Ian Bogost Is Persuasive (But First, Rambling)
Posted on April 19th, 2010 at 4:03 am by the darklorde Post to Twitter Post to Facebook Post to Digg Post to StumbleUpon

But First, Rambling

In my post-Red Steel 2-launch phase, I have found myself short on topics rampaging through my mind that I can discuss freely on these, them thar Webs.

There’s been a lot of activity, to be sure: the first sales figures have been being discussed widely, there have been several marvelously supportive articles written by journalists who seem to be ‘in our corner’, so to speak, and in general the “what’s next” question has been foremost in many minds.

Alas, all of those topics fall under the “not in my job description to broadcast” category.

That is to say, were I to share all my personal reflections on the sales figures, it would (as I have learned) likely be quoted as a “statement from Ubisoft” – and that likelihood means that I can’t talk about such things here.

Now, don’t get all weird on me. I’m not complaining about that. Sit down, sit down. It’s okay. I actually think it’s awesome that people are so interested in these topics, and I very much enjoy talking with the press about just about anything they wanna discuss. However, as we all understand, the nature the relationship itself coupled with my role as a Ubisoft Dude means that I gotta watch what I say, man.

So, I’m left to sit and stew silently on these topics, while the world races by.

That is not my style.

The previous post was one attempt to overcome that void. Discussing other people’s games is always fun, in particular when they are destroying my mind. Ultimately, though, it has proven to be not terribly satisfying.

So. Right here, I’m going to try a different tact. One that, hopefully, will both bore and confuse you. Simultaneously!

Ian Bogost Is Persuasive

One of the things I do “between projects”, seemingly, is to immerse myself in the literature, media, and whatever, surrounding the topic I hope to address next.

Now is no exception. At the GDC this year, I picked up a book called “Persuasive Games” by one Ian Bogost.

If you aren’t aware of it, there is something like an early renaissance (a “naissance”, perhaps?) in the intellectual discussions surrounding video games. For many, many (many, many, oh god, it was so long) years, the writing on games and their meaning was pretty thin. Recently, however, things have improved, and quite measurably!

Even so, it’s still sort of sketchy territory out there. We don’t have anything like a common grammar yet, and the academics in the field who are considered the go-to people have often been in their role for less than 10 years… often less. We’re young, people.

So, then, Mr. Bogost, and his Persuasive Games. This is a book about meaning.

Red Steel 2 was a success in many ways, but the, er, ‘polemic’ aspect of the title was, perhaps, not our primary focus. Ahem.

In fact, if there was “meaning” to be taken from Red Steel 2, it was probably something like “whacking bad guys with a sword is good fun!” Perhaps this was not the most high-falutin’ message ever presented… but when laid against the backdrop of the work(s) we were inspired by, it seems fitting.

Even so… it’s something I’m thinking about a great deal, now, ‘between projects’: games and meaning.

Mr. Bogost has titled his book “Persuasive Games”, and it doesn’t disappoint. It’s primarily a step-by-step breakdown of how a series of games that operate in the “persuasive” zones (politics, advertisements, satire, others) make their case – the structure of how meaning is made in an interactive work, and how audiences respond to that meaning. It’s fascinating shit – if you can handle academic writing, of course. The book does not pretend to be a ‘page turner’ – he’s making a point, man, and intends to back it the fuck up. With, like, facts.

While this is great stuff, at the end it is not the distinction between “persuasive” and “non-persuasive” games that has made a lasting impression on me.

Uh, did I mention that the book has made a lasting impression? It has. It’s (in fact) messing with my head, quite nicely.

What I found interesting in this book is not that Ian (if I may call him Ian – we both have beards, after all) has laid out how to make more persuasive games. Rather, it is that he has, through implication, laid out a quite convincing structure for the method by which games construct meaning in their audience (re: Holy Grail).

And, people? It’s fucking weird.

Weird, like, throw out all your ideas of interpretation of meaning from cinema, TV, and books, weird. Like, time to start over in having a common language.

However, he’s right. That’s the problem.

[ASIDE] For the record, he’s not necessarily the first dude to pull this off – he’s just the one I have read the most recently, and he made a particularly good case. There’s lots of other folks out there doing great work in this domain. Just so y’all know. And so that y’all know that I know. And, etcetera.

But, hey, Bogost has a beard, man.[/ASIDE]

Hmm. Tell you what. Let’s see if the darklorde can actually illustrate what the fuck he’s talking about, and demonstrate that he has actually learned something from this here book thing.

EXAMPLE! James Bond.

In Casino Royale The Movie (and, arguably, in every Bond movie ever made) one can say that the “message” or the “meaning” comes from the struggles the character(s) undergo, and their various relationships to each other.

The chain of events that transpire in a Bond file generally reinforce an idea that is something like “Villains will be punished, the weak should be defended, and heroism should be rewarded.” With Bond, there’s also something in there about how a mix of danger and sophistication is appealing in a man… but let’s just pick one example for now.

Does that make sense to you? Bond’s enemies are bad, bad dudes – and they always (always) meet an untimely end. In fact, we know this will be true before we enter the movie. It’s sort of one reason why many of us go in the first place – to see Bond bring the Hammer O’ Justice down on those vile fellows.

So, it follows that some part of the “meaning” in the film is that “villains will be punished.” We see bad dudes doing bad stuff, and then Bond comes and kills them.

Similar logic applies to the other ideas (“the weak” is whatever starlet Bond is tasked with protecting/saving/being saved by – and he *always* defends them, even if he fails in the end and they die… he still tries).

See? Make sense? Kinda?

It’s a little bit of a mind bender, but I hope so. If not, uh…

…well, keep trying. It’s tricky. :)

Okay, now let’s look at Goldeneye The Game.

Extracting “meaning” from such an experience is tricky – at least with the language we have from the movies. I mean, who am I, really? There are ‘villains’, sure, but the story in this kind of game is a thin veneer at best.

The game’s meaning is defined by what I (the player) can do in it. Primarily, this means shooting dudes, opening doors, and completing misssions – the amount of personal interaction I have with characters in that game is almost zero (as it is in most shooters).

So, to generate “meaning”, what we do is this: we imagine the game world as meaning.

It’s a world in which hundreds of bad guys are trying to kill me, and I mow my way through them victoriously, all falling before my gunfire, ultimately confronting (and killing) the Big Bad in the last level. What does a world like that mean for it’s protagonist (the player)?

From what I took from this “Persuasive” book, blended mercilessly with My Way Of Thinking™, the ‘meaning’ behind a game like Goldeneye can be described as something like “You can be an action hero.” (There’s also a lot of detailed meaning in there that focuses on gun tactics and the use of space in combat – which, perhaps, is the *actual* ‘meaning’ of a game like this – but again, let’s just pick one thing and move on.)

In fact, this particular ‘meaning’ is common to probably 50% of the games out there. Maybe more. As an example, I interpret the ‘meaning’ of Zelda to be “You can save the princess, and the world!” (in addition to the manipulation of space, doors, keys, and the other ‘puzzle’ elements).

Okay, does that make sense?

It’s tricky. Tricky, for many reasons:

  • It’s tempting to look beyond such simple ‘meanings’, and look for something more related to morality or ethics. Personally, I don’t see that in most games today – and hallelujah to that.
  • We’re used to “meaning” being expressed in absolute, third-person terms. Games must, by their nature, have meanings that are somehow related to the primary actor – and thus are probably better expressed in second person. Weird.
  • Looking at a game system and leaping up to what that system, with all it’s possible variables, “means” is a big leap. It’s doable, but… ya better bring a trampoline or something.

In essence, what I have taken away from The Bogost-inator’s book, and ultimately what I want to share with you today, is that meaning does exist in games – it exists in every game, in fact, just as it exists in every other expressive medium.

Now, many high-minded people, when confronted with a ‘meaning’ phrase like “You can be a hero!”, may take it up themselves to shake their head sadly, and make wise-sounding statements about how we “should be aiming higher than that” – that our culture is suffering under the weight of such pap, and that such ‘low-brow’ concepts are devoid of cultural value.

To all the people who feel that way: Blow me.

With that problem nicely out of the way, I can share with you the Big Thought that I’m chewing on here.

What I have derived from this Book O’ Bogost-ity (see what I did there?) is that, as creators, we can choose what meaning we want our games to have, by reverse-engineering our system of meaning.

Today, this is something we often do without thinking about. With Red Steel 2, as an example, I think I chose a meaning for our game that was something like “hitting bad guys is fun!”… but it wasn’t so much a ‘choice’ as it was a natural outcome from a whole variety of choices we made along the way.

I think I’d enjoy being able to exert more deliberate control over the “meaning” of my games than I have in the past, and Ian’s book has handed me one big, bright, shiny key to help me out with that endeavor.

Mr. Bogost: gracias. I hope to live up to the aspirations your work implies to me – even if, ultimately, the result is still “pure entertainment”, it will be hopefully better and more intentional because of your writing.

But The Soul Still Burns
Posted on April 8th, 2010 at 11:39 pm by the darklorde Post to Twitter Post to Facebook Post to Digg Post to StumbleUpon

So, at the moment, all of my attention is focused on holding my breath while the initial run of Red Steel 2 makes its way through the long, torturous path that ends in your livingroom (if you own a Wii). As much as I’d love to wax poetic about the progress of the game, that will have to wait for now. This is the “baited breath” period, as I mentioned.

In the meantime, though, I have some stuff completely unrelated to Red Steel 2 to discuss. If that’s of no interest, you may consider yourself warned.

Actually, it’s not completely unrelated. There’s swords in this topic, too. No guns, though.

I want to talk to you about

Heard of it? If you have, or if you’ve played it, you have my condolences. You know the pain of which I speak… glorious though it may be.

Let’s start at the beginning.

Wayyyy back in the never-never of, uh, well, a while ago anyway, an import review popped up on Eurogamer for a then-somewhat-unknown-in-the-states Japanese import with the nearly-unpronounceable title of “Demon’s Souls”.

The game sported armored knights, undead hordes, and general smashery. It looked slow and dark and, uh, kinda boring, actually.

It was the actual words in the review that got our attention:

The game’s five worlds – all massive – are split into four different sections, each guarded by a horribly large and hardcore boss monster. Everything in the entire world is designed to kill you, quickly and often without warning.

When you die in Demon’s Souls – and you will die, a lot – you lose your physical body, becoming a soul with half a health bar (although in practice it’s more like a three quarters, as there’s a ring in the very first world that lets you cling a little closer to life). The only way to get it back is to kill a boss monster.

To summarise, you end up playing the vast majority of Demon’s Souls as either a dead person or a dead person with no money. Every time you die, you start again at the beginning, with all the enemies you just struggled to overcome back where they were. There is no compromise. There’s not even a pause button. You get better, or you get nowhere.

Precisely because the odds are so stacked against you, precisely because the game sometimes seems to hate you with every fibre of its being, when you do finally kill the bastard f***-off enormous boss monster that ended you within half a minute the first time you approached it, the resulting heart-in-mouth euphoria is the purest kind of gaming thrill. Demon’s Souls is about facing up to the impossible, and winning.

That kind of print will have one of two kinds of effects: either you’ll wisely nod, frown, and turn the page, wondering what kind of damn fool would want to abuse him/herself so badly as to endure such suffering…

…or, you tilt your head slightly forward, glare at your screen from under dark eyebrows, half-raise one eyebrow, and smile. That wicked, knowing kind of smile. A smile that will raise the hairs on the back of nervous men. A smile that speaks words. “Oh yes,” this smile says, “they will fall. They… will… fall.

Two guesses which response I had.

Wait, actually, just one guess. With two, you could just guess both, and since there’s only two answers, uh. Wait.

Anyway, shut up! The point is that I had to clean the drool off of my goddamn keyboard, okay?? I literally ran into my buddy’s office (the one who had sent me the link to the preview) and insisted – nay, DEMANDED – that he explain himself further.

We learned everything we could about it, and confirmed to my satisfaction that the initial presentations were not fabricated. The game, it seemed, would kill the shit out of you.

It wasn’t available for sale anywhere but Asia at the time, and so I didn’t press the point much further in the months to come, other than to tell myself “next time I’m in Asia, I’ll be sure to pick that up” – this led to some confusion, actually. Uh. Maybe we should skip this part.

Listen, the eventual and inevitable “North American version” was announced after I stopped digging up data, okay? So I didn’t personally even know that there was an English version other than the Chinese one, see. And, I managed to switch the Chinese version and the Japanese version in my head, so…

Anyway. I bought the Japanese version when I was in Tokyo for TGS, not realizing that:

  • the North American (English) version was coming, and soon.
  • contrary to what I had come to believe, the Japanese version had no English menus in it – it was the Chinese version that had those, apparently.

I didn’t have the Chinese version. I had the Japanese version.

So, for a great long while, what I had at home was a game that I desperately wanted to play, but in fact could not actually bring myself to boot, knowing the unending frustration that waited within, given that every piece of displayed text in it would be in freaking Japanese. As fascinated as I am by that language, I do not read or speak it, not even a little bit.

Okay, okay, so that by itself would have been fine – I could maybe have eBayed the damn thing, and replaced it, or something along those lines. But…

…see, my son started playing it (the Japanese version). Beyond the profound shame I experienced at being out-hardcore’d by my own son, the fact was that when he got totally into it that “replace the version with another version” door sort of swung close with a malignant click.

“Just buy another copy!” the Japanese version would taunt, lying there on the shelf beside the plastic black monolith that is the PS3. “It’ll be worth it!”

Grit teeth. Snarl at world.

So, it wasn’t until my recent trip to the GDC in San Francisco that I managed to work up the gumption to go ahead and drop another $60 on the damn thing. But I did. Yes, people – I have spent approximated $120 on Demon’s Souls. Yes, I did.

You know what? They deserve it. You know why?

That’s why. This is my Demon’s Souls character profile. Yes, that is play time, and yes, that’s hours and minutes. I’ve logged that much time in…

(…don’t want to do this math…)

…just under two weeks.

Those of you who don’t know me may not have experience with this behavior. Ideally, as I am probably speaking mostly to gamers at this point, those numbers might not have the kind of effect on you that they have on, say, my mom.

Although supportive of my endeavors to date (thanks, mom!), she, along with many of my friends, utterly fail to comprehend that I could spend what amounts to a full-time job’s amount of time on something quite like this.

…57 hours!! And I’m still not even done with the first run-through!

This is, perhaps, because I am a little bit of a grinder when I play. Some. Kinda. Okay, actually, I often play games as an excuse to grind. Sick, right? This, by the way, is why I can’t play Pokémon any more, or ever again. That damn game eats my life in the same way that tsunamis eat coastal villages. There is little left behind to rebuild from, you see.

Whatever. What is my point here? What in the hell am I talking about? I wanted to tell you about Demon’s Souls, and I’ve run off into the Navel Gazing Highlands again. Ye gods, man.

Let me abruptly, and without much of a transition save for this uncomfortable sentence, get to the point.

Demon’s Souls is incredibly compelling, for all the reasons that much better writers than Yours Truly have already laid out. You don’t need me to explain to you how the structure of the game is well-conceived, how the open-ended system is empowering, blah dee blah blah blah – let’s leave that to the professionals, shall we? What I wanted to share with you was my enthusiasm for the game, first and foremost, and secondly, this:

Playing Demon’s Souls is, strangely, the most like being in a real sword fight than any experience I’ve had since playing Bushido Blade.

The actual motions that the weapons you choose make vary quite a bit, and the exact paths of those motions are crucial to your very survival. Mis-judge the length of your swing the tiniest bit, and often you’ll be contemplating your failure before a screen that reads plainly “YOU DIED”. Each weapon type has it’s own style, and often the reach of your weapon is a huge factor in choosing which one to go galavanting around with. Shield and sword? Two-hander with a parry? Two blades, perhaps? The devotion to realizing something like true combat is palpable here – it exudes from the very disc itself.

The cover of the game is just a dude in armor with a sword, man. Just sayin’.

I’m on the record as having some interest in this kind of gameplay. For that reason alone, Demon’s Souls would be inspiring and rewarding for me to play. That it then heaps so much more awesomeness on top of that, and then actively punishes you for trying to play it… but juuuuuuuuuust enough so that when you do overcome those astounding odds and finally drop that metal-shield-wielding forty-foot-tall mechanistic automaton who killed you fifteen goddamn times previously, the temptation is to shout “YEAH! TAKE THAT!”, and jump around like a loon…

…well, you really can’t beat that, IMHO. Not even with a stick.