I would never propose that there is a right or wrong way to design a game, but many choices in narrative design lie along a difficult spectrum to navigate and successfully implement. I just recently received Enslaved: Odyssey to the West and, despite a range of tepidly appreciative criticism, it has completely captured my attention. I would agree with some critics that it is not a flawless game, but its shortcomings are never so prevalent to sink it outright or even tangentially.
The game has dominated my excitement, in large part, because of its fascinating and thoroughly engaging story. I'm not usually one to speak about games from a purely narratological point of view, but Enslaved really got me thinking about many alternative designs available in presenting a story to the player. Enslaved is not a long game. It's about 8-10 hours in total, brief by all accounts, but it ascribes to the philosophy that you needn't extend a game for hours upon hours of gameplay just for the sake of continuing a player's experiences.
In Enslaved's case, it works. The concentration on brevity allows for a swift and succinct pacing of plot points akin to cinema. In fact, many of the moments in the game are unapologetically cinematic, and, consequently, packed with high action and tension. Oftentimes this can be drab and lead to forced connections. Developers quickly find that when the pacing slows down, the player loses interest. Uncharted 2 thrives because it never takes its foot off the gas pedal and comparisons between Uncharted and Enslaved aren't without merit.
So we could easily place a game with a narrative similar to Enslaved (though we could even go more succinct and brief) on one end of the spectrum. On the other end, I feel compelled to place another game I've been playing recently: Fallout 3.
Here's a game with a shitton of content. I mean holy crap. Much like other Bethesda titles, (*cough*Oblivion*cough*) you could lost hours upon hours just completing side quests. There are so many characters to interact with, areas to discover, and quests to perform that have nothing to do with the primary story that a player could fully enjoy this game without ever even touching the main story. Character customization alone could satisfy an intrigued gamer looking to dig into various plays styles.
Presently I'm probably not even halfway through Fallout 3's main storyline. I'm hoping I finish it - really, I do hope I do. But a man has only so much free time, goddammit, and this game could take me a year to completely play. Creating a digital universe like this is thoroughly engrossing, through for entirely different reasons than Enslaved feels so compelling. Both methods have their pros and cons. Brevity in narrative design yields, obviously, a shorter game and a pre-determined pace. Depth and breadth in a game narrative puts the player in control of pacing and spurns endless possibilities of play styles.
Again, I wouldn't posit either of these options - or any formula inbetween - as the right way to make a game. But I bring this up because I've come to believe that regardless of what decisions are made on the production side of things, that a game wind up being consistent with its mission statement. Trying to fuse these narrative designs, or attempting to switch between them, just doesn't seem to work. I know I've already mentioned Final Fantasy XIII in one of my other posts (of which there are very few), but there's a game that began feeling like Enslaved and suddenly devolved into an open-world Fallout 3-type game that immediately lost my attention.
I had reached a point in this playthrough where I had been too used to a quickly evolving narrative. The transition to an open-world game was seriously instantaneous. And, perhaps most frustratingly, at the beginning of the last disk. Consequently, I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to complete the game. It will probably stay in my game binder indefinitely. How you've disappointed me, Square...
But you see my point. Variety in a game's narrative design can yield as wide a range of affects upon the player as there are design choices. But consistency is key. When you pick a road, follow it to its completion. Don't jump ship to give us the best of both worlds, because we don't want it. We want the one world. When we want a different world, we'll play a different game.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Give It Up For Gamefret
A brief post this round, but as my spring quarter of grad school winds down, I've been spending some time on the brand new, up-and-coming website Gamefret. It's a novel take on a video game website, with enjoyable forums populated with a sparse but knowledgeable and passionate fan base, and the ability to create gaming "parties" - organized online get-togethers to play your favorite multiplayer games with rock-solid gamers.
The community is small, but it only launched not even a month ago and is obviously such a labor of love on behalf of its creators that the quality shines through. It will be a hub, mark my words, moving forward, so I'd suggest you get on there and start adding to the quality of the site. Look me up and add me as a friend, my username on there is JustDontBeRecon.
Peter
Monday, May 17, 2010
Looking For Love In FFXIII
It's been awhile, and as this blog comes back to relevance, I thought it would be an appropriate time to dive into a case study of recent interest - Final Fantasy XIII.
I'm playing FFXIII these days on the XBOX 360. Some quick shots on what's not working for me. The story. The dialogue. The voice acting (although it's not exactly Resident Evil cheese-town). Things that are working? The graphics. The battle system. The idea. And you know what? That's the big kahuna here. It's the reason I can't stop playing this game. Allow me to explain.
Like all FF games, lucky thirteen bills itself as a totally unique, engrossing storytelling experience. The term Role Playing Game is applied liberally on these games because, quite literally, you fill the role of the main character(s). While the character identities are not based on your own personal qualities, you step into their shoes, you control their tongues and their swords (or gunblades, or harpoons, or funky lacrosse-stick-looking-things), and the entire point of playing the game becomes about your firsthand experience of taking on an epic story.
It's an awesome notion and a difficult thing to pull off, but Squaresoft has a lot of experience in the field, which is probably why they completely reinvented the conventions typically present in these games. The battle system is fast and fresh and perhaps the most instantly gratifying aspect of FFXIII, since every battle feels like a challenge. I'm constantly stung by a sense of accomplishment after each encounter. The world is also channeled into a far more linear experience, with each "level" laid out with tunnel-like direction and precision, which I can't say is either an upgrade or a downgrade - it's just a bit different than what you'd be expecting as a fan of the series. Also, don't expect to be cycling through endless amounts of new weapons and accessories. This time around, you'll focus more on upgrading what you've got.
All these things are vast departure for the series, certainly. And maybe I'm being a total literature snob, here, but I find the dialogue and plot development points completely unacceptable. If I have to sit through another flashback of the corniest love story in video game history (and also slightly creepy if I'm judging the characters' ages correctly), I'm going to break my goddamn TV. Which is why I reinforced my TV with steel because I'm sure another one of these ridiculous scenes is coming my way. Every character, except for Sazh, who is actually pretty rad, pisses me off in various ways, especially the young kid Hope, who is bent on a quest for revenge against another of the heroes so ill-advised that I can't even believe his emotions. It would take one character to speak up and say, "Hey, Hope, you're being an idiot, and here's why," and that entire plot point, which they've built on for hours and hours, would fall completely on its face. That is what I like to call WEAK WRITING.
Ugh. This is why it frustrates me to no end that I can't stop playing this game. Yes. After bashing the hell out of this game's faults, I am unequivocally hooked on it and it's extremely difficult to figure out why, but I have an idea. Actually, it's an idea about, as I mentioned, the game's idea.
Have you ever read a book that you couldn't put down even though you realized it's a complete piece of shit? If you've ever completed a Dan Brown novel, you probably know exactly what I'm talking about. That's sort of how I'm feeling with FFXIII, except that I don't think it's a complete piece of shit. I think it has a bevy of misguided flaws, but it's accomplished something games ever really accomplish - it has created a vastly interesting and complex universe that I'm eager to devour.
The world of Coccoon in the game is completely fascinating. It's an inward planet that floats in the sky above the lower-world Pulse, and the tension and fear between these two worlds is the overarching crux of many of these large plot developments. But the people in this world, their reactions to the politics of the perceived threat from Pulse, the intent of the strange Fal'Cie beast/machine/things that guide and aid human progress, and the mystery behind all these questions is keeping me playing like you wouldn't believe. It is growing increasingly more difficult to return to the title screen and power down my XBOX because I'd like to get to "just one more save point."
I know, it doesn't make much sense. But what I think FFXIII has done is accurately portray an imagined universe that doesn't feel inauthentic. It is a digital world that feels as real as any, even if all the fantasy guns and spaceships and mumbo-jumbo is totally contrived. It almost doesn't even matter because they've found the right mix of what you need from this game, in spite of the rest of its flaws.
If you have a 360 or a PS3, I'd pick this one up. Maybe not immediately. Let the price drop once. Then get your ass to Gamestop or wherever and buy it because if you're looking for a unique digital experience that's forcing me to question what I know about the immersive nature of epic games.
Have you played this one yet? Do you get what the hell I'm trying to say?
Peter
I'm playing FFXIII these days on the XBOX 360. Some quick shots on what's not working for me. The story. The dialogue. The voice acting (although it's not exactly Resident Evil cheese-town). Things that are working? The graphics. The battle system. The idea. And you know what? That's the big kahuna here. It's the reason I can't stop playing this game. Allow me to explain.
Like all FF games, lucky thirteen bills itself as a totally unique, engrossing storytelling experience. The term Role Playing Game is applied liberally on these games because, quite literally, you fill the role of the main character(s). While the character identities are not based on your own personal qualities, you step into their shoes, you control their tongues and their swords (or gunblades, or harpoons, or funky lacrosse-stick-looking-things), and the entire point of playing the game becomes about your firsthand experience of taking on an epic story.
It's an awesome notion and a difficult thing to pull off, but Squaresoft has a lot of experience in the field, which is probably why they completely reinvented the conventions typically present in these games. The battle system is fast and fresh and perhaps the most instantly gratifying aspect of FFXIII, since every battle feels like a challenge. I'm constantly stung by a sense of accomplishment after each encounter. The world is also channeled into a far more linear experience, with each "level" laid out with tunnel-like direction and precision, which I can't say is either an upgrade or a downgrade - it's just a bit different than what you'd be expecting as a fan of the series. Also, don't expect to be cycling through endless amounts of new weapons and accessories. This time around, you'll focus more on upgrading what you've got.
All these things are vast departure for the series, certainly. And maybe I'm being a total literature snob, here, but I find the dialogue and plot development points completely unacceptable. If I have to sit through another flashback of the corniest love story in video game history (and also slightly creepy if I'm judging the characters' ages correctly), I'm going to break my goddamn TV. Which is why I reinforced my TV with steel because I'm sure another one of these ridiculous scenes is coming my way. Every character, except for Sazh, who is actually pretty rad, pisses me off in various ways, especially the young kid Hope, who is bent on a quest for revenge against another of the heroes so ill-advised that I can't even believe his emotions. It would take one character to speak up and say, "Hey, Hope, you're being an idiot, and here's why," and that entire plot point, which they've built on for hours and hours, would fall completely on its face. That is what I like to call WEAK WRITING.
Ugh. This is why it frustrates me to no end that I can't stop playing this game. Yes. After bashing the hell out of this game's faults, I am unequivocally hooked on it and it's extremely difficult to figure out why, but I have an idea. Actually, it's an idea about, as I mentioned, the game's idea.
Have you ever read a book that you couldn't put down even though you realized it's a complete piece of shit? If you've ever completed a Dan Brown novel, you probably know exactly what I'm talking about. That's sort of how I'm feeling with FFXIII, except that I don't think it's a complete piece of shit. I think it has a bevy of misguided flaws, but it's accomplished something games ever really accomplish - it has created a vastly interesting and complex universe that I'm eager to devour.
The world of Coccoon in the game is completely fascinating. It's an inward planet that floats in the sky above the lower-world Pulse, and the tension and fear between these two worlds is the overarching crux of many of these large plot developments. But the people in this world, their reactions to the politics of the perceived threat from Pulse, the intent of the strange Fal'Cie beast/machine/things that guide and aid human progress, and the mystery behind all these questions is keeping me playing like you wouldn't believe. It is growing increasingly more difficult to return to the title screen and power down my XBOX because I'd like to get to "just one more save point."
I know, it doesn't make much sense. But what I think FFXIII has done is accurately portray an imagined universe that doesn't feel inauthentic. It is a digital world that feels as real as any, even if all the fantasy guns and spaceships and mumbo-jumbo is totally contrived. It almost doesn't even matter because they've found the right mix of what you need from this game, in spite of the rest of its flaws.
If you have a 360 or a PS3, I'd pick this one up. Maybe not immediately. Let the price drop once. Then get your ass to Gamestop or wherever and buy it because if you're looking for a unique digital experience that's forcing me to question what I know about the immersive nature of epic games.
Have you played this one yet? Do you get what the hell I'm trying to say?
Peter
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
RE: Games For Justice
The biggest problem with creating the “socially and morally productive” digital experience you describe, Pete, is that in the end, it will still be a game. This interactive digital medium is still relatively new and has not yet commercially explored any mode of experience other than ‘playing a video game.’ One of the fundamental characteristics of “play” is that it is distinct from the seriousness of real life. Is it fair to think a video game could possibly try to simulate the reality of life in the ghetto without being able to offer the seriousness of that life’s consequences? The digital transference of real-life consequences into a game severely diminishes their impact on the subject. Take dying for instance – the final real-life consequence – which is used in almost every video game. When a player dies in-game, it usually only stands as a relatively minor inconvenience, forcing him or her to start from a previous save and retrace his or her steps. How fun would a shooter be if when you were shot once, you could barely move if you didn’t die immediately and the game simply ended? Not fun at all. You have to tweak the rules of real life in order to make a game that is fun, which further defines the separation of play and real life. This is why I find difficulty in the prospect of translating situations that are usually devoid of all fun into a ‘game,’ which requires it.
This brings me to a second obstacle in designing such a simulation: the tastefulness in recreating traumatic life experiences. Games’ simulation of situations inherently diminishes their seriousness, which would be arguably inappropriate for replicating, say, the difficult life of an impoverished urban child. Along the same lines, take the Six Days in Fallujah controversy. What are the moral implications of replicating an actual military assault in Iraq for a paying audience? Designers argue that it realistically portrays the struggle of modern warfare while parents of deceased soldiers cry foul. Would there even be an argument over a game about trying to survive in a Nazi concentration camp? If gamers were to come across – not a ‘game’ – but such a video project, what would require them to discern the seriousness of the content from any other shoot-em-up? Recreating almost any situation in the virtual sphere could transform it into an act of fun, when the actions themselves would hardly be considered fun in real life. Take any FPS as an already existing example. Imagine having to take seriously the casualties in a game like Battlefield or Call of Duty – no gamers sign out of their server wondering about the families of the soldiers they just killed. They don’t have to, and they’re not supposed to – they are merely ‘playing’ soldier.
I think GTA is a more productive game than most people outside of the gaming community give it credit for. It balances the vast difference between the street ‘game’ and the video game, offering some of the seriousness of the situation it portrays while keeping it fun by letting you escape from the cops and run over innocent bystanders. Granted, these methods of fun would only be fun in real life if you were batshit crazy – but that’s part of the video game experience, living out impossible and sometimes twisted fantasies, which starts another whole conversation. But the types of experiences we’re talking about probably should never be considered fun by anyone and would have a difficult time finding their place in game form.
You can imagine the inner struggle I have while I relish the gory mowing down of virtual bodies despite my real-life pacifism and ideals of non-violence.
Killing Spree!
Alan
This brings me to a second obstacle in designing such a simulation: the tastefulness in recreating traumatic life experiences. Games’ simulation of situations inherently diminishes their seriousness, which would be arguably inappropriate for replicating, say, the difficult life of an impoverished urban child. Along the same lines, take the Six Days in Fallujah controversy. What are the moral implications of replicating an actual military assault in Iraq for a paying audience? Designers argue that it realistically portrays the struggle of modern warfare while parents of deceased soldiers cry foul. Would there even be an argument over a game about trying to survive in a Nazi concentration camp? If gamers were to come across – not a ‘game’ – but such a video project, what would require them to discern the seriousness of the content from any other shoot-em-up? Recreating almost any situation in the virtual sphere could transform it into an act of fun, when the actions themselves would hardly be considered fun in real life. Take any FPS as an already existing example. Imagine having to take seriously the casualties in a game like Battlefield or Call of Duty – no gamers sign out of their server wondering about the families of the soldiers they just killed. They don’t have to, and they’re not supposed to – they are merely ‘playing’ soldier.
I think GTA is a more productive game than most people outside of the gaming community give it credit for. It balances the vast difference between the street ‘game’ and the video game, offering some of the seriousness of the situation it portrays while keeping it fun by letting you escape from the cops and run over innocent bystanders. Granted, these methods of fun would only be fun in real life if you were batshit crazy – but that’s part of the video game experience, living out impossible and sometimes twisted fantasies, which starts another whole conversation. But the types of experiences we’re talking about probably should never be considered fun by anyone and would have a difficult time finding their place in game form.
You can imagine the inner struggle I have while I relish the gory mowing down of virtual bodies despite my real-life pacifism and ideals of non-violence.
Killing Spree!
Alan
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Games For Justice
I had this thought a number of days ago and had to jot down the loose ends of it in my notebook. Accepting that video games can be used to simulate or create art (and we'll talk about that ad nauseum), why can't we use this same medium for political activism or social justice? There must be a way to create a game, let's call it The Ghetto, that simulates every hard decision a child faces growing up and surviving in deprived high rises on the south side of Chicago, or wherever they may be struggling. To get it right - I mean, to truly nail a project like that - could be such a fascinating effort in meshing playability with the brutality and borderline impossible challenges that are derived from those living conditions. Gangs, drugs, lack of education, deadbeat parents and crack addict friends... can you imagine crafting game mechanics around overcoming these obstacles?
But the point would be to immerse you in the character's perspective, removing you from your comfortable suburban living room and start making you think like a twelve-year-old who wants to live to see thirteen. Growing up with our media as it is today, even a child of ten would piece together than slinging drugs on the street will probably get you shot. This further complicates the aspiration for true simulation, because short of random drive-by shootings that prematurely end your game without reason, the point is to create a cause-and-effect linkage between your actions and negative outcomes. Making a digital environment that encourages you to make money through dealing drugs while retaining your own moral repercussions might be an insurmountable challenge.
I feel like the thought has some merit. If we can program 'games' like Kodu that are interested only in teaching kids to program, why can't we write a game that forces a suburban child to think like one who never takes a day for granted? It's certainly a compounding thought on the notion that games only rot a child's mind (yeah, my ass), so why not make them socially and morally productive instead of the prostitute and minigun free-for-all that is GTA?
Where do you weigh in on this?
Peter
But the point would be to immerse you in the character's perspective, removing you from your comfortable suburban living room and start making you think like a twelve-year-old who wants to live to see thirteen. Growing up with our media as it is today, even a child of ten would piece together than slinging drugs on the street will probably get you shot. This further complicates the aspiration for true simulation, because short of random drive-by shootings that prematurely end your game without reason, the point is to create a cause-and-effect linkage between your actions and negative outcomes. Making a digital environment that encourages you to make money through dealing drugs while retaining your own moral repercussions might be an insurmountable challenge.
I feel like the thought has some merit. If we can program 'games' like Kodu that are interested only in teaching kids to program, why can't we write a game that forces a suburban child to think like one who never takes a day for granted? It's certainly a compounding thought on the notion that games only rot a child's mind (yeah, my ass), so why not make them socially and morally productive instead of the prostitute and minigun free-for-all that is GTA?
Where do you weigh in on this?
Peter
Fourth Time Around
You know, it's fitting that after completing a second time around the block with the entire Half-Life 2 experience (Main Story, Episodes 1 and 2), this project is about to officially begin. Alan, my good friend and fellow gaming aficionado, and I are teaming up to make this website a reality. We both share a love for gaming, but perhaps more than that, we both take it seriously as a unique and legitimate artistic experience.
This is why the timing is appropriate. I have yet to hesitate with my affirmations that Half-Life 2 is the best-crafted video game in electronic history. Sales numbers aside, it succeeds in every way. Valve solidified their penchant for the revolutionary with the original Half-Life, leaving only enough room to be outdone by themselves. And that's just what they did. By integrating fresh in-game sequences, an unparalleled knack for storytelling, memorable characters, and airtight first-person mechanics, Valve rose to heights few developers can even dream of - a tier reserved for those who treat the digital experience as something more than just a 'game.' Never before had a game come so close to replicating that special 1:1 ratio of sight to experience. In many ways, HL2 impresses upon the player the same phenomenon experienced by moviegoers and theatre junkies: a willing suspension of disbelief. Except this time, your experience is particularly intimate because it's a universe you personally explore.
But I'm not here to preach about the glories of Half-Life 2, though I could for hours. HL2 is just an example of the types of prompts Alan and I wish to explore. The questions that are much harder to answer, perhaps impossible in fact, yet they linger well after you hit the power button. They're also a lot more fun to try and answer than, "How many stars should The Bigs 2 get on a scale of one to ten?" We're shooting for a new kind of digital journalism, closer to academia, but without the high brow bullshit that keeps us all from digging deeper towards the ultimate ponderance: Can video games be art?
It takes a nation to define a movement sometimes and that's where you come in. The only way this can work is if Alan and I aren't the only two asking the questions. We want this to be a community and we'll do everything we can to supply the tools to communicate. As we get rolling, though, chime in, leave comments, write us an email, and we'll see where a great many curious gamers can get in defining the future of digital experience.
Peter
This is why the timing is appropriate. I have yet to hesitate with my affirmations that Half-Life 2 is the best-crafted video game in electronic history. Sales numbers aside, it succeeds in every way. Valve solidified their penchant for the revolutionary with the original Half-Life, leaving only enough room to be outdone by themselves. And that's just what they did. By integrating fresh in-game sequences, an unparalleled knack for storytelling, memorable characters, and airtight first-person mechanics, Valve rose to heights few developers can even dream of - a tier reserved for those who treat the digital experience as something more than just a 'game.' Never before had a game come so close to replicating that special 1:1 ratio of sight to experience. In many ways, HL2 impresses upon the player the same phenomenon experienced by moviegoers and theatre junkies: a willing suspension of disbelief. Except this time, your experience is particularly intimate because it's a universe you personally explore.
But I'm not here to preach about the glories of Half-Life 2, though I could for hours. HL2 is just an example of the types of prompts Alan and I wish to explore. The questions that are much harder to answer, perhaps impossible in fact, yet they linger well after you hit the power button. They're also a lot more fun to try and answer than, "How many stars should The Bigs 2 get on a scale of one to ten?" We're shooting for a new kind of digital journalism, closer to academia, but without the high brow bullshit that keeps us all from digging deeper towards the ultimate ponderance: Can video games be art?
It takes a nation to define a movement sometimes and that's where you come in. The only way this can work is if Alan and I aren't the only two asking the questions. We want this to be a community and we'll do everything we can to supply the tools to communicate. As we get rolling, though, chime in, leave comments, write us an email, and we'll see where a great many curious gamers can get in defining the future of digital experience.
Peter
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
And You Are... ?
Why the hell should you read what I have to say?
I've been trying to answer this question in my mind for a month now. As I scheme for this "blog" to be successful and well-read, brainstorming articles and approaches, I still hit a brick wall attempting to succinctly answer this simple question. Average blog readership is dismally low, something around one reader per blog. That's pretty miserable.
So why should I even bother writing this thing and expect you to read it? To be fair to myself, I'm a reasonably smart man. I have a degree from Bucknell University, a prestigious, if small, liberal arts school located west of corn fields, Pennsylvania. One of my majors was creative writing, so at least my writing style shouldn't have you reaching for the nearest noose.
But the real reason why any of this blogging effort should even take place has to do with passion. On the whole, I'm an admittedly lazy person. But when I get cooking on something that piques my interest, I have a tough time slowing down. Video games, as gayballs as the very word might suggest, are a source of great pride, passion, and understanding in my life. I strive to uphold a certain level of integrity when I discuss games, otherwise the conversation can quickly decline into the sad lamentations of lonely fanboys. But if you touch upon the right points, push the bigger buttons, suddenly the interactivity of video games can spawn the most fascinating discussions and provoke important questions, ones that challenge the very fabric art and emotion and experiential design and, well, shit... just about everything that defines our postmodern society.
I don't mean to ramble, but then again, I do mean to avoid sounding like an academic. I may be a "reasonably smart man," but I spent too many college nights reading papers that bored me to tears, not because the subjects were uninteresting, but because academics struggle with every word and always choose the hardest ones to follow. While their jargon leaves no ambiguity in its meaning, it does require patience and the ability to read with a dictionary on hand, which is tedious and boring and ultimately more stressful than helpful.
So fuck that. And fuck the ladder of lectures meant to infuse the unsuspecting student with miraculous and sudden intelligence. What I want to create here is a means of discovery unique to the digital interface my generation has embraced as second nature. Through reading, discussion, and most importantly, through playing, perhaps we can discover a little extra something about what it means to be human, and why, God, why we are so fascinated with these two-hundred plus dollar boxes that enable us to experience, not just see, but experience a new plane of existence, a synthetic plane, of no less importance than the grounded earthly plane we so quickly tire of working nine to fives and drinking our way to every Monday.
So let's get cooking. There is much to discuss.
I've been trying to answer this question in my mind for a month now. As I scheme for this "blog" to be successful and well-read, brainstorming articles and approaches, I still hit a brick wall attempting to succinctly answer this simple question. Average blog readership is dismally low, something around one reader per blog. That's pretty miserable.
So why should I even bother writing this thing and expect you to read it? To be fair to myself, I'm a reasonably smart man. I have a degree from Bucknell University, a prestigious, if small, liberal arts school located west of corn fields, Pennsylvania. One of my majors was creative writing, so at least my writing style shouldn't have you reaching for the nearest noose.
But the real reason why any of this blogging effort should even take place has to do with passion. On the whole, I'm an admittedly lazy person. But when I get cooking on something that piques my interest, I have a tough time slowing down. Video games, as gayballs as the very word might suggest, are a source of great pride, passion, and understanding in my life. I strive to uphold a certain level of integrity when I discuss games, otherwise the conversation can quickly decline into the sad lamentations of lonely fanboys. But if you touch upon the right points, push the bigger buttons, suddenly the interactivity of video games can spawn the most fascinating discussions and provoke important questions, ones that challenge the very fabric art and emotion and experiential design and, well, shit... just about everything that defines our postmodern society.
I don't mean to ramble, but then again, I do mean to avoid sounding like an academic. I may be a "reasonably smart man," but I spent too many college nights reading papers that bored me to tears, not because the subjects were uninteresting, but because academics struggle with every word and always choose the hardest ones to follow. While their jargon leaves no ambiguity in its meaning, it does require patience and the ability to read with a dictionary on hand, which is tedious and boring and ultimately more stressful than helpful.
So fuck that. And fuck the ladder of lectures meant to infuse the unsuspecting student with miraculous and sudden intelligence. What I want to create here is a means of discovery unique to the digital interface my generation has embraced as second nature. Through reading, discussion, and most importantly, through playing, perhaps we can discover a little extra something about what it means to be human, and why, God, why we are so fascinated with these two-hundred plus dollar boxes that enable us to experience, not just see, but experience a new plane of existence, a synthetic plane, of no less importance than the grounded earthly plane we so quickly tire of working nine to fives and drinking our way to every Monday.
So let's get cooking. There is much to discuss.
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