'Rise of the Videogame Zinesters': Changing Games by Making Games

This week at PopMatters, I talk about Anna Anthropy's book, Rise of the Videogame Zinesters. It's a lively read with a simple, yet powerful message: everyone should make video games!

The book's subtitle is kind of a mouthful ("How freaks, normals, amateurs, artists, dreamers, dropouts, queers, housewives, and people like you are taking back an art form"), but it does a great job of encapsulating her message: the video game landscape is lacking in diverse experiences because entrenched (and moneyed) players have traditionally had a monopoly on production and distribution. The types of skills needed to code a game, the technology needed to produce it, and the capital needed to distribute it have had high barriers to entry. This is not so today: thanks to tools like Scratch and Gamemaker (or even Wario Ware: D.I.Y.), anyone with a relatively modern computer, an Internet connection, and the will to learn can make and distribute their own games.

Anna's remedy for the homogeneous malaise that so often afflicts mainstream gaming is simple: the proliferation of more numerous, more diverse voices will inevitably make the medium more representative of our society. Traditionally underrepresented populations (women, the queer community, non-programmers) and traditionally underrepresented game topics are much more likely to flourish if people can take on the responsibility of creation and distribution without being beholden to large corporations. True, many of the games that people will create won't be outstanding, but most of what people create in general isn't outstanding (see: YouTube). Then again, there will inevitably be some truly special things that would have never survived the constrictive traditional studio/publisher set up (see: YouTube).

More than anything, the book is an enthusiastic rallying cry for people to get personally invested in contributing to the medium. Anna is refreshingly candid about her early struggles with programming and her disappointing time at Southern Methodist University's game design program. She didn't fit the stereotypical mold of someone who works in the games industry, but then again, few people do. That doesn't mean she, and others like you and me, can't make games. In fact, maybe that means it's more important we do.

In Pursuit of Adolescent Genres

My appreciation and interest in Children's Literature was recently piqued by an article titled Juvenile and Adolescent Games by David Carlton of Malvasia Bianca. Sparked by his interest in MySims Agents, a admittedly "childish" game, David reexamines, among other things, the idea of juvenile games as they relate the literary genre. I highly recommend reading the very interesting original piece. As expected, defining and analyzing what makes a juvenile game is no easy task. Anything from Zelda to Bioshock can, in some ways, be considered adolescent. What follows is my own attempt to explore the genre of adolescent videogames.

To begin with, I want to abandon the term 'juvenile' as a genre title. Firstly, it carries too many negative connotations. Secondly, it abandons the existing genres of "children's literature" and "young adult fiction". I understand the idea of categorizing works of art is itself contentious. In a series on modernizing genre, I discussed this conflict extensively. To quickly summarize, I believe current videogame genres are largely useless. Genre itself is still useful however. Genres offer exploratory maps that foster cycles of interpretation, design, and analysis. This creates a valuable conversation across time between consumers and creators. With the use of mechanically descriptive sub-genres, videogames should embrace thematic genre classifications.

That being said, categorizing a 'young adult' game is particularly challenging. As David points out, books are similarly difficult to encapsulate with easily understood monikers. The Harry Potter books, for example, are more intellectually rigorous than many airport-available mystery novels. Likewise, while The Cement Garden features young protagonists, it is most certainly not a children's Novel. David states:

"So, while I can come up with ways to tell that a books isn’t juvenile literature (because of the style of language, because of sex, because of certain other topics), I found it surprisingly difficult to come up with a positive and non-banal description of what it means for a book to be juvenile literature. And that carries over to video games as well."

Videogames are burdened with another barrier to simple classification - gameplay. A children's book may be judged poorly if it includes excessively esoteric vocabulary or inappropriately adult themes. A narrative driven game built for children can also be criticized for including unnecessarily difficult or complex gameplay. This is not to say exactly how difficult a game should be, but these concerns should be taken into account while judging young adult and children's games.
There is no easy way to know what makes an adolescent videogame - which is part of the fun. Genres are not well defined outlines. A genre is a commonly recognized suite of thematic and structural decisions shaped by the creator's intentions. A skilled auteur may toy with conventions, including and abandoning them as she sees fit, responding to and building upon a genre, while commenting on society and culture along the way. As such, for some analysis, it may be useful to divorce game mechanics from narrative themes.

The mechanics of a children's game should be appropriate for its target audience. A younger audience may not have the educational or gaming experience to easily interpret and implement complex mechanics. Similar to literary reading levels, this does not preclude adult enjoyment. A game may have many mechanical layers, satisfying a young and old audience at the same time. Alternatively, simply mechanics can be implemented in robust ways by an older gaming audience, giving them complexity without confusing the younger players.

Similar to literature, young adult and children's games should share common thematic elements. We should see literary conventions repeat themselves within their videogame genre counterparts. As David points out, many kids books include young protagonists, often coming of age or having an adventure free of familial relationships. Again, this need not be the case. These are merely several, albeit very common, elements from a suite of options. Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH is a notable literary exception from the young protagonist trope. It is a children's novel with an adult protagonist and themes of parenting. It does, however, use many genre conventions to its benefit. Children's games can achieve this same diversity while safely building upon an existing body of work.
The thematic elements of one genre can absolutely bleed into another. I have discussed the 'lack of family' trope in videogames once before. Similarly, the 'coming of age' tale shares storytelling characteristics with the common game structures that gradually empower players. So, while I agree with David that Bioshock has similar genre characteristics, its adult themes and mechanics firmly separate it from the young adult genre.

Zelda, on the other hand, is certainly a young adult game. I'm in agreement with David when he says "they're about boys growing up (literally, in the case of Ocarina), forced to be men a little earlier than they’d like to, but rising to the occasion, finding out who they really are, finding unexpected depths inside themselves." Zelda informs other young adult games, and can be analyzed alongside other young adult novels like A Wizard of Earthsea and Sabriel.
Accordingly, we can analyze and critique games with their genre in mind. Lucidity, for example, is thematically a perfect children's game. It's mechanics, however, are far too punishing for success amongst the appropriate demographic. Final Fantasy VIII is an excellent young adult story with a great deal to say about family, friends, school, and growing up. Like J.M. Barrie's novelization of Peter Pan however, some of the more adult themes may be inappropriate for younger audiences.

Genre boundaries are porous, videogame genres even more so. The relative age of the medium is such that no broad repertoire of masterful children's and young adult works exist. While there are plenty of childish games out there, few are considered classics. Children's games as they exist now, including MySims Agents, are largely discredited. Children's literature has overcome some of these prejudices and the videogame medium must do the same. Game's like Little King's Story, seek to break the mold, entertain multiple age groups, and contribute to a larger cultural conversation about growing up and the lessons that come with age. With genre in mind, games and games criticism only improve.

Family Matters: Children's Literature and Videogames

A child at play is a lesson in imagination. On their lonesome, children can vanquish dragons, scale the walls of ancient castles, sail pirate ships across vast oceans, and march with monsters. A child's mind at play is a fascinating machine, able to disentangle itself from the burdens of reality. What child did not spend time dreaming of solitary heroics, acting out a selfish fantasy?

As adults, we are informed by and reaffirm our perceptions of childhood in artistic works. Children's literature, a - wholly unique and interesting genre - reflects adult perspectives on childhood, both affirming and establishing a child's independence. This trend of self-empowerment, often rendered by the protagonist's autonomy from familial relationships, is mirrored in videogames.

The vast majority of our videogame heroes and heroines have no relatives to speak of. Yet, many of these playable characters are of the age to have living parents and children of their own. Parenting aside, surely some of these characters should have siblings. The lack of family ties stretches across genre's. From Samus to the Prince of Persia, our games are inhabited by a disproportionate number of "only-children" whose adventures do not concern their parents or family in the slightest.

This same anomaly populates the world of children's literature as well. Alice's adventure in wonderland is family free, although her adult obligations are alluded to before her plummet down the rabbit hole. The protagonists of The Phantom Tollbooth and Young Wizards series also find a chance to leave their family at home, opting to risk life and limb without the comfortable safety net. This parental disconnect seems particularly strange considering parents often read these stories to their own children.

There is a curative property in the solitary journey of stories like Alice in Wonderland, Where The Wild Things Are, and Coraline. A fantastic experience undertaken by oneself, these works suggest, can strengthen one's ability to deal with or appreciate reality.Roald Dahl's Matilda is an interesting work specifically because her adventure culminates in complete freedom from her biological family. Her empowerment frees her from familial constraints.
Most games follow a protagonist strangely devoid of family ties. When family members are mentioned, they usually exist on the peripheries. Alex Mercer of Prototype is given information by his sister Dana, but her presence could just as easily be filled by a nameless NPC with hacker skills. The fact her brother is a murderous freak doesn't seem to faze her; their sister-brother relationship is insubstantial. Similarly, Adam Fenix, Marcus's father in Gears of War, becomes a cinematic plot twist rather than a meaningful father. As an older example, the eagerness with which Chrono leaves his mother in Chronotrigger resembles the nature of child protagonists in Children's Literature.

Just as common in the kids' books are the tragic circumstances that separate children from their families. Harry Potter, Wizard of Oz, James and the Giant Peach, Wise Child, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Ann of Green Gables, and The Secret Garden all follow the exploits of orphaned children, being various popular examples among many works of this kind. There are, in addition, plenty of works whose protagonists live as though they were orphans, including The Giver (in which 'family' means very little) and The Chronicles of Narnia. Children's books display a shockingly high rate of severed families.

Videogames share this trend - the games that mention family members often refer to the deceased. Similar to literature, a family member's death frequently punctuates the beginning of a game protagonist's adventure. Nearly every Final Fantasy lead is an orphan of some kind, with RPGs like Legend of Dragoon and Dragon Quest V following suit. It's not just an RPG or fantasy trope however. Kratos of God of War loses his entire family and Sam Fisher of Splinter Cell loses his daughter. Harry Mason of Silent Hill and Fallout 3's protagonist both lose one family member while another goes missing, driving their journey forward.
While there are some interesting counter examples in Children's Literature, such as Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of Nimh, Charlotte's Web, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Peter Pan (in some regards), there are few examples of meaningful family relationships in videogames. The explanation is reasonable enough: independence empowers protagonists in both mediums by freeing them of familial burdens. Nurturing self-empowerment and self-identity is important for children, and the same can be said for videogame players in regards to game mechanics. Family obligations, like visiting your mother, do not make for entertaining gameplay.

The prominent lack of family relationships is lamentable and the trend far more concerning than the lack of family members in any one game. Perhaps a partial explanation for the lack of families is because videogames are, by and large, childish. That is to say they are created to appeal to a wide audience that includes children and young teens. Publishers are well aware children and young-adults regularly consume M rated games. The result is a medium that shares thematic trends with children and young-adult fiction. This isn't a bad thing. I hope my adoration for Children's Literature is apparent by now.

Perhaps the cultural approach provides a better explanation. Western culture has deep individualist traits, with the meaning of family and obligation changing dramatically over the past century. Whether this trends appearance in Japanese games is the result of Western influence or something else entirely I am not sure. It could be natural that a young medium, with a desire to empower players, imbuing their avatars with great powers, would apply tropes commonly found in kids' books. They have, after all, accomplished so much in this regard.

Orphan stories are classic, appearing in some of the earliest written and oral tales. Again, there is nothing wrong with enjoying the exploits of family-free adventurer. The lack of diversity, however, breeds stagnation. Family relationships inform the lives of millions of gamers, why shouldn't they inform the lives of playable characters as well?

Book Review: "From Sun Tzu to Xbox: War and Video Games"

In From Sun Tzu to Xbox: War and Video Games, Ed Halter attempts to elucidate the tumultuous relationship between video games and warfare. Beginning with a survey of war's historical representation in games, the book winds through World War II, the birth of computers, and the subsequent proliferation of computer technology in both the military and entertainment sectors. In doing so, Halter makes a compelling case for viewing the link between warfare and video games not as a one-way channel, but rather as a porous wall: a wall allows the two spheres to intermingle, blurring the line between reality and virtual reality.

Halter begins his study with a brief discussion of games' historical association with war. Games have been used to simulate organized combat since antiquity. Whether it was Egyptian Pharaohs or Viking raiders, games about the strategy of combat were used as both diversions and educational tools. The conflagration of battle and gaming grows stronger through medieval times and into modernity (a claim based largely on the generous availability of primary sources), as games like chess and go assume their positions as quintessential examples of war games. With the advent of industrialism, chess variants such as Kriegsspiel and the mass appeal of toy soldiers more explicitly linked gaming with waging war.

Halter's narrative of video games' birth dovetails with countless other stories in American history: despite being a nation ideologically obsessed with independence and autonomy, the interest and funding of the federal government has been critical to video games. Early games like Spacewar! were created on machines designed to fight the Cold War. Machines created for venues like Vietnam instead became virtual battlefields for students looking to take advantage of the latest technology. Soon, schools like Stanford had to explicitly forbid people from using the computers to play games during business hours.

Nothing this popular goes unnoticed by either the government or the military. Halter calls upon The Great Communicator to illustrate the government's growing attention towards games:

"Even without knowing it, you're being prepared for a new age...I recently learned something quite interesting about video games. Many young people have developed incredible hand, eye, and brain, coordination in playing these games. The Air Force believes these kids will be outstanding pilots should they fly our jets...Watch a 12-year-old take evasive action and score multiple hits while playing Space Invaders, and you will appreciate the skills of tomorrow's pilot."

-Ronald Reagan, from a speech given at Walt Disney World's EPCOT Center, March 8, 1983

Games like Atari's Battlezone demonstrated the rising popularity and sophistication of games, as well as their utility in the eyes of the military. While the Army-commissioned version of Battlezone may not have caught on, military integration continued to grow with the rise of increasingly complex games, as well as the mod scene. By the 1990s, there were army recruiters in the arcades and clear engagement with contemporaneous conflict in games, such as Operation Secret Storm.

In the book's second half, Halter displays his keen sense for journalistic profiles. A parade of strange, almost secretive folk residing in the nexus of the entertainment, military, and edcuation industries describe their work towards creating the perfect war simulation. Companies with deceptively bland names like the Institue for Creative Technologies combine talented people from the Hollywood, academia, and the military in the hopes of creating increasingly useful military training tools. Halter makes a strong argument that, if a holodeck is ever created, it will be on Uncle Sam's dime.

Halter ends by bringing the focus back to the cultural complexity of war in games, a complexity that has grown more tangled since the days of chess andkriegsspiel. From mainstream games with military endorsement like Kuma War and Full Spectrum Warrior, to the menagerie of social commentary-meets-pulp works found on Newgrounds, it is clear that video games are at once used to lionize and criticize war. Discourse from accross the ideological, artistic, and financial spectrum is both created and analyzed by the medium.

From Sun Tzu to Xbox is an important book, as it demonstrates an academic approach to games that takes a different tact than traditional "games studies." Instead of theoretical constructs, Halter uses games as evidence to explore society's views on war and gaming. By the end of the book, it is clear that, while shocking, games like Six Days in Fallujah are nothing new. War and video games are no strangers to one another, and all signs suggest their relationship will only grow closer.

Aristotelian Gaming

A while back, I put out a call to Twitter asking for tips on important works in artistic criticism. As a student of history, my strongest inclination when studying something is to examine the events that preceded it. In hopes of understanding fruitful ways to critique games, I find it helpful to examine the structures of discourse from other mediums. This way, it is possible to borrow what is useful, learn from what has failed, and discard what is superfluous. In many ways, the critical space of video game analysis feels like a wild frontier, and this post is my first effort in obtaining a map of this strange new place.

I am trying to walk that thin line between self-important intellectualism and practical analysis, so bear with me if things get messy. Critical works from other mediums will never yield perfect matches, but that does not negate the lessons learned. To this end, I will dive in head first: What can Aristotle's Poetics teach us about games?

This was the first time I had read Poetics¹, and I was astounded at how applicable Aristotle's thinking is to even the newest of mediums. While not all of his rhetoric is as spry as it once was, there is a reason why his work remains relevant.

While one could dedicate their lives to understanding and dissecting Aristotle's Poetics (many have), for the purpose of this post I will focus on two major concepts Aristotle discusses and describe how they can help us understand and analyze video games.

Imitation and Learning

Aristotle argues that the existence and enjoyment of poetry arises "from two causes, each of them lying deep in our nature" (15). One, "the instinct for harmony and rhythm" seems more applicable to poetry than video games, although the influence of harmony and rhythm should not be underestimated. One could argue for the existence of metre and verse in games as well, but that is a discussion for another post.

Aristotle's other explanation for the existence of poetry speaks not only to why people enjoy video games, but more importantly, why the medium itself is intrinsically valuable. Aristotle holds that the basis of poetry is imitation; imitation of people, nature, emotions, of existence in general.

Because "imitation is implanted in man from childhood," (15) "everyone feels a natural pleasure n things imitated. There is evidence of this in the effect produced by works of art. Objects which in themselves we view with pain, we delight to contemplate when reproduced with absolute fidelity: such as the forms of the most ignoble beasts and of dead bodies" (15). Like poetry, video games delight us by presenting representations of the mundane and the fantastic, challenging us to understand the representations. Something as pedestrian as a bale of hay delights us when it appears in a game like Flower. While it would normally be terrifying to see a killer worm the size of city, Gears of War 2 makes it a treat.

Aristotle, reasons that the pleasure derived from imitation is actually produced by the learning process that occurs during the consumption of poetry. After all, "to learn is a lively pleasure, not only to philosophers but to men in general...Thus the reason why men enjoy seeing a likeness is, that in contemplating it they are engaged in learning,--they reason and infer what each object is: 'this,' they say, 'is the man.' For if you happen not to have seen the original, the pleasure will be due not to the imitation as such, but to the execution, the colouring, or some such other cause" (15).

Here, Aristotle may be used to elegantly argue for the merit and importance of games as an art: as they are imitative, they inspire players to think critically about what is being represented. Whether it is a physical entity, like a city in Grand Theft Auto, or something thematic like the sense of loneliness in Ico, the material being imitated must be given meaning by the person playing.

Playing a game utilizes the same skills that, according to Aristotle, make poetry and plays high art. The audience and the player are rewarded by learning to understand both the imagery and the rules governing the art's composition.

The Plot of a Game

In discussing tragedy, Aristotle asserts the Plot as the "first principle" (27) of a great work, to which all other aspects (setting, characters, props) are subordinate. He argues that plot of a truly great tragedy must be "so constructed that, even without the aid of the eye, any one who is told told the incidents will thrill with horror and pity at the turn of events" (45).

While not the definitive way to evaluate a game, an Aristotelian hierarchy can help identify which pieces of a game are most important. This line of thinking can be modified to examine a game's structure. In the case of games, Aristotle's basic reasoning may be used if the primacy is shifted off of the plot and on to the gameplay.

At its most basic level, a game can be called a set of rules with which a player interacts with. The combination and execution of said rules make up gameplay. While a game may have an explicit narrative, detailed graphics, and vivid characters, it is the gameplay that distinguishes it from a film or book.

Aristotle challenges us to strip a tragedy of it of its characters, setting, and props and see how well the plot stands on its own. In this way, we can measure the greatness of a work. A similar mode of analysis may be applied to video games in terms of the gameplay. For games, the Aristotelian "plot" is actually the gameplay: Pong and can be dressed up in many ways, but their essence, that is to say their basic rules, make them great.



A Useful, Imperfect Analogy

Not all of Aristotle's philosophy fits snugly with game criticism. The world is in many ways a vastly different place: plays no longer last the whole day, modern psychology has complicated Aristotle's inflexible hierarchy of beauty, and technology has opened possibilities classical philosophers could only dream about.

Much of Aristotle's writing has been lost to the ages, and some of its meaning has been obscured by time. Notice I did not attempt to address one of the most controversial topics in Poetics: catharsis. Perhaps the idea of building up an emotion and then purging it applies to games as well? The terror of fighting a zombie hoard or the sorrow losing Aeris are satisfying on an emotional level. However, Aristotle's own ideas on this concept are vague, and I am hesitant to build my already flimsy house on such ancient, shifting sand.

What is clear is that the rubric of high art according to one of the giants of European thinking can be used to evaluate video games in spite of their relative youth as a genre. Aristotle gives the plot of a story precedence over all other elements. In the case of games, the "plot" represents the gameplay, as rules are its basic structure. Within every great game is excellent gameplay capable of standing alone after the baubles of technology and characters are removed.

Most importantly, Aristotle provides an elegant way of defining the allure and the redeeming value of art: in imitating life, it stokes the thirst for knowledge. If we were to ask Aristotle whether games, like poetry and theater, can be art, he might ask us whether they invite interpretive reasoning in their audience. Do they make us think?

We would say yes, and he would say that we have our answer.


1. In this post, citations refer to page numbers in, Aristotle's Theory of Poetry and Fine Art, With a Critical Text and a Translation of The Poetics by S.H. Butcher. London: Macmillan and Co., 1895.