ENGL 680M: New Media

Before the semester officially ended, I wanted to get in a few final observations. Be forewarned: they’re pretty random.

Creating a video game≈playing a video game
First, I wanted to go back to something that Pepper brought up a few weeks back in a blog post and that I seconded. If you remember, Pepper was talking about how creating a video game feels quite similar to playing a video game. Even though what I created probably wouldn’t be considered a video game, exactly (more on this later), creating my GED essay game did feel similar in some ways to learning a new video game. Specifically, learning Adobe Flash was a frustrating experience that I just couldn’t get away from, no matter how much I wanted to throw in the towel. Obviously, not wanting to give up stemmed partly from not wanting to flunk the class. There was more there, though. I didn’t like the idea that Flash could be smarter than me, which is very much how I feel every time I get sucked into a game. Also, learning a new element of Flash very closely paralleled accomplishing a new level of a game. When I finally figured out that damn scroll bar (those of you sitting near me in class that day probably remember), I was as excited as I was the first time I was able to buy my Unicef family indoor plumbing. Overall, there is something about competing against both yourself and the technology that makes learning a new computer application a very similar experience to learning a new video game.

Wait…is that all?
I was a little caught off guard during yesterday’s showcase by one question about my project: “How is this a game?” As I stuttered to find a cool (meaning unemotional) response, the person went on to ask, “There’s no guns or explosions or anything?” True to form, I couldn’t think of a great answer before the person who questioned my game had left to get at the cheese ball.
When researching for my final project, I focused primarily on identifying a need for my game (yeah, I’m still gonna call it that) by showing that no free internet resources exist that allow students to study for the GED essay in an interactive way. I also focused, obviously, on learning Flash. Finally, I used the research I’ve done on adult basic learners to rationalize how an interactive tool like what I made would be helpful to them. I stand by what I made and I’m still pretty damn proud of it. But, is it a game?

The question goes back, I think, to Huizinga’s discussion of what constitutes play. He stated that play is defined by five major characteristics:

If I apply these major characteristics to my project, is the GED Essay Game a form of play? 1-Yes, the people who play are free to play, not forced (unless, of course, they are made to play the game as part of a class). 2-Not really. The game is obviously connected to the GED essay, which players are studying for. The game is actually directly connected to “real life,” since someone probably wouldn’t want to play who wasn’t studying for the GED or a similar standardized essay test. 3-Again, not really. The game is secluded/limited, since there are instructions on how to get through it included in the game. However, a person probably wouldn’t be as successful with it if s/he didn’t know a bit about how the GED essay works. I’ve always anticipated that a player would play the game after reading the lessons that will also be on the Online Writing Lab. 4-Yes, there are certainly rules and order that govern what I made. 5-Possibly. Eventually, I’d like to see a component of the game in which players have their essays read by someone else, like an instructor or peer. Right now, it is likely that LARA instructors would read their students’ drafted essays, if they asked students to play the game. In this sense, then, there is a community of instructors and students who are associated with the GED. This community isn’t necessarily created by the game itself, but is already existing.

Alright, so maybe my GED Essay Game isn’t a game. Fine. I’ll rename it to the GED Interactive Study Tool, even though that doesn’t sound nearly as sassy. Alright, so maybe my GED Essay Game isn’t a game. Fine. I’ll rename it the GED Interactive Study Tool, even though that doesn’t sound nearly as sassy. It might not be a game, but is it still an example of procedural rhetoric? I got the idea for my game after reading Bogost, because I decided what I wanted to do was create something that would train students in the process of writing the timed GED essay. I would argue that the most difficult part of the essay is developing an efficient process that includes slowing down enough to fully understand the prompt, collect ideas, and find a clear organization. My game…er…interactive tool might not persuade players that it sucks to live in Haiti or that McDonald’s is evil, but I’m hoping that it does persuade them that creating a successful essay involves more steps that simply “write.” In this sense, I still think that the tool is a form of procedural rhetoric, even if it doesn’t convince players that there is one writing process that they should follow (and I wouldn’t want to convince them of that anyway, since I don’t believe in that).

The Unicef Game: A Single-Minded Obsession
To finish the randomness that is this blog post, I wanted to make a couple of final comments about what turned out to be my obsession with the Unicef game. As I’ve said in class, I’m not a huge gamer. I enjoy puzzle games like Tetris and Collapse, treat myself to a game of Freecell each time I finish a paragraph when I’m writing a paper, and had the normal Atari/Nintendo experiences when I was a kid. This semester, I’ve experimented with RPGs, gotten in on a little Wii action, and observed/played some Guitar Hero and Rock Star. I’ve enjoyed all of these experiments, but I wouldn’t say I’ve become obsessed with anything. Don’t get me wrong, Guitar Hero is a good time, but if I never play it again, I’ll be okay. So, why have I spent hours upon hours playing a cartoonish public-service-type game created by high school students for (I imagine) the middle-school set?

Because I want those kids to graduate from college, that’s why!!!

And I don't think I'll be able to quit playing the game until they do. I've come pretty close. The last time I played (last night, 4:00 in the morning), the eldest son received his Bacclaureate II, and everyone else got to Bacclaureate I. The ultimate goal would be for all five family members to receive Bacclaureate II, which is the highest degree available within the game. I’m hoping that once I make this happen, I can put the game to rest. If it never happens, I guess I’ll just have to write my prospectus next year. Thinking about this game has led me to an interesting (I think) question about its persuasiveness. When we played in class and everyone did horribly the first time, the persuasive message seemed pretty clear: the game is hard—almost impossible—and so are the lives of those who are represented by the characters. But, what about those people like me who are willing to devote hours upon hours to the game until some success is finally found? Is there a danger here of producing that same old argument that success can be realized as long as you work hard enough for it? (American Dream, Bootstraps argument, whatever you want to call it). I wonder.

This seems like as good a place as any to end this blog. Sam: thanks for a great semester. Everyone else: Ditto, and good luck with your final projects.