “Maroon!”

The Maroons claim that if we choose Burgundy that the country will go to hell in a handbasket. The Burgundies claim that the Maroons will run this nation into the ground. (They both ignore that lunatic fringe running under the “Plum” banner – they are just silly crackpots with those wild Plum ideas.)

Early on in this chapter we are faced with a statement that should inform/problematize our consideration of our consideration of poltico-ideological framing in video games. (Read that slowly – I meant to repeat that phrase.)

Now, let’s talk about Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas!

About that fast-food in urban L.A. issue:

Let Them Eat Pistachio and Pine Nut Crusted Rack of Venison with Wild Mushroom and Bacon Bread Pudding and a Cherry-Sage Reduction Sauce

At Heart, I'm a Spade...

In "Hearts, Clubs, Diamonds, Spades: Players Who Suit MUDs," Richard Bartle points out four aspects that MUD-users "typically enjoyed personally": 1)Achievement, 2)Exploration, 3)Socializing, and 4)Imposition on others. From this revelation, the four "suits" of users are revealed as Diamonds (seeking a goal or reward), Spades (who just dig/root-around), Hearts (socializers), and Clubs (who hit people).

My blog here, e-flaneur, is at heart, oops, that is to say, "at spade" one of rooting around the virutal worlds without set goals to achieve, without networks to maintain, and without weapons of malice. I have been privy to, and/or party to, the actions of the other "suits" from time to time in my virtual wanderings, but even the "treasures" I found were through serendipity, rather than the result of a quest.

In fact, I would like to point out here that The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings differ in this very basic premise. The Hobbit is NOT a classic quest narrative. It is an ADVENTURE myth. (Just read the subtitle: There and Back Again.) In a similar fashion, my involvement in virtual worlds is, in most cases, an adventure. I go out, poke around, and return home, like Bilbo Baggins.

Lifeboat? again?

Re: The simulations (like BioChemFX) in chapter 2 of Ian Bogost's "Persuasive Games"

The eighties called. They want their Values Clarification situational ethics simulation back.

The Only Way to Win is Not to Play

I played a few online "toys" (mistakenly called games by some) that really stretched the idea of "play." These games - doh! toys, Kabul Kaboom, Sept. 12 and Madrid are all the kind of "games you can not win." The "moral" or "message" of the games -and without a message, these inventions would be pointless - is that "the only way not to lose is not to play." In other words, "war is bad" or "killing people is not nice."

Sept. 12 purportedly will help us "explore some aspects of the war on terror." (Of course this war on terror has terrorists that never harm anyone. I think I speak for everyone when I say that I would love to explore such a world - and live there.) The single isolated "aspect" the user can "explore" is the futility of fighting against terrorism, since such action only produces more terrorists. So, again... the only way to win is not to play. After about 5 seconds, a player should get the point. And then? No, there is no "then." That's all there is. The only way to win is not to play.

Hey - wait a minute! That line is from one of my favorite movies. And if you want to "explore" this "aspect," then I recommend watching WarGames!


Sept. 12 is too preachy to be playable. In the cyberworld of my strollings, it has the most artificial, least organic feel of any environment into which I have stumbled. I felt like this was the digital equivalent of a musty, dusty religious school class where the curmudgeonly bitter old spinster of a teacher would make you sit in an uncomfortable desk memorizing dogma and slapping you occasionally with a ruler, all the while denying you permission to talk, get a drink of water, or go to the bathroom. And worst of all? In all my time playing Sept. 12, I never did find that durn Waldo!

Oh, and by the way, regarding these games: The only way to win is... well, I think you know.

"The (game) Play's the Thing ..."

So there I was, placidly reading the first chapter of Ian Bogost’s Persuasive Games, “Procedural Rhetoric” in one of the dining halls here at Clemson, when a dialog availed itself. I make this passive because it was about 5-7 minutes in that I realized capturing its spirit and content might be instructive. The participants were myself and Alicia Hatter, one of my RCID colleagues. Although we were tempted to turn this into a pseudo-Platonic performance of dialectic, we actually got so caught up in the discussion that I forgot to annotate the conversation as happening between Timaeus and Socrates and decided to “faithfully” leave it as it appears here–in medias res by virtue of my imperfect memory.

Randy: Procedural rhetoric is the practice of using processes persuasively, just as verbal rhetoric uses oratory and visual rhetoric uses images persuasively. (28)

Alicia: That sounds similar to what he hinted in the preface. Namely, that “procedural rhetoric is the art of persuasion through rule-based representations and interactions rather than spoken word, writing, images, or moving pictures” (ix).

Alicia (after a provocative pause): Interestingly he also says that procedural systems “actually represent process with process” (14). So there seems to be a meta relationship there…

So, was that game Tenure an example of procedural rhetoric in action?

R: Yes, I believe it was. It performed the processes inherent to the experience of being a 1^st year teacher. And because it is procedural in nature, it can better represent the procedure of that experience: because it is process itself, it can represent process..

A: But, what makes Tenure special? Aren’t all computer programs procedural?

Isn’t that the question we have to ask ourselves about video games now, what argument is being presented?

R: The ability of the video game to change our attitudes about our world is not in the content of the game. “rather, this power lies in the very way video games mount claims through procedural rhetorics” (ix). The goal of the game doesn’t matter. What matters is that we think this way: that you interact with the game’s rules to see the world as it wants you to see it (i.e. to see the processes that underlie its presentation of reality).

A: So how is Grand Theft Auto an example of a persuasive game?

R: There, the procedural rhetoric is the claim. As McLuhan would say, ‘The medium is the message.’

A: If the procedural rhetoric that underlays games is built itself upon a rule-based representation of reality, what happens when you break the rules? Does the game cease to be persuasive?

R: Well, as we read, you can break the rules about returning your DVD player because human elements will allow it in the real world. (In other words, they’ll create a new system for dealing with your particular situation that still allows you to return the defective product) But you can’t break the rules in computer game because to do so would have to be allowable in the rules themselves. If you hack Grand Theft Auto, it’s already part of the rules.

A: So it’s not really a hack, just the illusion thereof. Which, if you don’t realize the illusion, is quite persuasive.

R: Yes, it’s part of the interaction.

At this point, Alicia noticed that dinner was being served, and we decided to halt our conversation here.

To be continued perpetually.

My So-Called Second Life

When I first moved to the NYC area, I considered each trip into "the city" (what residents of other boroughs call Manhattan) to be a new adventure of discovery.

I would sometimes plot out a detailed route of exploration: PATH to 33rd, walk to Herald Square, Shop at Macy's, get a coffee at the Chock Full O'Nuts, and visit the Empire State Building.

Other times, when alone, I would simply go into the city and walk. Maybe I would target a general area, like Chinatown or Little Italy or the Lower East Side, but I would have no itenerary to keep. Just walk and look.

Much of my time in early explorations of NYC was spent in learning the navigation technologies: Subways, buses, food supply, rest rooms, places to sit, etc. My early flanneries (strolls) into the city were somewhat occupied with the strolling itself, but this sometimes brought about pleasantly serendipitous discoveries.



In a like manner, my early forays into Second Life were also occupied with the navigation/strolling itself. And like the non-cyber-city, this sometimes brought about pleasantly serendipitous discoveries. But the awareness of my mediated identity did not (perhaps does not) disappear entirely or immediately.