I went to Video Games Live yesterday! I didn't make it to SLC comic con, because I have a baby, but sitting down for some entertainment without waiting in any lines was definitely more my speed. It was pretty fun to hear some familiar game music in a concert hall. Here are some observations I had:
-It was weird to go to a concert a experience music in a way the composer specifically didn't intend. Usually when I go see a symphony I feel like I'm finally setting aside some time to TRULY enjoy this music like I'm SUPPOSED to. But with videogame music, it's more "true to the original" to listen to the music while you play the game. They played two songs from the Journey soundtrack and it actually kind of bothered me that the video clips of the game didn't match where the song occurs in the game originally: "no, you're supposed to be going through the apotheosis level now! And now the credits should roll!" (yes, I can feel your eyes rolling from here. It was just a weird feeling and I wanted to tell you about it.)
-The symphony participated in an OCRemix version of Celeste's theme, and I was weirding out about how it was an orchestra trying to sound like a remix of a digital symphony. So hyperreal!
-At first I wasn't sure why they didn't have a classical conductor, but then I realized that conducting for this concert was a completely different job. Each piece had a video that went with it, and yes, it was synced to the music, so there was some soundtrack-timing-level-preciseness with the tempo that went on (either that or their A/V guys were just really good at adapting to tempo). There was also one part where they took a volunteer from the audience to play space invaders with motion controls and they played the music live. It reminded me of how before movie theaters had speakers, they had organists who made up music to go with the silent films (I went to a recreation at BYU once and it was pretty cool). Most soundtracks these days do have some procedural elements, so it's like the improvisational aspects of performative soundtracks are built-in.
-Another way that game soundtrack music is exciting in ways that classical music used to be exciting is that most of the composer are alive and many of them know each other. So you get things like the composer conducting their own music (when/why did this tradition stop?). The soundtrack world is where our classical music is still living, in my opinion (in that it's both popular and still classical).
-There were some moments where the "founder of Video Games Live!" felt a little cheesy, but in some ways I identified with the "gamer" crowd in that I was pretty excited to hear music from games I've loved. As much as I wish I could help reclaim the "gamer" label though, I feel like it's a stupidly polarizing term, and maybe I'll just be "someone who enjoys videogames, as well as other entertainment media."
Showing posts with label gaming culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gaming culture. Show all posts
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Friday, March 29, 2013
Feminine Aesthetic in Game Design
I've been thinking about how gender influences design and narrative style in videogames.
In my graduate seminar on Western-American literature, we discussed the book Borderlands: La Frontera. The book is written by a woman who sees herself on the border in the ways she defines herself: in her ethnicity, her sexuality, and her culture. We talked about how a writing style can be masculine or feminine (of course using very stereotyped definitions of masculine/feminine). Academic writing is, according to this theory, very masculine: it's highly linear, hierarchical, orderly, and institutionalized (in its publication, who can write it, etc.). Feminine writing is more circuitous, expressive, and personal. Maybe feminine isn't a great word for it; maybe it should be called experimental or expressionist. But I wonder if gender plays into it.
If you've read Anthropy's Rise of Videogame Zinesters (I reviewed it), it's a good example of a "feminine" non-fiction narrative style. It includes personal experiences, videogame history from a non-AAA point-of-view, how-tos and inspiration for making your own games.
Recently I've been playing Magical Diary. It's a scheduling-type game where your decisions and stats determine how you pass your exams and who your romantic interest is. You need to play through the game more than once to see all the possible options; for this reason I'll label it "circuitous." This is different from a New Game + where your character is stronger or the bosses are harder on a 2nd playthrough. There are a few conversations where you get to decide what to say, so I'd say it's also kind of expressive.
Recently, many personal games have been coming out of the Twine scene, many written by women (not that a man couldn't write in a feminine style, just that he often chooses not to). They're experimental, personal, and/or branching. So I think if I were to apply this idea of feminine aesthetics to game design, it would look like this (and I don't think any one game is completely feminine or non-feminine; just some ideas):
In my graduate seminar on Western-American literature, we discussed the book Borderlands: La Frontera. The book is written by a woman who sees herself on the border in the ways she defines herself: in her ethnicity, her sexuality, and her culture. We talked about how a writing style can be masculine or feminine (of course using very stereotyped definitions of masculine/feminine). Academic writing is, according to this theory, very masculine: it's highly linear, hierarchical, orderly, and institutionalized (in its publication, who can write it, etc.). Feminine writing is more circuitous, expressive, and personal. Maybe feminine isn't a great word for it; maybe it should be called experimental or expressionist. But I wonder if gender plays into it.
If you've read Anthropy's Rise of Videogame Zinesters (I reviewed it), it's a good example of a "feminine" non-fiction narrative style. It includes personal experiences, videogame history from a non-AAA point-of-view, how-tos and inspiration for making your own games.
Recently I've been playing Magical Diary. It's a scheduling-type game where your decisions and stats determine how you pass your exams and who your romantic interest is. You need to play through the game more than once to see all the possible options; for this reason I'll label it "circuitous." This is different from a New Game + where your character is stronger or the bosses are harder on a 2nd playthrough. There are a few conversations where you get to decide what to say, so I'd say it's also kind of expressive.
Recently, many personal games have been coming out of the Twine scene, many written by women (not that a man couldn't write in a feminine style, just that he often chooses not to). They're experimental, personal, and/or branching. So I think if I were to apply this idea of feminine aesthetics to game design, it would look like this (and I don't think any one game is completely feminine or non-feminine; just some ideas):
- circuitous, non-linear, cyclic
- expressive: the emotions of the player or player character are central to the game's "message"
- personal: since many games by women are made by small teams or individuals, they can put others in their shoes in an eye-opening way. Think dys4ia or Mainichi or Actual Sunlight.
Aspects of masculine design could be the inverse... but they don't have to be. For instance, Oblivion is a very non-linear game, but its hierarchical quest and level structure are very masculine aspects of the design. So masculine design aspects would be:
- linearity or being "on rails"
- empowering: the game makes players feel powerful or special
- hierarchical: tied to empowering; a linear structure enables a game to scaffold the player's learning (like in Portal), or familiarity with an arbitrary combat system (leveling, quests, etc.).
This ties into videogame publishing and feminist aesthetics. This article, in describing the background of feminist aesthetics, describes the fear as "the systems of representation that are available in Western culture are so irredeemably male that a woman can only be heard if she adopts a male perspective, if she speaks as a man." Since self-publishing is easier, women's voices are out there, but are they being listened to?
Otome dating sims, where you're a girl looking for romance, are kind of hard to find. There are a few good publishers and they're small. There are a lot of visual novels out there too, and it's kind of hard to find excellently written ones. Is it because the feminine aesthetics that brought them into being are fundamentally opposed to an orderly distribution service like Steam? Or is it because Steam (or other large downloadable publishers) only listens to women's voices when the speak "as a man"?
There are other games that include many feminine aspects but are still masculine in their design. Take Portal. You're making paths instead of killing people; your character is a mistress of the void, yet you are carefully led through a linear series of puzzles. I think Tomb Raider especially suffers from this conflict between masculine and feminine design aesthetics, but I haven't played it so I don't feel like I can write much more about it.
I'm trying out ideas here; is it silly to designate some design aspects as "masculine" or "feminine"? Or do you think it's a distinction worth thinking about?
I consulted this feminist aesthetics article when writing this.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Of tourism and game-playing
"I'm kind of doing a speed run of Journey," my husband, Adam, explained. For each complete run through of the game (up to... four times?), the decoration on your robe gets more elaborate. A speed run seemed like a logical way to enjoy the game a different way and get the cool robe addition. But yet, somehow a speedrun of Journey seems inimical to the game's aesthetics.
In the same way, my speedrun of England and Paris was completely typical of tourism, but I felt sometimes like I was missing the point of enjoying a new place, or any place. There is an urge to see all the vital sights--sights that, once seen, can be checked off a list; their countries stamped in one's passport. I'm very grateful that I had to opportunity to go to England and Paris, and I realize that everyone who writes feels the desire to write about their experiences abroad as if it is something new that no one else noticed. I know that my experiences are common. I submit that the common problems with tourism are also common to playing classic or popular videogames.
At the Louvre, we must see the Mona Lisa, if only to say we've seen it. Her admirers petition her with cameras, increasing her immortality with each replication. I see other works I recognize; it's like seeing a celebrity, except it frequently looks exactly the same as your mental image does. Sure, the background details come out a bit better, and you can see the frame and the brushstrokes better, but everyone is in the same position. The glass pyramid looks as see-through as ever. Liberty Leading the People still has her breast exposed. And we must take a photo to show that we've been there. Or perhaps all these photos are so we can enjoy the details later, from the comfort of our homes. Taking photos becomes a way to relieve the anxiety that we aren't taking it all in--because maybe the camera is?
And of course, while I'm there at the Louvre, I'm thinking about the sights we'll see in the next few days, because these things must be planned--a simple pain of touring. After my speedrun of the Louvre, I didn't have time to go back and do a hardcore playthrough where I explored every hallway. My time and energy were spent.
Luckily, videogames have their entire world in their files. The anxiety isn't that we won't have the opportunity to see everything, but that we won't have time to beat them. Similarly, while playing one game, it's easy to think anxiously about its completion and what exciting game one will play after that one is done with. The text speed is impossibly slow and your character can't run fast enough. Playing the game becomes a chore.
You're familiar with this feeling. I'm trying to become more aware of it. When I feel like playing a game is a chore, I feel like I should stop playing it. But there's a balance to have here--some chores can be soothing in their repetition (like grinding), and sometimes pushing through a boring part of a game lets one enjoy its especially nice parts (like how even though walking seems impossibly slow in Dear Esther, getting to see the caves is completely worth it for the visual spectacle alone).
Of course, there's a similar problem with tourism. Standing in line for over an hour at Versailles, I felt like tourism was a chore (a chore of the rich and privileged, but a chore nonetheless). But I felt like it was worth it to see the gaudy opulence that spurred a revolution and the stately, over-the-top gardens that went with it. I don't know how to balance being "in the moment" with "planning ahead so you don't get bored/stranded/waste time." But I do know it's a balance I strive for, in tourism, videogame playing, and in the rest of my life. I hope to explore Utah a little more--a place where I have the time and energy to do a "hardcore playthrough."
In the same way, my speedrun of England and Paris was completely typical of tourism, but I felt sometimes like I was missing the point of enjoying a new place, or any place. There is an urge to see all the vital sights--sights that, once seen, can be checked off a list; their countries stamped in one's passport. I'm very grateful that I had to opportunity to go to England and Paris, and I realize that everyone who writes feels the desire to write about their experiences abroad as if it is something new that no one else noticed. I know that my experiences are common. I submit that the common problems with tourism are also common to playing classic or popular videogames.
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| credit |
And of course, while I'm there at the Louvre, I'm thinking about the sights we'll see in the next few days, because these things must be planned--a simple pain of touring. After my speedrun of the Louvre, I didn't have time to go back and do a hardcore playthrough where I explored every hallway. My time and energy were spent.
Luckily, videogames have their entire world in their files. The anxiety isn't that we won't have the opportunity to see everything, but that we won't have time to beat them. Similarly, while playing one game, it's easy to think anxiously about its completion and what exciting game one will play after that one is done with. The text speed is impossibly slow and your character can't run fast enough. Playing the game becomes a chore.
You're familiar with this feeling. I'm trying to become more aware of it. When I feel like playing a game is a chore, I feel like I should stop playing it. But there's a balance to have here--some chores can be soothing in their repetition (like grinding), and sometimes pushing through a boring part of a game lets one enjoy its especially nice parts (like how even though walking seems impossibly slow in Dear Esther, getting to see the caves is completely worth it for the visual spectacle alone).
Of course, there's a similar problem with tourism. Standing in line for over an hour at Versailles, I felt like tourism was a chore (a chore of the rich and privileged, but a chore nonetheless). But I felt like it was worth it to see the gaudy opulence that spurred a revolution and the stately, over-the-top gardens that went with it. I don't know how to balance being "in the moment" with "planning ahead so you don't get bored/stranded/waste time." But I do know it's a balance I strive for, in tourism, videogame playing, and in the rest of my life. I hope to explore Utah a little more--a place where I have the time and energy to do a "hardcore playthrough."
Monday, April 9, 2012
The attractiveness of portable systems; the inscrutability of game addictions; the stupidity of trophies
I love portable gaming. There are at least two reasons for my preference: 1) It's easier for me to immerse myself in a screen that I'm holding and 2) I feel less anxiety about people watching me and judging my performance or the fact that I'm playing a video game.
I said it was immersion that made me prefer small screens, but I think it's also convenience and immediacy. I find it difficult to set aside time to play my PS3 games, but I usually bring along my phone/Vita/DS if I'm going somewhere. And if I'm waiting in line, I think playing a Kairosoft game is a perfectly good way to wait. And if there's a handiman or carpet cleaner around, I don't really want them to watch me suck at some game that is stereotypically for teenage guys anyway. Portable systems are much lower profile and it just seems in better taste to play something in my hands when other people are doing other things around me.
I wonder if the type of games for portable systems is significantly different than for console or PC games. I like playing adventure games, puzzle platformers, and strategy games, and I prefer them to look cute (as opposed to grisly or hardcore). It's possible that none of my PS3 games are cute enough (one can only play so much Katamari and Little Big Planet), and that portable systems are more likely to cater to my cuteness attraction. I'm mystified about why some games can hold my attention for weeks at a time and then I suddenly stop playing them, and why other games are only interesting for a demo's length of time. Am I just becoming so jaded with games that killing another guy in Assassin's Creed seems like a futile exercise, only to be repeated again?
I wonder if mood has something to do with game taste as well. Some days grinding feels like a relief, while other days I just want to get a move on with stories. I'm interested in how games succeed and fail in psychological reinforcement, and I want to understand what motivates me. I like playing games to see what they are--for the novelty of the act. But after the novelty wears off, sometimes I feel too lazy to keep playing. I think, "okay, I understand that this is going to get harder or go on for five more missions, but will it be worth it?"
I love and hate the trophies system. I love it because I think it's fun to try to do crazy things in games and to encourage experimentation, but I hate it because I feel really dumb when I have 0% of trophies for a game (like the ones I try out and don't really like, like inFamous). I believe I have the ability to finish these games, and I do not have the desire. Maybe I'm just getting old and I'm getting pickier about how I use my time, but beating a game to add to my "gamer cred" seems so stupid! Yet I'm strangely attracted to cultivating a levelled "gamer" trophy persona. I wish I had the dedication to be completest with trophies, but in some games it's just not fun.
I said it was immersion that made me prefer small screens, but I think it's also convenience and immediacy. I find it difficult to set aside time to play my PS3 games, but I usually bring along my phone/Vita/DS if I'm going somewhere. And if I'm waiting in line, I think playing a Kairosoft game is a perfectly good way to wait. And if there's a handiman or carpet cleaner around, I don't really want them to watch me suck at some game that is stereotypically for teenage guys anyway. Portable systems are much lower profile and it just seems in better taste to play something in my hands when other people are doing other things around me.
I wonder if the type of games for portable systems is significantly different than for console or PC games. I like playing adventure games, puzzle platformers, and strategy games, and I prefer them to look cute (as opposed to grisly or hardcore). It's possible that none of my PS3 games are cute enough (one can only play so much Katamari and Little Big Planet), and that portable systems are more likely to cater to my cuteness attraction. I'm mystified about why some games can hold my attention for weeks at a time and then I suddenly stop playing them, and why other games are only interesting for a demo's length of time. Am I just becoming so jaded with games that killing another guy in Assassin's Creed seems like a futile exercise, only to be repeated again?
I wonder if mood has something to do with game taste as well. Some days grinding feels like a relief, while other days I just want to get a move on with stories. I'm interested in how games succeed and fail in psychological reinforcement, and I want to understand what motivates me. I like playing games to see what they are--for the novelty of the act. But after the novelty wears off, sometimes I feel too lazy to keep playing. I think, "okay, I understand that this is going to get harder or go on for five more missions, but will it be worth it?"
I love and hate the trophies system. I love it because I think it's fun to try to do crazy things in games and to encourage experimentation, but I hate it because I feel really dumb when I have 0% of trophies for a game (like the ones I try out and don't really like, like inFamous). I believe I have the ability to finish these games, and I do not have the desire. Maybe I'm just getting old and I'm getting pickier about how I use my time, but beating a game to add to my "gamer cred" seems so stupid! Yet I'm strangely attracted to cultivating a levelled "gamer" trophy persona. I wish I had the dedication to be completest with trophies, but in some games it's just not fun.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Rise of Video Game Zinesters a demand for more amateur and individual expression in games
Anyone can make a video game, and it is a little harder than drawing a doodle. But amateurs should make games, because it's fun and fulfilling, and because we need more diversity in video games than the cautious, often predictable games big studios put out. These are Anna Antropy's ideas in Rise of the Video Game Zinesters: How Freaks, Normals, Amateurs, Dreamers, Dropouts, Queers, Housewives, and People Like You are Taking Back an Art Form.
Anthropy's book is related to academics, but it's written in an accessible style. The chapters don't build on each other for a linear, climactic thesis, but highlight different aspects of the history and present of self-published games and mods in a collage that makes for a bigger-picture understanding. Anthropy tells her own story of dropping out of college, struggling for a while, but succeeding to make games by herself like Lesbian Spider-Queens of Mars.
Her passion and self-confidence are infectious. The last section on how to make a game was filled with (what seemed to me, the currently non-programmer) excellent advice on storytelling and just getting something on screen.
I liked this book so much that it's hard for me to criticize it, but there were some things I found puzzling. None of the images had captions, though their relevance was usually intuitive. I was also annoyed by the inclusion of a certain ubiquitous Tolstoy quote. The history chapter seemed linear and obligatory, but paid special attention to the role of deep-pocketed publishers and shareware entrepreneurs. The book succeeded in heightening my awareness of how games can be so much more than men shooting things, and in inspiring me to make my own game (which I might describe as craptastic, and I'm proud of it!). If you don't read this book, at least go out and make a video game! Set aside two hours and just make something in Scratch (that's what I did)!
Anthropy's book is related to academics, but it's written in an accessible style. The chapters don't build on each other for a linear, climactic thesis, but highlight different aspects of the history and present of self-published games and mods in a collage that makes for a bigger-picture understanding. Anthropy tells her own story of dropping out of college, struggling for a while, but succeeding to make games by herself like Lesbian Spider-Queens of Mars.
I liked this book so much that it's hard for me to criticize it, but there were some things I found puzzling. None of the images had captions, though their relevance was usually intuitive. I was also annoyed by the inclusion of a certain ubiquitous Tolstoy quote. The history chapter seemed linear and obligatory, but paid special attention to the role of deep-pocketed publishers and shareware entrepreneurs. The book succeeded in heightening my awareness of how games can be so much more than men shooting things, and in inspiring me to make my own game (which I might describe as craptastic, and I'm proud of it!). If you don't read this book, at least go out and make a video game! Set aside two hours and just make something in Scratch (that's what I did)!
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
HARDCORE GAMING
Hardcore gaming is focused on becoming proficient; casual gaming is playing for diversion (this study cites a few more motivations, that is, excitement, fantasy, and interacting with others. I believe proficiency/diversion is the distinguishing motivation between hardcore and casual). There is a lot of overlap between casual and hardcore gaming, but some games are only playable and fun with a hardcore mindset.
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| I was thinking of blogging about how fighting over a princess and feeding her to make her harder to steal is a kind of terrible premise, but I realized that wasn't news. |
I started playing Devil Survivor 2 because I wanted to have a recent release to write about for when I apply to write for Pop Matters (I have some ideas! It's just going to take another two days to beat it, which I realize isn't necessary to write about the game, but I want to play it safe. Also, maybe I'm too ambitious to try writing for them, but I won't know until I try!). Firstly, I realized that I actually do like JRPGS, and secondly, I couldn't progress in the game unless I started actually strategizing about what skills to put in what teams. I couldn't play the game casually; every move mattered (and grinding was ineffective!). At first I was frustrated, but soon it felt refreshing to be challenged by the game, and it made me want to know more about how the game works. If a game can only be beaten with a hardcore approach, that's what qualifies it as a hardcore game. However, it's much more effective to describe play styles as hardcore or casual, since many games can be played either way.
Super Mario Galaxy is one of those games that appeals to either style of play, though it requires some proficiency. Players don't have to collect every star to beat the game--but the option is there. Kirby's Epic Yarn has bonus levels for doing well in boss fights, but the no-dying aspect of the game is clearly aimed at younger players. In my mind, the best "casual" games can also be played with a hardcore play style. There's also something really satisfying about playing a game intended for only a hardcore play style. Also, sometimes I write chatty-style, I think I am okay with this.
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